#to centralizing to general content (shudder) sites

[jjinpang]

somehow landed in deviantart for the first time in a decade

... what the shucks?

[burdenedreverance]

verses

v. a blade forged by will . gotei

Desmond Hayden first joined the Gotei under Eleventh Division, expressing great aptitude for Zanjutsu and all forms of melee combat. However, his intense loyalty and stalwart attitude made him a prime candidate for First Division which he was transferred to by recommendation some years later. It is in this division he excelled, progressing as a Shinigami and seated member.

Years: 1869 - 1900

v. the mask forged by injustice . rogue shinigami

At some point in his history, Hayden is confronted by a choice. To act against his own belief or to act against the orders of Central 46. Being a stalwart believer in the Gotei he tried to explain his actions, but when met by what he regards as injustice it hardened his heart. In this part of his timeline, he flees the Gotei a renegade to the only place where he might be safe from their eyes. Hueco Mundo. This choice over the years has a profound effect on his soul, as he meditates and fights for survival he grows. He becomes something more than a Shinigami, and something less, all at the same time.

Years: 1900 - post bleach

v. turn forward the pendulum . older

This verse is a bit up in the air. It reflects an older Hayden who is nearing or has met the end of his story. Generally used as a means of reflection on his past actions and relationships.

v. we all just wanna laugh . ooc

OOC content, sometimes we all just need to have our muses act wacky!

v. Chippin in . cyberpunk

Desmond ‘Specter’ Hayden is a Night City Solo, having returned to Night City after a stint in the New United States of America (NUSA) army during the unification wars. Disillusioned by the prospect of fighting the government, or Corporations, he arrived in Night City with the intention to sell the skills he acquired during the war.

He sports some serious military hardware, some acquired during his time in the army and other he acquired during his time in Night City. What is truly remarkable is high tolerance to Cybernetics, showcasing an extreme aptitude and affinity for them without succumbing to the negative effects associated with highly cyberized individuals.

What it means to be an Edgerunner is to walk that fine line between life and death. Sanity and insanity. Hero and villain. For Hayden he doesn’t feel alive unless he’s knee deep into the shit, be it crossing paths with Militech or pissing off the local Gangoons. Doesn’t matter to him, because at the end of the day; he’s already a Specter.

Died a long time ago. He’s just waiting for time to catch up.

v. a new age man . modern.

Desmond Hayden is a man fresh out of the military, seeking to make his way in life. Struggling with demons acquired during war, the man stands at the precipice of change.  

v. an oath of vengeance .wh40k

An astartes apart of the Luna Wolves, he survived the ISTVAAN III drop-site massacre. Having sworn an oath of vengeance upon the traitors, his mind straddles the edge of madness and clarity. He has seen what he must do, and he shudders awaiting his fair.

On the blood of his fallen battle-brothers, Captain Desmond Hayden has made an oath.

v. old bold soldier . mha

A former interpol agent and American soldier, Desmond Hayden is a newly sidekick/apprenticing hero. Having witnessed a villainous act that claimed the life of the villain and multiple bystanders, he was compelled to investigate what drove them to do what they did. In doing this it led him to one conclusion: to become a hero in Japan.

A thirty-year-old man entering the hero business is a bit of late bloomer. But his dogged determination and unyielding pursuit of truth has helped him, as he competes to uncover a nasty truth.

He is known as ‘Monolith’ the titan hero.

v. for whom the bell tolls . chainsawman

CASEFILE: 086 'Hayden'

Subject was found in REDACTED with total memory loss. Initial findings presumed subject to be a Fiend but upon further inspection Subject appears to bare resemblance to REDACTED. Subject was easily secured exhibiting a confused state and offered medical aide within a secured facility (see appendix A.) Interviews conducted by REDACTED deemed the Subject potentially useful to public interests. Subject has been assigned to the Public Safety Devil Hunters Wherein Subject excelled in training, indicating some type of prior service.

Conclusion: It is this Agent's recommendation that Subject henceforth known as 'Hayden' enter a probationary period with the Organization. His unique circumstances present a unique opportunity to the Agency, it is important we do not allow some other nefarious force to influence him.

UPDATE XXXX: Subject is believed to be a devil-human. His contract is with REDACTED.

v. weaponized wrath . jjk

It doesn't matter if you dip a toe into the abyss, or drop in both feet swinging, once you've been touched by it there is no return. The same can be said for Desmond Hayden, a civilian once unwittingly thrown into the deep end only to discover the madness which awaited him. Cursed energy while concentrated in Japan is not exclusive to it, in such unstable and war torn lands a curse could easily manifest. He was unlucky enough to witness a cursed event overseas, leaving far too many questions and so little answers. For such a time he felt the grips of insanity on the edge of his mind, doggedly searching out any thing which might have explained what he saw.

In the course of human events it led him to Japan. If he had submerged a toe into the abyss, now he was thrown face first into it. It was in Japan made contact with those known as Sorcerers. A connection that went deeper than mere acquaintances. The blood of a sorcerer ran through his veins, on his mother's side none the less. Such was his reason for seeing curses, and upon deeper inspection an innate technique. His time as a civilian was over. Now he walks a strange life, tied to the Sorcerer Society and often at odds with them.

Even after two years, he is still considered a C Grade sorcerer. Regardless of any potential, or actual ability.

[burdenedreverence]

verses

v. a blade forged by will . gotei

Desmond Hayden first joined the Gotei under Eleventh Division, expressing great aptitude for Zanjutsu and all forms of melee combat. However, his intense loyalty and stalwart attitude made him a prime candidate for First Division which he was transferred to by recommendation some years later. It is in this division he excelled, progressing as a Shinigami and seated member.

Years: 1869 - 1900

v. the mask forged by injustice . rogue shinigami

At some point in his history, Hayden is confronted by a choice. To act against his own belief or to act against the orders of Central 46. Being a stalwart believer in the Gotei he tried to explain his actions, but when met by what he regards as injustice it hardened his heart. In this part of his timeline, he flees the Gotei a renegade to the only place where he might be safe from their eyes. Hueco Mundo. This choice over the years has a profound effect on his soul, as he meditates and fights for survival he grows. He becomes something more than a Shinigami, and something less, all at the same time.

Years: 1900 - post bleach

v. turn forward the pendulum . older

This verse is a bit up in the air. It reflects an older Hayden who is nearing or has met the end of his story. Generally used as a means of reflection on his past actions and relationships.

v. we all just wanna laugh . ooc

OOC content, sometimes we all just need to have our muses act wacky!

v. Chippin in . cyberpunk

Desmond ‘Specter’ Hayden is a Night City Solo, having returned to Night City after a stint in the New United States of America (NUSA) army during the unification wars. Disillusioned by the prospect of fighting the government, or Corporations, he arrived in Night City with the intention to sell the skills he acquired during the war.

He sports some serious military hardware, some acquired during his time in the army and other he acquired during his time in Night City. What is truly remarkable is high tolerance to Cybernetics, showcasing an extreme aptitude and affinity for them without succumbing to the negative effects associated with highly cyberized individuals.

What it means to be an Edgerunner is to walk that fine line between life and death. Sanity and insanity. Hero and villain. For Hayden he doesn’t feel alive unless he’s knee deep into the shit, be it crossing paths with Militech or pissing off the local Gangoons. Doesn’t matter to him, because at the end of the day; he’s already a Specter.

Died a long time ago. He’s just waiting for time to catch up.

v. a new age man . modern.

Desmond Hayden is a man fresh out of the military, seeking to make his way in life. Struggling with demons acquired during war, the man stands at the precipice of change.  

v. an oath of vengeance .wh40k

An astartes apart of the Luna Wolves, he survived the ISTVAAN III drop-site massacre. Having sworn an oath of vengeance upon the traitors, his mind straddles the edge of madness and clarity. He has seen what he must do, and he shudders awaiting his fair.

On the blood of his fallen battle-brothers, Captain Desmond Hayden has made an oath.

v. old bold soldier . mha

A former interpol agent and American soldier, Desmond Hayden is a newly sidekick/apprenticing hero. Having witnessed a villainous act that claimed the life of the villain and multiple bystanders, he was compelled to investigate what drove them to do what they did. In doing this it led him to one conclusion: to become a hero in Japan.

A thirty-year-old man entering the hero business is a bit of late bloomer. But his dogged determination and unyielding pursuit of truth has helped him, as he competes to uncover a nasty truth.

He is known as ‘New Colossus’ the titan hero.

v. for whom the bell tolls . chainsawman

CASEFILE: 086 ‘Hayden’

Subject was found in REDACTED with total memory loss. Initial findings presumed subject to be a Fiend but upon further inspection Subject appears to bare resemblance to REDACTED. Subject was easily secured exhibiting a confused state and offered medical aide within a secured facility (see appendix A.) Interviews conducted by REDACTED deemed the Subject potentially useful to public interests. Subject has been assigned to the Public Safety Devil Hunters Wherein Subject excelled in training, indicating some type of prior service.

Conclusion: It is this Agent’s recommendation that Subject henceforth known as ’Hayden’ enter a probationary period with the Organization. His unique circumstances present a unique opportunity to the Agency, it is important we do not allow some other nefarious force to influence him.

UPDATE XXXX: Subject is believed to be a devil-human. His contract is with REDACTED.

v. weaponized wrath . jjk

It doesn’t matter if you dip a toe into the abyss, or drop in both feet swinging, once you’ve been touched by it there is no return. The same can be said for Desmond Hayden, a civilian once unwittingly thrown into the deep end only to discover the madness which awaited him. Cursed energy while concentrated in Japan is not exclusive to it, in such unstable and war torn lands a curse could easily manifest. He was unlucky enough to witness a cursed event overseas, leaving far too many questions and so little answers. For such a time he felt the grips of insanity on the edge of his mind, doggedly searching out any thing which might have explained what he saw.

In the course of human events it led him to Japan. If he had submerged a toe into the abyss, now he was thrown face first into it. It was in Japan made contact with those known as Sorcerers. A connection that went deeper than mere acquaintances. The blood of a sorcerer ran through his veins, on his mother’s side none the less. Such was his reason for seeing curses, and upon deeper inspection an innate technique. His time as a civilian was over. Now he walks a strange life, tied to the Sorcerer Society and often at odds with them.

Even after two years, he is still considered a Grade 3 Sorcerer. Regardless of any potential, or actual ability.

v. SOLDIERs Never Die They Just Fade Away . FFVII

Desmond Hayden didn't dream of joining soldier as a young man, he never intended to be anything more than a carpenter to carry on his family legacy. That was until a stroke of misfortune, an unlucky occurrence, left his family indebted and destitute. It was at this low point of his life that his eyes turned to Shinra and the opportunity to turn his fate around, and with it his family. As fate would have it he proved to be a match for the SOLDIER program, a capacity for physical violence and mental fortitude led to him quickly being inducted into their ranks. He never bought into the propaganda or the idea of honor, for him this was merely a means to make ends meet. While not a cynic at heart it would be wholly unfaithable to say he had no higher calling than secure a privileged living for his mother and father, seeing it as a debt which needed to be paid back. He might have continued like this for years, if he didn't begin to have his doubts about the things he was doing. A quiet professional and stalwart soldier led to him being promoted through the ranks until he was a 1st Class Soldier. It wouldn't be wrong to say that he never denied an order, he doubt those in charge would have thought himself capable of it. But he was capable of it. Where he might have lacked in moral courage, his parents provided pivotal. In his most private moments confiding to them they remarked in horror at him, placing into perspective all he had done. The price he has paid for his fortune, was not worth it. This revelation was a turning point for the man. He abandoned Shinra, abandoned his name. Until he makes right that which cannot be easily fixed. 

v. swashbuckling bravado . one piece

As long as Hayden can remember, he's been at sea.

Joining the Marines at the age of 9 wasn't something he particularly intended to do, but it happened none the less. Without parents to care for him and very little prospects in life, watching the coming and goings of Marine vessals from his small town instilled some sense of wanderlust into the young boy. So he soon found himself serving as a cabin boy, gradually finding himself in misadventures at sea. He recalls many of times he's suffered lashings for his 'insubordinate' and 'insolent' nature. But throughout those years he met good friends, learned quickly the dangers of sailor life, and had instilled into him a sense of morality.

He was of course assigned to many ships throughout his fifteen years of service, eventually reaching the (in his own words) esteemed rank of Master Chief Petty Officer, having been slated for promotion to ensign. That was until 'the incident.' Having gained a reputation as something of a fighting officer and bellicose sailor he was given command of a boarding action to subdue some upstart pirates, something he's done more than once. The action went well but the following events after the action are something of contention.

Hayden claimed that the commanding officer of his ship ordered the unjust execution of the Pirates, and the Commanding Officer claimed Hayden harbored sympathies for Pirates. But what isn't up for debate is that in a heated argument Hayden struck his Commander laying them flat out on the deck of the ship much to the shock of all present. Assault a superior officer was a punishment that good as well signed away his career, and rather than be imprisoned he jumped overboard. A watery death was better than a life imprisoned. Except he didn't die. He washed ashore, a wanted man.

Fifteen years given to the Marines, and nothing to show for it. Makes for an almost romantic adventure, eh?

v. holding back the night . resident evil

Born in 1978, Hayden would joined the United States Army in 1996 as an 18X candidate. Upon successful completion of selection he was transfered to SOCOM in 1998. While he was not present for Raccoon city, he felt the after math of it. One might say he stepped into the role of the operators that was lost during the massacre that was Raccoon city. It was rather sour luck for him to be placed into the numerous teams being formed to combat Umbrella and Bio-Terrorism as a whole.

After a few years, Hayden was firmly within the ranks of SOCOM as an 'expert' on bio-terrorism. That is to say he just had survived enough encounters from the late 90s to the early 2000s to be one of the more knowledgeable soldiers on it. For this he was fast tracked, promoting to Staff Sergeant by 2004. He is currently the acting team leader for 1st SFOD-D.

v. colossus of Rhodes . arknights

Some might remember the Watchtower 22 incident, some might not. The fact of the matter was it set the precedent for... visitors to the strange world of Arknights.

Desmond Hayden could have never imagined that strange black rock he found in the sands of Saudi Arabia would have transported him to another world, he could've never predicted that it would have reacted to his spiritual nature, and he certainly couldn't have predicted being wrapped up in the affairs of a world on the bring of destruction. But those where the circumstances he found himself in. A shinigami walking in a strange land full of strange animal-like people. But despite it's strangeness, it reminded him of his old life. The same biases, the same anger, the same wars.

When he found Rhode Island and heard of their mission, he pledged his blade to them. Perhaps his skills might be some use to them. He always needed a good cause to fight for. And maybe, once the war is won, he might return home.

v. with great power . spider-verse

Earth-14320

He wanted to be a pilot.

He was a stupid college kid studying aeronautical science in hopes of joining the Air Force and flying fighter jets. Because it sounded cool. Because his favorite film was Top Gun. An athlete. Quiet and focused. Head down. Just a poor kid who had enough spirit to make it in a world where superheroes and villains existed. In this tired old story of a spider and a boy, he just happened to fit the bill. See in this verse a Spider Man existed already, and he was pretty good at job. But much like other universes someone always coveted that power, this time it just happened to be the Government.

The details of the project don't so much matter as much as what it did. They kidnapped him. Took him from his home just because his genome fit the match. Strapped him into a chair and experimented on him. He could never forget that black and red spider, the bite. The surgeries. The pain. The rage.

What they created was a Spider-Man. Or at least as close as they could get. He was unique, growing still. Evolving. He was just a kid, who gave blood a few times at blood drives, now being turned into a weapon. Of course they messed up along the way, gave him the chance to escape. He took it, did some things he ain't proud of. Those first nights alone hurt, barely able to control his powers. Spider Man, the real Spider Man, found him. Helped him. In ways Hayden can't begin to repay. He wouldn't say Peter was a mentor, because he isn't. But he's a friend. A rival when the time is called for.

But who is Hayden? He's still figuring that out. Right now, he's just Spider Man. And in due time, he'll right the wrong done to him.

v. ironside . gundam

Desmond 'Ironside' Hayden is what is colloquially known as a 'lifer.' He would've joined the military regardless if a war broke out or not, it was civic duty in his eyes, and he would honor the Republic. Of course he was serving The Republic when it became the Principality, he didn't concern himself with the specifics during the war. He was too focused on fighting a war that he felt right, and just. His opinion of such would change over time.

A talent mobile suit pilot, a patriot, and a bleeding heart never make for a good combination. And yet he still somehow pulls through.

v. somewhere between salvation and sin . armored core

The full writeup here.

v. a burnished heart . runeterra

Once a cavalryman in the Dauntless Vanguard, he no longer serves any institution or man save his own conscience. Desmond Hayden served honorably Demacia asking for neither renown nor gold for his services, the honor to serve was enough. But there comes a time when a man must question all that he is, and all that he will be.

At an un-named battlefield, at a forgotten space in time, Hayden experienced loss so profound it rattled his core. He was an adequate fighter, in truth he was well on his way to becoming someone of note. But that all ceased when he requested dismissal paperwork, a request for honorable discharge.

It was granted.

Now, Hayden wanders Runeterra experiencing a world that is both infuriating and beautiful to him. In lands he had never thought to visit, he witnesses a thousand injustices. But in those same lands he bares strange people and customs, enthralling in their own right. The bleeding heart that he is, cannot help, but get wrapped up in the affairs of others.

He is a warrior, a soldier. His heart cannot know peace for too long. But at least this way, he chooses to whom he fights for and why. The world is confusing to him, as are the people within it. Yet, there is no greater calling than falling his conscious.

He can be found anywhere, doing anything. Wherever there are people in need, he answers in his own way.

[fgffbfghtr]

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[brideofedoras]

The Loft: Redemption

Disclaimer: the usual.  

Word count: 2600+

Warnings: Mentions of sex dreams, masturbation, naughty thoughts and implied naked Vincent Stevens.  

Rating: 18+

Chapter 5

Vincent groaned into his pillow after glancing at the alarm clock.  Three twenty-six in the morning and he was wide awake.

He blamed the dream.  Jesus Christ, did he blame the dream.

The same dream he’d had every night since he’d nearly kissed Sam in the conference room.  When she had straightened his tie and told him she didn’t want anyone to get the wrong impression because he was a rumpled mess.

He rolled onto his back and tossed the covers off.  “She’s off-limits, Stevens,” he muttered as he scrubbed his hands over his face.  “Too good for an asshole like you, you’d only ruin her.”

He slipped out of bed and stalked across the loft to the bathroom.  He screwed his eyes shut when he flipped on the light, the sudden brightness burning.  “She deserves better.”

Deserves better than a man pushing forty with a history of womanizing and cheating.  A man who had been arrested for murder.  A man paying dearly in alimony and child support with strict and limited visitation with his children.  A man who had fought and struggled and clawed his way back from rock bottom to keep his company afloat.

He squinted his eyes as he opened them, locking onto the shadowed eyes in the mirror.  “She’s too young for me anyway,” he sighed heavily before turning toward the shower and turning it on.  He adjusted it to the coldest temperature he could stand and stripped out of his blue and grey plaid pajama bottoms.  His erection, brought on by the damned erotic dream, throbbed against his abdomen.  He glared at it.  "Cold showers at three thirty in the god damned morning are not my idea of fun,“ he muttered before stepping into the shower.  He bit back a yelp as the stream of cold water hit his skin. 

Vincent ducked his head under the icy spray, welcoming the shock and hoping it would kill his raging desire so he would not have to deal with it himself.  In the past it never bothered him to jack off in the shower.  Back then he hadn’t given a damn.  But now?

Now he felt dirty.  He felt disgusted any time he had to bring himself to completion after dreaming about making love (not fucking, not screwing, not banging, making slow, sweet love) to Sam in his office or on the damned conference table.  But the cold shower was not helping kill the lust.  With a growl he soaped up his hands before curling his fingers around his aching manhood and thinking of anyone but Sam. But all he could see was his beautiful, efficient, brilliant assistant reaching up to straighten his damned tie.  One hand curling around the tie at his chest, the other sliding up to the knot, her brow furrowed in concentration, full bottom lip trapped in her teeth, big grey eyes shyly meeting his.

Fuck.

Vincent leaned back against the cold ceramic tiles of the shower, swearing a blue streak as he struggled to regain his breath.  He reached over and turned the shower off.  He stood there a few minutes more before stepping out onto the plush bath mat and grabbing a towel to dry off with.  He tossed it angrily toward the hamper as he stalked out of the bathroom.

He grabbed his bottle of bourbon and a tumbler.  The drink he poured he knocked back quickly.  "Dammit,” he muttered.  He poured another drink.  With a frown he filled the tumbler nearly to the brim.

Vincent knew bourbon was not the answer to his problem.  But he drank it anyway.  He chugged the generous glass and poured another to take to bed.  As he set the tumbler on the nightstand he glanced at the alarm clock.  3:42.  "Hell,“ he muttered.  His alarm was set for six, and he was wide awake.

And hungry. 

Most men would fall asleep after a damned good orgasm, whether resulting from sex or masturbation.  He never did.  Maybe it was years of cheating on Barb and not wanting to risk falling asleep and wind up getting busted, maybe he was wired different.  But he always wound up hungry.

He made his way back to the kitchen to scope out the contents of the refrigerator and grinned when he saw the takeout container from yesterday’s, no, the day before’s, lunch.  Sam had ordered extra Chinese when he’d commented about possibly working late to work on that damned park design he’d been struggling with.  "Still struggling with the damned thing, too,” he grabbed the container and popped it in the microwave. 

He scrubbed his right hand over his face as he waited for the food to heat up.  But he could not get the images from that dream out of his head.  Wide grey eyes behind those glasses she always wore.  Soft pink blush on her cheeks.  Plump kissable lips.  Silky dark hair he longed to tunnel his fingers into as he kissed her senseless or marked up her neck.  Elegant fingers he wanted to entwine with his as he made slow, sweet love to her.  Long legs he wanted wrapped around his hips as he drove into her over and over again.

The tattoo on her shoulder he’d caught a glimpse of months ago.  The memory of the sudden desire to touch, to taste washed over him.  He knew about the feather tattooed on the inside of her left wrist and the flower tattooed just behind her right ear on her neck.  She had told him it was simblemyne from Lord of the Rings when he had asked about it. 

“God dammit,” he sighed heavily.  He had never had a thing for tattoos on a woman before, hadn’t cared one way or another.  But on Sam… Jesus Christ did he want to trace his tongue and fingers over each one.  And he wondered if she had more.

He closed his eyes.  “Get a grip, Stevens,” he growled.  “It’s been a long week already, don’t make it any more difficult.”

He was a tired, cranky mess when he made it to the office a few hours later.  Sleep had evaded him when he’d crawled back into bed, even with a full belly and a fourth glass of bourbon.  How he wasn’t drunk before eight in the morning was a mystery to him, one he hoped to never have to repeat.

Thank god it was Friday.

Vincent damn near dropped his coffee when he opened the door to the office and spotted his assistant at the window with her back to the door wearing something she had never worn before.

She was dressed in a soft dove grey sweater dress, loose-fitting and hitting at mid-thigh, paired with black tights and knee-high grey boots.  Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail at the crown of her head, exposing that damned delectable simblemyne tattoo.  He was accustomed to leggings paired with tee-shirts and flowy cardigans or sweaters, or fitted slacks and button-down blouses.  But a dress?  When he’d overheard her tell Linda she hated dresses?

She turned to face him when he pushed the door shut.  “You’re…”  She trailed off when she took in the bags under his eyes.  “Vincent, are you okay?”

“My turn for a sleepless night,” he gave her a tired grin.  “Don’t even think about sending me home, I’ve got to knuckle down on that damned park design if I’m going to present it next week to the city.”

“The one you’ve been struggling with?”

He snorted as he made his way to his office.  “Landscaping is not my forte, Sam,” he admitted.  “I wanted to branch out and now I’m sorely regretting it.”

“Maybe I could help?”

He stopped in the doorway separating the offices.  Did I hear her correctly?

“Or not, don’t listen to me.”

He frowned when he caught the defeated tone in her voice.  That’s not the Sam Monroe I know, he thought.  “You want to do what I do,” he turned to face her.  “You want to become an architect.”

She nodded.  “It’s been a longtime dream of mine.”

“You know anything about landscaping?”

“A little,” she shrugged.  “I designed a butterfly garden for Mom’s office building and worked with a group on a class project to design a memorial park at the university I attended.”

Vincent walked over to stand beside her.  He took her shoulder in his free hand and turned her back to the window.  “Remember the city block you pointed out the day I interviewed you?”  He dropped his hand when he felt her shudder.  Don’t overstep your boundaries, Stevens.

She looked up at him.  “Yes.”

“This is no small butterfly garden or memorial park, Sam.  This is something for families to enjoy together.  Think Central Park, but smaller.”

“I’ve never been to New York,” she admitted quietly. 

He gave her an incredulous look.  “Next conference I go to in New York, you’re going with me.”

“That’s not necessary,” she shook her head, tearing her eyes from his.  “What would I do in New York while you’re attending the conference?”

“Suffer through the boring crap with me, tour the architectural wonders, stroll through Central Park, eat at a five star restaurant and take in a show on Broadway.”

“If the conferences are boring, why bother going?" 

"It’s good exposure,” Vincent shrugged.  “You learn about new things, new areas of study and certification, new technology for designing blueprints.”

“I don’t see you using computer programs to design buildings,” she wrinkled her nose. 

“There’s something magical about drawing up the designs by hand,” he tipped his head toward her.  “Computers take the fun out of it.  They make the mind weak by taking out all the guesswork and calculating everything for you.  Don’t ever rely on those programs, Sam.”

She nodded. 

“What’s my schedule like today?"  He asked as he headed to his office.

"Site visit after lunch, Jennings Street apartment complex.”

“You ever visit a project site before?”

“No, sir.”

His coffee cup thunked onto his desk.

Sir. 

She just had to call him “sir”.

He fumbled to keep the to-go cup from tipping over, inwardly cursing himself at the mental images popping into his head unbidden. 

“Vincent?”

“You want to come with me this afternoon?”

He screwed his eyes shut and grimaced at his ill-worded question and husky tone, glad he still had his back to the door. 

“I’m hardly dressed for a visit to a construction site.”

“What you’ve got on is fine, Monroe.”

More than fine, his brain added quite unhelpfully.  Sexy.  Gorgeous.  Breathtaking.

“It’s fodder for construction workers,” there was that hesitation in her voice, a tone of self-doubt he’d never heard before.

“You’ll be with me the entire time, Sam, if anyone says anything out of line or looks at you wrong I will take care of it,” he turned to face her.  “I won’t tolerate anyone crossing any lines with you.”

Her grey eyes widened behind her glasses.  “I could always run home and change during my lunch break…”

“Sweetheart, it won’t matter,” he shook his head.  “They’ll stare, they’ll say something, and I promise you they’ll get their asses handed to them.”

“I don’t want to cause any issues–”

He chuckled.  “Oh, you will,” he hung up his jacket and dropped into his chair behind the desk.  “Woman on a construction site usually does.  Don’t let them get to you.  Don’t pay them any mind, but if they say something put them in their place and tell me.”

Her brow furrowed.  “Okay, but I’d feel more comfortable if I can go home to change.”

He could not argue with her point.  “All right.  I’m going to start working on that damned design in about fifteen minutes if you want to help.”

Sam smiled, “Thank you, Vincent.”

“I should be thanking you, Sam,” he smiled back.

Vincent looked up from noting a playground on the paper in front of him.  “Koi pond?”

She nodded.  “Kids love watching koi fish,” she frowned thoughtfully.  “The nursing home where my grandpa was has a koi pond in front of the Hollywood wing.  When they remodeled the vestibule they put in a section of ‘glass’ floor to watch the fish swim under it,” she hooked her fingers in air quotes.  “It’s pretty neat, but they scare the hell out of me.  Kenna still teases me about refusing to use the main entrance.  Any time I went to see Grampa I had to be buzzed in from the patio.”

He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from chuckling and to refrain from reassuring her those floors, if installed correctly, were perfectly safe.  “You mentioned designing a butterfly garden earlier.  What if we included one in the design?”  He studied the rough layout he’d mocked up before sliding his hand along the paper to tap a blank area.  “Maybe over here away from the playground.”

Sam caught her bottom lip between her teeth and nibbled on it as she swiveled on the stool, angling her body toward him.  “I was thinking of a pavilion around here, for outdoor weddings,” she murmured before immediately flinching.  "If…  If that’s okay with you?“

He frowned at the way she flinched like she was expecting to be slapped.  "Jot it down,” he slowly reached across her to pick up her discarded pencil.  “Sam, your ideas for this park are brilliant.  I’ve been procrastinating on this for weeks, and here you’ve bounced several excellent suggestions off of me in…” he glanced at his watch as he straightened from his slouch over the drawing table, “three hours.  Let’s take a break for lunch and come back to this after the site visit.  How’s that sound?”

She looked up at him.  “You really think my ideas are brilliant?”

Oh damn.

That shy smile bowing her lips tugged at his heart. 

“No,” he shook his head.  “I know they’re brilliant."  He tapped the paper.  "Make note of the other ideas you mentioned off to the side until we can figure out where to work them in.  And for future reference, keep a notebook available to write down any ideas you might get at random times.  Trust me, I’ve been in the damned grocery store more than once when a thought would pop into my head.  You wouldn’t think a package of chicken breasts would inspire an arched entryway.”

Sam giggled at that as she jotted her ideas down.  “And just how did they inspire it?”

He chuckled.  “My kids were going to spend the weekend with me.  Figured I’d get the ingredients for a couple of their favorite meals.  Kinzie, my little girl, likes this chicken breast and asparagus dish.  I was standing there, trying to remember what else I needed when it just popped into my head how she’d told me one time she wished her school had arched doorways like a castle does, and I realized that would be better for the preschool design I’d bid on.”

Sam twisted the stool to face Vincent, her eyes wide behind her black-framed glasses.  “Please tell me you included a moat and a tower in the design.”

He laughed.  “No, I didn’t,  If Kinzie had her way it would’ve been an actual castle.”

“She sounds like she takes after you,” she tipped her head toward his Castle Grayskull blueprint on the wall. 

“God, I hope she doesn’t,” he sighed heavily. 

The last thing he needed was for either of his kids to follow in his damned footsteps.

He shook off that frightening thought before pasting on a tired smile for Sam’s benefit.  “I’ll grab us some lunch so you don’t have to rush.  Romeo’s sound good?”

“I’ve been wanting to try their cauliflower risotto and parmesan crusted chicken breast,” she nodded.  “Would it be too much to ask for cheesecake?  Their blackberry swirl cheesecake looks amazing.”

He smiled at the hopeful look in her grey eyes.  “Anything else?”

She shook her head.  “No, that’ll do me, Vin, thank you.”

His heart stuttered in his chest at that shortened version of his name.  He watched her walk out of his office.

I’m in trouble. 

[make-it-mavis]

The Right Thing (pt 3 of 3)

Wreck it Ralph AU 4274 words Content warnings: drugs/addiction, discussion of overdose/death, brief/mild sensuality Characters: Turbo, Make-it Mavis, mentions of Maribo ( @nijimarii‘s OC )

Premise: Mavis is released from the hospital following an incident that she remembers little about. Her best friend, however, knows exactly what happened... and has a hard-to-hear idea on how to prevent it all from happening again.

>Part 1< >Part 2<

Leaving the hospital was a headache. Literally and figuratively. Alongside the dull, throbbing pain in her head, the process was a numb, nauseating blur of things Mavis was not in the mood for.

When she woke for the second time, it was to the sensation of a nurse laying another blanket over her. She was asked how she felt, and some weird trivial questions to test her lucidity. After some prodding, she answered honestly, and told the nurse her head and stomach hurt, that her eyesight was stained a faint blue, and that her brain felt full of dead ends.

The nurse brought her some generic hospital food to help settle her belly. She ate it quietly while Turbo pretended to sleep in his chair. He was not fooling her -- if he was not snoring, he was not asleep. Still, he would not respond to anything she said until the nurse came to let her know it was time to go home.

It was only as they were leaving that Fix-it Felix showed up, breathless and overjoyed to see her alive and well. He went in for a hug, but Turbo shoved him in the chest, which she quietly thanked him for. Having a guard dog against unwanted physical contact was pretty nice in general, but she felt particularly weak to defend herself that night. The arm around her shoulders as they walked out may have been a possessive one, but she found that comforting in its own right.

Felix apologized right away, of course, but proceeded to follow the two of them out of the game, yakking incessantly. He went on and on about how worried they were (at which point Turbo reminded him to speak for himself), about how sorry he was that he was absent, about how important the job he took was, how he would otherwise have never left her alone -- well, not alone, he says, since Turbo was there and kept her company which he was so, so grateful for.

By the time Turbo and Mavis made it to the Turbo Time port and bid him goodnight, he had wasted all of his conversation time apologizing and thanking. Mavis could still hear him calling out insistent requests for her to come see him the next day as she rode the cord train with Turbo.

Turbo was pissed. She could tell that much. From the train to his trailer, he said nothing, only grunting now and then in response to her conversation attempts. That much was typical. But there was something a bit off about his bad mood. It was a silent treatment, but it was not quite the cold shoulder. He kept close to her, hardly letting her stray from his touch, even as he unlocked his trailer door. It led Mavis to wonder if he really was mad at her, or if it was some other uncharted territory.

She did not feel ready for it, whatever it was.

Once they were inside, and it was time to go to bed for real, she elected to sleep on the couch, to give each of them some space. She lied and told him that she was still feeling nauseous, and did not think she could handle his inevitable tossing and turning. He did not argue.

So the two of them settled into their respective nests and listened to the deafening, heavy, quivering silence.

Mavis had thrown her smock and jeans to the floor, bunching herself up in the blankets that she kept at his place. They were starting to take on the scent of his home, which pleased her. Turbo’s trailer was the site of her deepest, easiest sleeps. Even so, there was a discomfort keeping her awake that grew from annoying to unnerving. A chill still radiated from her very core, one that blankets could not remedy. Her code had not quite stabilized completely, and it felt too light, too fragile, as if it would blow away at any moment and whisk her away into nothingness.

She had heard the springs of Turbo’s mattress squeaking in protest, but no snoring. Clearly, he was not having any more luck than her. Thoughts of his warm bed filled her mind and beckoned her seductively, but she still had to wonder what she would be in for if she joined him.

It did not take very long for her to decide that she needed a remedy for her chilling state more than anything else.

She stood in the darkness, stepping over messes that she knew by heart as she crossed to his bed. There was brief hesitation as she reached its edge. Turbo was facing away from her in a tense, unhappy ball, but she could tell he would not turn her away. It did not have to be a big deal, she told herself. So she tried not to make it one.

Slowly, she sat and slipped her bare legs down into the covers. The warmth was heavenly, like settling into a hot bath. Turbo’s bed was barely big enough for two sprites of their size, so even lying on her back, her side was pressed up against him. It took everything she had to restrain herself against clinging to him. Unusually high body heat aside, the sensation of his code in contact with hers held her down like an anchor. In that side of her body, she felt more secure, more relaxed, less afraid of spontaneously disappearing.

Turbo did not react at all to her joining him. He was still giving off that weird energy. She did not like it, but… at the same time, questions were coming into her head. Just how much had he seen that night? Just how much did he help her?

What, exactly, had her careless mistake put him through?

The questions gnawed at her nearly as hard as the cold. Uncharted territory be damned, she had to know what was in his head. What she put there.

“T…” she said softly and cautiously.

He grunted tiredly.

After considering her words carefully for a moment, she asked slowly, “Were you… the one who took me to the hospital?”

At first, he was quiet, but a single, humorless chuckle escaped him eventually. “Nah,” he sighed. “Nah, Mav, I wasn’t even there.”

She frowned at the ceiling, unsure of which alternative would have been better. “‘Kay, well…” she said, “who found me?”

“Found ya?”

“Found me nearly corrupting,” she clarified.

He was quiet long enough for her to sort of dread the answer, but his reply was not an answer at all. He just asked quietly, “How much do you actually remember about tonight?”

Mavis fidgeted with the hem of her shirt under the covers. Tempting another headache, she scoured her mind. “I mean… not all that much,” she mumbled as vague images began to resurface. “I was hangin’ out in my camp, and dug up some old Spells I’d been savin’.”

“Y’took more than one, didn’t ya?” he asked bluntly.

“Uh…” she squinted, rubbing her brow. “I think… two.”

“Why?” he breathed harshly.

She pondered. “‘Cause…”

Because she wanted to feel something.

“C’mon, man, I dunno. Do I need a reason? I just wanted to,” she half-lied.

Amazingly, Turbo did not fight her on that. But she could feel some awful energy radiating off of him, more of that off-key anger. He did not prompt her to continue, but she did anyway, just to fill the silence.

“But, uh… Y’know, at first, it was the usual Spell experience, and I was havin’ a grand ol’ time. Everythin’ was goin’ fine. But… after a while, I guess I got hit with a bad trip. I like… sorta got lost n’ wandered…”

Wandered until she found herself on an endless chess board, busy with crowds of chess pieces that all moved in their proper, respective patterns. She was the only one with a real body, the only one with no set path. She could not find her brush. She could not fly. She could only try not to trip as the squares on the floor shuddered and bumped against her feet. Rage swelled in her chest, threatening to burst her ribs apart. It needed to stop. It all needed to break.

That was when a little pawn approached her…

Curling up a bit against the uncomfortable memory, she gave the truth a wide berth. “I don’t… really know where I ended up, but… I just remember bein’ pissed. Real pissed. And uh… panicking. Then… wakin’ up n’ seein’ you.”

Turbo remained silent for a little while again, every now and then drawing in a breath to speak but not following through. Eventually, he gave another long sigh. “Look, Mav… I ain’t exactly told ya the whole story. I might’ve… glossed over some things. D’you wanna know what really happened?”

Mavis’ heart stuttered. “Uh… yeah. I’d say so.”

“It ain’t pretty.”

“I figured. Tell me, anyway.”

Twisting awkwardly on the cramped mattress, he rolled onto his back. She could see one of his fingers tapping against his chest as he chose his words. “The thing is… yeah, y’did almost corrupt. But it wasn’t exactly from an overdose. It wasn’t… entirely your fault.”

There was a quiet rumbling deep in his chest, and his voice deepened with spite. “It was that freakin’ sorry excuse for a Surge Protector. Game Central’s finest. He… shocked ya.”

Mavis considered that. “...Seriously?”

“Yup. He knew y’were high, too. He was just too much a limp-dicked wuss to try anythin’ other than killin’ ya on the spot.”

Mavis knew he was exaggerating. He never liked Surge. Neither did she, but all the same, she knew how docile the man was by nature. He was no killer. But she also knew there was little point arguing with Turbo’s biased views on things. Besides, what did she care about defending Surge’s honor? He did use excessive force on her. The only question was…

“Why? What’d I do to get him so riled up?”

Turbo breathed deeply for a second, and begrudgingly answered, “Y’kinda… attacked someone.”

She looked at him. “What? Y’mean… attacked, attacked?”

“Yeah.”

“Was it…” she wondered cautiously, “...anyone I know?”

Turbo sighed. “...Yeah. It was, uh… that little…” he made vague, small gestures, “the lil’ orange potato sack with a hat.”

Mavis felt her heart yanked downwards. She halfway propped up for a second. “Maribo?”

“Yeah, her.”

“Is she okay?”

Turbo glanced at her, brow raised. “Yeah, she’s fine. Cool your jets.”

She dropped onto her back again, letting that sink in. Maribo was by no means her friend, but Mavis did thoroughly enjoy pestering and toying with her. She liked her, in her own peculiar way. The thought of Maribo actually being afraid of her was an upsetting one, but she would have every reason to be scared, after that. Thinking of how small she was, Mavis was amazed she did not have Maribo’s death on her hands. Just the thought of it was haunting.

“Huh…” Mavis breathed. “‘Kay… so… what’d I do to her?”

She felt Turbo shrug next to her. “Not much. Y’just choked her a bit.”

“Yikes,” she hissed. “I guess it could be worse, but still, yikes. I could break her neck with one hand.”

Turbo grumbled. “Uh huh. That’s pretty much what the Blue Blunder used as an excuse to zap ya.”

“He’s right, though, ain’t he?”

His stern gaze turned on her. “Y’really oughtta be more pissed about this. He nearly killed ya.”

Her hands lifted a bit. “Yeah, but he didn’t. He’s just crap at his job. Whatever.”

Turbo groaned deep in his throat. “‘Kay, fine. Leave me to be the only one pissed about a guy who’s supposed to protect us giving absolutely zero bits about your safety. Someone’s gotta see somethin’ wrong with you almost dyin’ at the hands of a cop. Guess it’s gonna be me, as usual, the only guy ever smart enough to focus on the real issues. Y’know, some days I get tired a’ bein’ the voice a’ reason for the entire freakin’ arcade.”

“I know, sugar,” she said flatly, tuning out his rant.

He went on for a little while, but Mavis’ mind was just clouded with the fact that she almost killed someone… someone she liked, on top of that. How was she even supposed to move forward after that? What would be the first step to take? How could she deal with the issue as quickly, as easily, and most effectively as possible?

Turbo speaking directly to her snapped her out of it. “Mav.”

“Huh?”

“Are ya still worryin’ about what’s-her-face?”

“I’m not worried,” she lied.

Turbo paused, and she knew he could see right through her. After deliberating for a minute, he said, “She’s fine. Believe me. I saw her.”

She looked at him. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “When you were unconscious, she came to have a peek at ya. Seemed perfectly alive to me. She’s just got bruises n’ she sounds like an old man.”

At that, Mavis could not help but snicker a bit. It felt good to laugh, even for a couple seconds. Settling down, she asked, “What’d she say to you?”

Turbo’s gaze wandered low as he thought. “Not much, but…” he mumbled, “if it makes ya feel any better, I let her know y’didn’t mean it. Had to explain to her what buffs were n’ everythin’.”

“Oh, great,” Mavis rubbed her forehead. “Great, thanks, T. Now she’s gonna think I’m some junkie loser.”

“Hmm. Maybe,” he said. “But are ya tellin’ me you’d rather she think of ya as a violent maniac?”

She sighed. “No. But ‘scuse me if I ain’t a fan a’ sprites thinkin’ I got a buff problem.”

There was something about his silence next to her that was concerning. He seemed to almost hold his breath, as if he was keeping words trapped in his lungs. She did not want to assume. Of all sprites, Turbo had to have been the one to know she was not an addict… right?

“Mavis,” he said lowly, and the lack of a nickname unsettled her. “You n’ me… We gotta talk.”

“...We are talkin’,” she told the ceiling.

“...About buffs.”

Her belly churned. “What’s there to talk about?” she asked, hostility creeping into her voice.

Automatically, his tone matched hers. “About how to never have a repeat incident a’ tonight.”

“Nope,” she chirped, rolling to leave the bed, but Turbo hooked an arm over her belly and pulled her back down. She began to protest, but he had rolled onto his side to face her, and his warmth radiated even deeper along that side of her body. It was just sedating enough to keep her there, but she refused to look at him. She just looked out into the darkness of his trailer, as if she would scurry off into it the moment he let her go.

“Will ya cool your jets for just a second,” he hissed, waiting a moment before loosening his grip on her and carefully stroking his thumb against her waist. She tried to focus on that sensation as he continued, his voice calmer. “Mav, I ain’t here to slap labels on ya or accuse ya of nothin’. I just got one point to make, n’ I’ll keep it short n’ sweet.”

“So do it.”

“Y’gotta quit takin’ buffs alone.”

“No.”

“Good,” he nodded, “this is good. We got that first ‘no’ outta the way.”

She merely groaned a bit.

He sighed. “Mavis, I ain’t thrilled to be talkin’ about this either. But I ain’t sayin’ you got a problem or an addiction or whatever. I ain’t even sayin’ you gotta quit takin’ buffs entirely. ‘Cause, hey, I like ‘em too, n’ it’s more fun doin’ ‘em together. But, like… y’gotta have someone to spot ya. Keep ya from overdoin’ it n’ gettin’ yourself in a freakin’ mess.”

“This was a freak incident,” she grumbled. “Up until tonight, I’ve flown solo just fine.”

“‘Kay, maybe that’s true, I dunno. But what I do know is… I mean…” his fingers squeezed into her waist a bit. “Y’slept through the worst a’ tonight. Y’don’t get how real it all was. It really, really almost happened, Mav. I... sat in that hospital waitin’ room for ages... waitin’ to hear if you’d survive the night. Even with a bunch a’ nurses helpin’ ya… everythin’ just hung on luck. You’re just… Y’know, you’re the luckiest n’ unluckiest sprite I know.”

As he spoke, Mavis’ defensiveness slowly softened, replaced by a grave, cold guilt. Imagining what it would have felt like if she had switched places with him… made her afraid of what she really had put him through. And now, he was actually opening up about it, so… it had to have been a big deal.

“So, what I’m gettin’ at is…” he shrugged. “Yeah, maybe this ain’t happened before. But it only took one time to put ya on death’s doorstep. If it ever happens a second time… who’s to say you’ll be so lucky again?”

Mavis stared into the darkness. “...I probably won’t,” she agreed softly, sadly, begrudgingly.

Turbo was quiet for a long time. She wondered if he was waiting for something, but she felt caught between her pride, her pain, and her heart.

For one thing, no one could tell her what to do, on principle. She could make her own decisions, good or bad.

For another, sometimes doing buffs alone was a more comfortable way for her to deal with some really ugly pain, the sort that no one else could ever see in her. Buffs worked faster than pleasant company. Buffs would never judge her. They would just take the pain away, and for once, she could enjoy being alone without the silence crashing down on her.

The thought of losing that option was sort of terrifying on its own.

Struggling with herself, she breathed ruefully, “Y’know I love risk-taking.”

“I know,” he whispered, more calmly than she expected.

There was a long, heavy, pregnant pause, but eventually, Turbo shifted. He scooted even closer to her, his arm bending as he squeezed her tightly against him. Behind her ear, she felt his breath for a moment before he nuzzled himself between her neck and the pillow, burying his face. He waited, his grip unrelenting.

Fumbling, Mavis prompted him softly, “...T?”

His voice low, hot, and muffled against her neck, he muttered, “Do I really gotta spell it out for ya that I don’t want ya to die?”

With that, her heart blew all other arguments out of the water.

Chest burning, she shakily took hold of his arm and squeezed. “No. No, I know…”

“So stop takin’ buffs alone,” he insisted softly. “...Please.”

Mavis turned her face to the ceiling again. She fought the uncertainty that she could actually do it. She told herself to at least try… but then decided that trying was not enough. She had to do it, and she could do anything. She was Make-it-freakin’-Mavis, and she did not have a buff problem.

“Alright,” she sighed. “I will.”

Turbo paused, but within seconds, he leaned in to find a firm grip on her and flipped her against his body as he rolled on his back, ending with her lying on top of him. Wide-eyed, a bit disoriented, Mavis said with a half-smile, “What the hell, T?”

“Ya gotta look me in the eye n’ say that,” he explained. “And a’course, y’gotta take the sacred vow.”

Between their faces, he held out his pinky finger. He watched her expectantly, not quite smiling yet.

“Is that really necessary?” she smirked, nodding at his hand.

“Oh, damn right it is, ‘cause I really wanna believe ya on this, Cherry Bomb,” he nodded briskly. “And don’t act like you didn’t start the tradition.”

A small laugh blew from her nose. Trying to ignore how daunting the promise she was about to make was, she just thought about how glad she was that his bad mood was letting up even a little bit. So, she complied. Looking right into his glowing yellow eyes, she locked her pinky over his. “No more buffs alone. Promise. Okay?”

“...Okay,” he released her hand, finally showing a bit of a satisfied smile.

Mavis made no movement to get off of him. This was the most contact she had with him all night, and it felt fantastic. She settled down, resting her chin on her crossed hands over his bare chest, and let his heat glow deep into her belly. But it was still not enough. Every inch of her left untouched still had that cold, ghostly quivering beneath her skin. It was not until she felt Turbo’s fingers in her hair that she realized she had been dissociating.

She perked up, and found him watching her contentedly, a peculiar look in his eye.

Mouth twitching into a smile, Mavis asked, “What’re you lookin’ at?”

“Hmm. I’unno,” he hummed, lightly scratching the back of her head. “Your eyes are finally dark again.”

Oh. Mavis was not sure why that in particular made her face flush with heat, but it sure did. Her gaze jumped away, and she chuckled sheepishly. “Yeah, well,” she muttered, “you’re still pretty blindin’ there, Bright Eyes.”

His chest hopped with a short laugh. “C’mon, the glow’s a courtesy. They’re free torches for when you’re lost in my--”

Almost before she realized it, Mavis had pulled herself up to kiss him. Just once at first, soft and chaste, but enough to catch him off guard. When she pulled back to check his reaction, he looked at her with raised brows and a hint of a smile. “...Hey,” he purred.

“Hey--” she cut herself off by kissing him again. She could hardly restrain herself. All she wanted was contact. All she wanted was to feel something good after the numbness and anxiety of the whole night. Propping up against the pillows, she caressed his hair while he held her waist gently. He needed to touch her more. It just was not enough.

She kept her forehead against his once the kiss broke. Her eyes were closed, but she could tell by his voice that he was smiling a bit. “Someone’s in a mood, all of a sudden.”

“Yeah,” she breathed. “I need you.”

With that, she sat up, straddling his lap. He watched her from the pillows with confused eyes, but they widened when she tossed her shirt off over her head. She was just about to dive right back in, but the concerned look on Turbo’s face stopped her.

“Uh,” he said as gently as he could, “no offense, babe, but, y’know, I ain’t exactly in the mood to fool around.”

Mavis sat there on his hips, really feeling how cold the air outside the blankets was on her bare skin. She felt her face heat up again and her gaze wandered. It was not the rejection that was embarrassing, as that was not her real desire in the first place. It was the fact that she had to take plan B to get what she needed… communicating. Always with the communicating.

“No, I know,” she said quietly, twisting her finger. “I ain’t, either.”

“...Uh huh. Then...”

“Just-- Can you just--” she stammered, carefully grabbing his hands and bringing them to her hips, “just, like… touch me. Like… plain ol’ touchin’. I, uh… still feel kinda off in my code, n’ it’s weird n’ gross n’ drivin’ me crazy, so…”

After sizing her up for a second, he sat up. “Alright, if you insist,” he said with a grin. “Where?”

She swallowed. “...Everywhere.”

“Hmm!”

So he began running his big, warm hands all over her body, pressing hard per her instructions. Resting her elbows over his shoulders, Mavis tried to let everything go. Every stress from the last twenty-four hours was not allowed to exist in that moment. The spiraling thoughts that drove her to use the Spells. The deeply upsetting hallucinations. The hospital stay. The anxieties over the promise she made. The guilt, fear, and shame over what she had done to Maribo, what she had done to Turbo… banished. All that was left was the heat of skin-on-skin contact, and the motion of his code against hers, like a massage reaching deep inside and soothing the aches in her binary.

At a certain point, Turbo’s hands snaked slowly up her back, and suddenly, she was crushed against his torso. He hugged her so tightly to his body that she could feel her bones creak. Holding onto his shoulders, she mumbled, “Uh…”

Against the curve of her neck, he simply muttered, “Don’t make it weird.”

She saw little to argue with there. Slowly, she wrapped her arms around him as well, settling into his shape, exhaling all the fear of her code blowing away into nothing. Something else swelled in her chest, and he squeezed her tight enough for it to float out.

“T…”

“Hm?”

“Uh… thanks… for bein’ there… for me. At the hospital.”

“...Yeah,” he whispered. “Don’t mention it.”

“And-- and for bein’ here,” she added. “With me. Right now.”

Turbo considered that, and responded only with a single, quick kiss on her neck.

It would still be some time before either of them fell asleep, and when they did, they would have no more than a couple of hours before having to part again. But in those hours, Mavis would sleep soundly, deeply, dreamlessly, kept warm, safe, and secure, held down by the weight of her anchor.

She would not let him down again.

Hopefully.

[orbemnews]

Bankers, Please Return to Your Desks Manhattan calling Goldman Sachs has joined JPMorgan Chase in telling its bankers that it’s almost time to come back to the office. David Solomon, Goldman’s C.E.O., sent a memo to employees advising them to “make plans to be in a position to return to the office” by June 14 in the U.S. and June 21 in Britain. JPMorgan plans to open its offices on May 17 on a voluntary basis and require that workers return to their desks in rotations starting in July. Goldman and JPMorgan’s moves put pressure on other banks to put an end to remote work, several bankers told DealBook. While many thought they could work from home through the summer, some executives are keen to get employees back into the office sooner. (Retail branches have been open throughout the pandemic.) Other major banks aren’t expecting employees to return in meaningful numbers for several months: Citigroup expects to have about 30 percent of its North America-based employees back in the office by the end of the summer. Bank of America’s C.E.O., Brian Moynihan, said recently that a return to the office probably wouldn’t take place until after Labor Day. Wells Fargo said it was “optimistic” that workers would be able to return to the office on Sept. 6. These decisions may be complicated by where the banks’ offices are. It could be easier to coax workers back to JPMorgan’s headquarters in Midtown East, for example, than to Times Square, home to Barclays and Morgan Stanley, where businesses were especially hard-hit by the pandemic and a handful of highly publicized crimes have recently taken place. “People are so on edge and so uncertain about their own future that all these situations are exaggerated,” Kathryn Wylde, the president of the Partnership for New York City, told The Times. Jamie Dimon appears eager for the end of remote working. “I’m about to cancel all my Zoom meetings,” the JPMorgan chief said at an event hosted by The Wall Street Journal. Working from home “does not work for younger people, it doesn’t work for those who want to hustle, it doesn’t work in terms of spontaneous idea generation,” he noted. Dimon said his bank had lost some business because rivals had visited a potential client in person and JPMorgan’s bankers hadn’t. He acknowledged that there was some pushback on the bank’s plans, but didn’t seem willing to give in. “Yes, people don’t like commuting, but so what,” he said. In other Manhattan workplace moves, the New York Stock Exchange issued guidance that allows trading firms to increase their staff on the floor if the employees provide proof of vaccination. And the United Nations is taking a more cautious approach to reopening than its host city, saying that it was premature to plan for an in-person General Assembly in September. Even Eric Yuan, Zoom’s C.E.O., has Zoom fatigue. As a result, he has stopped scheduling back-to-back video chats. “I’m so tired of that,” he said. HERE’S WHAT’S HAPPENING Business groups oppose voting restrictions in Texas. A coalition including HP and Microsoft published a letter yesterday criticizing “any changes that would restrict eligible voters’ access to the ballot.” A second letter, signed by more than 100 Houston executives, criticized the Texas legislation as “voter suppression.” Both show how companies are more willing to wade into the debate over voting limits after Georgia enacted a bill with restrictions last month. More details emerge about the Gates divorce. Cascade Investment, a holding company owned by Bill Gates, transferred over $1.8 billion worth of assets to Melinda Gates on Monday, the day that the two announced their plans to split. And although they will retain their roles as co-chairs and trustees of the Gates Foundation, questions remain about whether they will focus more on their individual philanthropies after they divorce. The White House alters its Covid-19 vaccination strategy. The Biden administration will shift emphasis from mass inoculation sites to smaller ones like pharmacies to get more people in the U.S. vaccinated. Meanwhile, the campaign to vaccinate the world is floundering, with the virus spreading more rapidly than ever, driven by new waves in South America and India. Corporate America responds to India’s pandemic surge. The Global Task Force on Pandemic Response, organized by the Chamber of Commerce, Microsoft, IBM and Accenture, with support from the Business Roundtable, will organize assistance to the country. It will begin by sending 1,000 ventilators and 25,000 oxygen concentrators by the end of the month. Pfizer reveals how its Covid-19 vaccine has boosted its financials. The drugmaker said it had collected $3.5 billion in sales from the shot, likely equating to roughly $900 million in pretax profits. It plans to seek emergency approval to use the vaccine in children age 2 to 11 in September and full approval for use in adults this month. Janet Yellen states the obvious, and markets shudder Janet Yellen, the Treasury secretary and former Fed chair, got in a bit of a tangle yesterday. She rattled the markets at one event — then used her appearance at a second conference to clarify her remarks. Today in Business Updated  May 4, 2021, 6:53 p.m. ET “It may be that interest rates will have to rise somewhat to make sure that our economy doesn’t overheat,” she said at the first event, hosted by The Atlantic. Investors seized on those words — tech stocks tumbled most of all on the prospects of higher rates — and critics said she was improperly interfering in monetary policy. Fed officials have said that any spike in inflation linked to robust government spending and a postpandemic reopening is likely to be temporary; the central bank has pledged to keep interest rates low for a long time. “Let me be clear, it’s not something I’m predicting or recommending,” Yellen said at the second event, hosted by The Wall Street Journal, a few hours later. “If anybody appreciates the independence of the Fed, I think that person is me.” Indeed, when she was the Fed chair, Yellen had to deal with persistent jawboning from Donald Trump, who spoke out more explicitly about Fed policy than many previous presidents. Stocks pared their losses. “Markets were unhappy at this statement of the blindingly obvious,” Paul Donovan of UBS wrote in a note to clients today. He and other market watchers have noted that Yellen’s comments essentially described the mechanics of monetary policy and weren’t framed as a prediction. Still, her words carry extra weight, given her previous job. The brief freakout over the mere notion of higher interest rates also revealed how dependent the markets have become on extraordinarily easy monetary policy over the past year. “This trial is going to be a sprawling mess of irrelevant, prejudicial evidence.” — Amy Saharia, a lawyer for Elizabeth Holmes, the founder of Theranos, at her client’s first appearance in court over criminal fraud charges in more than a year. A federal prosecutor responded that Holmes “defrauded patients by saying tests were accurate and reliable when they weren’t — and she knew it.” Dogecoin does its thing Dogecoin, the cryptocurrency that started as a joke, is still on a tear, after another surge pushed it up a whopping 14,000 percent so far this year. One theory is that the upcoming appearance of Elon Musk, a noted Dogecoin superfan, as host of “Saturday Night Live” could get more people interested in trading the crypto token. (It’s as good a reason as any for those who try to rationalize its movements.) The latest bout of Dogecoin mania has overshadowed what’s going on in Ethereum, the second-largest cryptocurrency, which set records this week and made its 27-year-old co-creator, Vitalik Buterin, a billionaire (in dollars). Ethereum is up more than 350 percent for the year to date, outpacing Bitcoin’s relatively pedestrian 90 percent gain — which, for context, outpaces every stock in the S&P 500. Who decides Trump’s fate on Facebook At 9 a.m. Eastern today, the Facebook Oversight Board will announce whether it believes Facebook was justified in barring Donald Trump after he used the platform to incite a mob of supporters who attacked the Capitol on Jan. 6. Here’s what you need to know about what Mark Zuckerberg has called Facebook’s “Supreme Court,” whose decision could influence how all social networks treat political speech. What is the Facebook Oversight Board? Facebook assembled the board to vet its most sensitive decisions on moderating content. It consists of 20 members, including experts in human rights, constitutional law and journalism. The board’s cases, which are referred by Facebook or the public, are reviewed by a panel of five members, who consider whether the company’s decision is consistent with its rules and human rights laws. A majority of the full board must approve the final decision. Does the board have any power? Only what Facebook gives it. The company has said it will abide by the board’s rulings, and the board’s charter emphasizes its independence. But Facebook has no legal obligation to follow those decisions, and it funds the organization through a $130 million trust. What exactly will the board decide in this case? It could vote to reinstate Trump’s Facebook account or uphold the ban. Or it could provide a ruling with more nuance, such as finding that the ban was appropriate at the time it was initiated but is no longer necessary. In addition to a ruling in this case, Facebook has asked for broader policy recommendations. “Basically the board is setting the tone here for what they’re going to do going forward — how much power they’re going to have, how much power they’re not going to have, whether they’re even going to be constrained by how the question was posed to them with Facebook,” Kate Klonick, an assistant professor of law at St. John’s University, told NPR. THE SPEED READ Deals Tiger Global, the big tech investment firm, reportedly plans to raise $10 billion for its next fund. (FT) Listing news roundup: Jessica Alba’s Honest Company raised $413 million in its I.P.O. at a $1.5 billion valuation; JAB’s Krispy Kreme filed confidentially to go public; and the Equinox gym chain is reportedly in talks to merge with a SPAC founded by Chamath Palihapitiya. (Bloomberg) Politics and policy How two Black C.E.O.s got corporate America to pay attention to voting rights. (WaPo) U.S. officials are pushing Taiwanese chip makers to prioritize American automakers’ demands to ease supply shortages. (Reuters) Inside the debate about who would actually pay President Biden’s corporate tax increase. (WSJ) Tech China is building electric car plants nearly as fast as Europe and the U.S. combined. (NYT) The privacy-focused messaging app Signal said Facebook had blocked it from buying Instagram ads about the social network’s user-data gathering practices. (Insider) Best of the rest A majority of G.E. shareholders voted to reject a $230 million compensation package for the company’s C.E.O., Larry Culp. (FT) Pandora, the world’s largest jewelry maker, is abandoning mined diamonds for lab-created ones. (NYT) We’d like your feedback! Please email thoughts and suggestions to dealbook@nytimes.com. Source link Orbem News #bankers #desks #return

[burdenedreverance]

burdenedreverance​:

verses

v. a blade forged by will . gotei

Desmond Hayden first joined the Gotei under Eleventh Division, expressing great aptitude for Zanjutsu and all forms of melee combat. However, his intense loyalty and stalwart attitude made him a prime candidate for First Division which he was transferred to by recommendation some years later. It is in this division he excelled, progressing as a Shinigami and seated member.

Years: 1869 - 1900

v. the mask forged by injustice . rogue shinigami

At some point in his history, Hayden is confronted by a choice. To act against his own belief or to act against the orders of Central 46. Being a stalwart believer in the Gotei he tried to explain his actions, but when met by what he regards as injustice it hardened his heart. In this part of his timeline, he flees the Gotei a renegade to the only place where he might be safe from their eyes. Hueco Mundo. This choice over the years has a profound effect on his soul, as he meditates and fights for survival he grows. He becomes something more than a Shinigami, and something less, all at the same time.

Years: 1900 - post bleach

v. turn forward the pendulum . older

This verse is a bit up in the air. It reflects an older Hayden who is nearing or has met the end of his story. Generally used as a means of reflection on his past actions and relationships.

v. we all just wanna laugh . ooc

OOC content, sometimes we all just need to have our muses act wacky!

v. Chippin in . cyberpunk

Desmond ‘Specter’ Hayden is a Night City Solo, having returned to Night City after a stint in the New United States of America (NUSA) army during the unification wars. Disillusioned by the prospect of fighting the government, or Corporations, he arrived in Night City with the intention to sell the skills he acquired during the war.

He sports some serious military hardware, some acquired during his time in the army and other he acquired during his time in Night City. What is truly remarkable is high tolerance to Cybernetics, showcasing an extreme aptitude and affinity for them without succumbing to the negative effects associated with highly cyberized individuals.

What it means to be an Edgerunner is to walk that fine line between life and death. Sanity and insanity. Hero and villain. For Hayden he doesn’t feel alive unless he’s knee deep into the shit, be it crossing paths with Militech or pissing off the local Gangoons. Doesn’t matter to him, because at the end of the day; he’s already a Specter.

Died a long time ago. He’s just waiting for time to catch up.

v. a new age man . modern.

Desmond Hayden is a man fresh out of the military, seeking to make his way in life. Struggling with demons acquired during war, the man stands at the precipice of change.  

v. an oath of vengeance .wh40k

An astartes apart of the Luna Wolves, he survived the ISTVAAN III drop-site massacre. Having sworn an oath of vengeance upon the traitors, his mind straddles the edge of madness and clarity. He has seen what he must do, and he shudders awaiting his fair.

On the blood of his fallen battle-brothers, Captain Desmond Hayden has made an oath.

v. old bold soldier . mha

A former interpol agent and American soldier, Desmond Hayden is a newly sidekick/apprenticing hero. Having witnessed a villainous act that claimed the life of the villain and multiple bystanders, he was compelled to investigate what drove them to do what they did. In doing this it led him to one conclusion: to become a hero in Japan.

A thirty-year-old man entering the hero business is a bit of late bloomer. But his dogged determination and unyielding pursuit of truth has helped him, as he competes to uncover a nasty truth.

He is known as ‘New Colossus’ the titan hero.

v. for whom the bell tolls . chainsawman

CASEFILE: 086 ‘Hayden’

Subject was found in REDACTED with total memory loss. Initial findings presumed subject to be a Fiend but upon further inspection Subject appears to bare resemblance to REDACTED. Subject was easily secured exhibiting a confused state and offered medical aide within a secured facility (see appendix A.) Interviews conducted by REDACTED deemed the Subject potentially useful to public interests. Subject has been assigned to the Public Safety Devil Hunters Wherein Subject excelled in training, indicating some type of prior service.

Conclusion: It is this Agent’s recommendation that Subject henceforth known as ’Hayden’ enter a probationary period with the Organization. His unique circumstances present a unique opportunity to the Agency, it is important we do not allow some other nefarious force to influence him.

UPDATE XXXX: Subject is believed to be a devil-human. His contract is with REDACTED.

v. weaponized wrath . jjk

It doesn’t matter if you dip a toe into the abyss, or drop in both feet swinging, once you’ve been touched by it there is no return. The same can be said for Desmond Hayden, a civilian once unwittingly thrown into the deep end only to discover the madness which awaited him. Cursed energy while concentrated in Japan is not exclusive to it, in such unstable and war torn lands a curse could easily manifest. He was unlucky enough to witness a cursed event overseas, leaving far too many questions and so little answers. For such a time he felt the grips of insanity on the edge of his mind, doggedly searching out any thing which might have explained what he saw.

In the course of human events it led him to Japan. If he had submerged a toe into the abyss, now he was thrown face first into it. It was in Japan made contact with those known as Sorcerers. A connection that went deeper than mere acquaintances. The blood of a sorcerer ran through his veins, on his mother’s side none the less. Such was his reason for seeing curses, and upon deeper inspection an innate technique. His time as a civilian was over. Now he walks a strange life, tied to the Sorcerer Society and often at odds with them.

Even after two years, he is still considered a C Grade sorcerer. Regardless of any potential, or actual ability.

v. SOLDIERs Never Die They Just Fade Away . FFVII

Desmond Hayden didn't dream of joining soldier as a young man, he never intended to be anything more than a carpenter to carry on his family legacy. That was until a stroke of misfortune, an unlucky occurrence, left his family indebted and destitute. It was at this low point of his life that his eyes turned to Shinra and the opportunity to turn his fate around, and with it his family. As fate would have it he proved to be a match for the SOLDIER program, a capacity for physical violence and mental fortitude led to him quickly being inducted into their ranks. He never bought into the propaganda or the idea of honor, for him this was merely a means to make ends meet. While not a cynic at heart it would be wholly unfaithable to say he had no higher calling than secure a privileged living for his mother and father, seeing it as a debt which needed to be paid back. He might have continued like this for years, if he didn't begin to have his doubts about the things he was doing. A quiet professional and stalwart soldier led to him being promoted through the ranks until he was a 1st Class Soldier. It wouldn't be wrong to say that he never denied an order, he doubt those in charge would have thought himself capable of it. But he was capable of it. Where he might have lacked in moral courage, his parents provided pivotal. In his most private moments confiding to them they remarked in horror at him, placing into perspective all he had done. The price he has paid for his fortune, was not worth it. This revelation was a turning point for the man. He abandoned Shinra, abandoned his name. Until he makes right that which cannot be easily fixed. 

v. swashbuckling bravado . one piece

As long as Hayden can remember, he's been at sea.

Joining the Marines at the age of 9 wasn't something he particularly intended to do, but it happened none the less. Without parents to care for him and very little prospects in life, watching the coming and goings of Marine vessals from his small town instilled some sense of wanderlust into the young boy. So he soon found himself serving as a cabin boy, gradually finding himself in misadventures at sea. He recalls many of times he's suffered lashings for his 'insubordinate' and 'insolent' nature. But throughout those years he met good friends, learned quickly the dangers of sailor life, and had instilled into him a sense of morality.

He was of course assigned to many ships throughout his fifteen years of service, eventually reaching the (in his own words) esteemed rank of Master Chief Petty Officer, having been slated for promotion to ensign. That was until 'the incident.' Having gained a reputation as something of a fighting officer and bellicose sailor he was given command of a boarding action to subdue some upstart pirates, something he's done more than once. The action went well but the following events after the action are something of contention.

Hayden claimed that the commanding officer of his ship ordered the unjust execution of the Pirates, and the Commanding Officer claimed Hayden harbored sympathies for Pirates. But what isn't up for debate is that in a heated argument Hayden struck his Commander laying them flat out on the deck of the ship much to the shock of all present. Assault a superior officer was a punishment that good as well signed away his career, and rather than be imprisoned he jumped overboard. A watery death was better than a life imprisoned. Except he didn't die. He washed ashore, a wanted man.

Fifteen years given to the Marines, and nothing to show for it. Makes for an almost romantic adventure, eh?

v. holding back the night . resident evil

Born in 1978, Hayden would joined the United States Army in 1996 as an 18X candidate. Upon successful completion of selection he was transfered to SOCOM in 1998. While he was not present for Raccoon city, he felt the after math of it. One might say he stepped into the role of the operators that was lost during the massacre that was Raccoon city. It was rather sour luck for him to be placed into the numerous teams being formed to combat Umbrella and Bio-Terrorism as a whole.

After a few years, Hayden was firmly within the ranks of SOCOM as an 'expert' on bio-terrorism. That is to say he just had survived enough encounters from the late 90s to the early 2000s to be one of the more knowledgeable soldiers on it. For this he was fast tracked, promoting to Staff Sergeant by 2004. He is currently the acting team leader for 1st SFOD-D.

v. colossus of Rhodes . arknights

Some might remember the Watchtower 22 incident, some might not. The fact of the matter was it set the precedent for... visitors to the strange world of Arknights.

Desmond Hayden could have never imagined that strange black rock he found in the sands of Saudi Arabia would have transported him to another world, he could've never predicted that it would have reacted to his spiritual nature, and he certainly couldn't have predicted being wrapped up in the affairs of a world on the bring of destruction. But those where the circumstances he found himself in. A shinigami walking in a strange land full of strange animal-like people. But despite it's strangeness, it reminded him of his old life. The same biases, the same anger, the same wars.

When he found Rhode Island and heard of their mission, he pledged his blade to them. Perhaps his skills might be some use to them. He always needed a good cause to fight for. And maybe, once the war is won, he might return home.

v. with great power . spider-verse

Earth-14320

He wanted to be a pilot.

He was a stupid college kid studying aeronautical science in hopes of joining the Air Force and flying fighter jets. Because it sounded cool. Because his favorite film was Top Gun. An athlete. Quiet and focused. Head down. Just a poor kid who had enough spirit to make it in a world where superheroes and villains existed. In this tired old story of a spider and a boy, he just happened to fit the bill. See in this verse a Spider Man existed already, and he was pretty good at job. But much like other universes someone always coveted that power, this time it just happened to be the Government.

The details of the project don't so much matter as much as what it did. They kidnapped him. Took him from his home just because his genome fit the match. Strapped him into a chair and experimented on him. He could never forget that black and red spider, the bite. The surgeries. The pain. The rage.

What they created was a Spider-Man. Or at least as close as they could get. He was unique, growing still. Evolving. He was just a kid, who gave blood a few times at blood drives, now being turned into a weapon. Of course they messed up along the way, gave him the chance to escape. He took it, did some things he ain't proud of. Those first nights alone hurt, barely able to control his powers. Spider Man, the real Spider Man, found him. Helped him. In ways Hayden can't begin to repay. He wouldn't say Peter was a mentor, because he isn't. But he's a friend. A rival when the time is called for.

But who is Hayden? He's still figuring that out. Right now, he's just Spider Man. And in due time, he'll right the wrong done to him.

v. ironside . gundam

Desmond 'Ironside' Hayden is what is colloquially known as a 'lifer.' He would've joined the military regardless if a war broke out or not, it was civic duty in his eyes, and he would honor the Republic. Of course he was serving The Republic when it became the Principality, he didn't concern himself with the specifics during the war. He was too focused on fighting a war that he felt right, and just. His opinion of such would change over time.

A talent mobile suit pilot, a patriot, and a bleeding heart never make for a good combination. And yet he still somehow pulls through.