#easy front access remains tho

[everchased]

the like. miniskirt action bg3 has going on with plate armor...... i don't hate it

[frostbitebakery]

LOUD.

a Jedi Shadow!Obi-Wan AU

“Each of us, every single clone, is a one-man army. And yes, I am… I’m so proud of them. We protect the Galaxy, we die fighting for the Galaxy and its peoples. We are not made for peace times, Obi-Wan.”

The cynical part of Obi-Wan wants to ask why Cody is so steadfast in his belief when everywhere the clones go they’re confronted with people dismissing them, equating them to the droids they’re fighting.

He understands, though. Jedi are only welcome where people know about the help they can provide. The Order is looked down upon, the Jedi just as easily dismissed, more often than not when it comes to it.

And still. And still. The call to protect people is too strong to ignore. He doesn’t want to ignore the call. He can help so he does.

So yes, he understands Cody and his need to fight.

He watches as Cody self-consciously rubs the back of his neck, fingers not halting over the port, so— so used to its presence, as the silence reigns. Cody doesn’t try to further his explanations. He said his piece and that’s that.

Obi-Wan settles down on the floor in front of the weightlifting bench. And Cody.

He crosses his legs automatically, the armor he has to don if he wants to engage in the battles blessedly absent, here. His fingers find Cody’s other hand in his lap, tapping it lightly, glancing by the embedded screen in the armored boot proclaiming Cody as belonging to the 212th.

Commander Cody got his own Attack Battalion. Mace remains the immediate superior but the brass saw Cody’s merit. No Jedi can easily fill the role as war general and Cody is… too brilliant to not be in charge. He and Mace have been flattening the CIS, the GAR is only too happy to spread out their heavy hitters.

“He’s always giving them a chance to surrender first,” Cody had commented on Mace, pride and admiration shining from his whole body. “How he’s able to walk with balls like that is a mystery to me.”

Obi-Wan had politely choked on nothing.

Once Cody is looking at him, apologies in his eyes for being made for war, of war, Obi-Wan signs a simple question. “How would you know?”

Temper makes the scarred eyebrow rise and Obi-Wan continues, undeterred now that Cody’s attention isn’t on misplaced guilt.

“You know nothing but war. You’ve learnt nothing but war. You’ve,” Obi-Wan pauses to swallow the grief, “experienced nothing but war in your life. How would you know you’re not made for peace times when you haven’t even had the chance to live in them?”

A smile, half there and fleeing, cracks, warm brown eyes watch Obi-Wan’s hands. “In my darkest moments I’m not sure I’ll even see them.”

Obi-Wan is against false promises but hope has never left his life’s side and he’d like to share. “We work together and we end this war. We see as many of you and us on the other side as possible.”

“Sounds like an easy first step,” Cody laughs ruefully, and leans down, captures Obi-Wan’s unmasked face, blurred by the unknown, and holds their foreheads together for a long self-indulgent moment.

Obi-Wan ducks his head, mask and scars in place once more. “Is that something you wish? To see me?”

Cody shakes his head, shoulders tight. “I’m sorry. I went too far.”

No, you didn’t, Obi-Wan wants to tell him, I want you to see me.

Soon. Probably. As soon as Obi-Wan has removed the screws from his heart and their doubting pressure.

“I think I can help you,” Obi-Wan signs, bullheading through the burgeoning silence. “But I need your help for that.”

“What do you need,” Cody asks, all Commander now that he’s got a mission objective.

“I want to know how you can communicate neurally and who has access to that channel.” He’s been looking into it for months, always ending in front of a Kaminoan wall. He’s at his wits end and now, now, with Bail confirming Palpatine is shuffling credits to the CIS and it’s still only heresy where a court is concerned…

Kamino confirmed only authorized personnel has access to the comm links in the clones’ heads. What if those include the CIS?

Cody blinks in surprise. “General Windu has access to that information.”

Does he? Obi-Wan is beginning to doubt that fact. “Humor me.”

Shoulders go wide, straight, loose. “Protocol dictates that, in case of emergency in an engagement situation, a High General is able to deploy orders directly to a CC-class clone via the Force after initiating with the correct identification.”

The clones are password-locked. Obi-Wan tries very, very hard to keep his expression neutral. “I assume every Commander knows the identification?”

Cody starts to smile, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, ready to playfully lecture Obi-Wan about confidentiality. Obi-Wan can see that, can feel the intention of Cody to do so. Before his eyes sharpen like the back-up blade in the boot holster. “Is there a leak?”

“Not that I’m sure of,” Obi-Wan hurries to sign. “Cody, please, what is the initialization sequence?”

Cody watches him, tracks his every move and twitch and stillness with keen eyes. Obi-Wan lets him, not able to keep a lid on the worry he’s feeling, the Force hushed in absolute and anticipation. “Every Commander knows those words. No one else does. A High General can request it of his Commander. That is what General Windu knows. A Commander takes the words to their grave if they have to.” A built-in failsafe, based on the clones’ loyalty to the Republic. “And the Jedi,” Cody adds with a soft smile. “Maybe we have been trained to follow you but you have proven yourself over and over again. The initialization is—“ Cody’s face twists into confusion as the Force starts— starts to shriek in warning. “Is…”

Shards of glass hurtle towards Obi-Wan, high-pitched tone piercing his eardrums, hack into his thoughts—

“Who are you?”

Obi-Wan hurries, pulls a hand up and projects “Cody, wake”.

.

Cody wakes, blinks. Shakes the cloudy remnants of a dream gone wrong off, as stuck on him, burnt into him as some details of it are.

He looks up when he notices the presence by the training salle entry, smiles up at Obi-Wan, feels his eyes go soft, relaxed.

Obi-Wan stares back at him, mask in place which ups the distant, rumbling intensity of his gaze like an incoming storm. “Thank you,” he signs, and Cody can see the tremors in his fingertips. Blue eyes flick up to the surveillance camera in the ceiling, go back to him.

Cody… remembers. Obi-Wan pushing him behind a destroyed tank during battle, one hand covering the helmet camera while the other had signed “need to talk, no eyes” in battle signs.

He looks to the door again but Obi-Wan is suddenly right in front of him, cradling his face so gently Cody can feel tears prick at his eyes, forehead carefully, with no hesitation and too much meaning coming to rest against his.

[moonspirit]

How would Annie being pregnant/ Aruani becoming parents effect their work?

I mean travelling will be made harder, and often when u are further along in pregnancy u are advised to avoid longer periods of travel.

Will Annie stop meetings all together? Or at least when she is pregnant? Or will she carry on.

What about the Ambassador formal wear, their current attire won’t work with a bump, so they will have to go shopping for maternity clothes.

How will they deal with meetings or galas? (I can imagine some people at them trying to touch Annie’s stomach and her getting really annoyed and grossed out)

What about after the kid is born? Will they cut down their work load. Who will look after the kid as they go on trips or will she come with them.

Aghhh so many questions

Ahahahaa anon, you're on a roll!

(is this intel for a pregnancy fic xD)

Hmmm I reckon it'd be somewhat of a serious affair, yes. I'm not sure I see Armin taking things very lightly, maybe he'd actually oppose the idea of Annie travelling around and working as usual - but also she insists she'll die of boredom if she doesn't do anything and would hate the idea of literally everybody working except her. So he begrudgingly accepts it (tho he knows Annie can beat up anybody in any state, he's just worried about her being stressed and tired y'know). I think for the most part they'll come to a middle ground, although maybe closer to the due date, Armin will convince Annie to remain at rest.

Suits are going to be a real bother, yes! Once her bump grows, Annie wears ✨pretty flowy loose dresses✨ and Armin is visibly DELIGHTED because here's his beautiful wife in a very easy-access dress and ALSO she's beautiful, did I mention? Tho at home when even dresses are bothersome, she's probably in a camisole and stretchy shorts or pants and well, that is also a kind of heaven 😏

On the proximity front, I think both Aruani would be really protective about the baby bump! Annie's not letting anybody other than the Ambassadors, Levi & Co, and the Paradis family (Mikasa, Hitch, Historia) to touch her, oh no. And Armin's always super concerned over strangers getting close, because y'know - they're important people, dangers are always lurking close.

After the baby's born I see them struggling to find a work-life balance honestly, perhaps even failing to find one for a decent while at all. It's not going to be easy to manage a growing baby while juggling a diplomat's lifestyle. Potential for angst and fluff and "I'm-on-Papa/Mama-duty-right-now" Ambassador shenanigans!

[crystalelemental]

"emrylurkeroftheloch: I will personally come to bat for the TCG: Whilst the meta can shift (like it can in Pokémon), and decks can rotate, the TCG does have two major advantages: Price Wise, it is SIGNIFICANTLY cheaper to get into than VGC. Like, iirc a meta deck will run you about $30? And the other major advantage is, depending on your area, it can be really easy to find games! Even if your deck rotates out of favour or w/e, you can probs pick up casual games with people.

Seriously tho the price of the Pokémon TCG is obscenely cheap, esp in comparison to other TCGs (which is normally an expensive hobby). A deck for MtG that'll rotate out in 18 months (if not less) might run you $200+ easily. $30 for a deck is absolutely WILD."

So wild it doesn't even seem possible. When I was in college, people in Magic and Yugioh would go around with $500+ decks. I can't imagine you can remain meta at $30 in grand total. Individual cards cost more than that.

I dunno. I guess in my mind, VGC has a higher time related requirement to access, and the up-front cost of the games (and now also the DLC), while TCG has a lower barrier to entry but a most consistent demand for paying into it. Though I also don't know how they handle set rotation all that well.

[havocdream]

Unheard and Unseen - Four

Summary: Vintra is ready for her audience at the Supreme Court of Justice, where the judges will notify her if her proposal will be approved or denied. Because of the importance of that day, Hunter expects a deadly attack to take place.

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: Weapon descriptions | Mentions of dead people | War discussion | Court hearing | Slight attempt of an attack (not on Hunter's watch tho)

Notes at the end of chapter

Chapter Three -> A bad feeling about it

Masterlist

I want to keep you from being necessary

Wrecker, Crosshair and Hunter were now gathered in the senator's apartment, waiting for Tech to provide Hunter with some previously requested information. Vintra, still with some of her attention on writing her speech, was distracted by the sight of the three clones huddled in front of her as they gasped out most of the points that made her an easy target.

"Today's attackers are dead," came Tech's voice over everyone's communicator. Hunter wasn’t surprised by the news. "Same cause, asphyxiation," Clone Force 99 had encountered thousands of lethal weapons of all kinds since they began serving in the military, and they knew many more from their training. Death by asphyxiation could be caused, in particular cases like this one, by nano droids inserted in the throat that extended to block the victim's air passage and, once dead, self-destructed. Their effect caused burns in the throat, but official medical autopsies never revealed this, as civilian pathologists didn’t have access to this information.

Whoever was responsible for this had to be someone in the government, as this was a highly expensive and confidential weapon.

"I think it’s logical that, whoever the orchestrator is, will act in ways that are difficult to trace due to the senator’s network of information," Hunter explained to his brothers in a low voice so he wouldn’t distract Vintra, from whom he perceived confusion and certain fear to see them acting so suspiciously. "I’m sure that tomorrow, if the Court approves the senator's proposal, there will be enough distracting attacks that will hide a real danger," Crosshair frowned and Wrecker widened his smile.

"Real work! Finally!" the adrenaline lover celebrated. Hunter and Crosshair looked at him reprovingly.

"Someone with access to that kind of weapon... it's possible they could get into the Senate Building and possess weapons of similar lethality to the ‘hangmen’," Crosshair opined, with a more optimistic tone at the unfolding situation. Wrecker was right, but the sniper would never admit it. They were talking about a much bigger challenge than they had psyched themselves up for.

"Crosshair’s right, the Senate Building is probably not that secure..." Hunter knew from the senator's next day's schedule that she was due to give a speech at the Senate's weekly assembly. It was not possible to postpone it or for her not to show up. "We'll have to keep an eye on everything inside that place at all times."

Vintra couldn't help but feel nervous about the attitude of the clones, who were talking to each other in hushed tones and seemed to be discussing something serious. She wondered if there was something of concern regarding her safety, or if they were just complaining to each other about the absurdity of the job.

Nor did the anxiety she felt in her chest about the schedule that awaited her the next day help. She’d know first thing in the morning whether her proposal would be endorsed by the Supreme Court or be in the unpleasant situation of taking on the entire Senate on her own. She had experience of doing so and winning, but it didn't take away from the fact that it was uncomfortable and a headache.

Out of the corner of her eye she watched the group of clones finally separate. Wrecker remained in position and Crosshair proceeded to retreat from the apartment. Hunter approached the senator's desk.

"We're going to have to take certain necessary steps tomorrow, it's an important day," he spoke to her quietly and with his brown gaze fixed on her purple one. Vintra assumed as much, but settled back in her seat anyway at the thought of having to deal with another intense attack.

"Anything I should know?" though Vintra wasn't sure if she wanted to. She had a lot to think about and couldn't fill her head with worry any more. She wished she could put aside her distress for her safety and prioritize the life and rights of the druadan, but the reality was that she couldn't. Her survival instinct wouldn’t let her discard herself.

Hunter watched the Senator's computer screen, and located phrases like "how can we call ourselves a democracy if we resort to more violence to resolve conflicts?" or "preferring to protect revenue over the living beings of this galaxy is one of the reasons the Separatist movement was founded," in the speech the Senator drafted. The sergeant couldn’t understand what Senator Selana was really facing in that battle, which probably had powerful people in the government determined to assassinate her.

The clone, after reading those sentences, could easily see why there would be people angry with her. What he didn't understand was how such strong accusations had anything to do with Druad and the thusten. To him, the senator seemed to be manipulating a sensitive situation with the values of the Republic. She spoke as if he, an army soldier, was indirectly causing the loss of innocent lives and a disgrace to democracy.

"Have you ever stopped to think that perhaps you’d have more allies and fewer death threats if you chose your words better?" said Hunter and pointed to Vintra's speech as he cocked his head and arched his eyebrow in the direction of the computer. He could see the senator's gaze turn serious, even intimidating.

"And how do you suggest I do that? By saying 'please' with a sweet tone or offering something in return?" she challenged the sergeant, incredulous that a soldier would want to advise her on political interactions.

"Or perhaps with less controversial insinuations such as suggesting that the Republic is the cause of the war," the sergeant spat back at her almost in a snarl. His gaze was serious and Vintra could practically see the contempt he was hurling at her. She, however, settled back in her chair to get a better look at the sergeant head on so he could see how serious she was talking.

"It's not a suggestion, sergeant," she replied quietly, with sharp emphasis on every word, "the Republic sealed the start of this war," Hunter couldn't believe it, and had to back up a bit to process what he was hearing. This was a person charged with representing one of the most influential systems in the galactic network, a central figure in total governance. Someone so powerful with such ridiculous ideas.

"Would you rather we let them kill all the innocents? Would you talk like that if it was your planet being occupied?" Vintra knew the sergeant only wanted to lead her down his path to the realization that the Republic was only defending itself from separatist attacks, a very short-sighted opinion in the face of the real picture that had been unfolding for a year now. She was smarter than that.

"Innocents die as we speak now, soldier," Vintra leaned back against the back of her seat, her expression serene and as if everything she said was final. Hunter saw no weak points of counterargument in her stance. It was as if, whatever he said, he’d be wrong for her. "We could stand here all night and have the same discussions that go on in the Senate among thousands and thousands of senators," on top of it, the senator crossed one leg, very comfortably, and rested her arms on the arms of the seat. "I’ll provide points with evidence and reflections that you’ll agree with, and you’ll tell me of experiences that’ll make me concede to certain points... but the reality is that you were created exclusively to engage in war, and I have prepared myself to fight for the welfare of the citizens of my planet and, now as a senator, of the galaxy,"

Silence, steeped in tension, flooded the space between the two. They held each other's gaze for an indefinite time for both, Vintra awaiting some response from the sergeant, who finally conceded to the point made by the politician. He could complain about what she said, but he was not a senator and just complaining accomplished nothing. She was the one who had the power with her opinion, for she was the only one who could go and actually say it out loud and persuade millions to think as she did.

It didn't seem at all fair to the sergeant.

"I’d like to see you think the same after seeing what I have seen," Hunter finally said, for he felt that his service to the thousands of unprotected people wasn’t something to be reduced to being incorrect just because, to her, war shouldn’t exist.

Only a child would think like that.

"Sergeant, wars are much more than just who attacked first and how we respond. You and I are never going to agree because your purpose is to serve post-war, and mine pre-war. I want to keep you from being necessary..." Vintra leaned over her desk, arms resting on it now, and looked at the clone now with a little more patience. It wasn't that complicated for her, she'd had those conversations with many, many people. But she couldn't help but feel the needle of distrust prick her insides. "I used to think like you," she confessed, with a nostalgic tone to her days filled with romantic ideals. There was no trace of them left.

Hunter relaxed his shoulders and sighed through his nose, defeated in that discussion by the mood. The senator was right, their roles didn't fit. But he liked the politicians who recognized the importance and reality of war more than the infantile ones who fought to prevent it.

That day's attire consisted of an ankle-length solid black tailored dress, bare-breasted, with long, delicate sleeves of sheer black fabric adorned with gold-colored leaves, which slid down the senator's arms as they were not tightened. It was adorned by a necklace of three rows of pearls, not so far from the neck, and a golden tiara with gold chains that dangled from the sides and met in the center of the back of the senator's head, like waterfalls adorning the Ederian's long, chestnut hair. Her pointed ears were hidden beneath it.

Hunter might dislike the senator, but he couldn't deny that every time she revealed herself after opening the door to her room each morning, it was a surprise to be admired. That she knew how to show off an outfit, however, didn't take away from his perception of her that she didn't know what she was talking about in the Senate.

The sergeant, already waiting for her at the gate, began the march in front of her, Wrecker in her rear, and the company of Ederian guards behind. They were expecting a day full of diversionary attacks, masking a truly lethal one.

None of the members of Clone Force 99 intended to disturb their impeccable record of successful missions, so they were taking the day's security very seriously.

Hunter had his senses on full blast, Tech remained alert to cameras and sensors. Crosshair watched the heights for snipers, and Wrecker made sure everything around the senator was harmless.

The door to her shuttle platform opened, and Hunter ordered the guards to open the rear of the vehicle. Vintra didn’t move forward until the sergeant made sure she had both doors open. The senator's driver, a dark-skinned, balding human named Lee, greeted them politely.

Her vehicle was escorted by four speeders driven by her guards, who served as shields against any detected attack in traffic, or gunfire from any building. Inside the shuttle, she was accompanied by the clones.

Vintra noticed the details that her new security presented, and she couldn't deny that they made her feel safer. She wondered if it was something from that day or if they were standard measures according to the clones' book.

"Why are you so nervous?" she heard the sergeant's voice next to her. Wrecker was sitting in the co-pilot's seat in front of her. Vintra peeled her gaze from the city she was looking out her window from high above, and turned to look at the clone's helmet. "Do you think your defense is weak?"

That clone sure knew how to piss her off fast.

"What I think is that I don't know how many members in the Court would be personally harmed by my proposal, and so decide to vote to allow more bloodshed," she defended. And those were the words Hunter loathed from her, the ones that insinuated terrorism just because one didn't think like her in a world full of candy and lullabies.

But the clone didn't seek further conversation. And, if that wasn't enough, he couldn't sense much discomfort from the senator either. One could say she didn't care what he thought.

Even Hunter didn't understand why he suddenly felt the need to share his opinions with her. He already knew he couldn't change a politician's mind, so what was he looking for, just to irritate her, to express his displeasure?

It wasn't long before the sergeant suddenly heard the senator's heart racing at a rate that alarmed him, for he assumed it was a seizure. But when he realized that her eyes were fixed on the front, and after understanding what had alarmed her, he dismissed the idea.

The building of the Supreme Court of the Republic stood before them, glorious and terrifying. They were greeted from the front by a row of very tall and thick concrete columns, bone-colored, at the end of a courtyard that housed that morning hundreds gathered before the arrival of the senator, who shouted her name in joy, and on the other hand cursed and insulted her in every possible way. There were already guards in place to keep them out of the senator's way, on Tech's orders, but even so Hunter and Wrecker were going to have to intervene.

The sergeant's eyes scanned the crowd quickly, and he waited for some warning from Tech or Crosshair about the sighting of suspicious behavior. After a while, both clones exited the vehicle, followed by the senator, who provoked a wave of shouts, pleasant and unpleasant, as soon as she revealed herself.

In front of Vintra, who was greeting citizens with smiles and nods, a man managed to overtake the court guard. He ran towards the senator, his face very upset and set in anger, which frightened several people who saw him and the senator herself. Hunter needed only a quick grab at the man's shoulder to twist and immobilize him. He had nothing on him, and after that it didn't take Hunter long to regain his position before someone took advantage of his empty space to attack.

After his action, he noticed a group of people applauding him in appreciation. And he didn’t miss the muffled cries of some in the crowd saying, "thank you for protecting her."

Senator Selana was seated at one of the tables in front of the courtroom and the judge's chair. The two clones behind her, standing at attention for anyone trying to approach her. The four guards stood at each corner of the room like sentries, plus a dozen court guards lined up in front of the wooden fence that separated the senator several feet away from the press and the public, who were taking her pictures and shouting Vintra's name to get an exclusive.

Tech was watching everything through the on-site cameras, to which he had gained access, and Crosshair was just getting out of his speeder to take up position in a building near the courthouse and monitor sniper threats. If the response favored the senator, maybe they were going to see some action.

Vintra kept admiring the room, despite already knowing it quite well after so many years as a senator. It was an ostentatious and imposing infrastructure of high, thick, dark gray walls, with huge windows on the sides starting from the middle of the walls to the ceiling. It had rows of seats for the public in the shape of a half curve, one behind the other. A little further away from these, and separated by the wooden fence, was the convocated part’s table, which consisted of a piece of wood, a simple glass of water and a microphone.

But it was the courtroom the one that was above impressive. A couple of feet away from her stood what Vintra considered a monument. A stone dais several feet above the black floor, with the chair in the center of the prosecutor's seat a little more prominent and larger than those that accompanied it on either side. Behind it, a portrait of the eight judges of the court, hidden by the shadows that surrounded it, adorned the room.

Hunter observed the place with great admiration. He could feel a weight of respect fall on those present, even as they were shouting, and the noise of voices thundered inside. It was due to the infrastructure, Hunter thought, for the walls, the courtroom, the arrangements and the height gave it a rather enormous air that overwhelmed anyone who came under the gaze of the judges or the courtroom itself.

One of the officers announced the entrance of the eight judges and Vintra stood up. She was accompanied by a wave of silence that began to form around the back of the room, until not an audible sound remained. Eight figures took places in each chair of the court, and the central figure, a hard-looking woman, with signs of old age beginning to creep into her face and black hair, sat in the highest of the seats. She invited the audience, and Vintra, to take their seats. Standing there were only the guards and the two clones.

Wrecker swallowed as the judge's ice-blue gaze fell on him. He felt that she was watching him down to his innermost organs and knew everything that had once terrified him. For a second, the clone felt fear that she was looking at him.

Hunter turned to see as he sniffed at his brother's fear, and as he returned his gaze to the front, he was surprised to have perched upon him the two most intimidating eyes the clone had ever seen in his life. They were hypnotic, and almost succeeded in making him uncomfortable as the seconds passed and she didn’t look away.

The one who showed no reaction to the weight of those eyes was Senator Selana. Her experience and friendship with the judge dated back to her rookie days in Coruscant's political circle. However, they weren’t there to catch up on their lives, and Supreme Judge Leara Pennova was highly respected because of her absolute impartiality when it came to sticking to the law. Whether she liked Vintra had nothing to do with the session that was about to begin.

"Senator Selana," greeted the judge to the ederian in front of her. Vintra reciprocated the greeting cordially. "Senator, allow me to extend my sincerest apologies for the lateness of this hearing, as you may know your proposal is not one of easy discussion for many reasons. Both in the Senate and here, there have been tough conversations," the woman's voice surprised Hunter, as he expected a harsher tone. What he encountered was a warm voice, but one that didn’t denote hesitation or fear. It was as if Senator Selana had aged a bit more.

The sergeant turned to look at the senator as soon as he caught her heartbeat quicken. The smell emanating from her body, like rusted metal, gave Hunter the understanding that she was nervous. But the clone had to admit that, if he depended on his eyesight alone, she would’ve fooled him. Vintra's posture was firm and confident, her gaze didn’t waver from the front and her hands in her lap didn’t tremble. But Hunter knew that, inside, the senator was about to burst with despair.

"I have a verdict, Senator, but I would like to provide you with certain points that were discussed during the last month about your case," the judge pulled out a device and handed it through an assistant to the officer who had announced the judges' entrance. He placed it halfway down the aisle between the senator and the judge, and a hologram was displayed with images related to the evidence Vintra had provided to the Court to support her proposal. "Your request, however well-intentioned in your eyes, poses a bureaucratic problem in many spheres that make up the galactic network. Withdrawing troops, weaponry, machinery and supplies is not as easy as it sounds to say. Contracts, jobs, projections at macro levels... you know it would bog down processes that would ultimately trigger another war faster than this Court took to evaluate your proposal," the image changed to a pie chart comparing the sympathy of a sampling of anonymous senators to the bill presented by Vintra. "Tell me, how have your sessions in the Senate been going?"

Vintra moved the microphone closer to her and made sure to take a breath before speaking. Although she knew how to remain calm on the outside, impatience was killing her on the inside. A lot was at stake at that very moment. She knew that nothing she said there would favor her because the decision had already been made. But, still, she wanted to risk gaining more points on her side.

"Good morning, Judge Pennova, judges," greeted the senator to those in front of her. "The Galactic Senate is still having trouble agreeing on the situation in Druad, any point of view for or against is in mind, as it is a case that affects in many, many directions. The discussions are focused on choosing which ones would have less impact than others," she replied with much serenity and a calm step. The judge raised her eyebrows, without undoing the rest of her serious expression.

"In this Court we have millions of cases to which we would like to devote effort and resources, but unfortunately all of that is in short supply in our vast galaxy. As a senator, you know that perfectly well," Judge Pennova sank Vintra's hopes a bit with those words, for she was right, and she practically guessed what she would say next. "Why would we provide it to a petition that has the Senate so divided, and that it will likely be months before we have a resolution?"

Vintra knew it was a rhetorical question, but she felt the need to answer. She could argue, but she wasn’t before mere soft figures she could convince with gimmicks. This was the Supreme Court, judges who hadn't gotten there by having easy hearts to move. They were decision-makers at macro levels.

They were her, but a hell of a lot stricter.

"Senator Selana," she heard the male voice of a Pantorian, a couple of chairs to the right of the judge, "your proposal involves numerous drawbacks as well in terms of the war, aren't the soldiers next to you members of Clone Force 99?" questioned the judge whose last name was Bohn. She stifled a sigh and nodded with conviction and firmness. "Yes, the most efficient unit in the army... I understand that General Kenobi assigned them to you as a mission. But, and you will tell me Senator, isn't it better to use their skills on the front lines to rid our planets of separatist occupation, rather than take on a target that doesn't even have enough votes in its own arena?" the judge posed incredulously, and Vintra, to her chagrin, had to answer this one.

"Besides, Senator," she heard another voice from the left, a Rhodian judge whose last name was Finna, "weren't you one of the main opponents of the clone army? And now you trust them with your life... not very trustworthy example you show," and the judge's tone was precisely one of distrust. Vintra understood this and knew that these were cards stacked against her. Even though she could explain everything, it was going to require each judge to accept it or not. She had no control over that.

"I understand your concerns, Judges Bohn and Finna, and I agree with your points. I know that my new security team isn’t well regarded from the efficient distribution of resources in the middle of a war, and I also don't like the idea of depriving the fate of several people from a unit like this," she tried to explain, her tone still not breaking or showing signs of nervousness or doubt. "However, General Kenobi assured me that their absence would be well balanced, and the moment they are absolutely necessary they will return to the front lines without any inconvenience, whether I have the votes or not, the reality is that my life is in danger these days, and will remain so regardless of the response of this Court, for I will not stop until a vote is reached in the Senate," she defended, and her gaze seemed to have darkened in anger as she spoke, one that wasn’t evident in her tone, of course. "I remain opposed to the clone army, but not the clones, judge," she clarified, "beyond personal reasons why I cannot fully place my trust in them, I understand that they are part of this galaxy. I don’t condemn their existence or their inclusion in our network, you know that what I oppose is their use as an army. Even if that is the only reason for their creation, I disapprove the approval of their use and that the only purpose of these beings is to make war," Vintra wondered if saying that wouldn’t bring her more problems, or if the sergeant to her right would reproach her after the hearing. "And I think that taking their services out of the front is a demonstration of the vision they could propose about a better use of them." Behind Vintra, incomprehensible murmurs suddenly spewed forth until they provoked the attention of the great judge, who demanded order in the courtroom, and no one dared to disobey her. This one returned her icy eyes to the senator in front of her.

"Senator Selana, your ability to ruffle all the places with your controversial words is not news to anyone by now," she observed with a wry, but serious tone. "However, on this occasion you have really pissed off so many people, I wonder if aligning with you will pose a similar danger to those who do," again, it was a rhetorical question she felt the need to answer. "Your whole operation has a sky-high non-monetary cost, and let's not go into the amount in credits as such, shall we? " she knew it, Vintra knew it. "Can you imagine if we allocate these resources so that, in the end, this will pass stalled in the Senate for months or, worse, lose the vote?" the senator wondered why the judge was asking her questions that she knew Vintra had already asked herself. There was no way she didn't know, she wasn't an idiot senator, and everyone there knew it.

But then again, Vintra knew that the reasons that made her decide it was worth it in the end were not necessarily going to be viewed with equal eyes and heart. Each judge would decide if it was something worthwhile, and it was an uncertain question, because, as the great judge was exposing, it had many cons in terms of costs. Deciding not to support it would be, technically, wise. But also, naïve and risky, for Vintra had a lot of public approval, and an unmeasurable information network with which to retaliate and threaten if necessary.

Silence reigned in the room for a couple of tense seconds. Vintra with her gaze fixed on a spot on her desk, a bit anxious for the final answer the great judge would give her. To be honest, she was a bit discouraged, as she could sense the Court's rejection and having to face the Senate defeated and alone, with the danger of losing votes just the same, for without the Court's support, her case would not have much appeal and that was, for some reason, important in deciding whether to do the right thing or not.

Vintra returned her gaze to the great judge when she heard her sigh loudly and lean back in her seat, as if she was tired just from the hearing, before even the truly exasperating thing began. It was too much to come to all of them if she approved. Probably a level of complication that hadn't been seen in years, as public opinion was a crucial issue and a pain in the ass for politicians' reputations. Vintra had taken advantage of that in time.

"Senator, this Court cannot neglect its responsibilities to the Republic to gamble on an uncertain battle, and it certainly cannot rely on you as the sole representative of the Druad case, for it has enough to do with the Galactic Senate," Vintra felt the punch in her stomach before she heard it: "This Court cannot pass your motion with the current powers it possesses," the great judge said, and a hole in Vintra's stomach opened wider and wider as the voices combined in complaints and cheers accompanied by applause. She wanted to collapse, but she wouldn't let herself, not there. Especially when the great judge's voice made its way back to her ears. "Nevertheless! " she repeated the words that had been drowned out by the outrage, and the senator raised her hopeful gaze. "That’s why I have authorized the creation of a department to be charged exclusively with overseeing the Druad conflict, for which we are recruiting volunteer professionals and will rely on donations for its investigation," Vintra's heart suffered an overload of emotion, that she didn't realize she had been out of breath for nearly a minute until her lungs demanded it. The courtroom erupted again in louder voices, and the great judge again demanded order. "After reviewing the evidence and discussing with our full bench, we ruled that this is a case that must be evaluated with full commitment, one that we unfortunately do not have. But we do find violations of the justice system, and we demand that the Senate abide by its signed promises and consent to separatist negotiations to neutralize this conflict once and for all," every word that came out of the great judge's mouth filled Vintra with joy, who had been struggling all the while to keep her smile and excitement from taking complete possession of her. Her face remained passive, with a hint of pride. "The function of this department will be to investigate Senator Selana's accusations to the Republic, inform the judges of important observations and create negotiation bridges exclusively on the Druad case with separatist representatives," she informed with much complacency in her voice, as if she knew she was making the right decision. In Vintra's eyes, she was. "We hope to count with your cooperation, Senator Selana, and the ederian information network to work more effectively," was the last thing the great judge said to Vintra, before standing up to face the rest of the audience and being immediately mimicked by her and the other judges. "Have a good day."

Chapter Five -> No safe place

Thank you for reading!!

Things will get darker and a lot more stressful for Vintra, and her relationship with Hunter will remain very professional but some strings will start to pull, in a looot of directions (for good and for bad) ;p

[pogueit]

First Aid Kit

Paring: Pope Heyward x Reader

Summary: You have an accident while attempting to do a new trick and Pope is the man for the job.

Warnings: blood ofc and general first aid stuff nothing too graphic tho!!

WC: 1,994

A/N: There's not enough Pope content!! SO I made some!! Pls enjoy some Pope and Y/N action!

THE GIF IS NOT MINE IT BELONGS TO @rue-bennett !!!!

Saturdays are not meant to be boring, but this scorching afternoon there was nothing to do. John B. went on his weekly date with Sarah, JJ scored a date with a kook he's been eyeing, and Kie was forced to go to a gala on the mainland, so it was just you and Pope alone in the chateau. He had been studying all day for an upcoming chemistry exam he has first thing Monday morning. You tried all day to get his head out of the books, but he was not having any of it. It wasn't until the late afternoon that you got him to go outside with you. Even though his nose was still deep in the piles of notes at least he was outside. You were skating on a horrifically uneven stretch of concrete that was oddly slathered in front of the chateau. Every time he could hear the wheels pop upwards he would snap his eyes to you, cheering you on when you stuck the landing. You were glad that he was far enough away to not be able to see how red your cheeks were. You've had a massive crush on the boy ever since Kie introduced you to the group. Your mom had just moved your ass down to the banks to get a fresh start far away from your poor excuse for a father. She managed to quickly score a job at The Wreck (where you were also forced to work part-time) as head chef. Your mom got on well with the Carrera's who only deemed it appropriate to force their daughter to hang out with you, being new in town and all. Kie wasn’t bothered at all and was glad to have another girl around. After hanging out with her for a single day, you wouldn’t hesitate to take a bullet for her. Kiara didn't introduce you to the knuckleheads right away, since she had taken a liking to you and didn't want to scare you away. The day that she did you remembered Pope had been the last one to say "hey" yet his was the warmest. After that day your stomach would erupt with butterflies whenever you'd even look at him and you would nearly die when your hands would brush against each other in passing. There was just something about him. Maybe it was how he didn't believe in stupid questions, except for JJ's of course, or how he would learn a new subject just to be able to help one of you ace an exam. It could be how the sun sparkled against his wet skin after a long day of swimming or surfing. How relaxed he looks sitting in the driver's seat of the HMS Pogue taking in all that the sun had to offer. You were glad the rest of the crew hadn't caught on yet, especially JB since he's already taken the role as your big brother, even though you're sure that you’re definitely older than him. He would never let you hear the end of it if he knew. The constant pestering, nudging, and side-eyeing would have driven you insane. Your mind slowly drifted back to the boy studying a few feet away from you. The thoughts of those hot summer nights in the cool water with him clouded your brain, so much so you nearly wiped out.

"You good!?" Pope's concerned voice made your head snap in his direction. You knew that the embarrassment on your face was very telling but you just shot him two thumbs up and got back on your board. You shake off any remaining thoughts from your head before attempting your new trick. You were sick and tired of random strangers, but mostly JJ and JB, yelling at you to do a kickflip whenever you were skating. After watching countless videos on kickflips you were basically an expert on them at this point and all you had to do now was actually stick the landing. You slid your right foot to the middle of the board so that your heel was just off the edge while your toes rested in the middle. You shifted your left foot to the tail of the deck and with all the strength you could muster you push down on the tail while your right foot flicked down on the edge of the board. It would have been a spectacular landing if it weren't for the random-ass pebble that your wheel landed on.

"Oh fuck, are you alright!?" Pope was by your side before you even realized you were on the ground. Falling came with the game and you were not fazed at all, since you've had grislier wipeouts than this, but that's before you saw the fountain of blood that poured out of your knee.

"Yeah, I'm fine dude-- I've had-- I need to--The bathroom--" you hobbled quickly into the bathroom at the chateau trying your darndest to not get any blood in the house. By the time you were able to sit down on the toilet, you were seeing stars. Your vision was slowly fading to black and you felt like you were going to vomit. You closed your eyes tightly as you pressed a clump of toilet paper to your knee, which pulled a hiss right from your lungs at the sensation. Promptly, you bit down on your bottom lip to keep yourself from letting out a scream. A light knock came from the door and it couldn't be anyone else but Pope.

"Are you alright in there y/n?" From all the pain you were in you could only hum out a yes as a response, but you knew that would not be a good enough answer for the boy.

"Yeah, just don't--" before you could even finish your sentence he barged in "--open the door, why don't ya". His eyes grew wide at the bloody mess you made in the bathroom, but then quickly softened at the sight of you. Your skin was flushed with developing perspiration clinging to your skin and your lips had gone pale as your lungs suddenly only knew how to hyperventilate.

"Uh, I don’t think it would be in your best interest to say that it looks like a slasher flick was filmed in here" his words made you squeeze your eyes tighter as bloody images flashed before you and it only got harder for you to breathe. Pope stepped inside the rather small bathroom and closed the door behind him. He picked up all the toilet paper you had used for your leg and tossed them into the trash bin before he crouched down next to you.

"Does it still hurt?" His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, as if you would shatter if he spoke any louder. All you could muster was a tiny nod as the pain took up most of your energy. His hands then gently pried your hands off of your injured knee and inspected it. Since the cut had almost stopped bleeding completely, Pope, was able to see that the wound was deep but not enough for it to garner any stitches and it was free of any debris. Lucky for you because JB had fallen there a couple of weeks ago and Pope had to whip out the tweezers to get all the gravel out of the bloody gash.

"Hey, it's not that bad-- I mean it is bad but it could be worse-- I'm gonna clean it now" the boy got to his feet and helped you sit on the edge of the bathtub with your feet sitting inside the tub. He then washed his hands furiously to avoid infection and gathered all the supplies he needed which consisted of antibacterial soap, antibiotic cream, gauze pads, gauze rolls, and unconditional love and support. Pope helped you undo both your shoes and removed them along with your embarrassing Winnie the Pooh socks. He sat with his legs outside the tub to have easy access to the supplies. After he checked to make sure the water wasn't too hot or too cold Pope moved your leg so your knee was underneath the faucet. The wound's contact with the water wasn't as bad as you thought, but it could’ve been you were distracted by his soothing touches as he held you close to him. Pope was careful not to get any of the soap in the cut just on the surrounding area and when he was finished he made sure to clean the rest of your blood-caked leg up as well. Once you were all cleaned up, he padded your leg dry before he attempted to put ointment on the tender flesh.

"Is it going to hurt?" You squeaked as he retrieved the ointment from the countertop.

"It might sting, but it shouldn't, '' he reassured you, as he brought the ointment-covered q-tip to your knee, but you couldn't help that your knee-jerked away from his touch.

"Ow, fuck!"

"Y/n, I haven't even touched you yet"

"I know, I know, sorry"

"I promise it won't hurt, y/n, and if it does you can punch me or something" even if it did hurt that bad you couldn’t imagine hurting Pope in any way. He once again leaned back in with the q-tip and sure enough, it wasn't painful at all. The ointment soothed the burning sensation of the area which finally allowed you to relax. He then carefully put a gauze pad on the injury, before wrapping your knee securely with gauze. You slid off the edge of the grimy porcelain tub and onto the ground while Pope stood next to the sink and neatly tucked everything back into the first aid kit.

"Uh, thanks--" your words got lost in your throat when your eyes met his warm eyes "--um, dude?" You felt stupid when it came out as a dumbfounded question and the heat quickly rose to your cheeks. If it was any time for you to die you wish it would have happened right then.

"Yeah, any time, y/n" he shot an endearing smile in your direction and you've never wanted to kiss a man so much before in your life.

You both let the awkwardness settle over you. The two of you riddled with hesitancy, but quietly yearned to confess your feelings to one another. He needed to get out of there. Pope gave you a curt nod and a tight smile, but as he headed towards the door there was vacillation in his movements. Before you lost sight of him from the doorway, he turned back around determined.

"Y/N, I gotta--" you were soon on your feet as the last bit of courage you had for your lifetime allowed you to meet him halfway. He didn't bother finishing his sentence as he decided his actions would speak for him. Pope cupped your face in his soft hands and crashed your lips together. The kiss was sweet, sweeter than anything you've ever experienced before. His plump lips gilded confidently over your timid ones. As the fire inside of you diminished your shyness you shifted yourself forward onto your tippy toes to deepen the kiss. Your movements caused you to pin Pope against the bathroom wall and you could feel him smile against your lips. His velvet tongue dragged against your bottom lip for permission to explore you further and you were more than eager to let him.

"Fucking finally!" The familiar voice of the rowdy klepto caught you guys by surprise causing both of you to jump away from each other.

"I guess I'm forty bucks richer, I knew you had it in ya, Pope!" JJ beamed as he walked towards the two of you and you playfully rolled your eyes at the blonde-haired boy.

"Fuck off!" Pope giggled and slammed the door in JJ's face before he turned to face you.

"Now, where were we?"

[quirklessidiot]

I don't think that we care if it's weird and unedited, it's still interesting tho. 😭

YEAH THE GODS ONE ITS SO INTERESTING

i’ll put a small thingy down below here hehehe. (Nsfw down the cut!) this is unedited bye and idk when im planning to pick this up (warning threesome-ish, fingering, edging, spitting, finger-sucking, hair-pulling, biting, small choking, f!recieving, praising (?), yandere themes, very unedited bye) 

basically y/n was a priestess for a fellow god and she caught the interest and boom, they addicted to her no matter what lifetime it is but in each lifetime, she ends up dying (i may or may not have subtly took sum inspo from greek mythology and how the gods, whenever they fall for a human ends up ded bye) but here’s the catch, each lifetime they grow obsessed with y/n weewoOO

Satoru’s azure blue eyes are staring right down at your fear-stricken ones, your breath heavy as you try to remove yourself within Suguru Geto’s grasp yet your efforts are futile , “I...no, this isn’t...” You stuttered, voice laced with trepidation since you knew how this was going to end. Although the myths sung hymns that they liked to simply use and disregard women for their entertainment, it wasn’t the same for you. The god of the underworld’s arms slowly tightens on your waist as he presses you against his chest, his hard on painstakingly obvious and felt on your ass, “Our little priestess…” he buries his head on the nape of your neck, inhaling your addictive scent, just like the last time, you still smelled divine and impeccable.

“Ah, aren’t you taking her in too much?” Satoru dips down on the comforts of his silk sheets while you remain there, unaware of what to do, knees quivering as the god of the sky settles at the middle of your legs, slowly hoisting one of it up to give your ankle a brief peck, the white dress barely covering anything and revealing your panties, “Skin still as smooth.” he continues to place open mouth kisses on it, giving kitten licks on the expanse of your skin while the raven-haired man behind you starts working his way down the crooks of your neck.

“She still tastes divine.” Suguru compliments, his hand gently wrapping around your throat, the sudden feeling of his large warm hands enveloping it has your breathing turned ragged, “Look at her, she still loves it when we do that.” he adds, sucking on your bare skin, leaving a glaring red mark.

Your head is in a frenzy, clearly unaware of what to do. You shouldn’t be here, you shouldn’t feel this way, knowing that this was going to end horribly. You should be running further away from these men  these gods. Satoru’s gaze bores upon you as if he was reading your muddled thoughts, clicking his tongue as if he knew you too well, “You’re thinking too loud, little priestess.” he scolds you, raising his fingers to put it on top of your wet lips, grazing it, “You can’t run.”

With the same digit he used to touch your lips he raises it to his friend and Suguru doesn’t even hesitate to lick your saliva on it, the lewd action makes your eyes turn wide as you hear a small pop, his wet finger slowly trails down to your clothed core, the foreign action making you jittery but Suguru’s hold on you tightens as the straps of your dress slowly fall off, your breasts splayed for their viewing pleasure. Your pupils flare as his hands on your waist slowly trails up, cupping the right one at first and starts massaging it while Satoru continues to tease you through your now wet cunt, “Ha.” you lips part, shakily letting out an embarrassing sound as your hands start to find something to grip on, Suguru bends his head down and starts sucking on the crook of your neck while continuing to massage your left tit, using his other hand to guide one of your hand to grip on his black locks.

Satoru’s lips twist to a grin at how easy it is, how in each lifetime you were still easy to be fucked dumb. This is why the both of them will never get over you, why you’re their favorite human. Why you’ll forever be their favorite priestess no matter what lifetime or future it is.

No one can stop them.

Your disheveled state, bunched up fabric, erect nipples, and half-lidded gaze has him leaking already but he remains patient as takes off the flimsy fabric covering you up, teasing your wet folds with his digits. Pretty girl. It was too easy to have you become a crumbling mess between the both of them, how they’ve memorized all your reactions and weak spots, how in each lifetime, it’s just the same old Y/N, he spits on your warm hole before inserting one digit, “I-” you tried to speak out but Suguru grabs you roughly by the chin and kisses you, his tongue licking the bottom of your lip. Satoru, continues to make a mess out of your cunny, inserting another one as he watches you crumble in front of him and try to find more friction with his fingers.

Without even saying anything, he inserts another finger, making you gasp at the sudden new sensation and giving Suguru access to your tongue. The feeling of having your two holes suddenly filled makes the sensation unbearable. You break away from Suguru, wanting to catch your breath, there's a trail of saliva when you separate and lipstick smeared on him from that sloppy kiss, “‘m gunna cu-” you tried to exclaim as you ride his fingers but Satoru has other plans, though. He takes it out, another grin on his lips as he hoists one of your feet up, the feeling of your empty hole makes your body throb and hot all over as you feel your eyes start to water. Suguru, mildly amused by your reaction and knowing what his partner is about to do, grips onto your waist tightly, “Since you’ve been good so far,” he whispers in your ear, “We’ll be giving you a gift.”

“A gi...gift?” You panted, you could feel Suguru’s hand on your waist trail back to your breasts as he slowly started to play with them again. His warm hand, squeezing the left part as he starts nibbling on your ear, humming in approval. Taking ahold of your chin and tilting your head down to watch Gojo Satoru bend in between your legs, your body turns hot at the lewd action, “I-I…” Suguru ignores your stutter and grabs ahold of your hands and guides it to the god’s white hair.

Satoru’s oceanic blue eyes don't leave yours as he feels your soft hands gently grip his hair, “Come on, young priestess.” Suguru mumbles hotly in your ear, “Go on, it’s not everyday you get your pretty cunt eaten by a god.”

[sugarmaplewings-fics]

Hugs and Kisses

Pairing: Shouto Todoroki x reader

Warnings: Slight suggestive content towards the end along with a brief detailed makeout scene. Nothing too crazy tho.

━━━━━━ ♡♤♡ ━━━━━━

Shouto pressed his finger to your doorbell, tapping his foot while he waited for you to let him in. This was another one of those times where he decided to show up to your house spontaneously, not even bothering to send you a text that he was on his way. After about a minute, he heard footsteps stomping their way to your door, the anger behind them making him suddenly tense.

Your voice sounded on the other side, the knob twitching as you fiddled with the lock. "I SWEAR TO GOD," you said, finally managing to throw your door open. "IF YOU THROW YOUR BALL OVER MY FENCE ONE MORE TIME I'LL—oh, hey Shouto."

He blinked at you, wondering why you had sounded so upset. "I'm sorry, did I—?"

"No, no," you said, beginning to feel guilty about your outburst. "It's just my neighbors." Your lip curled up into a silent snarl and you rolled your eyes. "Ugh, they won't stop throwing their toys into our yard. I swear I've had to toss them back over the fence four times today . . . ." You trailed off, finally shaking your head to rid yourself of thoughts of the people next door. "What brings you here?"

"I walked."

You tried to suppress your chuckle. It was easy to forget how blunt Shouto could be. Or possibly it was his dry sense of humor. You weren't quite sure, finally deciding to just roll with it. "It is a nice day. So uh, what did you want?"

"Cuddles," he answered simply.

You liked how he said it, just so matter of fact, as though it was nothing to be in any way embarrassed over. Which was true, but you knew both guys and girls who thought themselves too good to even say the word 'cuddle'.

You smirked and let him in, opening the door wider before closing it back up.

He briskly made his way to your room, the layout of your house already ingrained in his memory. Shouto didn't even need to check over his shoulder to make sure you were following him. This was just your established routine, and he trusted that you'd follow it. He stopped at your doorway, letting you enter your room first before coming in after you, swinging the door mostly shut behind him without letting it click.

"So what's it going to be for you today?" you asked, turning to him. "What's on your mind?"

"I just wanted to spend time with you," Shouto said. His voice was monotone but his expression was soft. His gaze finally settled on you, and an odd feeling began to build in his chest. For the first time, he took in what you were wearing. He was used to a hoodie or a t-shirt, but today you donned a simple black tank top and (F/C) short shorts. The peppermint-haired boy found himself not wanting to take his eyes off you, visually exploring your skin from his position across from you.

You glanced down and registered what you were wearing yourself, a light pink materializing on your cheeks. You subconsciously folded your arms under your chest, trying to hug yourself. Clearing your throat, Todoroki snapped out of his spontaneous daze. "I uh, wasn't expecting you today," you said, gesturing down at yourself. "I could go change, and then we can cuddle if you'd like—"

"No. Cuddles first."

You nervously breathed out a chuckle. "You don't mind?"

"You look stunning, (Y/N)," he said, his face serious as ever.

You blushed, grinning. "Thanks."

With that, you turned on your heel, face planting on your bed and bouncing slightly on the springy mattress. You laid there for a moment, letting your body relax against your soft blankets before sliding yourself forward. Rolling to your side, you looked up to find Shouto still standing there.

You reached out your arms, making little childish grabby motions with your hands. "Come on," you playfully whined. "You said you wanted cuddles, right? I want cuddles too."

Shouto smirked at your antics and cleared the distance between you two, the side of your bed dipping a little under the weight of his knee. He flopped into your arms, careful so as not to hurt you, and nuzzled his face into your chest.

Your cheeks pinkened again, as you hadn't worn such a low cut top around him before. His arm snaked around you, pulling your bodies as close as possible to each other. You relaxed and melted as he clung to you, your heart starting to do the hot chocolate thing. Your hand proceeded to run over the top of his head, thoughts beginning to lazily wander as the two of you settled into each other. Your eyes drifted shut as he began to rub your back, his breath warmly pooling against the skin of your exposed chest.

You weren't sure how long the two of you laid there, more than comfortable to just silently be in each other's presence, limbs tangled together. Sleep was already beginning to tickle the back of your mind, and you wondered briefly if taking a quick nap would be a bad idea.

Contrary to your musings, you suddenly felt lips brush against your skin. "Hey, (Y/N)."

"I love you too."

"What?"

You jolted a little, instantly awake. "Sorry, zoned out there. What is it?"

"I was wondering if we could kiss for a bit."

You didn't mind how blunt he was, actually finding it quite endearing. "Of course." You slid yourself down so you could be level with his face, planting your lips flush against his. He tasted of minty chapstick, lips still the tiniest bit sticky from it. So he had planned this. That much was flagrantly clear. But what did it matter? You enjoyed kissing just as much as he did, and his newfound obsession with your lip care tips kept him so delectably soft.

For a few minutes, your kisses remained gentle and sweet, mouths primarily staying closed as you pressed little pecks against each other. Soon enough, however, you made the move to start deepening them, and Shouto obliged, parting his lips to grant you access to his tongue. You silently fought for dominance, and you kept yourself going a little longer than you normally did just to see what would happen. Shouto rolled you over, straddling himself on top of you. A low hum sounded in his throat, just bordering on a growl.

Excitement bubbled in your chest, hands moving from their grip on his head to lightly scratch his back over the surface of his shirt. You finally submitted, letting his tongue sit firmly behind your teeth, pulling you closer into the kiss.

You marveled at how borderline aggressive he had gotten; over a year spent together gently prying him out of his shell. Shouto was no longer the hesitant, inexperienced boy he had been. He poked at your tongue again, inviting your muscle to swirl with his in a wet embrace. A bit of drool had begun to slide down your cheek, but you paid it no mind as you let your beloved boyfriend have his way with you.

You loved how you melted into each other, occasionally letting a quiet moan or hum escape your locked lips. Todoroki shifted his weight to one elbow, letting his opposite hand gently tease over your body.

He finally pulled away from you, but only by a fraction so his lips were still lightly pressed over yours. He began to speak, quietly and almost into your mouth so you had to strain to hear him.

"(Y/N)," he whispered, "do you want to try something . . . different today?"

You swallowed, heat starting to pool in your belly. "What do you mean?" you asked breathlessly.

"You know," he stated simply. "Help me with a little—"

The chime of your doorbell suddenly rang through your house, making you both jump. A light pounding came from your front door.

A fire lit off in your eyes as you surged upwards, pushing Todoroki off of you. You sprinted out of the room, your boyfriend watching your retreating form as you made your way to answer the door.

"YOU DARN KIDS! FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS—!"

Shouto smirked at your momentary rage. He knew about your one-sided rivalry with your neighbors. It was a pity that they had to interrupt you, but you would be back. Maybe it would be his turn to provide some cuddly comfort in your time of emotional unrest. He most certainly wouldn't mind doing a little more, just to make absolute certain you felt good.~

━━━━━━ ♡♤♡ ━━━━━━

Taglist: @basicaegyo @xo-sun-storm-xo @heroacademiafan

[wanna-do-bad-things]

Expecting.

Summary: Tired of dating for nothing, Henry laid everything out for her on that very first date. But when he gets everything he hoped for, there’s one thing left that he really wants.

Word count: 1683

Warnings: trying to get pregnant (no heartbreak tho, it just takes a lil time), fluffy baby daddy Henry

A/N: this was for @henrythickcavill, requested via my patreon. 

Forever tag list:  @luclittlepond |  @fcgrizi  | @henrythickcavill  |  @mitzwinchester  |  @mary-ann84 | @hell1129-blog  | @pensieve-foryour-thoughts  |  @agniavateira  |  @dancingwendigo  |  @living-in-the-darkness | @trippedmetaldetector |  @watermeloncavill  |   @justaboringadult   |   @madbaddic7ed   |   @ruthoakenshield  |  @omgkatinka   |   @iloveyouyen   |   @spursondele    |

________

Henry has been on cloud nine ever since she told him she was pregnant. Tired and mentally exhausted trying to find the right person, Henry had all but given up. It’s not that he was actively looking for a girlfriend, or wife in his case, but he did hope that when the right person came along, he’d just know. He’d feel it in his bones. He didn’t think it would happen like it does in the movies, where everything aligns, everything tastes better, music sounds better and he can breathe like he’s never breathed before. But he thought he’d feel something different.

She didn’t breeze into his life. She didn’t make him understand now why everything else hadn’t worked out. But what she did do was make him wonder how the hell he’d managed to feel so complete before when he felt bursting at the seams when he was around her. He’d laid it all on the table on their first date.

“I know this is a little full on, but I’m going to be honest with you. I can’t keep doing meaningless dates. If you’re not looking for something serious, something long term and possibly the end goal, then this date isn’t going to go far. You can leave, I’ll still pay for the bill, but I won’t hold it against you. I understand not everyone will be on the same page.”

Instead of pushing her chair back, grabbing her coat and bag and walking out of the restaurant, she pulled her chair a little closer, poured them both a drink and said, “so what colour theme are we having at the wedding and how many children are we having?”

She took an open interest in what he had to say, she challenged him on a few of his viewpoints just for a good conversation piece. They shared many of the same opinions and differed on a handful but nothing deal breaking or something that neither could get past. Henry understood that not everyone was the same and listening to her speak was amazing. He adored that they were on the same page when it came to values and their life.

As the weeks and months went on, he tried to trip her up. Tried to catch her out and see if she was just spoon feeding him everything he wanted to hear but no, it continued to flow almost perfectly. Henry took her on several vacations per year, she joined him on set, rode him when he needed his stress relieving and helped him with his lines. She was by no means a good actress, but she would try to put her feelings into it, try to give the script some sort of justice and helped Henry when he needed it.

They married three years later, with her joking that Henry would rush her down the aisle just so he could get straight to the baby making part of marriage. But it didn’t happen as quickly as either of them hoped. She came off her birth control and though they’d lose themselves within the sheets (or on the counter tops, table, against the hallway wall, the sofa, his gaming chair…just anywhere which could hold their weight,) as often as possible without wanting to take the fun out of sex and just have it for the sake of having a baby, pregnancy just wasn’t as easy to happen as they’d thought.

A year and half into their marriage, she’d began to draw up schedules, bought thermometers to check her temperature and downloaded several “trying to get pregnant” apps. She tracked her cycles, found the optimum times for having sex and had started to pitch it all to Henry when she realised she was two weeks late.

He’d sat there before her, waiting for her to reach the main part of her big presentation of why looking at their baby making schedule would be most effective when he’d watched the blood drain from her face and her scramble out of the room, roughly slamming the bathroom door closed and lock it before he’d been able to fully understand what had just happened. He’d heard things dropping onto the floor, things being torn open and as he’d stood nervously on the other side of the bathroom door, his hand on the wooden surface, listening carefully for anything which could give him an idea of what had happened, he’d finally heard the little sob that came from her.

“Are you ok?” He’d asked softly, not wanting to refer to her by any pet names, instead addressing her by her name. She hadn’t replied for a moment or two, just the sound of her soft cries filling the room in which he couldn’t access until she’d finally slid the lock open and he found her sitting on the floor, surrounded by torn open pregnancy test boxes and four tests sitting in front of her, letters boasting PREGNANT 4+ WEEKS on each of them.

Henry hadn’t wanted to go too crazy. He’d wanted this for too long and didn’t want to curse anything by purchasing anything too early. He’d gripped her hand, their fingers locked together, tears falling from his eyes as he’d pressed their hands to his lips as his eyes had remained fixated on the screen during her scan, watching as their two babies wriggled around for them. Watching as their tiny limbs stretched out and they flipped themselves around in their little bubble of comfort.

With each passing week, Henry ensured that he took care of any of the big jobs, needing her to take it as easily as possible. She hadn’t wanted to completely give up their workouts, and he’d make sure that he was there to observe each one, with a personalised plan specifically for pregnancy. They scoured the websites for the perfect nursery set up. With the babies genders remaining a secret, pots of neutral paint sits in the room. Dust sheets are down ready to catch any splatters of paint which hadn’t made it onto the walls. Tins of light colours are waiting to be applied and Henry has changed into his “DIY” clothes which are sweatpants and a loose, though still fitted for him, cotton tee shirt.

Most of the walls will be a pale grey to match the carpet, but there’ll be soft mint greens, duck egg blues, pale yellows scattered around the room in forms of cuddle bears, artwork and books that he wants to read to them. Two rocking chairs have been placed, and tested, and he already looks forward to sitting in them while reading to the two of them as they have their feed, much like he’s already done with her sitting beside him, their joined hands pressed to her large bump as he’d read some of his favourite childhood stories to them so that they would already recognise his voice. She’s due in one months’ time, and only now does he feel confident enough to begin to paint and assemble everything he’d bought.

She’d caught him in the middle of their living room two months ago, the boxes emptied out and him checking every screw, every nut, bolt and piece against the assembly instructions to ensure that everything was there, fully prepared with the phone and laptop beside him to make all the forms of contact needed to get the right parts sent out. “I’m not leaving it until last minute to then find out something is missing, or wrong or damaged and it’s too late.”

He’s strolled around the house with the double pram, telling her he needed to break in the wheels. He’s practiced for what felt like hours closing the pram and re-opening it again. Getting it in and out of the large car which he bought for the babies in mind. He’s tested numerous ways of picking up the baby carriers and how to get them in and out of the car with ease. He’s completed a baby first aid course and made sure he’s bought enough things to baby proof the house.

“You have some explaining to do.” She says, waddling into the doorway of the nursery, holding up some of the baby outfits he’s purchased.

“Look at the little cape though.” He grins, putting down the paint roller and tray before he’s even applied the first stroke. He walks over to her, his hand instinctively going to her belly as the other touches the cape of the baby vest which reads “my daddy is superman.”

“And this?” She holds up a mini Chiefs kit.

“I don’t make the rules around here. It’s law that they should match their daddy.”

“But what if they choose to suppo-”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Henry cuts her off with a wag of his finger, “we don’t have none of that negativity around here. Absolutely not.” It takes everything she can muster not to crack another smile and to try and keep her expression as neutral as possible but the stern look upon Henry’s face makes it more difficult to do so.

“You can’t wait for this, can you?” She asks him as she sinks down into her rocking chair and slowly goes back and forth, sighing contently to get the weight from her swelling ankles and sore feet.

“Lumberjack beard, bags under my eyes so big I could do a months shopping in them and endless stories of ‘so yeah, my kid pooped today’ conversations. I can’t wait.”

“No dad bod?” She questions.

“I’m a daddy now, and I’ve got a body.” You sure are daddy, she thinks. If she weren’t suffering from her aching hips, she’d be wanting to climb onto his lap and ride him. He looks far too good right now.

“Yeah you have, now let me see that body of yours get to work….on this room. Not on me.” She says, holding up her finger and lifting a leg up as though that could stop Henry from covering her body with his own, “you’ve done enough.”

“Well, you know what they say… it helps to speed things along…”

[tundrainafrica]

That Levihan fic you mentioned from Erwin's pov....I would be VERY interested in reading that if you ever decided to post it just so you know...(no pressure ofc tho <3)

Thank you for the ask anon! 

Ask and you shall receive. 

Title: Omissions

Summary:  

“Erwin first suspected that there was something going on between the squad leader and the captain during one of their strategy meetings. It was in the greetings and farewells they exchanged as fellow soldiers."

The development of Levi and Hange's relationship from Commander Erwin’s POV

Written for @levihanweek  Angstober 2020. Prompt: Greetings and Farewells

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Notes: This was originally written for  Levihanangstober 2020 for the prompt, "Greetings and Farewells" I was just generally unsatisfied with how it turned out so I decided to write "free spot" instead. Since this paled in comparison, I kinda had this idea that it was horrible. But reading it again now, it wasn't bad per se. In fact, I had fun looking back at this fic.

Thank you to the anon for that request. That got me the courage at least to reopen this file.

Erwin first suspected that there was something going on between the squad leader and the captain during one of their strategy meetings.

It was in the greetings and farewells they exchanged as fellow soldiers.

Or their lack of it at least. Erwin thought to himself as he watched the two make their way out of the office and into the hallway together.

The meetings usually ended at nine in the evening. With physical drills awaiting them early the next morning, officers usually went straight to their rooms. Although his room was more accessible to the corridor on the right, Levi always accompanied Hange as the latter exited through the left.

Erwin had discounted it the few times to survey corps business between the two, maybe training, maybe collaborations. Hange would want to test different weapons on titans or secure samples out in the field and to prevent unnecessary deaths, it was only natural she would coordinate with Levi to help secure her projects.

Erwin started to watch their dynamics more closely when he noticed that their leaving meetings together had become routine. Having spent a fair share of his younger years hanging out in bars with Nile and dating women, he was confident he could pick out a developing relationship if it bloomed right in front of him.

The pattern was there. Erwin just had to press the right buttons.

The next meeting, Erwin took note of the body language of the two as he summarized the agenda towards the end of the meeting. That was usually the point where everyone started tidying up their paperwork and sat up straight, ready to leave.

While Hange had also started to pick up her paperwork, Erwin could not help but notice that she had snuck a glance at Levi more than once.

"Levi. Stay behind."

"Sure." Levi was quick to reply, his tone as neutral as it always was.

Erwin kept his eyes trained on Hange. If he had not been purposefully observing her, he probably would not have caught it. For a second Hange had looked surprised but a little panicked at the sudden order he made.

He needed to probe more to be sure. That night, he drilled Levi for updates on his squad so as not to raise suspicion for having made him stay in the first place.

The meeting after that when Erwin ordered the same thing to Hange, Levi had briefly glanced at the brunette before looking back again at his paperwork, his expression unchanged. Levi's reaction was more subtle but Erwin had worked with the captain long enough to know that any reaction from someone as stoic as him was big news.

He drilled Hange on any developments with her research. They were already starting to plan their next expedition so it was only natural that he would want to talk to the logistics leader.

"There's this new test I wanted to try. We've already proven that titans use their sight often with hunting. I want to get more information on their hearing and maybe create a sound grenade." Hange explained.

"Have you tried collaborating with Levi?" Erwin suggested. It was an unnecessary suggestion Levi had become valuable to Hange's research already. With his fighting skills, he was easily able to secure areas outside the wall, and had prevented unnecessary deaths during her previous research activities.

"I've been working with Levi lately actually. There were so many things I wanted to try out so I have been bothering him a lot. I haven't told you about it?" Hange gave Erwin a sheepish grin.

Erwin noticed a slight blush but at that point wondered if it was just excitement and maybe slight embarrassment at failing to properly report her progress to him. "Just do what you need to do to keep your department running." He said. "If Levi is free and you need someone to accompany you, I don't mind you asking him for help."

"Yes sir." Hange looked more relaxed.

Erwin started to think that he could be wrong about a relationship blooming between them. He had seen Hange blush the same way when she enthused about titans and research. He had never seen Levi blush though and wondered if he did at all.

Hange and Levi had similar goals and may have just decided to work closely to achieve them, they were aberrant humans, their personalities at complete ends of the spectrum, coincidentally working towards similar goals. Erwin eventually realized that his experience with relationships did not cover those eccentric enough at least to join a group with mortality rates as high as that of the survey corps. He was the only one from his own group of friends among the cadets who had joined the survey corps after all. He conceded that with what he knew then, he could not assume the status of their relationship.

"Hange," Erwin started as the brunette made her way to the door. "Remember, the preservation of humanity should always be your ultimate goal of your research. You made that oath when you joined the survey corps. Don't lose sight of it."

Just in case his first suspicion was correct.

                                     Omissions

He might have been thinking too far with what he suspected. The inkling that something might still be there remained. To placate it when he could though, Erwin decided at least to try for some extra assurance.

That night he took the corridor to the left on the way back to his room. It circled the whole camp so it meant an extra ten minutes to get to his room.

Why would Hange and Levi take that extra ten minutes to their room? Unless there was some place they would want to visit after meetings.

It was easy to deduce after that train of thought that the only place worth staying in after dark was the dining hall.

He was proven right when he neared the dining hall and heard the distinct voice of one Hange Zoe. He could not make out what she was talking about as he stood outside but he could make out her voice, her tone and a distinct softness he had not heard before. Hange was generally an emotional person and she spoke to her subordinates with a unique tone that exudes both authority and gentleness.

At that moment though, talking privately to Levi, her tone was much softer and warmer. It was not the tone anyone would expect from a soldier.

"Knowing you four eyes, you'd fuck it all up…" Levi's voice seemed more relaxed.

A change in tone when talking to someone one's attracted to was evidence in itself of a possibly blooming relationship. Given their eccentric personalities though, Erwin was not satisfied.

Erwin entered the dining hall. "You too, what are you doing out so late at night?"

Before Erwin could even catch their expressions, both faces had morphed into that of complete astonishment at the sudden entrance of their commander.

"Commander Erwin…" Hange's eyes widened in surprise.

"It isn't healthy to stay up this late," he lectured as he approached the table they occupied towards the corner of the room.

"We don't sleep much anyway." Levi answered as he took a sip of tea.

"Talking about new developments?" Erwin asked, keeping his eyes focused on their expressions.

Levi's expression as usual, was unchanging.

Hange on the other hand, grinned at Erwin excitedly. "He agreed to test the sound bomb with me outside the walls. I was about to explain to him how I created it actually."

Erwin sat down on a chair next to them. "If you don't mind me here, I'd like to listen too."

If there was something going on between them, they probably would have at least looked a little disappointed to have a third wheel hanging around. Erwin surprisingly felt welcomed as Levi moved a little to the side to give Erwin leg room and Hange continued on to her tirade on her new invention.

Erwin started to see that it was in the way they talked, and the way they peppered the conversation with their personality. Hange would sometimes briefly digress from the main topic to rave about miniscule details and Levi noticeably made more vulgar jokes in between. Their shift in their tones towards each other did not change even as Erwin joined them.

As they exchanged ideas, Erwin saw that their expressions were very much consistent with their shifts in tone. Hange's eyes were somehow brighter as she enthused about her inventions and Levi somehow lost his almost perpetual sullen manner as he responded to her.

Back when he was dating, Erwin had felt self conscious about those small details when talking to Marie. He had always tried to remain stoic while with Marie to preserve the peace between him and his friend.

Those two did not seem self conscious at all to be showing this side of themselves to Erwin.

"You two talk like a married couple." Erwin commented.

They both turned to Erwin, looking genuinely surprised at his comment. A few moments later, their faces turned pink at the realization of what he just said.

At least we know they can be self conscious.

Knowing their personalities, Erwin realized he shouldn't have been surprised if they did not notice it. They did not look like the types to just jump into a relationship or even know how it usually develops in the first place.

Erwin just nodded in fake agreement as he listened to the pair scrambling for a justification for their too friendly exchanges. The latter was too busy fitting the pieces together to even make sense of it.

There was something going on between them. They just didn't know it yet.

                                      Omissions

Erwin had let that complicated relationship between the two parties continue as it did prove to come with its own results.

The researches of Hange were done efficiently with little to no unnecessary deaths in the process. While working together, the two had reported success in the invention of the flash bomb, the sound grenade and further improvements to the gun used for scouting formations.

While it did develop, Erwin started to worry. The reason he had broken up with Marie in the first place is because he also knew that love could be a distraction. At that point in time, it proved to have been an inspiration for both of them.

What would happen if they figure out their feelings for each other? If they do get together?

In his many years in the survey corps, Erwin had not seen any relationship end well since most anyone who had fallen in love within the survey corps, had their vision clouded at one point and ended up dead.

The saving grace came in the fact that both soldiers were just too dense to figure it out for themselves and had attributed the passion and exhilaration that came with being together to a passion for their jobs.

Erwin thought it better to keep it that way. For the betterment of the survey corps.

He could not risk losing his two best soldiers.

Fortunately for Erwin, within a few years, the establishment of the Special Operations Squad, Hange and Levi continued to find more reason to work together. With the survey corps constantly developing and constantly on the move though, the two never did probe further into that bond between them.

Erwin still continued to keep close tabs with them, enlisting the help of Mike.

With Hange's new resolve to capture a titan came new developments to their relationship beyond their hanging out together until the wee hours of morning.

As Hange started to push her agenda for capturing titans, she started to become more reckless. Erwin did not know at first whether that may have been from the actual excitement or a development. When Levi initially vocalized his rejection during their meetings, looking to have his squad's safety in mind, Erwin suspected the former.

One expedition, Hange rushed to the forest to chase an aberrant. Erwin had confidence in her ability to stay alive but had ordered Levi to chase after her. The latter was already on his horse when Erwin turned to him.

He wondered if he should have let Mike go instead, when they came back with a journal and Levi's sudden 180. The journal proved to be a breakthrough of a discovery and with two of his most trusted officers pushing for the agenda, he ended up approving it anyway.

How had she convinced Levi to help her capture a titan?

During the capture mission, there were no casualties so he could rest easy, knowing that they were at least still thinking straight.

Either way, the possibility of their relationship deepening continued to weigh on Erwin's mind.

In the case that they did start to suspect, would he let it happen? Or would he try to stop it?

They had become two of his closest friends over the years and as someone close to them, he felt it was his duty to at least nudge them in the right direction. His duty as commander protested this sentiment and in the end, he chose to err on the side of omission. If they did get together, he could at least convince himself that he had been busy with other things.

After the assault at Trost, Hange had busied herself with her new captured titans while Levi took custody of their newfound titan shifter Eren in the old scout headquarters.

A few days before their 57th expedition, Erwin called Moblit in for a quick report on the squad leaders movements, feigning worry over the Hange's sleeping schedule.

Moblit reported that Hange had visited the quarters a few times to experiment on Eren. Of course Hange would have been interested in the titan shifter. As the assistant reported to the commander, he did not look like he suspected anything at all.

Valid reasons at least.

The night the new captured titans were found dead, Erwin in between preparing for the 57th expedition in barracks and pondering the culprit, found Levi along the corridors of the barracks.

The scouting headquarters was at least a few hours ride away from the barracks.

"How's Eren?" Erwin asked. What are you doing here?

"Eren is in the basement of the old castle now so he wouldn't give my squad too hard of a time if he transforms."

"Tell Hange we're meeting tomorrow night in my office. I need to share something about the next expedition."

"WIll do."

As Erwin watched Levi make his way to the corridors to what he was sure was Hange's room, he could not help but note that Levi was not at all defending his effort or his motivations for visiting the barracks for the night.

Erwin felt his heart constrict and allowed himself to express some empathy for the two as soon as he got into his office. He sat on his chair, looked up at the blank ceiling of his empty office and closed his eyes.

Do you really not see it? He let out a painful sigh.

                                          Omissions

The night after the 57th expedition, having sustained multiple losses, he knew he would be facing trial at the capital. They had discussed the certainty of Annie being the female titan but by then, Erwin was considering the possibility that they could be wrong, and the survey corps could get dissolved.

After that, Hange helped an injured Levi to an empty meeting room, most likely to tend to his wounds and console the captain after he had lost his whole squad.

He did not know what happened between them in the room. Levi though, was due to accompany him to the capital. When he came out of the headquarters and into the carriage with a dinner jacket a few sizes too big for him, Erwin knew something was up.

"That's Hange's jacket."

"She lent it to me."

He did not question any further. There were far more important problems to consider than the relationship between his two soldiers. He distracted himself by furtively observing the body language of Levi. As they got closer to the capital where they were to stand trial, the captain held the dinner jacket closer to himself.

Seeking her warmth? Erwin thought. That unfunny joke was mostly for himself. Somehow he knew, that would be the last time he'd have time to think about them for a while.  

The capture of the three titan shifters and the impending coup d'etat kept Erwin busy. Too busy to even consider the possibly blooming relationship of the two.

It was only after losing his arm and ending up out of commission did he have time to think about them again.

Especially with Hange as the new commander. As he lay in bed that one night, he allowed himself a few seconds to wonder what Hange's appointment as commander could mean for their relationship. A few times since then, he had considered telling them. His inclination to keep the future commander focused won over.

With the crowning of the new queen and the operation to take back Wall Maria nearing, Erwin was sure there were soldiers who would not make it back. Hange and Levi were no exceptions.

After he had brought that reality up in their meeting and after Levi had confronted him on his own intentions to join the operation, the next few times he saw Levi, the latter was with Hange.

Erwin noticed that they had watched each other's backs as they arrived on the wall at Shiganshina. As Erwin assigned Hange and Levi's squad to the armored and colossal titan  and Levi to take care of the horses, he snuck a glance at Levi and Hange who had given each other one last look before separating. From his angle, he could only see Hange's face.

A face that made his lip quiver and his stomach drop. A face of painful surrender.

                                               Omissions

"What happened to Hange?"

When Levi asked that in the middle of the already bloody battlefield, Erwin felt his chest constrict. He scolded himself a few seconds later for having even taken up valuable mind space to consider their relationship.

Erwin looked to Levi, keeping his face expressionless. "I don't know."

She was most probably dead. No one could have survived the explosion and Erwin had felt a small twinge of guilt at having assigned Hange there in the first place.

Levi was an important piece in the battlefield though and as commander, one of his priorities was to keep Levi on his feet. If it meant lying, then so be it.

                                           Omissions

Dedicate your hearts. Death came in slow motion.

It gave him enough time to come to terms with the reality of the war and his own decisions. He himself had thrown out his humanity, his relationships and his worldly attachments for the knowledge and the freedom he had promised his father he would attain.

For a second, he considered as well the other soldiers who would be following the same path. And the one soldier who would be filling his shoes soon enough.

Hange.

And by extension, that one soldier that had been joined to her hip since day one, despite their being on different squads.

Hange and Levi had made that same salute countless times, further proving their dedication through the years they had spent working under him. He couldn’t help but think the vague relationship the two had set up for themselves had brought forth all the developments to make the take back of Wall Maria possible. It could have also been the other way around.

Nagging regret had clung to his chest despite having pushed his thoughts elsewhere.

Had he really done it on purpose? Was it a conscious decision on his end to have kept the two from even understanding the inkling of a relationship between them? The inkling of a feeling, a sense of trust that dug deeper than a close friendship?

Did you do it for the right reasons? He allowed himself a glance at Levi who was starting to cut at the titans at the wings of the beast titan. His thoughts shifted there. Would Levi have been able to manage this feat if he had known?

It was a hypothetical and Erwin was sure he would never know. As the rocks sailed towards him, Erwin set aside all regrets, all the thoughts that had left him almost tempted to turn back.

Victory for humanity. He let those words echo in his head and overpower his laments and regrets.

Victory for humanity. In the end, that’s all that matters.

[mwolf0epsilon]

Sorry to bother you. But can we get a story of Norman helping Sammy from the inks Control?

Summary: It was only a matter of time before Norman's curiosity got him deader than that one cat... No good deed goes unpunished.

---

"Somethin' ain't right 'bout the studio." Is the one sentence that precedes a series of catastrophic events in Norman Polk's life. A combination of letters that form a very simple and inconsequential phrase that still held a lot of negative connotation. Easy to dismiss, especially over breakfast as he reads the paper with a bored expression on his face.

His wife sits in front of him, buttering their youngest child's toast while the eldest daughter fetches a glass of juice for herself, and her brother, the second oldest child, glances up to peer over and then around the paper.

"What do ya mean pa?" Aaron's inquisitive eyes catch his one good eye, and Norman finds himself setting the paper aside and picking up his mug. Out of his five children, Aaron is the one to inherit his father's curiosity.

"Just a thought." He takes a sip of his coffee and shrugs "Things been a little weird as of late."

"How do you mean?"

"Aaron don't go listenin' to your pa's nonsense or ya gonna get stuck with his ramblings. You gotta get ready for school, so eat breakfast and get going." Margarite rebuts, before glancing at their two daughters. "That goes for you both as well, you especially Louise, your teacher's been hasslin' me bout you doin' no work."

"Mrs. Wilson is nuts. She picks on me for no reason, the crusty egg!"

"Louise!"

Aaron pouted, clearly unsatisfied with the lack of a response, but thought better than to go against his mother's wishes. Wise kid. Norman was proud he was growing up smart.

He didn't bring it up again until the kids were sorted and off to classes. His wife gives him a long-suffering sigh before crossing her arms and looking at him in the eye.

"Don't go lookin' for trouble Norman. I know ya got the guts to go findin' nothin' good." She pleads with him.

"I don't go lookin' for no trouble Maggie, just curious is all... And things have been weird. It's gettin' to the others..."

"Norman, you do know what them people say 'bout your sorta curiosity don't ya?"

"And what would that be?"

"Curiosity killed the cat. And ya sure are lookin' real cat-like to me..."

-

Joey Drew had plans, that much Norman knew. It all had to do with that weird machine of his, as well as all those brittle pipes that kept bursting and flooding areas with thick glossy and acrid smelling ink.

What plans, Norman couldn't tell (yet), but the consequences were visible. Structural integrity in the studio was a mess, something Thomas Connor often dreaded about due to his impeccable work ethics.

Things were constantly soiled with ink, and cleaning supply expenses had risen to the point Wally was having to lug in bleach and detergents from home to get stuff cleaned up. Everyone's dry-cleaning bills had likely also suffered with this.

Speaking of, everyone was going crazy.

"I tell ya, meltdown of the century." Wally winced on the rare occasion Norman took the time to sit with others to eat lunch. That day he was sitting with Wally, Buddy and Dot. "Thought Miss Campbell was gonna throttle the poor broad!"

"She has been acting very hostile." Dot winced in sympathy. "Miss Pendle has the patience of a saint if she can bare all that, but she's not the only person Susie has blown up on recently."

"Uh?" Buddy looked over at his friend in surprise. Norman too looked curious. Wally snapped his fingers as he realized what she was on about.

"Oh yeah! The other night right? She went and barged into Sammy's office and things got heated, and not in the good way if ya know what I mean."

"Wait really? Miss Campbell yelled him?" Buddy looked to be in disbelief. He couldn't imagine a petit little lady like Susie yelling at that overgrown peacock of a man. Not when Sammy tended to yell back at people with twice the amount of ferocity.

"Didn't just yell. She tore him a new one! Was so bad I got outta there as fast as I could. Didn't wanna witness no crime a' passion and all that." Wally glanced around, hoping neither Susie nor Sammy were around to hear. "Saw him come outta the office much later when I was about ta lock up for the night. He looked... Rough."

"He always looks rough." Buddy commented.

Norman found himself frowning at that.

Now that he mentioned it, Sammy had been looking a little green around the gills. Like he was sick, or at the very least extremely sleep deprived. With Drew's policy of time being money, and illnesses having to be serious for sick leave, it didn't surprise him that Sammy might have caught a bug and been unable to sleep it off at home.

"Speak a' the devil..." Wally ducked his head and quickly scarfed up the remains of his meal before getting back up and moving off. "Here he comes now."

Buddy and Dot followed his example, not feeling particularly keen on getting yelled at by Sammy. Norman let them go, eating his meal at a leisurely pace as he observed Sammy more carefully.

He didn't just look rough. He looked off.

How exactly, Norman couldn't explain, but it certainly must be something if the hairs on the back of his neck were so fast to raise.

He needed to look into it.

-

It's a particularly bad encounter in one of the men's bathrooms that tips Norman off to what might be wrong.

After that particularly bad scene involving Drew, Norman had been more cautious with his wandering and observing. His boss's behaviour raised questions, and his threats were definitely ringing alarm bells in his head. How it all involved that wretched machine Norman couldn't figure out.

Until, while putting his burnt hand under cold water (another projector went and caught fire because ink had gotten in it somehow), Sammy Lawrence suddenly barged in and practically kicked in a stall door to then double over a toilet bowl and violently vomit the contents of his stomach.

All this happened in very few seconds and Norman found himself with his unburnt hand clutching at his chest in fright.

"Jesus Christ, ya nearly went and scared the soul out of my body!" He closed the tap and pulled the first aid kit closer, setting to work on bandaging his injured hand. Bless the doc for giving him a kit in the first place, after so many incidents with projectors.

He waited for Sammy to bark out some sarcastic retort, but instead was met with more retching and coughs. Norman became concerned when it didn't stop.

"Sammy?"

He peered into the open stall and was met with a smell that shouldn't be coming from someone's insides. An acrid chemical smell that permeated the studio, due to its origin being pumped through pipes like blood in one's veins. The music director was puking ink.

"Sweet mercy..." That wasn't good. The boy needed that stuff out, which he was managing on his own from how much he was getting sick. The issue was, how much of the crap had he swallowed if it kept coming up? "Sammy what the fuck?!"

"G'way y'fu'kin' ..." He cut off as another wave came up to meet the rest, his nose dribbling with the black sheen of ink, and big fat tears barely clearing the gunk already covering his pale skin "H'hurts..."

The pathetic whimper was enough to break his heart. Sammy sounded scared for once, rather than angry, sarcastic or apathetic.

"How much did ya even get in ya? Did the music department go under again?" Once the music director didn't look like he was going to throw up again, the projectionist scooped him off the floor and noted with horror how unusually light and pointy the blond felt in his arms.

It was like holding a sack of bones... What in the blazes? Just a few days ago he looked healthy enough...

"M'gettin' ya to the infermary. The doc might have somethin' for intoxication... If not then Drew can't just keep ya here, this is a hospital thing."

"N-no... No doctors..." Sammy struggled weakly but gave up once he realized he couldn't squirm out of Norman's grasp. "M'fine..."

"Boy, I have half a mind ta call the doctor myself if ya go sayin' stupid shit like that. You ain't fine."

"J-just stomach ache... It'll go away..."

"Samuel Lawrence you are a dumbass."

How daft did the kid need to be to not see the issue here? Hopefully the resident doctor could convince Drew to let Sammy go to a hospital. Hard to fake getting a toxic liquid in your system after all...

-

After the encounter in the bathroom it's not long before Sammy goes missing. People start speculating about it, and some are rather mean-spirited about it.

Sure Sammy wasn't the kindest person, but going about saying he ran off with his tail between his legs because Susie dumped him was just plain disrespectful (especially considering he hadn't seen Susie around as of late either).

The stories about him drinking ink tho... Those peak his interest. They are also easy to confirm, as Norman looks in horror at the contents of the drawers in Sammy's office. Empty ink wells. Several of them. Some definitely licked clean.

It explains things Norman wished he hadn't overlooked. The machine, the pipes, the slow descent... The ink was what was wrong with the studio.

Norman realized then and there that he needed to warn the others to get out. Whomever would hear him at least.

Starting with Buddy and Dot. Those kids needed out.

Whatever Drew was planning with that hellish stuff, it couldn't be good for them.

-

Once the authorities' investigations are closed up and the studio opened back up again, Norman decides it's time to finally grab his light and go down and see what the groaning was. He eats breakfast with his family as quiet as a mouse, lost in thoughts, then goes to work after kissing his wife goodbye.

Once he reaches the door, he finds a card and keys on the entrance mat.

Wally had quit. Good, at least the kid had enough sense to bolt when told to.

Norman is the very first person the set foot back inside the studio.

As such, he's the very first target for one of two creatures still able to access the floors above.

His light catches onto an inky black figure in overalls and a grinning dancing devil mask, then catches the gleam of a blade.

Norman doesn't get the chance to scream as the axe buried itself in his chest, right through his heart. He wheezes out what little air remains in his lungs and it doesn't take long for him to slip away.

What makes it worse is how the figure cradles him gently and murmurs nonsense he can't understand. That voice... Why did it sound so familiar?

It all goes dark. It's too quiet.

-

The Projectionist screeches as it runs after the figure in overalls and grinning mask. It chases after the thief mercilessly, putting it's hands through the holes it crawls through in an attempt to flee from its burning gaze.

It gets cocky and ends up getting grabbed by the leg and pulled back with force.

The Projectionist may not be able to hear its screams, but it can feel the vibrations. It's terrified.

Good.

It roars in triumph as it plunges it's hand through the figure's chest, bursting it into a puddle and discarded clothing.

Never shall it try to steal it's hearts away, ever again.

The Projectionist carried on, unaware of the poetic justice behind its own actions.

An eye for an eye was just as popular a saying as curiosity killed the cat, after all.

[mintchocolateleaves]

Hi I just saw the Oneshot about the Persona 5 AU that you wrote and HOLY SHIT it was so good! If you ever have the time, please consider writing more of it!!

UHHH HELLO YES I VERY MUCH SO WANTED TO CONTINUE. So welcome me back to this P5 AU and now there’s an element of plot to it. I hope you enjoy it as much as the previous oneshot. :) 

Part 1 here.

They’d spent weeks scoping the palace out.

Hakuba had spent so long convincing them to takeKID on, especially since theft wasn’t quite serious enough for the potentialrisks of stealing a heart, but eventually they’d relented. Even now, stood witha mask obscuring his vision, Shinichi isn’t completely sure why they’vebranched away from murderers.

“Come on,” Hattori says, looking back at them. He’simpatient – maybe because he’s been waiting for Shinichi to make his appearancealone with Hakuba. Maybe because he knows there are more important palaces toexplore.

“Okay, okay,” Shinichi says, upping his pace tomeet him outside of the building. Kaitou KIDs palace – even now, Shinichi isn’tsure what to think about it. “Calm down.”

“The palace is on high alert,” Hakuba says, armscrossed as he looks over his shoulder at bright beams of light that scour thearea. “Even if we avoid impatience, we should be anything but calm.”

Shinichi understands what he means. They can’t getdocile – not with someone as elusive as KID. Not when they’re working to a timelimit, trying to steal something from a living phantom, someone who steals justas easily as he breathes air.

“Let’s go.”

Both Hattori and Hakuba offer him nods, fallinginto step behind him. For some reason or another, they’ve chosen him to leadthem. So far, Shinichi’s tried his hardest not to lead them astray – even if hehas had to keep secrets from them both.

So far, the secret’s remained; Inside themetaverse, an area where people’s desires are stored, capable of growing andtwisting one’s heart, he can be himself. He can wear the body of Kudo Shinichi –the body that’s the same age as his mind, and not the one of Edogawa Conan.

The palace is difficult to breach.

Purely because it belongs to KID, and all the usualback entrances are blocked. They can’t go through the vents, or climb throughthe windows at the top of the building because that’s what KID would do, and so they’re completely secured.

In fact – there’s only really one way in, and itbrings Shinichi nothing but anxiety.

The front entrance.

Shinichi glances between his fellow detectives – nowthieves who steal hearts – and bites into his lip. He’s the one who’ssanctioned the plan, even if Hakuba was the one who’d pressed for its creation.

“It still freaks me out a little bit tho’,” Hattorisays as they make their way indoors, trying to remain discreet. “This palace Imean. Who would o’ thought it’d be so…”

Hakuba offers a nod, scratches at the side of hismask. Blonde hair curls over the top of the white mask, and he brushes it back,runs his hand through his hair. He says, “it’s certainly strange. I’d beenexpecting something more fitting to a magician.”

Shinichi glances at the palace as they side steparound the guards, plucking a key card from his pocket – access to theelevators procured, something they’ll need for their exit route.

“Is it really that strange?” He asks.

The palace is… when they’d put it into themetaverse app on their phones, they’d written ‘show’, but the building is anything but that. It looks more like amuseum, with exhibits set to each of KID’s magic acts. There are many things –many devices Shinichi recalls from heists – stored inside glass containers,signs explaining their uses.

And then there are the magic tricks themselves. Someof the instruments are available for the ‘public’ to use, like in a real museum,interactive to those who want to learn more. And yet – they never seem to work.

Every trick they’d tried had failed.

Shinichi isn’t sure how to feel about it. Hakubahad claimed it had been a trick, and attempt to show how detectives will neverbe able to perform magic, but Shinichi’s certain it’s something more. Somethingdeeper.

“We need to get the treasure,” Shinichi says, wordsthat bleed into the silence. He doesn’t want to talk about how scientific thepalace seems, how it lacks any imagination.It doesn’t fit to the personality of KID he’s developed up to this point. “Hispalace’s interior doesn’t matter. Think about it later.”

Still, it’s hard to stop thinking about it. Heknows it’s hard for Hattori and Hakuba too.

“We’ve not seen the palace’s version of KID yet though,”Hakuba points out, once they’re past the entrance, making their way towards aroom that’s labelled ‘no-entry’. “I think the palace’s interior is indicativeof the version of KID we’ll meet, don’t you?”

Hattori’s grunt is both irritated and approving. Heagrees, even if he doesn’t like being in a situation where he does.

“This place is also quite easy t’ navigate, once yaknow th’ pattern,” Hattori continues, “it don’t match KID’s MO at all. He’s farmore… devious than tha’ right?”

Shinichi nods. Yet another element of the palacethat leaves him feeling… put off. There’s something definitely odd about thispalace and it’s bringing nothing but dread trickling down his spine.

“Lets just get to the treasure room, okay?”

Both Hattori and Hakuba nod, speeding up to followhis footsteps as they pass hang-gliders and card guns, racing past capes and hats.It’s only when they reach a room filled with gems that they realise they’renearing the end.

“Almost there,” Shinichi says, once they’ve duckedinto a safe room to take a breather. They’ve just passed rubies and amethysts, someShinichi recognises from the heists he’s attended as Conan. “The plan is ready,right? For the treasure?”

Hakuba glances down at his watch. Hattori scratchesbehind his ear, checks his phone for the real worlds time.

“We’re ready.”

.

The treasure room is small.

It’s the size of a classroom, so it’s not exactly small. For a treasure room though, it’sthe smallest Shinichi has ever seen. Before they’d sent the calling card, it’dbeen absent of anything, just a huge ball of unformed treasure in the middle ofthe room.

There had been no safety precautions. No guards watchingover it.

KID obviously hadn’t worried over anyone stealinghis treasure, and even stepping in now, the worry isn’t their still. Maybe hethinks he’s the only thief bold enough to walk through the front entrance. Ormaybe he simply thinks his name is enough to deter them.

It’s difficult to see it now that it’s manifested,it’s small. Shinichi paces forward, gaze scanning everywhere for any newly installedsafety features. There’s none.

“I’m surprised it’s been this easy,” Hattori muttersunder his breath, as if he doesn’t remember that they’ve not finished yet andtheir plans still have the capability of falling apart.

Hakuba offers the Osakan a glare.

“I can see it.” Shinichi says, and he reachesforward, fingers outstretched at the treasure before him. He’d been expecting tosee a gemstone, or one of KID’s devices. Instead, there’s just a photo frame.

He goes to pick it up, ready to move it so that hecan see into the frame and not just at the glare around it.

“Don’t take it.”

The voice does not belong to any of them. Itwobbles, emotional and Shinichi turns, expectant to find KID in his white suit,some deranged version of him standing in front of him.

Instead he finds a child, only a little bigger thanhe is as Conan. And yet, even without the suit, there’s something about himthat screams to his identity.

“Please,” the child version of Kaitou KID whispers,tears in his eyes, “you can take anythingelse but that.”

Part 3 here

[ifdragonscouldtalk]

Against Expectations

fuck i hope u guys are happy you made me finish it even tho it’s crappy so here take it @not-close-to-straight @reioka @thealextheshipper 

I made a new post because it is longgggg but here take it. Trigger Warning for self-depreciating and depressive thoughts and negative body image

It was expected that Tony didn’t have any pools or hot tubs, after Afghanistan. It was also expected that he wouldn’t want to expose himself all that much with the arc reactor. And before... before it hadn’t mattered. The girls he slept with didn’t care at all, and he never left the lights on and they were always too drunk to remember, so it never mattered much.

It was completely humiliating, absolutely disgusting. His body was ugly. He hated to look at it. He only thanked God that they were all easy to hide.

And no one questioned the fact that he never talked about it with them, because he acted as if he had no heart in the first place, and he was good at that. He always had been. It was self preservation.

It was honestly ridiculous. It defied all logic and everything he knew, and he hated that, and he hated that he couldn’t fix it, and he hated that he hated his body.

Because it hadn’t been hard to hide before the Avengers. A bit of makeup here and there, and that was that. But now... now he was terrified. Completely mortified someone would discover that Tony Stark had a heart, and it was far, far too big to be contained behind the arc reactor.

Ana and Edwin’s names had appeared first. He was four, five maybe. Those were both written just under the waistband of his jeans, easy to hide. He had been completely ecstatic that the two people who he cared about most, who cared about him most, who took care of him through sickness and sadness when his parents were away, were his soulmates. They were, understandably, surprised that their names had been scrawled across the hips of their young master. He could see their shock the first time he told them, and was afraid he had done something wrong, but they recovered quickly, and never treated him any differently. They were affectionate, and he never questioned why they asked him to keep it a secret, because they knew what was best for him. It was only later when he learned how incredibly unusual it was, not only because of the age, not only because there were two of them, but because his was not on their skin. He only found out after their deaths. When lovers asked, he told them they were real tattoos he had gotten to honor some people he’d lost. They didn’t question it.

JARVIS was next. At first he was confused, mortified and completely humiliated that an A.I. could be his soulmate. That wasn’t possible, was it? Perhaps his soul was different. He had been broken upon creation, the marks on his skin didn’t mean anything. That was printed along his right shoulder, easy to hide with some good makeup, and it became part of his morning routine to cover the mark. JARVIS knew, obviously, because JARVIS could see it whenever it wasn’t covered. But the A.I. never mentioned it. Maybe his computer was just as stumped as he was.

Rhodey was soon after that, a practiced signature on the inside of his right wrist. Mortification morphed into humiliation and he was so, so very confused. Because really, he didn’t think about Rhodey like that. Yes, he loved Rhodey, but not in a way that he was told soulmates were supposed to, and he knew for a fact Rhodey didn’t feel that way about him. He began designing his own makeup to cover the marks, almost irremovable, waterproof and smudge proof.

Yinsen was a surprise, and took him off guard, when he found the small scrawl near the edge of his arc reactor. Luckily, it looked enough like discolored skin that no one, Yinsen or anyone else, gave it the second look to see what it really was, but perhaps that plagued him as much as anything else when he got back. And the fact that he had lost him. He covered that name out of self preservation, and wished there was a way to cut it out of him.

Perhaps it said something that Obie’s name never appeared on his skin. Perhaps his soul knew what his brain didn’t. But he couldn’t help but think that the names were mocking him -- he had never met anyone with his name as well. They meant nothing. They were only a cause of pain. He started to hate his own skin.

Pepper’s was the only one he felt no desire to cover up. He wore it loud and proud, front and center over his heart, her loopy scrawl perfect with a small heart over his own. He loved it, and the way Pepper lit up whenever she saw it. But the longer their relationship went on, the more the mark seemed to pain her, and he started to hate that one as well. He never let her see his others. He couldn’t hurt her like that. He would suffer alone.

He never asked her where his name was, if she even had it.

Happy’s was small and unobtrusive, on his chest just under his right arm. Professional, looping, ridiculous. This was getting ridiculous!

Coulson was never meant to appear, but he did. The name never faded after the agent’s death, and that’s when Tony knew he was completely broken. He didn’t like going to doctors, seeing their faces when they noticed his many names. Often tears dripped down onto the signature on his left thigh, when he knew he was broken and the world was against him. That didn’t matter, because the makeup was waterproof, but he knew it was there, as strong as ever even after the shattering death. None of it made sense, but he supposed it wasn’t supposed to. It was only the universe toying with him.

He felt Steve’s name appear on him the first time they met eyes, a sharp burning along his right collar, and Jesus Christ he had never been more glad for the cut of his shirts, because otherwise that would be incredibly difficult to hide. Steve’s was neat, unobtrusive, uniform and perfect. Just like the man. And he hated it. And he hated himself. He started waking up earlier and covering up more carefully.

Bruce’s shaved itself into his skin when Hulk woke him up after the Battle of Manhattan, an untidy scrawl along the left side of his stomach, and that was when he vowed he would never take his shirt off in front of them. He would wear an undershirt with a hole cut out so they could access the arc reactor if necessary, although he didn’t particularly want them seeing the arc reactor either, but he was completely convinced no amount of makeup could cover his self hatred and shame.

Shawarma afterwards, with the others dozing around him as he carefully shifted his ribs to see if he could take the suit off; that was when the rest appeared, a physical pain that almost tore at his heart in complete disgrace. He managed not to let it show. He found them in the mirror later, in the dead of night when only JARVIS could see; Thor’s blocky letters on the back of his left shoulder, Natasha’s professional cursive on the inside of his right thigh, and Clint, damn him, had taken up residence with a tramp stamp, because of course he had.

He couldn’t let them see. No way he would let them see.

Being the master of masks and excuses, he always managed to wheedle his way out of group activities which involved any sort of skin exposure, and perhaps the others caught on to it, because Pepper started making more comments about how nice his body was and he had the sneaking suspicion they had been talking to her behind his back. Luckily Pepper was normally too busy for sex, or too much enjoying herself to look closely. He was starting to slip, and he knew it. There was too much responsibility, too much shame, too many flashbacks and too much heartache, and too many names, and he couldn’t cover them all, hell he couldn’t even reach Thor’s and Clint’s.

And then Bucky. Sweet, broken Bucky. Stumbling into the tower one day beat up and bloody, ready to spill secrets and sins and begging for respite. Tony was nearly as hysterical as Barnes at that point, if he was being honest, and meeting his eyes...

It seared across the back of his neck, possessive, right under his hairline. It was covered, thank God. The only way he could see it was for JARVIS to take a picture for him. Bucky’s handwriting was neat, surprisingly so, with a bit of a shake at the end of the ‘y’ and ‘s’ in his name.

And then Pepper, leaving.

And then. And then. And then.

And he was tired. He was so tired. He had lived a long time, too long, he should be dead, why wasn’t he dead, why couldn’t he stop living on borrowed time. And it didn’t matter anymore, it didn’t.

He was careless.

He got drunk.

He washed clean.

And the next morning, there was an attack. He went to battle like that, in his boxers inside the suit. And that... that was a mistake. That was the biggest mistake of his life.

Of course it was some magic user, of course they had teamed up with MODOK. It hurt, Jesus Christ the others didn’t understand, it hurt to be torn out of the armor like that, to have the reactor strain in his chest to remain where it was supposed to be. To fall in a heap on the pavement, exposed to the world. To look up and realize that there was no way you could hide anymore.

Somewhere, distantly, Bucky screamed in rage. Natasha was cursing in various languages. Hulk was making the buildings shake with his anger.

Tony’s shoulders trembled. They had seen. There was no mistaking that they had seen. God, he doesn’t have to look, those reactions are clear enough. They hate him. He’s such a fucking freak.

JARVIS showed up to defend him, his spare suits flying in rage and glory. Beautiful. At least the things Tony made were beautiful. At least the things Tony made had to love him.

He sat there, cold, crying, until hands started to touch his shoulders, guide him to his feet. The team. They were staring at him. Of course they were. He was a freak.

But then Bucky reverently touched the back of his neck, hands shaking, where he knew the man’s name to reside. And their expressions all morphed into something Tony wasn’t adept enough in emotions to read, gently trailing their fingers over their names. Bruce was wrapped in a blanket and started to cry.

“Oh, Tony. Oh, Tony!”

Tony shivered. He knew it was disgusting. They didn’t have to cry about it.

“Coulson,” Clint breathed, tracing gently over the name, making Tony shudder with his touch.

“He’s dead,” Tony responded, his voice cracking, and the tears were back, God, how embarrassing could he be? “He’s dead. I’m a freak. I know. Please. Please don’t leave. I don’t have anything left.”

Steve frowned, glancing up at the others, before carefully rolling up his right sleeve, licking his thumb and rubbing at the skin there on his wrist. And Tony watched, not sure what he was feeling, as his name appeared like magic. Small, neat, like he had been taught by his father. Unobtrusive. Permanent. Binding.

And he watched in wonder, as the others held out their right arms, rolling up their sleeves and rubbing at the makeup there, and his name... His name... There were so many names. One on each of them. Oh God, how had he not known?

“We didn’t want to overwhelm you,” Bucky breathed, his voice as reverent as his touch. “God, Tony, you... You’ve been hiding this all this time?” Tony nodded, his throat thick, his eyes hot.

“It’s disgusting.” It came out more like a cracking question. Natasha, who hadn’t taken her fingers off her name, rubbing over it endearingly, shook her head.

“Beautiful,” she breathed.

Tony cried.

[ecchima]

Human is beautiful, perfect is boring

Note: This is not a new chapter, I just forgot to post chapters 4 and 5 on tumblr! We are still working on this fanfic tho, don’t worry! We just are really busy lately

Words: 3,8k Rating: T Co-author: @smuttybugggu AO3

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

Not as Much Flavor as You    

After a fun drive from the modeling agency to McCree’s place, Jesse leads the way to his apartment with excitement written all over his face. It almost reminds Hanzo of an overly energetic, but cute, puppy.

The first thing Hanzo sees when he enters is a big couch, directly in front of a flat TV screen hanging on the wall. McCree puts his leather jacket on a coatrack and motions for Hanzo to do the same.

The apartment is in fact composed of two floors, Hanzo discovers. The first floor being the main living area. McCree doesn’t seem to have a table other than the american counter in front of the kitchen. The second floor is, in fact, a mezzanine giving access to four doors. The remaining sunlight comes in through a wall made out of glass in front of them. Hanzo can’t help but to admire how simplistic, but modern and practical the design looks. McCree pushes a button, flicking the lights on and giving the whole place a more cozy ambiance.

“Here’s my cave,” Jesse jokes, cracking a smile on his face.

 Hanzo smirks. “It is very nice.” He watches as Jesse takes his cowboy hat from the coatrack and puts it on his head.

"Well…Dinner’s not exactly ready yet so how about you watch me cook it for ya?”

Hanzo removes the jacket Jesse lent him and nods. “Very well.” His smile subtly twists into a sly expression as he cants his head and stares at the other man. “Since I told you more about myself during our last dinner, I would like to hear something about you in return.”

Jesse opens his fridge’s door and pulls out the pre-portioned and marinated foods, setting them on his countertop. “Fair enough, Mister Shimada.”

Hanzo merely watches McCree fumble around, gathering spices and pans to cook in, before he strolls after him and boldly takes the cowboy hat right off his head. “You should not block your vision while you cook.” Jesse immediately feels for his hat in surprise and sends Hanzo a confused glance. “Do not worry, I will take good care of it,” he adds with a wink and drops it on his own head. He likes how easy it is to make the other blush.

Hanzo then casually makes his way to one of the high stools facing the kitchen and takes a seat, gazing at McCree with a warm smile. His arms are crossed on the tabletop and his chin rests against them.

“Alright, alright,” McCree replies with a defeated hum and bows his head. “Just take good care of it, sugar.”Jesse returns a wink of his own. “So, what d’ya want to hear about?”

Hanzo hums, considering his options for a few seconds. “How did you become a soundcheck technician?”

Jesse programs his oven, sets the meat on his grill and checks his frying vegetables before turning to face Hanzo, leaning back on the counter.

“Actually, I don’t rightly remember how I got my guitar but I remember learnin’ how to play it. I used ta spend a lotta time in the streets as a kid ‘cause my Ma had to work as a waitress at a dirty ol’ bar everyday. She used ta let me ‘go out and play’,” Jesse says while he makes little air quotes with his hands “There was a television store down the street and the owner really liked music. I don’t think there was a day where we couldn’t see a guy playin’ on the screens. That’s how I learnt ta play, by watchin’.”

Jesse turns his back to Hanzo again, checking on the food, as he goes on. “When I got good enough ta play a few classics, I started playin’ on the streets.” Hanzo watches Jesse’s shoulder moving as he chuckles. “I used ta spend all my money in sweets an’ I ended up gettin’ cavities.”

“That must have been painful,” Hanzo says. “I remember when Genji managed to get cavities. He refused to eat anything solid for a week.”

They stay silent for a little while as Jesse seems to find the cooking of the meat much more interesting than the end of his story. Hanzo clears his throat and shifts his weight to one side.

“What happened then?” he prompts patiently, watching how diligently Jesse cooks. He can’t help but admire how much attention the other man keeps on the food. It’s...charming to Hanzo to see McCree multi-task with the grill and several other pans on the stovetop.

Jesse finally tears his gaze from the grill and smiles warmly at Hanzo, crossing his arms on his muscular chest.

“I told ya, I played on the streets. It’s…it’s An interestin’ experience. You meet a lotta people, ‘specially on the subway. One day I met a dude with an electric guitar, real nice fellah. We became friends and he taught me how to do maintenance for instruments. So when the guy started a band with a bunch a other dudes he found on the streets, he asked me to lend a hand here an’ there. After some time, I became known for it and now it’s my job.” Jesse stops talking, drawing his full attention on Hanzo, a warm smile slowly growing on his face. “Why are ya smillin’ so much, darlin’?”

Hanzo leans back on his stool and starts spinning back and forth. "I just admire your accent. It is rather cute."

He doesn’t miss the way McCree sputters at the admission and quickly bows his head to hide the surprise. But if the other man says anything, Hanzo can’t hear it under the hiss of meat sizzling on the grill. He lifts his nose in the air and takes in the pleasant smell of whatever Jesse is cooking. Carne asada is what he called it, but Hanzo wasn’t entirely sure about the ingredients or what it tasted like.

“So, is it almost ready?” he asks, leaning against his arms again, lips pursed into a small smile.

“Yep! I hope you worked up an appetite, darlin’!” It almost makes Hanzo melt with how warm and affectionate McCree’s voice is.

Hanzo’s eyes dart up and down a few times, taking in the sight of Jesse cooking so attentively. “You could say that,” he teases and nibbles against his bottom lip. He watches as Jesse turns the oven off and pulls out a thin pan, oblivious to Hanzo’s flirting.

“Biscochitos are done cookin’, just need to let them cool,” McCree mutters as he slides the pan onto the kitchen countertop and focuses his attention back on the grill. Hanzo watches as Jesse slices off a thin piece of steak and nibbles on it. “Yessir. Seasoned just right!” With that, the other man quickly gathers a set of plates, and starts scooping food out onto the dishes.

Hanzo perks up as McCree sets the food on the counter, the plates rather elegantly composed. He leans forward, smelling the dishes and trying to guess which spices McCree used.

“Lemon?” He asks, raising a curious brow at the cowboy.

“Jus’ try it an’ tell me what you think.” McCree sounds a bit anxious but smiles nonetheless.

Hanzo carefully cuts a bit of the meat and puts it in his mouth, savouring it. The taste of onions hits first, then the lime and lemon, contrasting with the taste of the meat pleasantly. When he starts munching, Hanzo finds he quite likes the texture too.

“It is delicious,” he says, watching as the anxiety drains from Mccree’s face, replaced by relief. “Where did you learn how to cook?”

McCree starts picking at the food on his own plate. “I’d like ta say that my Ma taught me but I just watched videos on the internet. What about you? You know how to cook?”

Hanzo finishes his mouthful of meat and dries off his mouth on his napkin, taking all his time to answer. “I know the basics but I rarely have the time to cook myself. Genji is a catastrophe in a kitchen so we mostly go out or buy ‘microwavable stuff’,” he says, smirking.

McCree snorts. “You’ll never let me forget I said that, will ya?”

“Nope,” Hanzo answers, popping the word. “May I get a drink?”

Quickly, McCree stands up and slaps a hand to his face. “Ack! Sorry, darlin’! How could I forget! Uh...Let’s see here!” He rushes to the wine rack, under the counter and scrambles for a few bottles of wine. “Any kind ya like in particular?”

Hanzo merely smirks at how panic-stricken Jesse looks. “Since I recommended the ramen you tried, I’ll allow you to pick a kind for me.”

McCree hesitates and rubs his chin. “How about some Malbec? It’s the most typical wine to go with Carne asada.”

“It sounds good.” He answers, leaning back on the stool as he watches McCree pour the wine in two glasses. When the cowboy offers him one of the glasses, Hanzo looks up at him.

“Thank you,” he says, gazing into the other’s warm brown irises when something else catches his attention. There’s a lump on McCree’s brow, right above his left eye. He takes a few short sips of the wine, but he’s too distracted to fully admire the taste. He waits until Jesse is seated and keeps staring at the other man “What happened to your eye?” he asks, frowning in concern.

McCree seems confused so Hanzo leans against the counter and pokes the lump, careful to avoid staining his outfit with the food. He watches as a blush appears across McCree’s cute freckled face.

“Oh, I just... Bumped my head on the counter… When ya texted me earlier, I dropped my phone.”

Hanzo hums, an idea coming to life in his mind. “Does it hurt?”

McCree chuckles. “A bit, but I reckon I’ll survive this.”

 Hanzo smirks. “If it hurts, then let me cast a spell on it.” He says, using one arm on the counter for support, and he leans closer. His other hand comes behind McCree’s head and pulls him gently until Hanzo can kiss the lump. He can feel the other man take a stuttered breath as a pair of warm hands land on either side of Hanzo’s face. Before he can chicken out, Hanzo presses a line of kisses on McCree’s face--one on the eye, two on the cheek and one right above his mouth. He takes all his time to lay one final kiss on McCree’s lips, looking at the other in the eyes when he pulls out.

“You taste like meat…” came McCree’s hushed answer.

Hanzo snorts and sits back on the stool. “And you taste like cheap cigars.”

“Cheap?” McCree asks quietly with a mock pout. “But they have such flavor, darlin’.” He flashes a cheeky grin as he leans closer and kisses Hanzo’s cheek in return. “Not as much flavor as you though.”

Hanzo nearly drops his fork at the sweet gesture and quickly hides a snort behind his hand. He’s so glad he found McCree at the bar a few weeks ago, he thinks as he feels his heart flutter and a fond smile soothes his features. When he leans back in his chair, however, Hanzo notices that McCree’s plate doesn’t contain any meat. He raises a single brow in question and looks back at his lover.

“You did not make any for yourself?” he asks, gesturing to Jesse’s plate. He notices there is some kind of salad instead of the carne asada.

“I--uh…” McCree starts; he seems a bit uncomfortable. “I’m mostly vegetarian.”

Hanzo feels ice replace the warm feeling in his guts. “...But you ate the ham in the ramen. Did you do it only so I would not think badly of you?”

McCree starts gesturing wildly, he almost knocks the wine bottle away as he blurts out. “No, no sweetheart! I said 'mostly'! I do eat meat!” He pauses. “Sometimes..."

Hanzo feels some of the dread fade away with relief, but the frown doesn’t leave his face. “If you had told me, I would have asked you to cook something we can both enjoy equally.”

McCree looks back at his plate sheepishly. “I made enough of the vegetables for two,” he offers with a smile. “Besides, I know I’m better at cooking meat.”

“If you’re sure,” he replies, his frown slowly turning into a pout instead. He decides not to push McCree anymore about the subject and takes another bite from his food.

They continue to eat, chatting and gossiping about people at their work. Hanzo complains about McMilan for a while but stops when he notices McCree turned silent.

“What is the matter?” He asks, worried. “Does your head hurt?”

“Nah, I was just wonderin’ if you’d like ta watch a movie with me while we eat dessert.” Jesse smiles softly, almost sadly.

Hanzo reaches out and gently brushes McCree’s hair from his face, admiring his brown eyes. “What did you have in mind?” He lays his hand on Jesse’s cheek, his thumb gently brushing the other’s scruffy beard.

McCree leans into the touch and hums. “How about we watch Junkenstien’s Revenge?”

Hanzo makes a teasing chuckle. “Ah, a horror movie? You want an excuse to keep me close to you, do you not?” he asks with a wink.

The other man grins in return and scratches the back of his neck. “Maybe.”

Hanzo’s heart flutters at the sight. Damn that man is gorgeous , he thinks, eating the last bit of food from his plate and putting the fork down. “Alright then,” he says with a smile, standing up.

“Perfect! You can go on the sofa, I’ll get the cookies!” McCree answers excitedly.

“May I charge my phone while we watch the movie? I would not like missing a call from Genji if he needs something.”

“Sure thing, darlin’. There’s an outlet near the couch.”

Hanzo makes his way from the dinner table to the sofa while McCree fumbles around in the kitchen. He gently plops down against the comfy leather cushions and relaxes against the couch. It feels nice and plush against his back; more comfortable than any typical bed. He doesn’t have to wait long before the other man sits next to him with a bowl and a blanket in his hands, a huge smile splitting his gorgeous face.

“So,” Jesse begins as he leans closer to Hanzo and picks up his television’s remote, “You’re familiar with Junkenstein then? This one’s a sequel to a previous movie,” he explains and waits for the screen to flicker on.

Hanzo nods. “I am, but I have not had the chance to watch it. Free time is very hard to come by with my work. My brother, Genji, is a big fan of them both,” he says, picking up the case where he keeps his glasses and putting them on. When he looks back at him, Jesse is staring.

“Is there a problem?”

“Nothin’! I was just thinking you look handsome and smart with glasses on. Not that you’re not smart, ‘cause I think you are but y’know, the glasses makes you look more intellectual?”

Hanzo chuckles at the comment and quickly reaches for one of the treats in the bowl. “I see. Well, I’m sure you would look nice with glasses as well.”

McCree snorts. “Yeah, I’d look like a nerd. Do you like the biscochitos?”

Hanzo feels so tempted to reply back with how McCree would be a handsome ‘nerd’, but decides against it. “Yes. I always loved sweets but it is the first time I’ve tried something from another country than my own. Genji made me try some American treats before but they all tasted awful,” he emphasizes with a disgusted shiver.

A sudden mad cackle coming from the t.v. interrupts them as a bold ‘Junkenstein’s Revenge’ title card flashes on the screen. McCree makes himself comfortable on the sofa and beckons Hanzo over. The later settles himself, leaning on Jesse and deciding that this is even better than the cushions. The blanket is then splayed out on their legs and the bowl falls into Hanzo’s lap. McCree’s hands find the edge of his sweater and slides beneath it, making Hanzo squirm.

“Sorry, darlin’, my hands are cold,” a low voice drawls near his temple.

Hanzo opens his mouth to reply, but no words form as the plot of the movie draws him in. It takes place after the defeat of Doctor Junkenstein’s monster from the previous movie. The town Aldersbrunn called on four heroes--an old, hardened Soldier, a mysterious Alchemist, a loner Archer, and a kind-hearted Gunslinger--to defend the villagers from an onslaught of ‘zomnics’. Hanzo mentally scoffs at the wonky looking zombie omnic design.

Along with the danger of the zomnics, there was the threat of a cloaked beast called The Reaper. Black mist followed him with every step and movement and he had a terrifying pumpkin in lieu of a head. Hanzo suspects from the start that he had some kind of history with the Soldier, due to passing comments.

After nearly half an hour into the movie, Junkenstein’s monster rears its head once more and attacks with the Reaper. The four warriors fend off the pair after an exciting battle with guns and bow and science and gunshots. And then, Junkenstein appears alongside a large wave of more of his robotic horde.

The group took up defensive positions directly in front of Aldersbrunn’s castle doors for the final confrontation: the Soldier guarding the central bridge with the Alchemist by his side and throwing healing potions to the three when they were injured, the Gunslinger standing on the upper staircase picking off amazing headshots left and right, and finally the Archer perched up on a small platform high above the courtyard, calling out directions and scouting for tactical advantages as his arrows rained down.

Hanzo munches on his cookie anxiously as he watches the soldier manage to land the final bullet into Junkenstein’s heart and the heroes all sigh in relief. But then--Hanzo feels his breath lump in his throat in disbelief--a shrill laugh disturbs the peace. A winged form descends from the air, chanting in foreign tongue. The Witch who brought Junkenstein’s creation to life, and formed a pact with the Reaper’s soul, has arrived.

All the villains are revived and a final stand begins. It’s a shocking moment, so much that Hanzo sits up in alert and clenches a handful of the blanket covering him and McCree.

The heroes are overwhelmed by the zomnics coming to destroy the door, the Alchemist has to stop attacking to focus on her healing but there’s just too many enemies...Until the Gunslinger manages to kill fifteen zomnics with his six shooter--despite being critical of details, Hanzo overlooks the error to enjoy the movie--which allows the Soldier and the Archer to focus on the enemies. The Witch went down first, soon followed by the Reaper and the Monster. The fight ends when the Archer puts an arrow right between Junkenstein’s eyes and Hanzo relaxes back against McCree. He remains speechless as the movie ends on a bittersweet note: the villains are defeated, but the Soldier muses at the loss of his old comrade. The Alchemist bids her allies goodbye and departs to travel the country alone. The Gunslinger and the Archer enjoy one another’s company, helping to repair the damage caused by the fight.

When the staff roll appears on the screen, McCree not-so-subtly yawns, stretches, and hooks an arm around Hanzo, pulling him closer. “That was a good choice, huh?”

It makes Hanzo smirk as he plays along and rests his head against the other man’s shoulder. “I can see why my brother is such a fan of the series.”

“So, which one was your favorite, darlin’?” Jesse asks and nuzzles his cheek against Hanzo’s head.

He taps his chin in consideration and his eyes narrow thoughtfully. “I believe I enjoyed the Gunslinger’s character the most. The way he spoke reminded me of someone”--Hanzo reaches out and teasingly squeezes McCree’s thigh--“and it was charming. But I did notice some...tension between him and the Archer. Good tension,” he clarifies with a smile.

“He is a fancy shooter. I’ll give ‘im that!” McCree chuckles. “Always found myself fond of the Alchemist. She’s a nice old lady, kind of gives ya a ‘grandma vibe’.”

“I do not like her much…I do not trust her alchemy,” Hanzo answers just as his phone starts ringing. He stretches a hand to grab the device laying on the table. The screen shows notifications for about ten messages. One from McCree, eight from Genji and one from Jack. He rolls his eyes as he momentarily ignores his brother’s texts and opens Jack’s instead.

It’s a lengthy text, but Hanzo isn’t surprised; Jack never sends multiple messages. It starts off with the usual ‘Hello’ before he gets to the point. Hanzo learns that a few weeks after his upcoming photo-shoot with James McMilan--he barely contains the urge to roll his eyes thinking about the pompous fool--he’ll be having a session with a very prominent omnic model that’s been rising in popularity for a few months. He’ll be visiting the country all month before the photo-shoot happens though and stopping by the agency in mere days.

Hanzo simply tilts his head to one side, glances back at McCree, before he smiles and sends a response to his manager: Apologies for the abrupt request, but I will need to take tomorrow off. I am not feeling well.

Within a minute, Hanzo gets a reply: Very well. Feel better, don’t worry about coming in this weekend. Rest up.

“What’s that smile about?” Jesse asks, scruffing his beard playfully against Hanzo’s temple.

“I asked my manager for a day off tomorrow so I can stay here tonight.”

“Funny, I just sent mine a text too. Poor Jesse McCree has a cold and he can’t even breathe,” he explains, waving his phone back and forth in glee. “Aren’t we both terrible?” McCree added with a wink and beckons him to the couch.

Hanzo purses his lips as he approaches and sinks back down beside McCree. “I suppose I do not know enough about bands or how they work. A soundcheck technician has a manager?”

McCree shifts uncomfortably behind him. “Well, I said manager ‘cause it’s kinda the same job. At least I think it is? I mean, that guy tells me when and where I’m needed so…”

“Ah. I see,” Hanzo replies quietly, fatigue from such an exciting day finally catching up to him. He closes his eyes in an attempt to rest them. He’s barely awake when he hears the telltale sound of someone taking a picture with their phone.

Hanzo gets one last whiff of McCree’s pleasant cologne, enjoys how comfortable the other man is, before he slips away into sleep; never moving from his spot on the couch for the entire night.

[specializedstoragefan-blog]

How to founded associate economical Warehouse layout and style

Warehouses and repositing have modified terribly radically over the decades. In a nineteenth-century European country, as a consequence of the economic revolution, each warehouse was massive and regularly lavish, brick-built events, commonplace in major cities across the state.

Manchester may be a prime example, with many nineteenth-century warehouses no a lot of having been born-again into the geographical point, retail or leisure area, simply their titles providing a plan on their initial perform. Bharat House, for instance, was created in 1906 and has been ab initio a packaging warehouse to urge Lloyds Packing Warehouses Ltd. It had been born-again into flats within the Nineteen Eighties. warehouse layout and design

Obviously, it'd be unbelievable for up to date warehouses to be set in city centers because the total value of this property may well be restrictive, and after all that the layouts were a lot of useful these days.

Nowadays warehouse layout and style are sometimes massive industrial parts, simply assembled from massive sheets of steel positioned higher than a steel beam skeleton. They still be usually set adjacent to major transportation hubs, however trendy technology has brought with it tier of flexibility as another kind of massive street access is all that is sometimes needed, thus it'd be rather uncommon to find any kind of warehouse that is still being employed very set among a town or town nowadays.

Price of the property declines united go far away from city centers, thus up to date repositing is usually to be seen in industrialized regions in city outskirts, providing larger price per square meter then optimizing the area on the market as ordered by associate organization's budget.

The impact of value and eager to handle repositing area nicely, not solely affects the dimensions of warehouses, however, it impacts their style too. Most up to date warehouses can in all probability be unwedded floored, open style buildings, with long and relatively slender aisles between rows of tall, multi-purpose shelving for storage.

Goods themselves are sometimes removed and hold on manually, however typically, machine-driven strategies are founded, ordinarily in cold warehouses within which temperatures are too low for extended amounts of labor. Where merchandise is transferred manually, a self-propelled vehicle truck is commonly used and inbound instances its lesser renowned relative, the opposite aspect loader.

Forklifts are implausibly helpful machines at an up to date warehouse situation; they need a really tight turning circle, will carry significant masses firmly and are comparatively easy and economical to control. The lifting mechanism within the front a part of the car permits palletized merchandise to be raised and chosen out of high shelves and hauled to and from delivery vehicles employing a minimum of fuss.

Problems do happen but once wide or long masses are encountered. will a long item of inventory produce security problems it provides an issue wherever warehouse style is worried?

Let us have a twenty-foot amount of brushed steel sticks like. the sole smart approach to transfer them employing a self-propelled vehicle is to require them breadth ways in which. Carrying them lengthways can produce a security threat since it'd overbalance the automotive or the load may rather virtually drop off. The issues persist even once we believe carrying them breadth ways in which tho'. The aisles would be created significantly wider at the warehouse to urge a starting, seriously impacting within the warehouse style and raising the value of storage per square meter.

aspect loaders, as their title suggests, take their masses within the medial aspect. they're similar in style and execution into the standard self-propelled vehicle, however, this one basic style modification sometimes means that they're able to such a lot that the traditional truck merely can’t do. Long tons may well be transported quickly, simply and safely in and out of skinny aisles. In reality, the aisles could in most instances be created even dilutant, thus saving on storage prices and typically decreasing a warehouse's physical footprint. Obviously, aspect loaders don't seem to be the reply to everything. Forklifts, even so, have their edges, however during a few instances, notably within the repositing business, aspect loaders could also be cheaper and far higher suited to the environment.

Whilst many repositing techniques have shifted, along with the machines that fulfill the enterprise of moving merchandise from A to B, and in spite of the event of transport merchandise right from the supplier to the client while not the requirement for repositing, warehouses still be noticeably in usage and so are so important to lots of firms, each massive and tiny, across the globe. 

Manufacturing is the associate aggressive atmosphere. Profit margins are slim and plenty of organizations are outsourcing manufacture to regions with lower labor prices. The advantage of low-cost producing comes at a value, however. Longer provide chains would like a lot of stock to ensure a product is obtainable to varied demand. This further inventory should be dud, hold on and maintained protected in warehouses before the shopper desires it.

Warehouse style and rack choices are all important components in making certain effective product flow. A warehouse that is put in properly can scale back costs considerably, by lowering the whole quantity of stock needed to be saved, minimizing forklifts and connected fuel and repair expenses and removing physical counts by coordinative product higher.

Before establishing any warehouse racks, the whole strategy of storage should be thought of. what is substance visiting leak?Beginning with the transport, follow the route of incoming stuff. however, oftentimes is it coming? simply what quantity time will this should be kept? to stop redundant traveling, methods should be placed up so forklifts will travel modest distances to regular storage places and additional to urge slower-moving merchandise. this may scale back mishaps and allow motorists to travel at larger rates.

An intelligent warehouse layout avoids any lifeless areas wherever substance may well be born forever. Awkward corners and undesignated area invite substance handlers to briefly place down things, simply to depart them there forever. confirm all areas are allotted to the current explicit merchandise and labeled fittingly.

After the course of substance from incoming to outgoing can episode some bottlenecks or constraints during a leak. for big volume warehouses, it may well be worthwhile to possess totally different loading and unloading docks. this fashion merchandise can ensure one dock to a different, with storage set between the docks, i.e. that the remaining portion of the warehouse. once the general flow of this warehouse made up our minds, racks should be selected to make the simplest utilization of the on the market floor space.

Standard pallet racks would be the option for any facility that has high turnover and plenty of distinct merchandise. This guarantees that completely no parts are lost or buried for many years. each storage location may well be labeled and noted on a master listing, whether or not digital or on a sheet of paper. the fabric handler will definitely continue a grid style, observance columns and rows until he reaches the place wherever a substance is to be saved.

This advantage of availableness comes at a tag. Oftentimes, however, this quantity of access is not important. From time to time, whole trucks offer precisely the very same item. These skids shouldn't essentially be severally accessible. Since all of them are the identical, they will be saved in rows, with the rear ones buried before the front ones are eliminated.

Double significant pallet racks provide a pair of rows of pallets to be saved, at the value of the spine not being simply on the market. victimization 2 pallets of like substance, one within the front of another, double profound pallet racks raise the ground space wont to store pallets by removing further aisles. Forklifts, even so, would like particularly extended length forks thus on create it to the subsequent row of pallets.

Push back racks are a substitute for double deep racks that do not would like forklifts with specific instrumentation. The self-propelled vehicle masses the initial pallet on a rolling cart on a course at the terribly 1st row. the subsequent pallet gets wealthy at exactly the precise same place, pushing the initial pallet to the rear row, as a result of it rolls freely on the cart.

Drive-in and drive-through stands warehouse layout and style deliver most density by allowing forklifts to push into the stand. It follows that over a pair of rows are often saved ahead of 1 another. The self-propelled vehicle will solely drive within the accessibility material from the rear rows once the front rows are vacant. These racks are ideal for big amounts of the precise same half variety, within which the arrangement used doesn't matter.

Even if the precise same substance is saved along, it's usually essential that the earliest material is employed, particularly with destructible merchandise or things with short shelf lives. Pallet flow racks create it attainable for pallets to be loaded from one aspect and dud within the opposite finish. The pallets rest on seemingly pliers and gravity compels them to the underside finish. once loaded within the trunk, the effluent flows into the front wherever they are dud. Based upon the circulation of substance, the time period of this merchandise and therefore the assortment of pallets being saved, bound types of racks may or may not own a location. The denser associate item is packaged, a lot of may well be saved, however, a lot of accessible it's.

[spotlightsaga]

Cody Cole of @spotlightsaga reviews... The Evil Within (2002-2017) Andrew Getty Release Date: February 26, 2017 Budget: Estimated $6 Million Score: 7.5/10 @amazonvideo ************SPOILER FREE REVIEW*********** Happy Halloween 🎃 Everyone! This is the first time we’ve addressed Halloween as an entity, so we wanted to do it right and pick something a little off the beaten path, but still accessible *coughISIAcough*. As we sink deeper into subcultures, countercultures, and ready our existential POV and empathic strings, I remain dedicated to sharpening my teeth. As usual, this is not a review... We just happen to be covering 2017’s ‘The Evil Within’ for #31DaysOfHorror, not that we’ve watched anything close to 31 movies... That was never gobig to happen, but it was a nice thought. Oh, right, technically this film belongs to 2002. After all, that’s when production on the film began. It shows. Sean Patrick Flannery looks like a complete stranger... Frederick Koehler looks like a friggin baby... And Dina Meyer looks like she stepped off the S3 set of ‘One Tree Hill’. I’m not complaining, not even about the extremely outdated special effects, because when it’s all said & done, they do their job and all messages hidden throughout the film’s tapestry are definitely received. ‘The Evil Within’ is a terrifying film in the strangest of ways... Both in front of the camera, as well as behind it. Andrew Getty, who directed, wrote, created, and financed most of the film, was a grandson of a famous Oil Tycoon Patriarch... He inherited a billion dollar company, and billion dollar problems. He was lonely. You know what the easiest and most disastrous ways to cure loneliness and get creative is? Methamphetamine. Tina, as those of us familiar with her call her, is a fucking bitch. Boy, but does she like to party! Don’t fuck up the vibe tho... And definitely don’t go carpet surfing looking for a meth rock that’s actually an old popcorn kernel. That’s meth faux pas. You’re never alone, because you’ve got the glass, you’ve got the shards... People love other people with drugs, it goes without saying! Getty had an endless amount of money and endless amount of meth and for years he wrote erratic scripts, they never went anywhere... But ‘The Evil Within’, this was his baby. This was his passion project. He armed his home with cameras and guns, becoming increasingly paranoid after his cousin was kidnapped in Italy, his ear mailed to the family in exchange for an extortion deal... The meth probably didn’t help either. Getty modeled this film after nightmares he had as a child. What a fn’ mind, huh? An expert purveyor or Horror & Porn, he worked on what was his ‘perfect script’... Making sense of the nightmares, giving them structure. It’s a basic story that dives heavily into clouded POVs, no character sees clearly, and there’s a real horror in that. A 30-year old man, Dennis (Koehler) is ravaged by mental challenges, the cause of which at first is not clear. In a subconscious attempt to slowly push his brother out of his life, Dennis’ brother John (Flannery) fills his room with objects that make Dennis feel uncomfortable. One of those objects is a mirror, one that Dennis had seen in a dream, one that could either represent or actually contain a Demon (played by cross-generational Horror Icon, Michael Berryman). Feeling shackled and bound to caring for Dennis, John withdraws and his relationship with his girlfriend, Lydia (Meyer) suffers as does his mental health. This allows Dennis to connect with the demon in the mirror and bodies start to pile up right under John’s nose. In 2017, Koehler, nor anyone, would take on a role that depicted anyone with mentally challenging obstacles that a character like ‘Dennis’ faces in a murderous or particular negative light... Especially fiction. In 2002, well, that’s a different story. Many of us have forgotten how far we’ve come at shattering ignorance & stereotypes as a society. Yes, they still exist, but I think most younger, modern minds might not believe the stark differences in how we addressed things in the late 90s and early 00s. We live in a very PC Culture, and it has its pros and cons, but once upon a time not so long ago, people weren’t so sensitive to these issues as they are now. Sure, Dennis’ ‘diminished mental capacity’ is used as a vessel for horror in (what many would call) an ignorant way... But that doesn’t make it any less frightening. And guys, we can’t be scared to ‘go there’. Not when it comes to art. Getty would most likely want to tell you that if we interviewed him today. You see, this is the only film that Getty ever completed... And technically he didn’t complete it, his partner and producer Michael Luceri did. According to Luceri it wasn’t an easy process to finance and round out the edges of a film that had been worked on for almost 15 years. Getty became obsessed with re-editing the film after he was unable to secure distribution rights, blowing all his money on buying equipment, instead of renting it, for the film. He even sold a rare AC Cobra Sports Car to keep the funding going. 15 years after the project was started, and unfortunately just a little over 2 Years after his death, ‘The Evil Within’ finally found a home. If only Getty had made different choices, the methamphetamine wouldn’t have corroded his organs... Leading to such an embarrassing death, that few reported the actual ‘on scene’ details. Details that included some kind of gastric blow-out that left some detectives and forensic specialists so puzzled that they considered a bizarre homicide a possible cause of death. Getty shouldn’t feel embarrassed, though... If his soul is somehow moving in and out of the cosmos and he happens upon this article, I want him to know that I liked his movie and that he won’t be remembered for the way he died... But the sick & twisted, visceral film he left behind. A character study so bold, and so outside the lines, that no one dare ever make a film quite like it ever again. There’s nothing simple about the human brain. And there’s nothing simple about understanding what makes anyone want to kill, even if the demons in our life make it all too clear. Even if the only one that we are truly killing is ourselves. **************Written by Cody Cole*************** TVTime/Letterboxd/FB/IG/Path/Pin/Tumblr/Twitter: @SpotlightSaga 📺 TVTime📺 http://www.tvtime.com ✅Spotlight Saga FB Page! Give us a like!✅ http://www.facebook.com/spotlightsaga 🚧Spotlight Saga's Main Page is Under Works🚧 http://www.spotlightsaga.com 🔥The Culture Pit FB Group🔥 http://www.facebook.com/groups/ArtsEntertainment Kevin Cage // Justin O'Malley // Cody Cole // Jerry Wilson // Kat Holiday // Carolyn Holt // Yackarette Borge // Carina Enered //