#((if y’all clown on my picture here I will remove it I’m not even kidding))

[beaniehasapoliticalviewpoint]

An Opening Statement:

When impressing myself into the world of politics as a kid, I always thought I’d be the cool motherfucker that’d band people together to fight against an oppressive government and liberate the minority. And then, I realized that

1. People don’t like to listen to other people

2. It’s really hard to get America to stop being lazy

3. There’s more countries than America out there

That third one is a big one, I’d say, and it defines a lot of what makes the world what it is.

“American Exceptionalism is the belief that the United States is either distinctive, unique, or exemplary compared to other nations.” - Donald E. Pease (I think, that’s what Wikipedia said they got the quote from)

You see, I live in a country that loves to suck it’s own dick, and pass around the fruits of that labour by spreading its seeds of “democracy” and “freedom” onto other countries that did not ask. Now, I love my country, I think US propaganda does a great job of making even the most US hating individual feel proud to love this country, and I do in fact feel wonderful every single day knowing I’m a citizen of the country that loves to spout off how free it is. I’m also not blind, it’s also a damn shame what the country looks like now. Shit, let’s be honest, the American government is an absolute cesspool of old dudes jerking each other off and making fuck tons of money doing it, which, by the way, could very easily be cut to go into our economy, but I digress, the American government is at core the fault of our country, and by god thank you for letting us see that, and giving us the option to vote them out- except we don’t. Because no one votes. And when they do, it’s always “vote blue no matter who” or “trump is the best”, stupid shit like that. The solution? Simple. Hell, let’s cut this whole chapter down to two simple words. “Start. Reading.”. It’s that simple. I mean, we literally have the biggest goddamn treasure trove of information ever held accessible to the common man, and y’all motherfuckers use it to argue whether or not trans people should get rights. They should by the way. Because they’re people. Expanding off that, I’m not saying I’m not guilty of the same stupid shit. My heart strings soar when I see some dumb shit confederate get clowned on online. But none of it means anything. I can talk smack all I want on this earth but it’s not gonna make it any greener. We’re members of a generation capable of making the most change, and we have been given the greatest informative platform to do it on. Stop staring at the next controversy when they made Ariel black; who the fuck cares if they removed a gay character from a show. While y’all weren’t looking, they let Florida allow first responders to legally deny medical care at their own whim, based on their beliefs. Imagine if you pissed some motherfucker off in 8th grade when you snitched on him for passing notes in class, and then 10 years later you go to a specialist, the same guy, and he denies you care because he’s a salty motherfucker, and you DIE. Who let this law pass? Certainly not the citizens of Florida, you guys are fucking awesome, but can’t see the obvious issues here.

We, as citizens of the United States, are held victim by our own beliefs and emotions. We impose our own restrictions on ourselves, by acting like the differences in the world is because one side lives a different kind of life. We draw so much attention to the smallest of differences, the pigment of our skin, who we love, who we want to be, and we miss the big picture. It’s not republicans Vs. democrats, the gays Vs the church or the north Vs the south (god forbid that shit happens again), it’s the fucking people Vs the goddamn government, and it always has been. Every distraction from our common goal of uniting against corruption gives more power to the corrupt, and they fucking LOVE it. And no, this isn’t me saying if you think gay people are inherently evil or some shit that’s ok. It’s not. You’re weird. Weirdo. This is me saying theirs a far larger issue at hand that could kill us all, and both of y’all need to shut the fuck up and look around you.

So yeah. I’m trying to be the cool motherfucker that bands the oppressed together against a common enemy. I wish I could. I’d be lying to myself, and you, if I said something like, “I’ve grown”. I haven’t. I’m no better than the person next to me, no greater than the young child behind me or the older folk in front. We’re all equal in a struggle against power. (And NO this isn’t some Marx shit, the economy is a joke and I’ll get to that later) All I’m saying is, we could do with a lot more loving in this world, because shit, that would make me feel a helluva lot better, and I’m sure you would too.

Remember when I said that thing about American Exceptionalism? Promise I didn’t forget about it while I ranted about America. Because it’s wrong. We aren’t special. We’re one empire in the long line of many, not the first nor the last. The entire world is out there, billions of people, millions of cultures, thousands more being made. Many suffering a helluva lot more than my upper middle class in college ass. Many living a lot more luxurious than I am too. Despite us all being the same species we manage to become so different, global divisions of “countries” and “nations”. I can’t speak of the minds of everyone, because I’m not everyone. I can’t say that every single person should act some way, because I didn’t grow up in their shoes, in their home. Everyone lives different lives, everyone lives differently. So why the hell should my country pretend to know what’s best for them. American “global security” is an authoritarian grip on the less fortunate, for our benefit. And only the people can fix that.

#politics #america #swearing #rant #canijustwriteanythinginthetagsectionandgetawaywithit?immisusingthisfeatureforsure

[azure-seadragon]

Things I Like RP Partners to Know

(i saw some people doing muse pictures and some doing mun pictures so i figured- why not both. a little comparison i guess lmao) I like to be called: I usually use ‘Cobalt’ as my online alias, though on discord or in game i will respond to Sol

Also if we’re friends/mutuals or on the same rpc group chat, using my IRL name is fine too! i won’t put it here, but im sure its out there and if you know it, you know it lol

One thing you should know about me:

I have a LOT of free time at present, but also have major adhd. This means that while im online a lot, i can alternate between instant replies or taking some time- i do not control what my brain hyperfocuses on sadly. so basically, i apologize for times where i might send a lot of things (feel free to tell me if im overwhelming you!~ odds are i got excited or something and didnt realize i was being a lot.tm ) AND i apologize for times where i may be a little quiet. I promise the latter never means I’m not interested in interacting anymore <3

One thing you should know about RPing with my character(s):

Solana has a lot of baggage and is extremely flirty. i’ve touched on these things before, but it means that sometimes some dark topics will come up- and that she will likely come across fliratious at least every once and a while. while the majority of dark subjects are not avoidable since they’re in her backstory, as far as the flirting goes i am more then willing to tone it down for a specific mun/muse- and the flirting never has to be reciprocated (in fact it doesn't even usually mean shes trying to date/sleep with them)

First language: English.

Age range: under 13  |  14–17 | 18–22 | 23–25 | 26–29 | 30+ | 40+ | 70+

Am I okay with NSFW?: yes | no | some nsfw

My favorite/most common thing to rp is: angst | fluff | smut | crack | action | plots | AUs are fine | Violence | Darker themes |  I dunno.  *

*Character development - i love seeing characters grow and change and experience things, so this is a big one for me *Romance - listen. i’m a hopeless romantic dork at heart, who thinks about writing romance and stuff all the time. i obviously LOVE platonic relationships too, but i adore writing some good pining/slow burn/yearning/other romance tropes. though if we write ships/romance together be prepared for fanart and for me to jump into dm’s randomly to throw ideas and affection at you lol

Canon Character RP Friendly?: yes | no | depends *

RP blog: does contain ooc posts | doesn’t contain ooc posts | occasionally contains ooc *

*i post OOC sometimes, mainly things that still involve sol or other rp related topics- or important info regarding why i may not be online,ect. but this isnt a personal blog, so i keep most of it to myself. that being said though, im 100% down with OOC dms and becoming friends outside of rp <3

Tagged by Taken from: @spotofmummery​ (it looked fun and like a good way to put info out I hope that’s ok lol)

Tagging: @kolak-magiya​, @ashenbun​, @protection-and-pleasure​, @halcyonic-aether​ and anyone else interested <3

#mun post #dash memes #tag meme #oocobalt #my face #psa #((if y’all clown on my picture here I will remove it I’m not even kidding)) #((I wanted to have a side by side of me n sol for fun but so help me if someone makes it weird I’ll throw hands))

[chuckling-chemist]

Everybody Needs Somebody

((They say a picture’s worth 1000 words so I wrote 3750 because I can’t draw and then rushed the gag itself. Also probably the only thing I’ve really written of all this that I’m posting, be it here or anywhere, since my interpretation of the ball being at a swanky hotel was incorrect, but also everything else is only like....debatably relevant? All 1.5 other pieces, that is. idk, might another short piece or two but this one was certainly a vanity project written in the early hours of the morning in post-Stardew Valley Christmas hazes that is only getting posted to make myself feel better, for some sense of “welp did the thing I said I was going to write 6 months ago and here it is” type of thing.

Anyway there’s a lot of silly references in here so kudos if you pick them all out))

Joilet tapped his foot impatiently from behind their practice room. He hadn’t meandered much around the crowd of the ball -- ignoring the current charges against him, high class crowds weren’t his scene -- but current security was still enough to make him worry. Brownblood host or not, he knew enough have true highbloods stalking around as guards. Bouncers who Joilet’s certain were watching him and recognized him the last time he did a sweep of the temporary hivestem. After their performance, Joilet and Akroid were going to have to peel out immediately.

At least they were paid upfront this time upon meeting him in person the night prior. In cash.

Though, to be fair, the Blue Brothers shouldn’t have been paid. A friend of theirs in similar line of work, a brownblood named Elliah Fagane, performed last sweep and she was slated to perform again. She was perfect for the job, a good little songbird who kept complaints she had about anything to herself and was the perfect paragon of elegance and grace -- lowblood or not. The Blue Brothers, meanwhile, were two midbloods (Joilet was a stocky cobaltblood while Akroid was a lanky tealblood) who both had a penchant for getting into trouble. Under normal circumstances, the two of them alone -- much less the whole band -- would ever be asked to perform for a traditional socialite of any caste. But, they needed the money and so Joilet was able to pull a quick favor from her to have her drop her spot while simultaneously recommending them as adequate replacements. He accepted, playing as if he knew who the two of them were the whole time. He told them how much of a fan he was of their “country and western band”, how Elliah “just wasn’t the sound he wanted”, and how excited he was to get some “representation of their own people’s music, in a more palatable fashion” in the setist. 

He was partly right: once they performed a cover of Stand By Your Rail at a dive bar, pretending to be an actual western band. He’s pretty sure this guy wasn’t aware of that, but an attempt was made. At least.

Their tight, uniform appearance also helped matters. Despite the different castes and heights, Joilet and Akroid looked the part of a two person midblood group with a backup lowblood band. Same black sunglasses that cover up half their face, same black fedora hooked onto their respective short horn (Joilet’s left horn, Akroid’s right), same unruly hair covered up by said hat, same black suit and skinny black tie. Sure, Joilet’s other horn broke off during his stint in prison while Akroid’s just hooked off again and Joilet’s sideburns were unkempt, but otherwise? Perfectly uniform. If the host had any questions of their legitimacy, they were quickly quelled after seeing the two of them in person the other night and, to Joilet, that spoke just as much as their actual skill level.

Joilet glanced over to Akroid. Damn teal looked as unflappable as ever behind those dark sunglasses. It was him who got them in this whole situation in the first place. Akroid, the idiot who picked him up from the big hive at the start of the perigee with a pipe dream of getting the band back together. The idiot who resisted arrest for public intoxication from the drones all because he was a former felon himself, starting them on this stupid honkbird chase in a desparate bid for cash. Akroid, the idiot who helped get his ass out of prison in the first place, all due to whatever strange desire for the other’s companionship they developed over the sweeps.

Fuck him.

Akroid must have caught his gaze because he gave a short smile and a thumbs up. “We’re doing good,” he said. “Remember, we’re on a mission from God.”

Right. The mission from God. Joilet found himself relaxing almost instantly. He distinctly remembered the out of body experience he had upon visiting one of those criminal infested freeports before departing; where, if he hadn’t talked to the God (Joilet didn’t believe the clowns held any sort of stranglehold on the concept of godhood), he certainly talked to a god. If nothing else, they made it this far without a single hiccup they couldn’t solve in their plans. It’s hard to believe someone’s not looking out for you when you escape a chase by driving through a busy mall and still make it out on top. Without their current employer hearing any of it.

“And what if God lets y’all get caught again?” their saxophonist, Marini, asked. He was a skinnier rustblood, long curly hair that went down to his mid back and oddly pointy teeth for such a red caste. “Leavin’ us high and dry again like when Joilet got hit.”

“We’ll be fine,” Akroid said. He shifted the sleeve of his suit, pausing in his speech to check the time on his watch. “Just follow our lead and look like nothin’s wrong.” 

The rustblood let out a huff with a brief shake of his head, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he asked, “How much longer do we have anyway?”

“Ten minutes,” Joilet answered. “We got ten minutes.”

“Well good.” He removed his saxophone off the neckstrap and set it on the stand. “I drank way too much Faygo. Gotta piss.”

“Then go piss!” Akroid’s stone face cracked into a distinct scowl. “Geeze, you don’t gotta announce everything. Just get back before we perform.”

Their drummer, another rustblood by the name of Barkay, stood up as well. He looked about the same age as Joilet, with curly hair partially that was obscured by his dark green visor. Barkay looked about as respectable as anyone of his caste could, with a dark red dress shirt and black tie.

“I’m goin’ with him.”

Joilet blinked harshly behind his sunglasses. “Okay? It’s the damn ablutionblock. Do what you need to.”

They apparently didn’t need to be told twice. The two trolls were out the door before Joilet had a chance to add anything else.

“You’d think his bulge was on fire,” Joilet finally said. His gaze swept around the rest of the band rapidly. They were quiet. Somber. Hell, if he didn’t know any better he’d have mistaken the lot of them going off to war, not performing for big money at some fancy gala-thing. “You think he’s gonna bail?”

“Marini? Nah. He was the only guy we didn’t have to pester who was workin’ at that diner. Been itchin’ to rip on that sax.” Akroid smirked wryly. “And doin’ it here? In front of all those rich pricks? I’d worry more ‘bout yourself. You gonna choke?”

Joilet snorted. “ ‘Course not. We’re in too deep.”

“Didn’t seem like that a few minutes ago.”

“Yeah well….” Joilet trailed off. Akroid wasn’t wrong. Joilet had panicked. It seemed like every jackass out to get them were outside waiting for them. And Akroid, bastard he was, simply reminding him that those jackasses hadn’t got them during the rest of the sweep brought him back. 

Not like he’d admit it out loud.

“Had a moment of panic’s all. Then I remembered this kid’s probably being a nervous wiggler about staffing with his first year. Nothin’ else.”

“Uh-huh.” Akroid’s smirk widened a bit, giving Joilet the sudden urge to punch it right off his face. But not now. They were too close to their goal.

They stood in comfortable silence for a few more minutes before a new figure came out from the curtain, an indigoblood with short, cropped hair in a suit matching his caste walking next to Manini and Barkay. That was the guy who’d be ushering them on, sure, but he’s almost certain it hadn’t been ten minutes. Did something happen?

He glanced back over to Akroid, who just shrugged. Figures.

“Are you ready?” the indigoblood asked. He had some smile plastered on his face in some attempt to be friendly, but it didn’t look friendly. The offset, sharp teeth broken off at odd angles gave off a distinct predatory vibe.

“I dunno, did they get their break?” Joilet said.

Barkay grinned, giving the two trolls a thumbs up as he walked seat. “I got what needed done. No worries.”

The indigoblood’s face split wider, if that were even possible. He beckoned Joilet and Akroid with an open hand, unmoving until the two of them actually started following him through the narrow hallway. “Excellent. Let’s get moving then. Your stage is set, guests are waiting...you wouldn’t want to disappoint such eager crowds I’m sure. They could get aggressive.”

Joilet refrained from mentioning he passed time in prison by performing old classics, and just how dangerous some of those trolls were. Hell, he even learned a few new songs thanks to an actual country musician of a brownblood involving being stuck in prison. Aggressive wasn’t a problem. It was authority. 

“Got it.”

“Good.” He stopped in front of a door, giving them a nod. “You can go ahead and enter through the door. Hopefully you don’t need any final warmups?”

“We’ll be fine,” Joilet said.

The indigoblood nodded. “If you’re certain. I shall return at the end of your set.” He opened up the door. “Best of luck.”

The two of them exchanged a look. “We don’t need luck,” Akroid said before disappearing through the door.

Joilet followed suit, giving the inidgoblood a curt nod of acknowledgement before adding, “We’re on a mission from God.” 

As he walked through the door, he was immediately greeted with a dark blue curtain in front of them with a short opening to the left of them where he could catch the smallest glimpse of the piano on a raised platform. Nothing else. The piano obscured most of the view of the crowd beyond them. He imagined it was exactly the same on the other side.

It was a small exit. But it would be perfect for escaping out.

He wondered if Akroid was thinking the same thing. Probably. There was no way to tell, no way to properly read his expressionless face their last moment of respite before their performance and subsequent frantic escape before anyone did a serious background check about who they were. Still, there was a twinge in his gut that his partner in crime agreed.

When they exchanged one final nod in solitude and took their places in front of two microphones, Joilet had a feeling he was right.

As soon as he made it, he did another quick scan of the room. It was blue. Blue tablecloths covered the guest and dessert tables. Blue curtains shuttered the ball off from the outside world. Blue lights in the punch bowl made the ice snowflake sculpture inside look blue. And if it wasn’t blue, it was white. White tree sculptures adorned with white lights twisted around each marble pillar. Vases of white flowers topped every table. A white rug ran down the center of the ballroom. Small, white lights dotted an otherwise dark ceiling to give the loose impression of stars or snowflakes down onto the dance floor.

Even the trolls did nothing to break it up. If the dress didn’t match the owner’s blood color, it was a distinct blue or white with sparkles or shimmers. White lacing and white boas perfectly match the white boots and white dresses. The flashes of gray due to the high cut of many of the dress slits managed to break up the coloration more than anyone matching caste color. 

Thankfully, the heavy blue-white combination made the distinct pinks, purples and blacks of those on their tail easy to spot. And oh boy, were they available -- even more so than earlier. Joilet wouldn’t be surprised if their host figured out about them at some point, but not early enough to cancel and reschedule so he let these brutes in instead. Burly indigo and purplebloods in suits stood along the edges, away from the crowds with their arms crossed in rapt concentration of the two of them. Standing next to the dessert table were a series of inidgobloods all dressed in formalized cowboy outfits, complete with stetsons, glaring at them -- the very same western group the Blue Brothers once impersonated. A few particularly annoying “seadweller master race” types in colorful gowns and military pinks stood in the back next to cobalts in military regalia, quite possibly from some local, non-drone law enforcement they managed to pick up to defend themselves. On the other side of the cobalts were a few subjuggalators who definitely were full into the “highblooded landdweller supremacy” in full face paint and religious purple clown robes. Both were groups the Blue Brothers have antagonized, whether it be intentionally with the seadwellers (they deserved it), or accidentally (turns out subjuggalators don’t like lower castes hearing the voice of their god, whatever god answered Joilet and Akroid notwithstanding). It was, however, the first time Joilet’s ever seen the two work together for a common goal. Traditionally the two groups go at it worse than a bad kismesis. He was almost proud that they were able to perform such a feat, though he wasn’t sure if the pride was directed at the supremacy groups or himself for bringing them together.

He let out a slow breath. Only one thing to do at this point. Start.

“One. Two. One, two, three, four.”

The band kicked off with the sound of upbeat horns while the two trolls gave a short dance around the mics for a few bars. After which, while the intro kept repeating, Akroid grabbed his micrphone and said, “We’re so happy to see so many of you lovely trolls here tonight. We would especially like to welcome the esteemed members of Kilran’s hired law enforcement who have chosen to join us at the 12th Perigee Ball here tonight. We hope you all enjoy the show and hope you remember that no matter who you are and what you do to live to try and survive, there’s still some things that make us all the same. You, me, them--” Akroid looked directly toward the back of the room toward the cobaltbloods assisting the supremacists with a disappointed shrug “--everybody. Everybody.”

And from there, it was Joilet’s turn. With the second mic in hand he started singing their opener, Everybody Needs Somebody to Love. It was a speedy tune, possibly a little too fast for what their host was intending, but they sounded perfect and that’s all that mattered. The band’s hits fell right within the pauses in Joilet’s vocals, and Akroid knew exactly when to come in to accent with his deep baritone. Each transition into the next part of the song was smooth, from pointing to various people in the crowd at the you, you, you, to Akroid seamlessly whipping out his harmonica to accent Joilet’s singing the pre-chorus.

There were a few scattered cheers of appreciation, but for the most part these people weren’t dancing. Only one way to change that.

As they gave a pause in vocals to allow for a harmonica solo, Joilet started through a complicated dance twisting around the band members, ducking and weaving through saxophones and trombones while he turned this way and that. It was finished with a cartwheel across the front end of the stage, landing him right in front of the microphone for the next verse.

It was the opening some of the trolls -- lower castes mostly, but he caught flashes of higherbloods in the mix -- needed. The dance floor segment had all sorts of trolls, be it single or paired off in some fashion, dancing in whichever way they fancied. Akroid must have led them into a rhythmic clap too, judging by the trolls unwilling to dance instead clapping and even chanting at every repeat of you, you, you. He caught the leader giving them a death glare. Joilet ignored it.

At the next verse, Joilet swung on his heel back toward the band. He pushed his outstretched arms down toward the floor in an overemphasized quiet down for the crowd, and every instrument dipped off except for a cymbal hat to keep time and the grooving bass guitar.

It was Akroid’s time again. He moved right toward center stage, mic in hand and announced, “You know people when you do find those special trolls for any quadrant, you gotta hold that ‘rail, hold that ‘sprit, love him, squeeze him, love her, please her. Signify your feelings with every gentle caress or angry glare. Because it’s so important to have that special somebody! To hold. To kiss. To miss! To please and squeeze!”

Akroid dropped into a kneel on the stage, as if enraptured with his statement, as Joilet finished out with the chorus. He didn’t stand back up until the harmonica came back in. He rejoined Joilet in the back for the end, and the two mimicked each other dancing on the balls of their feet as the band played out.

When the last note struck, the two of them landed simultaneously on one knee, head down with their hand holding the brim of their hats.

Two songs left. Then they bolt. They could do this.

Their performance of Soul Man was just as energetic. This song was pretty much entirely Joilet’s, so he let Akroid dance around the stage now. He could catch the other troll jumping up and down, legs moving so loosely and briskly they may as well be jelly. He only cut in for parts of the chorus, letting that deep baritone accent Joilet’s raspy vocals.

In only a few short minutes Soul Man ended and their final song, Sweet Home Gusthollow opened with swift guitar licks in a short solo. As the rest of the band kicked in and Joilet sang out the first few bars, Akroid raised his hands up to lead those listening in a clap. Barkay joined in as well. He raised his own drumsticks high above his head, tapping off the beats until those in the crowd kept time on their own.

As the first verse ended, Akroid took hold of Joilet’s mic. “Six and three is nine. Nine and nine is eighteen. Look there pupa partner and see what I’ve seen.” He nudged Joilet and pointed toward the cobalt in the back standing between the supremacists. Shit. Another look and Joilet realized he knew that troll. He was one of the wardens of the prison he was released from. But he also noticed at his angle, with the growing crowd of dancers and listeners, they might be able to slip away. After all, the stage wasn’t raised. The only reason he could still see the warden was thanks to the gaps down the main walkway.

The two of them waved confidently at him as they continued through the chorus. Even with the distance, he noticed the cobaltblood drag a thumb across his neck.

It struck Joilet numb for a few seconds. Good to know where he stands, he supposes. 

The two finished out the chorus with a flourish, letting the band take over. Joilet turned over to Akroid, offering out his hands to dance. The other troll accepted, and the two pranced right off the stage and into the crowd, swinging around as Marini moved center stage to crank out a solo. With the focus off them, they were able to swing right back onto the stage and through the small opening to the area behind the stage. He could still hear the band, but it was muffled. 

“You think that creep’s waitin’ for us back here?” Akroid asked. 

“I sure fucking hope not. Could do without running from his slimy ass too.”

Joilet whipped open the door, ready to run from whoever Kilrun left to deal with them back here. What they were greeted with instead was a troll leaning on the nearby wall wearing a tight, long sleeved red dress that pooled onto the floor. Yellow and orange flowers, though Joilet wasn’t sure what kind, outlined her skirt. A large, black wide brimmed hat wrapped outlined in string lights covered her whole face. When the door closed, they looked up, revealing a noticeable pair of fins and tyrian pink eyes. 

A fuschiablood.

“So...you must be the two trolls I was informed of.” She gave the two a grin filled with those sharp seadweller teeth, just as predatory as the indigoblood earlier, but for some reason it didn’t feel directed toward either of them. “Ran into your two bandmates earlier. He gave me a heads up you might be headed back this way before you run off.”

“Who the hell’re you?” Joilet asked.

“Call me Mayola. You two pissed off those buncha entitled rich fucks who think they’re better than everyone else right?”

Joilet and Akroid glanced at each other in silence. “What about it?”

“I’d like to bring you and your band on for Sandyhorn’s next festival. You two would make a great fit.” She pulled a thick envelope, quite obviously stuffed thick with cash, out of seemingly nowhere and handed it to Joilet. “Consider this a down payment. You’ll get the rest when I see ya there.”

Joilet thumbed through the money, eyeing her. This was a lot. More than he they could’ve gotten from this gig alone. “Yeah sure. Sounds like a deal.”

“Hey, just one problem.” Akroid jutted his thumb out toward the direction of the ball beyond them. “All those goons seem to have caught on our tail and we can’t perform unless we get outta here without goin’ to prison.”

Her face brightened. “Oh well that’s an easy one. Here, follow me.” She pushed herself off the wall and sauntered toward the door, that red dress almost appearing to shimmer in the dim lighting. With a quick motion of her wrist, she opened the door into the back of the stage. Only a few further steps in, and she leaned down and pulled at a small hitch in the floor. A trapdoor immediately popped up without a sound.  “Found this out the other day when I couldn’t sleep. Should lead outside without a hitch, though you might have to go through some sewers.” 

She looked up at them, eyes wild and filled with pride, catching the two troll’s equally bewildered and ecstatic expressions. “You’re brilliant!” Akroid exclaimed. “Amazing! Fantastic! Wonder--”

She held up a hand. “Save your praises for later. For now...just think of me as today’s savior.”

#my writing #fanfiction #should i tag any characters? #the only regular one only has a few lines #....eh tagging barely works on tumblr anyway

[moonchildmuses]

♠ - for all our boys damn

today, on literally all my boys are whipped!!! here’s the second part of this interview and the conclusion is: they’re so fucking whipped it’s gonna make me cry

send ♠ and my muse will tell you something they dislike about your muse.

gyo

“What’s not to dislike?” He chuckles, running a hand through his hair and blowing a kiss for his man, who is standing not too far from where he’s seated. “I’m obviously just kidding, he’s not that bad. But I can’t deny he’s a stubborn fuck. And, fuck, he’s so fuckin’ arrogant. Like, chill. It’s not good for my health!” He shakes his head and sighs, looking a bit frustrated. We ask him why, thinking it’s something serious, but then he smirks. “Listen, I can’t give him shit for it, I’m worse than him. The thing that bothers me about it is the fact that it makes me want to have sex with him all the fucking time, and my body can’t take it.” A few people start wheezing behind the scenes, and he sends them a dirty look. “Sorry about those two. One of them is a virgin who can’t drive, and the other… well, he’s a virgin too, but he can drive because Asuka taught him when he was 12. The rest are nothing but jealous idiots.”

dae

“I’m def not trying to start something, but… listen, the fact that he hasn’t called me baby in weeks…” He says, biting his lower lip to hold back a smile. “Makes my heart hurt, you know? Like, what’s the point of being the Baby Thot if my own boyfriend refuses to baby me?” He sighs dramatically and nods in appreciation when his friends start cooing at him – until it turns into straight up clowning. “No, you’re supposed to be on my side! What kind of–? Fine, you know what? Go choke on a dick. All of you!” Rolling his eyes, he asks if we can kick them out, but the answer is no. “But– They wanna steal my thunder, this isn’t fair! I’m afraid I’m gonna have to call my manager.” Someone (Youngho) yells ‘aww, are you gonna call your mommy?’ and Dae sighs dramatically. “This is why we can’t have nice things.”

minseok

“He never lets me be the big spoon!” He shouts, pointing an accusing finger at his boyfriend. “Miss me with that ‘but you’re so tiny’ bullshit, asshole. You’re only 3 centimetres taller than me. Three. That’s not fucking fair, Baekhan’s thot ass is a whole centimetre shorter than me and I don’t see y’all treating him like that so– Daewon, sit your ass down, okay? This isn’t about you and your short dick, so shut the fuck up.” He quickly shuts down Dae’s argument with a middle finger up in the air and then continues. “Anyway. Jung Jinyoung, promise me you’ll let me be the big spoon whenever I want to or else I’m gonna have to remove your soulmate benefits for our monthly squad activity. Paintball’s the next one, and you know I’m known to be quite ruthless when we’re out there, so if I were you I’d watch my back, kiddo.” 

maze

“I mean, he can be quite a handful sometimes, and I admit dealing with him has never been an easy task – especially when his good nature turns into naivety and there’s no way to make him see that some people don’t deserve our gratitude. We don’t owe anyone anything.” He points out, and it’s obvious he’s trying not to lose his temper but he manages. “But I’m not gonna lie, as annoying as it is, I can’t think of something I don’t like about him. Not because I’m a whipped dumbass that can’t see his bad side, but more like ‘cause that’s what makes him him. You won’t see me being a little bitch about it, if that’s what you’re trying to achieve with this question.” He shrugs his shoulders and smiles a little, obviously looking at Prince Cyra. The king of hell, y’all. “We both have our flaws, of course. What I’m trying to say is that we’re way too far from being perfect, but I wouldn’t change a thing. Does that answer your question?”

hyuk

“Ugh, Yejun… How do I even begin to explain Xiao Yejun? He’s literally the biggest brat I’ve ever met.” He looks away and chuckles, taking a few seconds to think before he continues. “He does this thing where he just… he acts like a fuckin’ child all the time. I thought it was funny when I first met him, but then I went and became friends with his dramatic ass and let me tell you: it’s not funny at all. Especially when he does dumb shit like yell at me for the stupidest reasons ever. Sometimes I look at him and I’m like… dude… he’s out of control.” He sighs and smiles to himself, pausing for a second. “But I’m still here, huh?”

jitae

“He used to have this terrible habit of letting me steal the blankets at night, back when we were teenagers. I remember waking up every weekend to him curled up next to me, and he was always freezing. It made me feel like shit!” He claims, crossing his arms as he shakes his head. “The worst part is that I still don’t know if he ever even noticed, but it was terrible. I loved wrapping him up with the blankets, though. Kinda like a burrito, you know? Yeah, it was funny.” He smiles and looks away, probably reminiscing about it. “I’m sure our moms took enough pictures of little burrito Miya. It was really cute.”

#⌜ ask meme: replies ⌟ #⌜ otp ⌟ ✰* — ˗ˏˋ we’re not done yet ˎˊ˗ #⌜ otp ⌟ ✰* — ˗ˏˋ never thought we'd have a last kiss ˎˊ˗ #( jinseok. ) #⌜ otp ⌟ ✰* — ˗ˏˋ locked out of heaven ˎˊ˗ #( tag pending. ) #( tag pending — ii. )

[fanficwriter013]

The Ties That Bind (Part 10 / 11)

Pairing: Clint Barton x Reader

Summary: Clint makes it his mission to win you over. He succeeds, but you don’t believe in marriage. Can the two of you stay together without the promise of wedding bells in the future? What about when the two of you are forced to go undercover as a married couple?

Word Count: 2092

Warnings: Civil War spoilers, sarcasm, it gets real dark and real angsty.

Author’s Note: One more part y’all.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / 

Your phone made a squawking noise, and you answered it without looking at the screen. “Yeah, Steve. We’re already on it. No, you don’t. You didn’t have to ask, it’s alright.” You say, cutting Steve off several times. You finish mixing the chemicals in front of you and take off in the direction of the compound. There’s a loud explosion behind you.

“What was that?” Steve asks you, clearly worried. “My cue, I have to go.” You tell him quickly, shoving your phone into a pocket in your suit. You drop down into one of the secret tunnels into the compound and make your way to Pietro’s room. It takes you seconds to lockpick the door, and you turn the handle.

“Pietro, kiddo. I’m so sorry.” You say as you walk into his room. He picks his head up off the bed, looking at you for a moment before he is in front of you hugging you tightly.

“It’s not your fault, (Y/N). You couldn’t have possibly predicted this when you left for a life of normalcy.” He says as you rub his back.

“Are you doing alright, otherwise?” You ask, and he gives you a subtle nod. “Then let’s go get your sister.” You tell him, and his answer is to pick you up and run you to the common living area. It’s not a feeling you're sure you could ever get used to.

The two of you make it into the room in time to see Clint slipping from Vision’s grasp and falling to the floor. You’re at his side in an instant, your hand on the small of his back as he looks up at Wanda, as she causes Vision to fall to his knees. She stands over top of him and then he’s falling through the floor and several of the floors below it.

“Hey, kiddo.” You say, giving Wanda a hug. Clint nods at Pietro. “Come on, we’ve got another stop to make.” He says.

You’d had to stop to pick up one Scott Lang, the actual embodiment of a puppy. He and Pietro sat and talked a thousand miles a minute, from the time you picked up the man. Clint had taken out his hearing aides after twenty minutes, and you wished that you could turn off your ears. But you were driving and that would have been a hazard.

Steve had asked you to meet him in an isolated parking garage, and you’d been sitting and waiting for a good twenty minutes before a teeny little beetle pulled up. To say that it was a bit like watching clowns spill out of a car at the circus would have been making it an understatement.

“So, that’s the beefcake boyfriend Steve was hung up on. No wonder why he wanted to find him.” You signed to Clint, and he chuckled. What you weren’t expecting was for the flesh and metal hands to start signing back to you.

“I prefer Bucky, thank you.” He signs finger spelling out Bucky. He holds out his flesh hand to you. You give him a sheepish smile and shook it.

“Sorry, should have known better. Been out of the game for a minute. Made me a little rusty.” You say, and Bucky shakes his head. Clint pulls open the door to the van, and Scott tumbles out still talking a mile a minute.

“What time zone is this?” He asks, giving you a look. You glance around for a moment. “I’d wager a bet that this is about the UTC time zone, so it’s GMT +1.” He looks from you around the people and pales as he sees Steve. He has an awkward fanboy moment, and you talk for a moment before an alarm goes off.

“Suit up,” Steve says, quickly going over a plan A and B for what’s about to happen. Basically outlining, that he’s going to draw out Tony and whoever else he roped into his side.

It started with Tony shooting the helicopter with an EMP of some kind. You’d been preparing for that inevitability, as the Iron Man suit swooped down with War Machine close behind him. Then the Black Panther jumped in over the helicopter. Stark’s team was just coming out of the woodwork, as Natasha joined in. For the moment, they were just trying to talk sense. But you could see the expression in Tony’s eyes from where you were waiting.

“Underoos,” Tony calls out, and there’s a red and blue blur that you hadn’t been expecting. From your intel, the Spiderkid was just that. A kid, a fifteen-year-old who had no business being here in the middle of this mess. Tony just kept getting more worked up, and if you ever got the chance to talk to him again. You were going to beat some sense into him. It seemed the only thing working on your side was the numbers.

Steve and Pietro went after the Black Panther, Cap throwing his shield. Pietro running past him and knocking him off balance. War Machine tried to take them over, and you lost track of them as you went to help Scott with Nat.

“Thought you were retired.” She says as she lands a kick to your ribs. You shrug as you sweep her feet out from under her. “We got tired of playing golf. You know how it is.” You say, as Pietro runs past and takes you with him.

You’ve all gathered back up to try and get to the quinjet when Vision makes his big entrance. Searing a literal line in the asphalt in front of the eight of you. It’s a general mess. There’s fighting everywhere, several times you lose track of Clint. Sometimes you wind up with him, fighting almost back to back. It’s clear that most of you will be caught, but you need to be able to get someone. Steve, and Bucky at the very least to take down this bigger threat.

Scott winds up reversing the tech on his suit and sizing up instead of down. You try your best to help out where needed, but you’re struggling. The fight is only getting worse, ramping up. Spiderling, Iron Man and War Machine are able to knock down Scott. Who knocks down, and out the Spiderkid. It’s looking better for your side, and the quinjet is taking off. But the fight isn’t over yet.

You’re forced to watch as Vision aims for Sam’s wings, and hits War Machine instead. He plummets, and you can hear through the comms the chaos going on. You quickly pull your phone, using it to tap into Tony’s helmet, just before War Machine hits the ground.

“Don’t touch him, Tony. I know you want to but listen to me. Don’t do it.” You plead, and Tony touches down seconds after him. “Remember what I went through. Don’t move him.” You say as Pietro runs you over to them. You hear Tony asking FRIDAY for his vitals, as Sam touches down with you. Tony is on his feet in an instant, aiming his repulsors as Sam, before turning them on you. Neither shot lands because of Pietro.

“Hey, the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You ask him, stomping over in front of him. “Did you forget that I shattered my L1 in Sokovia. These things happen in our line of work. It was an accident, and Sam tried to catch him, the same as you. Don’t take your fear out on us. Call Dr. Cho.” You say the last part to Vision, who’s now landed with the rest of your group.

You knew that you were in trouble, but you hadn’t been expecting to get the Ritz treatment of villains. They’d separated you from Clint and had taken his hearing aides so you couldn’t even talk to him. They had also made it abundantly clear that you were pretty much confined to your bed. When you had woken up in a straight jacket, with your legs tied down. You weren’t able to see much of anything except for the incredibly boring gray ceiling of your cell.

“You had a life outside of this Barton, with (Y/N). Why didn’t you think of that before you chose the wrong side?” Tony spits, and you let out a harsh laugh.

“Yeah, (Y/N) who they won’t let walk now. Threatened several times to take out the artificial L1 vertebra. Said it was government property, and criminals don’t get those kinda resources. You ever think about that Tony.” Clint hisses, saving you from having to do any talking yourself. They hadn’t removed it, but they certainly wanted to. You were the bottom of the barrel now, scum that didn’t deserve the multi-million dollar piece of equipment keeping your spine intact.

“Clint. It’s alright. He’s not worth it.” You say even though you know he can't hear you, as you hear footfalls making their way over to where you think your cell is positioned. “How’s Rhodey doing?” You ask, as there’s a buzzing noise, and then some scraping. The bed dips by one of your legs and Tony leans into your field of view.

“They’re moving him to Columbia Medical tomorrow.” He says before he leans down. “I’m going to try and talk them down from this. It seems a little over the top. Dr. Cho said that his injuries are more severe than your’s were.” He whispers into your ear.

“I’m sorry, Tony. I know what it feels like.” You tell him, and he moves his hands in a deliberate fashion. Showing you that he’s messing with their surveillance footage. Then he shows you a picture of a body in a bathtub.

“That’s the real doctor, and let me say this. I was wrong. Tell me where he is.” Tony says, and you shake your head, as you hear a snort.

“Go to Hell, Stark. That’s where you’ll find him.” Pietro growls, and Tony clicks around on his watch again. This time shutting down the surveillance altogether. He unhooks your feet, and you circle them. Trying not to show any emotions.

“Go as a friend, or not at all.” You say, bending your knees and sitting up, now that he’s unstrapped your jacket from the bed as well. “Go ahead Sam, tell him.” You say as you take some time to stretch our your limbs. You know that he’ll have to strap you back down before he leaves, and you need to savor this while it lasts.

“I’m really sorry about this. But you know, when the system kicks back in.” Tony says, and you nod lying back down as he straps you back in. Sam tells Tony where to find them, and that’s the end of the visit.

Nothing happens, you’re still in restraints that are overkill for the fact that you’re just a mere mortal. They still have to feed you and make you feel like you’re just a blob of a human being. You can feel that darkness from before start to creep back in, you start to sleep more. There’s nothing that you can do when you’re physically unable to move. The waking world, the gray ceiling, too harsh for you.

“It’s time to get up now. I’m getting you guys out of here.” It’s Steve’s voice, but he sounds different. Tired almost. There’s another beat before a clattering noise. Then you see Clint’s face over yours, as he works with a desperate need to get you out of your restraints. The second you’re free, you throw yourself into his arms. Burying your face in his neck.

“Come on guys, we gotta get out of here,” Steve says, as Clint helps you to your feet.

“Where are we going to go, Cap?” You ask, as you survey the twins, Scott, and Sam. “Because, I need to say something that’s going to sound stupid. And you’re not allowed to judge me because you speak fluent idiot. I need to go speak with Tony.” You both say and sign, although your signing is slower than it used to be. Because your hands aren’t used to moving anymore.

“T’Challa has granted us sanctuary on Wakanda. We’ll drop you outside the compound on the way there. Then circle back to get you at a rendezvous point. Play this smart, (Y/N).” Steve says, his voice in full Captain America mode.

“Don’t worry, Cap. If this goes the way I want it too, we won’t need Wakanda.” You tell him, and Steve gives you one of the Captain’s curt nods.

#marvel #avengers #fanfic #fanfiction #reader x clint barton #clint barton x reader #clint x reader #reader x clint #clint barton #hawkeye #reader x hawkeye #hawkeye x reader

[angelergic]

Manhunt - Chapter 8

~MASTERLIST~

Words: 3376

A/N: New chapter alert, my dear readers!

I know, it was once again a long time you had to wait for this chapter. It took me almost a week to finish this chapter, and I can honestly say, I'm proud of the rollercoaster of emotions that you're going to read in here!

I also wanted to tell you, that my surgery went well and that I'm doing fine. Also, they let me home on Tuesday.

I hope you enjoy this chapter and as always, I'm happy to read your feedbacks!

Tagging: @celebranehelyanwe, @ladystar0710, @annamreed, @humorcomchantilly @thefivebaddestbidders (if you don’t want to be tagged just tell me.)

CHAPTER 8:

I stumble back when the realization hits me that I still have a piece of family living out here, somewhere.

"Well, actually she's your half-sister you two only have the same father but different mothers." Eisuke's gruff voice rips me out of my thoughts, all of a sudden, he's right at my side also looking at the computer screen.

I only click my tongue at his unnecessary correction and lean forward again, "Soryu, can you find out anything more about her?" he gives a simple nod and begins to type away on his laptop.

Suddenly, a lot of information pops up. I rapidly blink my eyes, not expecting to find so much. The one that is on full display looks like it's some kind of personal description, like the ones you can find when you want to know everything about a certain celebrity.

"All right, this is all the information I can find about her. She kind of looks like you when you were in your teens." Soryu whispered the second part, so only I could hear it. I smiled lovingly at the picture.

"She does, doesn't she?" I said dreamily. I guess it was a picture from around 3 years ago, she has puppy-like, grey-green eyes with a dark circle around her pupils, her nose is small just like mine too and she has cute, pouty lips. Her hair looks absolutely beautiful, it's espresso brown, shoulder-length, and looks thick and healthy.

I let my eyes drift downwards to all her personal information like her height, weight and also her address. My eyes widened in surprise when I read her address. St. Luke's International hospital, Tokyo.

I didn't know if I should feel joy or sadness. Joy; she lives in Tokyo. Sadness; she has lived in a hospital for 2 years now, with her mother.

"Soryu could you open her medical record, please?" I whispered to Soryu, who seemed to be just as confused and curious as I was, so he opened it immediately.

As her medical record popped up I looked at the numbers of pages it had. There were 3 pages. 3. Dear god.

Soryu stood up and motioned for me to sit down and take the laptop which I immediately did. I gave him a curt nod and mumbled; "Thanks." I went to reading right away and began to shut down the deep voices from the men that gathered around me.

The first thing I read about was a tonsillectomy, or also known as a tonsil removal, in 2008. Everything went well and she healed nicely, no complaints.

Skipping to 4 years ago, the year 2012. There was a big car crash on a highway in Tokyo. Tamara and her aunt were in the car, they just came back from camping for the weekend. When a drunk-driver was speeding against traffic with 120 mph and hit their car frontal, her aunt was instantly dead but by some miracle my sister survived after they put her in an artificial coma. She also lost the mobility in her legs.

I didn't realize it before something trickled down my hand I had on the keyboard, I was crying. God, why was I acting so stupidly emotional lately? I was always crying over something whether it was Eisuke pissing me off or reading the medical chart of my sister. Maybe I was already developing a strong and deep love towards a person I haven't even met.

I wiped the tears off my cheeks with the back of my hand and continued reading.

2 years ago, she was diagnosed with PTSD. Since the car crash she spaced out more than she normally would and always woke up screaming and sweating from horrible nightmares, constantly reliving the events prior to everything. She also kept avoiding highways and cars that were the same brand as her aunts.

From there on her life seemed to be going even more downhills than before her diagnosis.

Almost exactly 1 year ago, she went to the doctors because she had been experiencing severe nausea, fatigue, pain in her bones and rapid weight loss for unknown reasons. After a bone marrow and blood test the diagnosis was clear.

Stage 4 leukemia.

She is currently undergoing chemotherapy even though the doctors told her that they could only extend her life span for a while.

I cover my mouth and try to stifle a sob, but it escapes anyway as tears once again begin to cascade down my cheeks. I hunch over and put the laptop in front of me on the table and bury my face in my hands, crying to myself.

I feel three hands touching my shoulders and my back, each of them rubbing soothing circles into my skin. I open my eyes a bit and look absentmindedly through my hands when I notice someone moving in front of me, kneeling so he is face to face with me and taking my tear soaked hands in his calloused ones.

Kneeling in front of me was Soryu with a soothing and reassuring smile on his face. "Hey, you're going to see your sister. We're going to visit her and then you can talk about everything you missed out in each others life’s." Apparently, he misunderstood my reaction thinking that I thought I was not going to see her or worrying that she's not going to accept me.

I shook my head and a frown made its way on his face. I mumbled hoarsely; "No, you don't understand. She has stage 4 leukemia and the doctors, they told her they don't know for how much longer she will live. They couldn't even give her a number on how much longer she's going to live."

I felt the four hands that were touching me begin to tighten at the things I just revealed. Soryu looked at me with sad eyes but he was stunned to silence, comforting someone was never his strength. I saw somebody move beside me and get into the same position as Soryu was currently in.

“Princess, I can only imagine what you’re going through right now but you need to be strong for us. For Tamara.” Baba comforted while kneading the flesh on my upper arm.

I looked over at him and could see his eyebrows form a sad, worried frown. “Please, we need you to stay here with us. Don’t shut us out.”

Soryu also began to press my knee with his hand which made me turn my attention towards him. I stared into his eyes for a few moments, his eyes were filled with determination and reassurance, he gave me a light nod and a faint smile.

I wiped my tears off my face and took a deep breath, “Okay let’s get back to it, we have a case to solve.” My voice was still a little weak and shaky, but filled with determination.

Soryu and Baba smiled at me, getting back on their feet and Mamoru said, “Alright y’all heard the kid, back to it!”

Before Sor could turn away from me, I put a hand on his shoulder which made him turn towards me once again with a questioning look on his face. I softly smiled up at him and whispered a soft, “Thank you.”

He smiled back at me and placed his hand on top of mine. I dropped my hand and turned back towards the computer on my lap.

---

After what could have been a few minutes or hours, I'm not exactly sure, Eisuke stepped out of his office and called me up to look at something.

As I jogged up the stairs, I could not help but get lost in my thoughts. I kept thinking about Tamara, I would love to go to the hospital she's at to visit her and also, to get to know her better. On the other hand, I didn't want to confuse or scare her away from me if she rejected me or didn't want to have anything to do with me, her life has already been hard enough.

"Pick up the pace!" I heard Eisuke growl from the top of the stairs. I almost fell down the stairs because he startled me so bad. When I reached the top, I shot him a killing look and cursed under my breath.

When we got to his office, Eisuke closed the door and walked to his desk with his laptop on it. He sat down, pulled a second chair next to him and patted it as a sign for me to sit down. I hesitantly obliged and questioned while doing so; "What did you find, Eisuke?"

He had his triumphant smirk on his face and turned to his laptop, typing away. "So, I searched for murders that are similar to your fathers in the past 15 years. And I found a few, 6 to be exact."

As I listened to Eisuke I began to focus my eyes on the laptop screen and scanned over the names of the victims. I absentmindedly began to mumble to myself and Eisuke stopped talking while he shoved the laptop in front of me.

I noticed that the victims were from both genders, which meant that he did not have a strong hate towards one gender. But they were all in the same age group, late 20's to mid-30's.

They were also all killed in Japan and were just as successful as my father was, from being in a grand business to working as a head chef in the biggest restaurants in Japan. My mind couldn't really grasp all the information that was suddenly thrown at me and this stupid nightmare just kept creeping back into my mind. Without thinking, I began to write down the crime scene of Ota I have seen in my dream. The first name that popped up was John Wayne Gacy, the psychotic killer-clown from Chicago. Then I narrowed it down to just the Japan area, no specific name popped up just another unsolved case that was opened 15 years ago. Only now there was a list of 21 people on this list.

I sit back in the chair and let out a tired sigh while rolling my head to get some of the built-up tension out of my shoulders. "If this is all the doing of one person, he would have multiple personality disorder. That means he has about 5 or 6 personalities, damnit!" I begin to mumble to myself but the last part was a little louder than intended which made Eisuke turn towards me.

"What are you mumbling about? Found something?" he asked annoyed while crossing his arms.

"No. I mean, yes. Kind of?" I shrug and shake my head to gather my thoughts, this was all just too much of an emotional rollercoaster. "I had a nightmare about the 5 of you being murdered in 5 completely different ways. So, I looked up one of those scenes and found the exact same time-span, with the exact same descriptions of the killer. I think our murderer might have a multiple personality disorder." I began to explain with a clearer head, by just concentrating on the matter at hand.

I could see that Eisuke's attention was transfixed on the words that were escaping me. When I was finished with talking he scratched his chin while thinking about my words and probably puzzling the pieces together.

---

Our little study round was interrupted by Baba bursting through the doors of the giant office. "Princess!" he chirped in a tone that I already found overly suspicious, "Come with me, I have a surprise for you!" he held out his hand and did a gentlemanly bow.

Eisuke and I shared a side look and the both of us shaking our heads while I began to giggle at Eisuke's funny, grumpy face he had. I turned back towards Baba's outstretched hand and took it with little hesitation, I didn't like his tone before but I know that Baba has something up his sleeve I will find enjoyment in.

He led me out of the lounge and charged towards his room. "Baba, what exactly do you have in mind?" I asked, knowing I will only get a half-assed response but hey, asking doesn't cost anything, right?

"Didn't I say that it would be a surprise?" he asked back while coming to a halt in front of his own penthouse room.

"Well, yes you did. But I'm an Interpol agent, you should know I don't like surprises that much, especially when they are coming from a criminal." With a smug smile, I decided to tease Baba back.

He unlocked the door and looked back at me pretending to be hurt by my words. "Now that right there was just cruel! I'm not a criminal, I'm a thief!" I looked at Baba dumbfounded with big eyes and my mouth slightly agape. Then I burst out laughing so hard I had to hold my stomach. When I turned my gaze back towards Baba he had a sincere smile on his lips.

"Alright so what is this big surprise you're playing up right now?" I walked past Baba into the living room and turned back towards him.

"Go take a shower, wash all those tears away. When you're finished go into my bedroom and put on what's lying on the bed. I'll be waiting here." He slumped down on the couch, still wearing that honest smile.

I nod and head towards his bathroom, where a long overdue shower is waiting for me.

---

To say that the shower was much needed is probably an understatement, it was most likely one of the most satisfying showers I've ever had in my entire life. With the towel tightly wrapped around my body I walked into the bedroom, that was connected to the bathroom, while drying my hair.

When I reached the bed, I couldn't believe my eyes and thought Baba was messing around with me. There was a beautiful, fluffy cocktail dress lying on the bed. I gasped loudly as I took the royal blue, silky, dress by the hanger and pressing it to my body while looking in the mirror.

I put the dress on and had one of the biggest, most idiotic smiles of eternity on my face. It was a perfect fit and the perfect length, it almost reached my knees. How did Baba even know my dress size?

When I turned back around to see if the zipper was all the way up, and maybe to see if my butt looked good, my gaze fell back towards the bed where I noticed a pair of simple, black high heels. I picked them up and held onto Baba's armoire while putting them on. Like the dress, they were exactly my size, how does he do that?

As I looked at my body in the mirror, stepped closer to it and got a closer look at my face. I had faint dark rings, my lips and my skin looked dehydrated. I wondered if by some miracle, Baba had some makeup. Suddenly I heard some shuffling behind the door and saw Baba opening it.

"Wow." Was the only thing he could muster, while his eyes danced up and down my body. "Princess, you just made me lose my words, and it takes a lot to do that to a man who really likes to talk." I laughed a little at his remark and turned fully towards him.

"Makeup's in the bathroom mirror." He crossed his arms triumphantly. "You really think I would forget one the most important things? I have everything perfectly mapped out." I grinned up at him and made my way into the bathroom, to do my makeup and hair.

After about 30 minutes I walked out and found Baba sitting on the bed with his phone in hand. "I'm ready." I said in a soft voice.

He lifted his head away from the phone screen and his eyes grew wider than before as he took in my finished look. I blushed and placed a piece of hair behind my ear while smiling shyly.

He walked towards me as he extended his arm out towards me and I took it without hesitation. "Alright, my lady. Let's go." And so, began an evening I wouldn't forget in a while.

---

Dinner was absolutely fantastic. We went to a little restaurant, a secret favorite gem of Baba's so he told me, that was in a vintage style with huge chandeliers decorating and lighting up the room. The company I had with me wasn't so bad either, it made me feel a little nostalgic only that the both of us matured, some more, some less, and conversation flowed easily with the occasional flirting in-between.

After we were finished with our food and left the restaurant, Baba asked me to come with him for one last adventure before we withdraw to our respective rooms. I gladly accepted since I didn't want this evening to end.

He led me to the rooftop of the Tres Spades. I let out a silent gasp when I discovered that Baba had even more up his sleeve. There was a bottle of champagne, two glasses and a candle placed on a low table with two cushions on the floor.

I walked towards said scene with Baba following after me. When I stood there, I didn't know what exactly to do now. Baba probably noticed my hesitation and gestured me to sit down, which I gladly did.

He poured us some of the bubbly goodness, as we clinked our glasses Baba raised his glass a little and said; "To our reunion, our successful careers and this wonderful evening I got to spend with the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on."

I rolled my eyes at his last remark and took a sip. Immediately, when the liquid hit my tongue, I could tell it was something overly expensive. It still tasted so good, the sweetness and the slight bitterness made it almost prefect.

I set my glass down on the table and moved to stand up to gaze out to the view we had of Tokyo. I closed my eyes and breathed in the chilly, but still pleasant, night air while a gust of wind blew by, which made me shiver slightly. Baba noticed and shrugged off his burgundy blazer and placed it on my shoulders.

I turned my head in his direction and met his gaze; "Thank you." I whispered, "I mean not only for the jacket, but for the whole night. I truly don't know when the last time was that I let this loose and didn't constantly have to worry."  

Baba gave a small smile and put his hand in front of his mouth. If I didn't know it better, I could've sworn that I made the womanizing thief blush, but it was hard to see in the dim city lights.

"The pleasure was all mine, princess. I enjoyed myself just as much as you did, if not more. I'm very proud of who you've become, (Y/N)." He looked at me with nothing but honesty and love in his eyes. I smiled up at him and felt my eyes become a little hot.

"Thank you, nobody ever said that to me so it means a lot, especially coming from you." He looked shocked for a second but recovered fast and put his warm hand on my face to gently rub the apple of my cheek.

I felt myself become almost hypnotized by his eyes as I stared deeply into them and he did the same. I gingerly placed my hand on his chest right over his heart that was beating at an incredibly fast rate.

We inched closer and closer to each other, like magnets. Then, we stopped just a few inches apart. I saw his eyes flicker down to my lips and back to my eyes, his eyes were asking for permission which I granted him by putting my other hand in his soft hair and pulling him closer so that our lips touched.

Little did we know that this soft and loving kiss, would turn our whole world upside-down.

#kbtbb #kbtbb fanfic #kbtbb fanfiction #eisuke ichinomiya #kbtbb eisuke #Soryu Oh #kbtbb soryu #Mitsunari Baba #kbtbb baba #Ota Kisaki #kbtbb ota #mamoru kishi #kbtbb mamoru #voltage inc #voltage fanfic #voltage inc fanfiction #kissed by the baddest bidder