#I’m gonna have to go through his files and transfer stuff to my computer

[adriennebarnes]

Don Refri

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Hispanic/Latina! Reader

Summary: Y/N has been the police records clerk for a few months. He’s known as Detective Grumpy to everyone in the district, but she’s the only one who calls him Don Refri. Walter gets jealous when there is a new detective around.

A/N: Walter Marshall is probably my favorite Henry Cavill character to read about, I need more content of him. I’ve also been watching a telenovela and the way Alexander has been acting with Lola when they were fighting, I thought “what if Walter was like this?” So here it is. Also, LATIN PRESENTATION FOR HENRY CAVILL!

For all intent and purposes, this one shot is very humorous, sort of like a sitcom, Walter doesn’t follow canon AT ALL, but I did try to “research” what happens in a precinct.

Y/N was entering the district with a thermos in hand, all bundled up.

“Ay, hace un pinche frío, why the fuck did I move to Minnesota, it’s so cold.” Y/N said as she took off her coat and Matthew started laughing. “Don’t laugh like that, I’m not meant for cold weather.”

“Just start working on something before detective grumpy comes in and starts yelling.” Matthew said, taking Y/N’s coat, folding it.

“I’m not scared of Don Refri, but I will start working because i have to make the case files of whatever criminal is out now so Don Refri and detective Dickerman Can catch them as soon as possible.” Y/N said and she started sipping hot chocolate from her thermos. As she was working, Walter came in. “Good morning, Don Refri.” Walter rolled his eyes at her.

“Morning, Y/N.” Walter mumbled and went to his office. Matthew, Glasgow, and Rachel stared at Y/N. Y/N looked at them.

“What?” Y/N asked.

“You call him Don Refri to his face and he does nothing, but we almost get written up when he overheard us reference him as Detective Grumpy. How is that possible?” Glasgow asked.

“I don’t know, but I’m happy about it, not gonna lie.” Y/N said. She began working on the computer, smiling to herself. No one but her bestie knows about her crush on the grumpy detective.

“I think he has a soft spot for you, what do you think?” Rachel asks.

“Maybe he does.” Y/N replied.

A few moments after creating the case files, Y/N heard Walter yell “Fuck” from his office.

“I wonder what’s got him worked up. Y/N, go check on him.” Matthew said.

“Fine. Now I know how my brother felt when I sent him to ask our mom something.” Y/N said. She got up from her desk and went to Walter’s office, saw that he threw his stuff off his desk and is now running his hand through his hair, exasperated.

“What do you want, Y/N?” Walter asked.

“What’s got you in such a bad mood, Don Refri?” Y/N asked.

“First; you keep calling me that.” Walter started and Y/N rolled her eyes.

“I told you, start being open about your feelings and then I’ll stop calling you don refri, Don Refri.” Y/N replied and Walter rolled his eyes. “What’s the other thing that got you in a bad mood?”

“They’re transferring another detective here.” Walter massaged his temples.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Y/N asked.

“Not if the detective is a fucking pain in the ass. He hits on anything with skirt.” Walter commented. “He has a womanizer, player kind of reputation and I don’t want that guy in this district.”

“Why is he getting transferred?” Y/N asked.

“Don’t know. Hopefully I have time before this fucker gets here.” Walter starts picking up the stuff he threw and Y/N helped him until they heard a voice.

“Isn’t anyone going to welcome me?” The man sounded arrogant.

“Too late. Let’s go.” Walter said, after putting everything back on his desk and him and Y/N went to the front of the district, Y/N went back to her desk. “Team, this is…what’s your name again?” Walter asked.

“Ha ha, nice to see you haven’t changed. I’m Detective Tyler Delgado, I just transferred here.” Tyler introduced himself.

“Well this is my team, Matthew and Glasgow are technicians, Rachel is a profiler and psychologist, and Y/N here is our records clerk.” Walter introduced them to Tyler.

“Nice to meet you guys.” Tyler said, “Especially you.” Tyler said, looking at Y/N before winking.

“Well, Let’s get back to work.” Walter said, leaving with Tyler.

The day went on Walter and Y/N were the only ones left in the district, she was finishing up the police logs.

“Ugh, i can’t wait to sleep.” Y/N said.

“What did you think of Delgado?” Walter asked.

“I Don’t have much of an opinion of him, he doesn’t look like a fuckboy though.” Y/N commented.

“I never said he was a fuckboy, I said he had the reputation of one, big difference.” Walter said.

“Yeah, whatever. If you’re worried about Rachel going out with him, I don’t think she would fall for any of his ‘tricks’ because of her psychology background.” Y/N commented as she took a sip of soda.

“It’s not Rachel I’m worried about.” Walter replied, looking at Y/N. Y/N looked at Walter with wide eyes and she put her soda down.

“Me? You’re worried about me? Why are you worried?” Y/N asked, please say it’s because you like me she said in her head.

“I just don’t want you to get taken advantage of.” Walter said.

“Do I look easy to you, Walter? I know I’m a few years younger than you but I’m not naive, I know when someone has other intentions, there’s a reason why I wanted to be an FBI profiler.” Y/N said.

“I’m just saying, I saw you and Delgado flirting when he was giving you some files.” Walter said.

“I was being friendly! Por Dios, uno ya no puede ser amable o que?” Y/N said, crossing her arms.

“What does that mean?” Walter asked.

“It means I can’t be nice to someone without being accused of trying to sleep with them.” Y/N said in a huff, packing her bag.

“When did I accuse you that?” Walter asked while raising his voice.

“It doesn’t matter, don refri, I finished, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Y/N said and she left without kissing Walter on the cheek or hugging him.

The next day, Walter was running late because he was talking to Angie about Faye. When he entered the district, he saw Y/N and Tyler talking, as he got closer, he heard part of their conversation.

“It’s a date, I’ll pick you up tonight at 8.” Tyler said, winking at Y/N and walked away. Y/N smiled slightly until she heard Walter.

“What was that about?” Walter asked behind Y/N, scaring her and she put her hand in her chest.

“No me asustes así!” Y/N exclaimed as she hit his arm. Of course it didn’t hurt since Walter works out a lot, but he still winces because that’s how he is with Y/N.

“You’re going out with Delgado? After telling me I shouldn’t worry about you? Are you kidding me, Y/N?” Walter questioned.

“Sabes algo, Don Refri? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were jealous.” Y/N said. Hold up, is he jealous? That HAS to mean he likes me, oh please don’t be such a don refri and tell me you like me, PLEASE! Y/N thought to herself

“I’m looking out for you just like I would look out for Faye and Rachel, I am protective over the women who are close to me, especially with this job. I’ll talk to you later.” Walter said and walked away.

Y/N sat at her desk, very confused over what just happened with the grumpy detective.

A week went by and Walter observed Y/N and Tyler. Whenever they would be together during their lunch break or just together in general, Walter scowled. But one day he was walking by Tyler’s office and he heard something suspicious.

“I’m still at work…yes, I’m going to be late again…I’m sorry, the captain is tougher than at the last precinct…I’ll see you at home, love you, baby.” And Tyler hung up the phone. Walter walked in his office.

“Who were you on the phone with, Delgado?” Walter asked.

“My niece, it’s her birthday today.” Tyler lied, Walter could tell. This wasn’t the first time Walter heard a suspicious phone call like this but it’s the first he confronted Tyler.

“Well then, see you later.” Walter said as he walked out of Tyler’s office. He grabbed his lunch from the fridge, heated it up, and walked back to his office where he would do a background check on Tyler Delgado. “I’m not jealous, Y/N is like a sister to me, I just want to make sure she’s safe.” Walter said to himself as he was checking all the information that he managed to pull up about Tyler.

For what seemed like an eternity to Walter, he found out that Tyler Delgado is married! He took a photo of what he found on the computer, he went into the break room to look for Y/N and he found Tyler leaning in to kiss Y/N so he did what any man would do when they see a married man try to kiss their crush, I mean, their “friend”, and punch them in the face. Walter punched Tyler so hard that Tyler got knocked out and was on the floor, out cold.

Y/N was in shock. “Are you insane?!? Que te pasa?!?” Y/N yelled. “You killed him, you fucking killed him.”

“Oh please, how am i going to kill a man with a single punch, Y/N? Seriously, think.” Walter said.

“Well I don’t know, you work out a lot, you clearly have a lot more muscle than Tyler, you probably killed him.” Y/N said.

“You look at my muscles a lot?” Walter said with a little smirk.

“Don’t change the subject.” Y/N said firmly. Rachel was entering the break room with a box,

“Hey, Matthew brought doughnuts, you guys want some? What the fuck happened here?” Rachel asked when she saw Tyler on the floor and she place the box on the table, closing the break room door.

“Oh well what happened was Don Refri here came in and just punched Tyler for no fucking reason. You’re a psychologist, is this an act of jealousy?” Y/N asked.

“First of all, it wasn’t for no fucking reason, he’s scum, did you know that he’s married?” Walter yelled.

“What?” Both Y/N and Rachel asked,

“Yeah, He’s married, and He’s been married for 4 years.” Walter said

“Ugh, stop lying, Don Refri, and just admit that killed him because you’re jealous and that’s it!” Y/N yelled.

“Jealous? You think I’m jealous, really? Of course I’m not jealous.” Walter said, stepping closer to Y/N, resulting in getting closer to Tyler’s unconscious body.

“Careful, you’re gonna kill him again.” Y/N said.

“How am I gonna kill him again if he’s already dead?” Walter teased Y/N.

“Well, He’s not dead, he’s still breathing.” Rachel said, looking a Tyler, seeing his chest rise and fall.

“Whatever, Rachel, why would you think I’m jealous? Do you really think I’m jealous, Y/N? Please.” Walter asked.

“Mm hmm, sure, and your fits just has a mind of its own? Ah! I cant even speak, I’m so mad, your fist, fist!” Y/N shouted the last part of her sentence.

“I can’t understand what you’re trying to say, speak clearly.” Walter said in a fed up tone.

“I am speaking clearly! Fist, fist, fist! You know what? Say whatever the hell you want, to me, this was a crime of passion, you can’t tell me different.” Y/N said and Rachel just observed their argument while eating a doughnut and drinking her coffee thinking to herself that these two people totally love each other, are at the very least shave feelings for each other.

“Y/N, you can’t possibly be acting this way?” Walter questioned.

“Acting what way, hm?” Y/N asked.

“Like this!” Walter said, gesturing to her with his hands. That’s when Tyler started to come to and he sat up.

“What happened?” Tyler said groggily.

“Shut up!” Walter said, punching him AGAIN. Rachel’s eyes were wide as plates, and so were Y/N’s.

“What’s wrong with you?!?” Both women yelled.

“What? I Don’t like being interrupted while I’m speaking.” Walter stated

“Oh my god, You’re crazy, i need to get out of here.” Y/N said. She left the break room with Walter following her. Walter grabbed her wrist and they walked to an empty interrogation room. “What are you doing, Don Refri?”

“Fuck it.” Walter whispered before kissing Y/N passionately in the interrogation room, only lasting when they were out of breath. Y/N pulled away first.

“What was that, Walter?” Y/N asked. The first time she called him by his first name.

“You wanted me to admit I was jealous, right? Well, here I am admitting that I was jealous of you and Tyler. But i am not lying about him having a wife, I did a background check on him before knocking him out, look.” Walter said, showing Y/N his phone. Y/N grabbed his phone, seeing it was true. “I’ve had feelings for you since you started working here but I am very bad of expressing my feelings, as you point out to me daily.” Walter admitted.

“I have liked you since I started working here too. Does this mean we’re together now?” Y/N asked. Walter chuckled, taking Y/N’s hands in his.

“It means I’m going to take you on a date after our shift is over. Hopefully Tyler doesn’t report me.” Walter said and Y/N laughed.

“You’re probably going to be suspended but you can worry about that later, i have reports to write up.” Y/N said and Walter opened the door for her so they could leave the interrogation room. The first time since becoming a detective, Walter had a smile on his face. It was small, but it was there.

The End

Thank you for reading my very first Walter Marshall fanfic, hope you liked it

#walter marshall #hispanic reader #latina #hispanic #walter marshall x reader #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill #night hunter #walter marshall fanfiction #walter marshall fic #henry cavil x y/n #walter marshall x you

[cosmicanamnesis]

Technofae excerpt: Chapter 10 - The Bells

A pair of women in lab coats came into the room, complaining about how the coffee they were drinking tasted like someone used the coffee pot as a bunsen burner again. Artie glanced at the Lieutenant, and then at the women who had yet to notice them.

“Trust me,” Artie whispered and stepped more into the women’s line of sight before clearing his throat. “Hey, sorry,” he said once he had their attention. “We’re new here, what uh, what printer does this computer print to?”

“Oh, you’re totally fucked, mate,” one of them said in a thick English accent.

“That computer’s cursed,” said the other, coming over to help. “It’s never recognized a printer a day in its sad little life.”

“Oh, well, that explains it,” Artie said to the Lieutenant. “Been trying to print these for five minutes.”

“Yeah, it’s not gonna happen,” the woman without an accent said. Mavis H. was her name according to her employee ID card once she got close enough for Artie to read it. She dug through a drawer in the computer desk for a moment and pulled out a thumb drive with a masking tape label that read POS in 201. “Here, any time we have to print anything in here, we have to put it on a thumb drive or email it to ourselves and take it down the hall. I’m going to assume, based on your lack of employee ID, they haven’t gotten you your email account yet, either?”

“Yeah, not yet. It’s really limiting basically everything I can do,” Artie laughed. Mavis sighed and rolled her eyes, passing him the thumb drive.

“They’re so far behind on the new employee stuff, it’s insane. I feel like I spend half my day letting interns into rooms,” she complained, sipping her coffee.

“No kidding,” Artie said as he plugged the drive in and started moving files. The Lieutenant stood silently amazed off to the side, watching Artie save the day with improvised office banter. “They told me last Tuesday I’d have my badge by the end of the week. Guess what I still don’t have.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” the British one said. “It took them nearly a month before I got mine.”

“Oh, lovely,” Artie rolled his eyes and ejected the drive once all the files were transferred. He closed everything and logged out of the computer, just in case he was using one of the women’s accounts. He didn’t want them to realize no one had let him into the lab or logged in to their employee account for him to use. “Where do I go to print this?”

“Come on,” Mavis said, tossing her head towards the door. “I’ll let you in.”

“Appreciate it,” Artie said, tucking the drive into his pocket. He motioned for the stunned Lieutenant to follow. “I’m Arthur, by the way.”

“Mavis,” she smiled. “And that was Elizabeth back there.”

“Nice to meet you,” Artie said earnestly. Mavis led them down the hall to what appeared to be a dedicated computer lab. She held the door open for both of them and followed them in.

“Here, you can use my login,” she said, snagging the nearest open computer.

“Hey Mavis,” a younger man said from the back corner of the room. “You on intern duty again?” he laughed.

“Always, David. There,” she said, standing up to switch spots with Artie. “If you need anything else, feel free to ask David. He doesn’t know anything, but he’ll come get me if you need help,” she teased.

“Thanks, Mavis,” Artie said, taking a seat in front of the computer.

“Yeah, thanks, Mavis,” David said indignantly.

“Anytime,” she called behind her as she left.

Artie plugged the drive in and opened the files, setting them all to print. For a while the only noises in the room were David typing and the printer spitting out pages and pages of information.

“You are so fucking lucky that worked,” the Lieutenant muttered, taking a seat next to Artie. He shrugged.

“Not really,” Artie said, watching the print queue. “Offices are offices. I’m new is like, magic words to these people.”

#aka the bavarian fire drill lmao #technofae tag #nanowrimo 2023 #text

[bees--in-my--bones]

Mission: New Asgard

Character: Loki x reader (completely gender neutral. There are zero indications of the readers gender, no pronouns at all. Note that this is written from the perspective of a woman, though, so if something is too biased, please let me know!)

Summary: You are assigned to help integrate the Asgardians to Midgardian society, but your mission ends a whole lot different than you expect.

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 5,493

A/N: My second fic! The title is supposed to be a play on the Mission: Impossible movies, but I've never actually seen one, so sorry if it's wrong lol. Now that I officially have more than one fic, I'm gonna make a masterlist, so that will be coming soon. I hope you like the story!

You rapped your knuckles on the office door that had been left slightly ajar. “Director Mackenzie? You asked to see me?”

“Come on in, Y/N. Elena was just leaving.”

You opened the door and nodded at Agent Rodriguez as she made her way out. She gave you a curt nod in return.

Alphonso Mackenzie, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., leaned back into the chair behind his desk and gestured for you to have a seat. “And for the last time, Y/N, you are one of my most trusted operatives. Call me Mack, please.”

You sat down. “Sorry, Mack.”

He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a file folder stuffed to the brim with documents, which he dropped onto the desk between you, the loud thwap resounding in the small office.

“I have a mission for you, Agent. A few days ago, the planet Asgard was completely destroyed.”

“Asgard?” you interjected. “Like where Thor is from?”

He nodded. “You’ll find all of that and more in these files. Thor and his brother Loki have set up a colony in a small town in Norway. We need you to supervise the integration of the Asgardian people onto Earth. This is the first known mass migration of aliens that our planet has ever seen, and we need to be keeping a close eye on this, or it could go sideways real fast.”

You pulled the files closer and began to flip through a few pages. “I thought Loki was a bad guy. What was it? 80 people in 2 days? Plus the invasion of New York. Why are we letting him back here?”

Mack sighed and rubbed his temple. “I can’t personally vouch for the man, but Thor claims he was being mind controlled. According to Thor, Loki eventually broke free of the control and killed the guy who was behind the whole thing. Some alien named Thanos? Tony Stark himself seems okay with this New Asgard business, and you know how paranoid he gets. So for now, we observe, not attack.”

“Gotcha,” you said. “When do I leave?”

“As soon as you can get your stuff together and get out of here. Say the word and we'll start prepping a Quinjet.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” you said, standing up and grabbing the files. “I’ll let you know as soon as I get an idea of my timeline.”

“Thank you Agent L/N, and good luck.”

------

You gripped the steering wheel tightly, barely making a rather sharp turn. When you finished this assignment, you were going to have to have a talk with whoever designed these roads. Despite the unsafe driving conditions, though, you sighed in contentment. You were back in the field, this is where you belonged.

You pulled a van loaded to the brim with various tech items mixed in with your personal possessions down a bumpy road, coming to a stop before a small, rustic-looking, seaside town, where two men and a woman stood for you. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon. You turned the key and shut off the van, trying to get a read on each of the people standing before you.

The buff blond man was clearly Thor. You recognized him from the news and the files you had read. Next to him was a tall woman with dark hair who had wan air of confidence about her. You had never seen her, nor did S.H.I.E.L.D. have any data on her. The third man was lanky, but clearly still fit, with dark hair that fell just past his shoulders. He was clad in green and had a demeanor that made you shiver. This was Loki, scourge of New York and would-be king of Midgard. But Thor and Tony Stark had vouched for him, and that would have to be enough for Y/N L/N, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.

You exited the van and heard Thor call to you. “Welcome, newcomer! Our scouts observed your vehicle approaching our home!”

You walked briskly towards the group. Game time. Put on the 'no time for your shit' face and get to business. Coming to a stop in front of them, you began to speak. “My name is Y/N L/N and I am here on behalf of S.H.I.E.L.D., the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division of the American government. We have been granted permission from the government of Norway to oversee this colony's development. This is an unprecedented situation on Earth, and as such, we have written new protocols. I am the agent assigned to this case, and I will be supervising the construction of New Asgard and its integration into Midgardian society.”

Thor furrowed his brow. “I was under the impression that S.H.I.E.L.D. was controlled by Hydra.”

You nodded. “Unfortunately, yes. The previous incarnation of S.H.I.E.L.D. was corrupt, but we are a hardy breed, so to speak. A much smaller branch has survived, and deals with various situations across the world, aliens being one of them.”

Thor nodded. “Then we welcome your presence here with open arms.”

Loki scoffed. “You are too trusting, brother. This so-called agent could be anyone. What cause do we have to believe this story?”

You turned to him. “Loki, God of Mischief, Chaos, and Lies, correct? You of all people should know, am I lying?”

He stared at you, long and hard, before shaking his head. “No, I suppose you aren’t,” he admitted.

“There’s that then,” you said. “Now, I will need to ask the three of you some questions regarding yourselves, if you don’t mind.”

-----

The strange woman was first. You had been given a small shack to conduct your interviews out of, the woman stared at you from across the table, looking for all the world like she had somewhere better to be.

“Name?”

“Brunnhilde.”

“No family name?”

“I am a Valkyrie. I have no blood other than my sisters.”

“Right,” you said, “You lived on Asgard then?”

Her face took on a sour look. “A long time ago. I’ve spent the last few centuries on a different planet, Sakaar.”

You scribbled the information into your notepad. “What do you do then? If you were gone so long, why are you back with the Asgardians?”

Her chest puffed with pride. “I am to be the new King of Asgard. On the Summer Solstice we will hold a coronation. It will give the people enough time to accept the transfer of power from Odin’s bloodline to me, and for me to learn how to lead.”

You nodded and took note of it. “Congratulations,Your Majesty-to-be. I believe that’s all I need for now, but I expect we will see a lot of each other over the months.”

-----

Thor. The large man sat across from you, seemingly happy to be there.

“Thor Odinson, correct?” you asked him.

“Yes.”

“And I hear you're passing on the title of King to Brunnhilde?”

A dark look came over his face. “I have learned recently that my family has done many wrongs by Asgard. As long as I breathe, I will fight for Asgard and her people, but I do not believe it is my place to rule. Brunnhilde loves the people and has a talent for leadership. She will be a much better King than I.”

“A very noble decision, Thor. Thank you very much, and please send your brother in on your way out.”

-----

“Name?”

“I believe you know who I am.”

You sighed. “It's a formality, Mr. Laufeyson.”

“Friggason.”

“What?”

“I prefer Loki Friggason.”

You nodded, and made the necessary changes to his file. “Noted. Anything else I should know about?”

“Just a warning,” he said, leaning forward, his voice dangerously low. “I am the God of Lies. The truth is a luxury I will afford no one, especially your little government. The God of Chaos is an enemy you do not want to have.”

You raised an eyebrow, and wrote a single word in your file, exaggerating each syllable as you wrote it out. “Dra. Ma. Tic.”

Truth be told, you were a little scared, given this guy’s reputation, but you would be damned before you let your exterior crack.

Loki scowled. He seemed to do that a lot. “You mortals think you are so funny, do you not?”

You shrugged. “I’m delightful.” You slipped your papers into your file folder and stood up. “See you around, Friggason.”

You left, leaving Loki slightly aghast that you had managed to get the last word in.

-----

You walked calmly out of the hut, then quickened your pace as you made your way back to your van. Loki, as much as it pained you to say, had been intimidating, and your heart was beating a mile a minute.

You opened the door and climbed inside, shoving your paperwork into a filing cabinet, which you promptly locked. You turned to your computers, fiddling with the buttons, atttempting to establish your connection back to S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters.

"It's quite rude to walk out on a prince, you know."

You jumped and whipped around to see Loki standing outside your van.

"What the hell!"

"I said-"

"I know what you said, Your Highness," you interrupted. "But you scared the shit out of me. “

"Many apologies," he said as he hoisted himself up to sit on the edge of the van, his insincerity clear. "And I grant you permission to refer to me as Loki."

"How generous," you muttered, before going back to your instruction manual. Technology had never been your forte. You chose being a field agent over a scientist for a reason.

The both of you sat in silence for a while, you working slowly through the instructions that Fitz, a S.H.I.E.L.D agent much more qualified in machinery than you, had given you.

You glanced up at Loki, half expecting to see him sleeping against the van's frame, only to find his gaze resting on you.

"Can I help you?" you asked.

He just laughed a bit, like staring at you had been the most normal thing in the world. "I am watching you, Midgardian, lest you sabotage the society my brother is trying to build."

"I never took you for the loyal type," you said, putting away your things. "I'm gonna have to ask you to get outta here though."

“Why?”

You gestured to the twilight outside. “It’s late. I’ve had a long day. I’m going to bed.”

Loki strained his head slightly, attempting to peek into the van. “Where do you plan on sleeping?”

Not breaking eye contact, you grabbed a cord on the wall and yanked, and the rusty old pull-down bed flopped out with a loud groan. The rickety old thing was probably going to give you back problems by the time you were done here, but such was life. S.H.I.E.L.D.’s money was usually spent on more pressing things than upgrading amenities for field agents.

Loki’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “You are not sleeping in that. We’ve built a larger house for Thor, Brunnhilde, and I. You’ll stay in one of the guest rooms there.”

You shrugged. “It’s not too bad out here.”

“Mortals,” he said under his breath, almost indecipherably, before speaking again, at a normal volume this time. “I insist. Whether I like it or not, you are a guest of Asgard, and you will be treated as such. Besides, that bed looks seconds away from collapsing.”

You nodded, trying not to betray your confusion at the combination of his kindness and rudeness. “Thank you, just give me a second to lock up.” You grabbed the pieces you had been fiddling with, then paused, your hand hovering over the satellite dish. “Actually, if you’re just gonna sit there, you may as well make yourself useful. You can teleport right?”

Suspicion crossed his face. “Yes?”

You held out the device. “Hop up to the top of the van, there should be a little cord. It’ll fit into this port here,” you said gesturing. “Plug it in for me, please?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You ask a god to do your bidding?”

You scoffed. “You’re not a god, you're an alien. And I just asked for a favor. You’re free to say no, but I’m exhausted, and as much as I would like to put off climbing on the roof off until tomorrow, I need to send a check in to headquarters ASAP.”

He begrudgingly reached out and took the dish and you watched as his form rippled green and faded away. You heard shuffling on the roof for a moment, then silence, before the Asgardian reappeared in front of you.

“If that’s all, Midgardian?” he said.

“Thank you, Highness,” you said, ignoring his tone. “And thank you for offering the room.” The monitor beeped a confirmation that your signal had connected and you punched in a code to let S.H.I.E.L.D. know you had made it to New Asgard. You grabbed the bag you had packed and hopped out of the van, waiting for Loki to follow suit before closing the doors and locking the vehicle.

You offered him your arm. “Shall we?”

He brushed past you, rolling his eyes at your mock-politeness.

“Alright then,” you muttered, “This is gonna be fun, isn’t it?” Taking one last look at the van behind you, you moved to catch up with the Asgardian walking briskly away from you.

-----

Loki had not been talkative on the way to the house, and after being curtly shown to your room, he quickly left. You had settled into a decently sized room complete with a desk and a small bathroom attached. Undoubtedly, the house was a far cry from an Asgardian palace, but it was much larger than needed for three, even four, people. Surprisingly, you got a sound night’s sleep.

You woke to rambunctious laughter, and, wiping bleariness from your eyes, got out of bed. You stood in front of a small mirror on the wall and attempted to make yourself look slightly less like you had just woken up. Moving to your bag, you put on clothes that were much more professional than the old sweatshirt you were currently wearing.

Finally satisfied, you stepped out of your room and followed the sounds of conversation into the kitchen, where you found Brunnhilde and Thor joking at the counter while Loki sat at a dining room table, reading a book.

Seeing you, Thor broke into a smile. “Y/N! Loki had told us you would be staying here!”

You returned the smile. “Thank you for letting me stay here, Thor. I really appreciate this.”

The large man set a plate heaping with food on the table and gestured for you to sit. You did, glancing at Loki as you took the seat across from him, but he made no move to acknowledge that you were there. Brunnhidle began to speak. “We will be building fishing boats today down at the docks today. Will you be joining us, Y/N? We could use an extra set of hands.”

You nodded. “I don’t mind helping out. I have a few things to take care of first, though, so I’ll meet you all down there.”

Thor clapped. “Excellent! We’ll make an Asgardian out of you yet!”

You laughed softly and finished your meal as Thor and Brunnhilde began to tell you the plans for the day.

------

After breakfast, you ran up to your room to grab your laptop and then met the rest of the group on the stairs of the house. “I’ll see you guys in a little while,” you said, waving while walking in the opposite direction.

Thor and Brunnhidle branched off from you, but Loki, still silent, walked beside you towards your van.

You looked at him quizzically, but he seemed to have no intention of indicating why he was with you, and not with Thor and Brunnhilde.

Finally, as you approached your van, you caved and asked. “Why are you with me instead of your brother?”

“I’ve consulted with Thor. I will be supervising you for the remainder of your stay here.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “I’m supposed to be supervising you guys!”

“You are a stranger,” he replied, “and there’s something about you that I don’t trust. I have harmed Asgard many times over, and I don’t intend to let you get away with hurting these people any more.” There was an edge to his voice, that you had to admit, scared you.

After a long moment, you sighed. “Fine. I could use an assistant, I guess.” Which was apparently the right thing to say, because it made him clearly flustered.

“I am no one’s assistant, I am a prince of Asgard,” he argued as you turned away from him, partially to unlock your van and partially to hide your laughter.

You hopped up into the vehicle and grabbed a folder and tossed it to Loki, who was still sputtering about his status behind you. “Scan those in, would you?” you said gesturing at a machine in the back corner of the van.

He huffed but snatched the folder from your hand and went to fiddle with the machine.

You glanced over. “Do you know how to use that?”

“Yes,” he snapped. “This is primitive technology compared to what I have seen in my travels.”

You shrugged. “Okay.” You turned to your computer and queued up a call to S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ. “I’m gonna need you to be quiet for a second,” you said, right before Mack’s face popped onto the screen.

“Y/N! How’s Norway treating you?” he said with a smile.

“Colder than I thought, but not too bad. They’ve given me an actual bed to sleep in. You really need to update the beds in these vans,” you joked.

“I’ll let the budget committee know,” he replied. “I trust Thor and Loki are being cooperative, then?”

“More or less,” you said before stepping to the side, putting Loki in full view of your webcam.

Mack’s eyes widened. The change was subtle, but you could tell he was surprised. “That’s Loki.”

“Yup.”

“In your van.”

“Yup.”

“Why?”

“His Highness has deemed me untrustworthy, and decided I need a chaperone.”

“Right,” said Mack, suspicion in his voice. “Well you know the drill. Weekly check-ins, and don’t hesitate to contact me if you have any problems,” he said, looking at Loki.

“Gotcha, Mack. Talk to you next week,” you said, turning off the call. You turned to Loki, who had yet to even turn the scanner on. “You don’t know how to work that, do you?”

He glared at you and did not reply.

“Come here, Your Highness, I’ll show you. It really isn’t that hard.”

“You know the honorific loses its value when you say it so sarcastically,” he said, while watching your motions intensely, memorizing the steps to work the machine.

“Sorry, Highness.”

-----

The two of you walked down to the beach shortly after, meeting Brunnhilde and Thor at the docks. You were allotted supplies and miraculously, you and Loki ended up caulking the same boat.

Great.

The silence was deafening at first, until you decided to break it.

“You know I never would have assumed that someone of such status would be out here doing the dirty work,” you said, sarcasm dripping from your voice.

He grimaced. “I owe Asgard a debt. I intend to repay it, however I can offer service.”

“A very noble stance from Loki, God of Mischief.”

He grinned and looked up, meeting your eyes. “I find that one can be noble while still being quite mischievous.”

You felt your face heat up, and ducked your head, looking down at your work. He had smiled at you, for the first time, and what he had said had sounded almost like flirting. Why had that made your stomach turn in such a strange way?

“Oh my,” he laughed. “Seems that the Midgardian is finally speechless.”

“Just trying to hold my tongue around my betters, Highness,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Now let’s get to work before Brunnhilde has our heads.”

-----

Finally, late that afternoon, the work was done, and the New Asgard armada of fishing boats was ready for a celebratory launch. You and Loki stood in the crowd, watching Brunnhilde give a speech in front of the flagship, which really wasn’t much larger than the rest of the fleet. Loki leaned over and whispered to you, “You know, back in the day, the Norse would give a human sacrifice to the sea god to ensure safe passage.”

You wrinkled your nose, put off by the suggestion. “I think I prefer the more English tradition,” you replied, watching as Brunnhilde smashed a bottle of champagne against the hull of the ship.

Loki sighed. “Such a waste of perfectly good champagne.”

“I’m sure there's plenty more alcohol around here somewhere,” you said as you walked over to your boat, preparing for her maiden voyage. You hopped in and offered Loki your hand to help him in. He hesitated, but he took it.

“What should we name her?” you asked.

“What?”

“You know,” you shrugged, “We have to give our ship a name.”

Loki seemed to ponder it a moment before deciding. “How about The Midgardian?”

You put your hand on your chest in mock flattery. “Aww, you named her after me, didn’t you?”

He laughed. “It’s a fitting name. She’s lackluster and hardly even worthy of being called a boat.” His words were biting, and maybe you were imagining things, but you could have sworn you heard the playfulness in his voice.

You laughed and tossed him an oar. “For you, Highness.”

“Many thanks, Midgardian.”

The two of you followed the rest of New Asgard, rowing out to sea. Suddenly, you noticed a small sprig of water in the bottom of the boat. “Loki,” you said, the fear dawning on you, “I think the boat is leaking.”

He turned to see the small leak coming through the floorboards. “Okay,” he said, suddenly serious, “Don’t panic. Let’s turn around.”

You switched the side you were paddling on, beginning to move the boat in a circle. Before you could completely orient yourselves, the floorboards cracked, and a large chunk of wood detached from the boat. You yelped as the water came flooding in.

Loki swore. “Can you swim?” he asked you, speaking quickly.

You nodded. All S.H.I.E.L.D. agents knew how to swim.

“Then jump!” he said, and you did, without a second thought. Your boat was sinking fast, and there was no way you were going to make it back to shore dry.

You hit the water, and a second later, heard Loki behind you.

“Swim towards Thor’s boat, he can get us-”

You missed the rest of his sentence as you were pulled away from him.

You fought the current that had taken hold of you, but your panic was making things worse. In the confusion, you lost control, and dipped under water. The ocean filled your mouth. Breaking the surface again, you choked out most of the water, trying to stay calm and find a way out, but every second you were being pulled further out to sea. Falling under once again, you were prepared to accept your fate when a strong pair of arms wrapped themselves around you and pulled you into calmer waters.

You gasped for air as Loki held you against himself, allowing you time to recover.

“Wha- How did-” you began, once you could speak.

“Don’t talk, just breathe,” he said. “I am a god, I can overpower currents much easier than your mortal bodies can.”

“Thank you, Loki,” you said.

“You are welcome, Y/N.”

A larger boat pulled up next to you, Thor leaning over the side. “Brother, Agent Y/N! Take my hand!”

Loki helped you onto the deck of the boat before climbing over the side himself.

You flopped onto the deck, panting. “Rest in peace, SS Midgardian.”

-----

Later that night, you and Loki sat together watching the fire crackle. Thor had brought you a hot drink, and after plenty of fussing ensuring that you were okay, had left to do something leader-ish with Brunnhilde.

Suddenly, a loud scuffling at the door broke the silence and a series of thudding footsteps made their way toward you. Upon seeing your company, Loki sighed, exasperated. You turned and saw a large figure that appeared to be made out of rock alongside a smaller, insect-looking creature.

The large one began to speak, his gentle tone in contrast with his threatening form. “Hello. Um, I’m Korg and this is my friend Meik. We came to apologize for the whole boat thing. Thor put us in charge of wood collection, so it’s our bad, really. Sorry.”

“Oh, um, that’s alright,” you said, still processing the fact that there were two very large, very strange-looking, aliens in the living room. “You couldn’t have known the wood was rotting, and no one’s dead, so we’re good.”

“Alright, cool,” said Korg. “No harm, no foul, yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

“Right then,” he said, scooping up Miek. “We’ve gotta get going. Thor put us on clean up duty for the next week.”

“Thank you, Korg!” you called, but he was already out the door.

Loki let out another sigh. “Idiots.”

You turned back to him. “I had no idea there were other aliens here! How many species came with you?”

“Just Korg and Meik. And unfortunately, they are around a lot.”

You settled into your armchair. “I’m gonna have to document this.” But even as you said it, you could feel yourself drifting off.

-----

The next day you woke in your own bed, slightly embarrassed at the implication that Loki had carried you there, but he never brought it up, so neither did you.

The next few weeks were filled with collecting information and helping with the construction of New Asgard to fill the rest of your time. Always, of course, accompanied by Loki. In a strange way, you were becoming friends. The two of you never exchanged a single kind word, but your actions said otherwise. Before long, it seemed less like Loki was breathing down your neck and more like he was genuinely relaxing around you.

“Hey, Mack,” you said, beginning your weekly call-in, Loki now sitting beside you instead of hiding in the background.

“Hey there, Y/N. How’s it going, Loki?”

“Quite well, thank you, Director Mackenzie.”

You stared at him in shock. You had never heard Loki use honorifics for a Midgardian.

The rest of the call was uneventful, and as soon as you hung up, you whirled toward Loki.

“You were polite!” you said, your tone accusatory.

Loki sniffed. “I do have manners, you know.”

“You called him Director Mackenzie.”

“And?”

“And I can count the number of times you’ve used my real name on one hand. It’s always ‘Midgardian’ this ‘Midgardian’ that. You know Mack’s a Midgardian too, right?”

He rolled his eyes. “And you call me ‘Highness’ in that terrible mocking tone of yours. The disrespect is mutual.”

You sighed. “Fine, we’ll call a truce. I’ll call you Loki, you call me Y/N, deal?” You stuck out your hand, waiting for his response.

He seemed to be considering his options, before he settled on his choice. “Deal.” He grasped your hand firmly within his and shook it.

“Glad we’re on the same page, Loki,” you said, leaning back into your chair.

“What now, Y/N?” he asked.

You shrugged. “I dunno. Brunnhilde and Thor don’t have anything going on, and I’m done with what I need to do.” You started clicking around on your computer. “Wanna watch a movie?”

“I’ve heard of movies, but never seen one.”

“You’ve never seen a movie?” you asked. “I guess that makes sense. It’s basically just a recorded play. You’ll love it.” You pulled up a movie. One of the lesser known perks of working for S.H.I.E.L.D.: free Netflix. “This is one of my favorites,” you said as the opening credits rolled.

“I suppose you aren’t giving me a choice then?” he asked.

“Nope,” you replied. “Now be quiet and watch.”

-----

Later that night, you were in the kitchen with Thor, cleaning up after dinner. The two of you worked in comfortable silence until suddenly-

“Are you and my brother involved romantically?”

The plate you were washing fell into the soapy water with a splash.

“What?”

“I have never seen him willingly be around a person as he is you,” Thor explained. “And he has changed. He is happier than he was before Midgard.”

You shook your head. “He doesn’t- I thought he was just ‘supervising’ in case I tried to kill you all.”

“Hardly. The man just has no clue how to adjust to a more… domestic lifestyle. He wants to be around you, he just does not know how to express that.”

“Huh,” was all you managed to say, not looking up from the dishes.

Thor let out a small chuckle. “One day you two will figure it out,” he said so quietly you weren’t even sure he said it.

-----

More time passed, you and Loki still spending your days together. Before you knew it, the Summer Solstice was here, and you spent the morning preparing.

Rushing around your van, alone for once, you scrambled to get your work done quickly before Brunnhidle’s coronation began.

Finishing up you glanced at your monitor when you saw a message pop up.

Alphonso Mackenzie: I forgot to mention it in our call this week, but you’re coming up on the six month mark, and there seems to be no complications with Asgard’s transition, so we’ll be pulling you back to HQ. We’ll sort out the details in next week’s meeting.

You felt a sinking feeling in your chest, which was quickly replaced by determination as you began to type your response.

-----

You hurried to Loki’s side, panting slightly, making it to the coronation just in time for Brunnhidle to make her entrance.

“You’re late,” he whispered.

“Shh,” you said. “They’re starting.”

-----

After every great coronation comes an even greater feast, and the Asgardians spent the rest of the day revealing and celebrating their new leader.

Surprisingly, you had seen very little of Loki. That wouldn’t last long though, because as the sun dipped below the horizon, your closest friend in New Asgard appeared from the crowd and said nothing as he led you to a private space away from the partygoers.

“I’ve hardly seen you all night,” he said, as soon as the two of you had a moment of relative silence.

“I know,” you laughed softly. “It’s been strange to not be around you.”

Your smile fell and you looked up at him. “Look, Loki, I have some news, and I’m not sure how you’re going to feel about it.”

His expression turned serious and he led you to a small bench, where the both of you sat. He stayed silent, waiting for you to speak.

“I got a message from Mack today. They want me back in America.”

Loki’s entire demeanor changed. “What? You can’t go back. There’s still so much I- so much supervising to be done here.”

“That’s where the part I’m unsure of comes in,” you said. “I talked to Mack, and the specifics still need to be discussed, but if we can get agreement from all parties, he wants to create a new position at S.H.I.E.L.D. I’d be the first permanent Asgardian-Midgardian liaison that S.H.I.E.L.D. has ever had.”

His face broke into a grin and he clasped your hands into his. “That’s wonderful! Why would I have any problems with that?”

“You haven’t always been my biggest fan,” you said, nudging his arm gently.

He was silent for a moment, looking for the words. “Maybe not at first,” he began slowly, looking you directly in your eyes, “but now, I’d argue that you are closer to me than anyone else.”

You suddenly became all too aware of his hands resting on yours, and the closeness of his face to yours. “Loki…”

“I hate to admit it, but after a long talk with Thor, I’ve realized that I’ve grown quite fond of you, Y/N.”

“I guess I’ve grown fond of you too, Your Highness,” you said, smiling softly.

“Oh, Midgardian,” he said, unable to keep the laughter out of his voice as his face drew nearer.

You didn’t remember which of you closed the gap, only that it was the most magical kiss you had ever had.

A/N: Thanks for reading! :)

#loki x reader #loki x you #loki x female reader #loki x male reader #loki x gender neutral reader #loki imagine #loki friggason x reader #loki laufeyson imagine #loki friggason x you #loki friggason imagine #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x you #x reader

[shipskicksandgiggles]

54 parkner

hi harley never met friday and peter never met jarvis in canon. sidenote: fuck canon

prompt: "Wh - what? [Name], this is serious!" (from this list)

Read The Little Mechanic here on ao3

~~~

“Harley! Oh my god, Harley, you have to come help.”

“Woah, hey, where’s the fire?” Harley asked when Peter raced into the room.

“Tony’s lab. I mean there’s not an actual fire, but you have to help me fix this!”

“Slow down, what happened?” He started towards the elevator and hit the button for the lab.

“It’s FRIDAY! I don’t know what’s wrong with her,” Peter said, sounding slightly panicked.

“Walk me through what happened.”

“So I’m supposed to meet Tony down there right? We were gonna make some adjustments to the suit.”

He nodded “Right, but he’s in a meeting.”

Peter shrugged. “I went down early to mess around with a new web fluid formula, and when I got down there and started powering up my station, I asked FRI to help KAREN through some updates and, well…”

“Well what?”

The elevator dinged open, and Harley stepped into the lab.

“I think someone hacked into her.”

“That’s impossible, FRIDAY-”

“Good morning, Harley, how may I be of assistance?”

Harley’s jaw dropped, and then he grinned. “Oh my god.”

“See, I told you! Something’s wrong!”

He ignored Peter. “Oh my god, it worked!” Harley laughed somewhat giddily. “Oh my god!”

“Wh – what? Harley, this is serious!"

“Sorry, hold on.” He took a deep breath and looked into the nearest camera. “How’s it going JARVIS?”

“Never better, sir.”

Peter gasped. “JARVIS? Like-”

“Like Tony’s original digital AI,” Harley confirmed. “You two never met.”

“It’s truly an honor, Mr. Parker.”

“Same here, but um, how is that possible? I thought Tony lost JARVIS to Ultron.”

“He did. This is technically JARVIS 2.0. God I can’t believe it actually worked.”

“You’re saying you had something to do with this?”

“I had everything to do with this,” Harley corrected.

“How?”

“Well, back when I fixed the original JARVIS, there was an issue in the code when he powered up. I made a copy of the code so I could reboot him and start trying to fix him at the same time. Honestly I kinda forgot about it until a few months ago when I went home to help my mom move. There was still some stuff of mine in the garage and she needed my help to figure out what to keep and what to scrap. It was stored in an encrypted file, so I transferred it onto a flash drive and wiped the rest of the computer.”

“So you just rebuilt him and plugged him into the lab without any of us knowing?”

“Basically yeah. I’ve been working behind Tony’s back for months to get this shit done. The code I had didn’t have half the updates he made to FRI, so I had to adapt the new parts of her code to meet his needs.”

Peter snorted. “That couldn’t have been easy.”

“Like I said. Months. Seriously, I didn’t even get to be here when he was calibrating because Tony would investigate if I was down here for too long after dark for no reason without him. I am a little mad that you got to hear him first though.”

“I’m glad we got to find out this way,” Peter said. “He’s incredible, and you’re the genius who put this all together.”

“Aw, shucks babe. You’re just saying that because you love me.”

He rolled his eyes and pecked Harley on the cheek before he went back to work. “If you want to hang out down here, pull up a chair. I know you’re gonna want to see Tony’s reaction in real time.”

“With a little luck he should be down soon. He’s been trying to make these meetings as short as possible just so he doesn’t have to be there as long.”

“No, I hear you, but you’re not hearing me,” Tony’s voice filtered into the room. “Look, you’re right, it could be a breakthrough in the medical field, but Stark Industries can’t work with you until we know that all of your experiments are ethical. How about this? I’ll refer you to a couple of good scientists I know, as well as a lawyer, and once we know you’re up to code, you can set up a meeting with Ms. Potts and I. Don’t thank me yet. Yep, uh huh, goodbye.” Tony sighed as the lab door slid closed behind him. “FRIDAY, file that under ‘Conversations that Could Have Been an Email.’”

“Of course, sir.”

Harley stifled a grin at the look of shock on Tony’s face. “You okay there, Mechanic?”

“There’s no way… JARVIS?”

“At your service, sir.”

“I can’t believe it. What happened to FRIDAY?”

“She’s safe on her drive,” Harley said, waving said device in the air.

“You.” Tony stalked towards him

“I mean, you can change them back if you want to,” Harley stammered out as he rushed to move away from Tony advancing on him. “It’s not permanent, I just figured I had the resources and I know you missed the original and-”

Tony reached him quicker than Harley anticipated. He let out a small yelp, fearing for the worst as Tony grabbed him and pulled him closer.

“I can’t believe you did this,” Tony said, wrapping his arms around Harley’s shoulders.

“Oh. So I did good?”

“Yes, piccolo meccanico. Thank you, you did so, so good.”

“I just- I missed him and I only knew him for a little bit so I figured you had to be devastated. And I thought this might help.”

Tony released him from the hug in favor of grabbing his face instead. “Harley, I want you to listen to me very carefully.”

“Okay.”

“I trust you with my tech, with my company, with my family. You haven’t ever let me down, and I know you never would.”

“Of course not, Tony. Is there something you’re getting at?”

“Listen, I had my doubts, mostly because I love Peter like my son, but all that is gone now. Not that you need it, but just so you know, you have my full blessing.”

Harley glanced over at Peter who smiled softly. “Thank you, sir. That means a lot coming from you.”

He kissed both of his cheeks before letting him go and walking away, but before he made it to the door, he paused and turned back. “Just out of curiosity, does Rhodey know?”

“Nope, just us.”

“Great. Stay here, I want to see what he does when he finds out.”

They both gave him a thumbs up, and he left, presumably to go find Rhodey.

Neither of them said anything for a moment. Then Harley let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “What just happened?”

“Didn’t you hear? We have his blessing,” Peter laughed as he stood, dragging Harley up against his chest. “I’m so proud of you, piccolo meccanico,” he muttered against his lips.

“That is- not- about to become- a thing,” Harley punched out in between kisses, backing him into his workbench.

“Of course not, sweetheart.” He let out a light ‘oof’ when he knocked into the edge of the table.

“And I am certainly not about to risk a hard earned blessing only to defile you in the lab.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “If anyone was doing any defiling, it was me since I started it. Anyways, kissing hardly counts.”

“Sir would like me to inform you that it absolutely does count, and if he didn’t want you to be present for Colonel Rhodes’ reaction, he would kick you both out.”

Both of them looked up at the ceiling, shocked by JARVIS’s sudden outburst.

“Damn,” Harley whistled. “Well, I guess that means we’ll have to postpone the celebrations.” He stepped back and smoothed out his shirt before righting Peter’s collar.

“Hmm,” Peter hummed. “One more for luck.”

Harley braced his arms on the desk behind Peter as he gave in for the last time. “Get back to work.” He swatted at his ass, and Peter pushed him away.

“C’mon, we can’t look suspicious. Tony wants Rhodey’s genuine reaction.”

“Yeah yeah, I know. Tell me about this new web fluid.” Harley sat down in the chair he had moved earlier and rested his head in his hands, fully engrossed in the chemical formulas Peter immediately launched into, and lost in the sound of his voice.

#parkner #harley keener x peter parker #harley keener #peter parker #fluff #a little irondad #dylan laken tag #prompts #ellis writes

[basiccortez]

Defenseless Ch. 1

Synopsis: CJ Jackson, looks like she has it all. Fancy car, fancy house, name  brand clothing. Her parents, top boosters to Beverly, with money to make all sorts of situations go away. As well as the Jackson family looks put together, past secrets haunt them. With the new transfer student catching the eye of CJ Jackson, can old friendships be fixed. Or are somethings just meant to stay broken. "I told you, as long as I live, no one would know."

word count: 3.4k 

pairing: Jordan Baker x OC (CJ Jackson) 

warnings: cursing, talk of death, talk of drug addiction, talk of a juvenile being in trouble, high school boys being high school boys 

It was like a heavy cement blocks were tied to her feet. She moved slowly towards the front doors of the place that reminded her of a prison, but with nicely dressed inmates. People passed by her, and just ignored her presence, something she wasn't used to at all. She was used to people flocking to her sides, begging for a party invite, or to be in her next photo shoot, or to be the next guy on her list, or just one dinner with anyone of her brothers. But now, she was blended into the background, like she never existed.

Somehow, she made her way to the front office, just in time for the first bell to ring. It was her first day back, and already half way through the first semester. She had just been released only a week prior to this bright and early Monday morning. Her brown boxbraids were tied back and out of her face. Her makeup was done to perfection, and her clothes; nicely pressed and matched well. She'd rather be dead than look a mess for her first day back.

"Christine Joy Jackson, I'm here to pick up my schedule." She spoke softly to the secretary. The secretary with bright red cat-eye glasses nodded, and pulled out a file, handing a pink piece of paper to CJ.

"You are to meet with Mrs. Riley first, before heading to your classes." The secretary nodded and CJ rolled her eyes, "Welcome back CJ."

"Thank you," CJ sighed and headed down to the office of her favorite person.

CJ made her way down to the east end of the school, where she was too familiar with being in the In-School suspension office. She knocked on the brown wooden door that was covered in papers for recovery centers, planned parenthood, adoption counselors, and local community colleges.

"Come in!" The voice from the other side called out. CJ took a deep breath before opening the door, and seeing Mrs. Riley behind the door. Her dark brown hair was curled and her skin looked flawless. That woman looked like she didn't age a day, but she also meant business, "My favorite parolee, CJ Jackson."

"Mrs. Riley," The teen girl sassed, setting her bag down in the chair next to her, and plopping her body in a chair, "Instructed to see you first."

"Yeah, just some parole stuff," Mrs. Riley said, grabbing a folder out of her desk, and setting in front of CJ. The folder was dauntingly big and felt like it could start a fire at any moment, "As you know, I am your parole officer, lucky for you or not. But know that I don't play around about any of this."

"This ain't my first go around with you."

"Ain't is not a word, now speak like your momma raised you." Mrs. Riley said and CJ rolled her eyes and sat back in her chair, "You are on parole for approximately 90 days, as a term of early release from your juvenile detention program. Terms of your parole include, attendance of school is mandatory, unless an absence notice from a doctor. You must check in with your parole officer everyday at 8 AM sharp, and do not be late. You will pass all administered drug tests, and random drug tests can be done as well. Another term of parole is being involved in not only in community service, but as well as a school activity. Your parents have suggested the dance team."

"Over my dead body." CJ laughed loudly.

"Christine Joy, these are the terms unless you would like to serve out the rest of the 90 days in a juvenile detention center." Mrs. Riley said, giving CJ one of her famous glares. A glare that felt like getting the fear of God put in you.

"No ma'am." CJ answered quickly.

"Good, you have till the end of this week to find a school activity. The community service project will be decided for you. Now you'll sign some stuff and be on your way." Mrs. Riley said smiling and handing CJ some papers for her to sign.

CJ's shoes clicked down the corridor as she made her way to her first class, anatomy. The teacher had already started teaching when, CJ opened the door. Eyes fell to her, and immediately the whispers started. The girl swallowed thickly and handed her note to her teacher. She quickly scanned the classroom for an open seat, and found one next to an unknown face.

"All right, listen up, I want you all to do a search on chromosomal DNA and make a slide on how it connects with last week's work on protein." The teacher said. Everyone automatically opened up their laptops sitting in front of them. CJ grabbed her's out her bag and set it in front of her too. The new kid looked around, uneasy about what he was supposed to do. He didn't have a laptop of his own to use, he usually shared one with his mother and younger brother.

"Spencer, right?" The teacher asked, coming over to him. He lifted his head and looked at the teacher, nodding.

"Yes ma'am."

"It's okay if you don't have a computer. Just pair up with a classmate for now."

"Okay, thank you." Spencer said and CJ looked up at him. Spencer tried looking at the boy next to him, who just moved his computer closer to himself.

"Hey, Todd. Keep watching that Logan Paul feed." CJ said to him.

"Whatever, CJ." Todd said and Spencer looked up at the light-skinned girl.

"Uh. . . you can share with me." CJ said lightly, and Spencer nodded. He moved his stuff over to where she was sitting.

"Thank you," Spencer said.

"I'll warn you, my chromosomal DNA knowledge is non-existent at best. And it's also my first day in this class."

"I might be able to help with that." Spencer laughed lightly and CJ moved her laptop in between the two of them. The two of them worked on their assignment, occasionally having to ask the teacher about what some of it meant, since it was both of their first days in the new class. CJ felt like eyes were watching her, and she turned around and noticed an old friend in class. CJ turned back to her assignment and kept her head down, not wanting to draw anymore attention.

When the bell rang, CJ offered to show Spencer to where the cafeteria is. Spencer was thankful that someone besides his new football coach wanted to show him around. CJ was just thankful to have found someone new at the school who hadn't known of her reputation.

"Salad bar, coffee cart." CJ said pointing at various locations in their center quad, "They used to serve sushi on Fridays, not sure if they still do."

"Sushi on Friday? At Crenshaw, we get sushi on Monday, that's all." Spencer joked and CJ laughed.

"Smart, and funny. I'm impressed." CJ said turning to him. But Spencer paused, and his eyes went to a beautiful tall, light skinned girl. CJ shifted uncomfortably as the girl made her way into the quad. Of course Spencer noticed her, she was beautiful and by far the most popular girl in Beverly. A spot that CJ once claimed.

"Layla Keating, Beverly Hills resident sweetheart." CJ said to Spencer, "Dad's some big-time record producer. And I heard they spend every Thanksgiving with the Obamas. And rumor has it, she even smoked pot with Malia last year."

"You must be Spencer," a familiar voice said from behind them. CJ turned and saw the star football player, Jordan Baker walk over to the pair, "Jordan Baker, QB, team captian."

"Baker?" Spencer asked, "Oh so you must be-"

"Yeah, coach is my dad. I'll take it from here, CJ." Jordan said and CJ nodded walking away from the two football players, "Come on, let me introduce you to the team."

"Hey, thanks for the tour." Spencer said before CJ could get too far away from him. She smiled at the Crenshaw boy, and looked down at her shoes.

"Yeah," She said quietly.

"Sushi on Friday?" Spencer asked, and CJ nodded.

"It's a date!" CJ agreed. Spencer looked the Jackson girl up and down before heading off behind Jordan. CJ cringed at the words that she said, before going off to find a table to herself, away from the stares and rumors about herself. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"No, I saw her. Like with my eyes. CJ Jackson is back at Beverly." Asher Adams said to the group of friends as they ate lunch.

"I thought she had like a whole year left?" Hadley said, as she picked at her salad in her lap.

"Daddy's money can get you out of anything." Lucy said giggling, "Bold of her to come back after the shit show she created with everything."

"She's lucky she didn't get more time. Heard Mrs. Baker showed up at the trial and basically bailed her ass out. She was gonna get at least 15 to life," Asher said, embellishing the story a little bit.

"Now that's excessive." JJ said and Asher rolled his eyes.

"She's basically a murderer!" Asher exclaimed.

"No one even knows what she did exactly, maybe she was supposed to get out this early any way." Layla said, trying to defend her close friend.

"So. . . did she have an ankle bracelet? A tear drop tattoo?" JJ joked causing Asher, Lucy and Hadley to laugh. Layla rolled her eyes and picked at her food, as Jordan walked up to the group with handsome young man she had seen earlier.

"Meet the crew," Jordan said as he pointed out different members of the friend group, "This is Hadley, Layla, and up top, Lucy, JJ and Asher." Each of them shook Spencer's hand and Jordan took a seat next to his girlfriend Hadley. He greeted her with a kiss, and took his backpack off.

"I think you and Asher play the same position." JJ said as Spencer took a seat next to Layla.

"What's up, man?" Asher said trying to seem welcoming.

"Oh, receiver, huh?" Spencer asked him.

"Yeah, broke the school record for receptions last year." He said boasting about the accomplishment.

"Me, too." Spencer said and Asher just nodded his head, not saying a word.

"So, how are you liking Beverly so far?" Layla asked Spencer.

"It's okay, I guess." Spencer said smiling up at the girl. Asher looked between the new receiver and his girl questioningly, not liking how nice she was being to him.

"I know it probably feels like lost footage or rich kids from Instagram, but it's not so bad once you give it a chance." Layla said honestly, her browns eyes drifting across the quad to where CJ sat, alone and with a book in her hand.

"I'm sure it'll grow on me." Spencer responded.

"So lay it on me," Asher said breaking up the conversation between them, "Crips or Bloods?"

"Excuse me?" Spencer asked him. Hadley  looked questioningly at Jordan and then at Asher, who continued talking, digging himself an even bigger grave.

"I'm dying to check out a Crip walk for real." Asher said putting his arm around Layla, "I've only seen one on YouTube."

"Yo, yo, he's just joking man. Ignore him," Jordan said trying to fix Asher's mistake.

"Asher, you wouldn't know a Crip walk if it bit you in the damn white ass." JJ joked, causing everyone to laugh but Spencer, who was feeling offended by his new teammate.

"Nah, that didn't sound like a joke to me, bro." Spencer said looking at Jordan. The group grew quiet and looked at each other as Asher tried to defend himself.

"Don't be so sensitive."

"Sensitive?" Spencer asked, standing up angrily. All the groups eyes were on Spencer as he grabbed his backpack and pulled it over his shoulder, "Hey, yo, thanks for the welcome." He said as he walked away from the group. His brown eyes scanned the quad, and found a familiar face sitting alone, reading a book. Spencer sat down across from CJ, startling her out of the reading trance that she was in.

"Sorry for scaring you." He said genuinely.

"No, thanks for scaring me. Too entranced into the world of The Field Party series to even notice anything." CJ said, setting her book down. Spencer reached across the table and picked up the book, reading the back of it.

"A small southern town filled with cute boys, pickup trucks, Friday Night football games, and crazy parties to stir up some major drama," Spencer said reading the back of the book out loud, "Can't get enough drama at high school, you need to read about it?"

"It's different to read about it than to live it. Besides, if my parents didn't land here after my dad's retirement, I could've grown up, going to these crazy field parties in so called, Lawton Alabama."

"It makes sense now, Chris Jackson the 3rd, your dad. . ."

"Receiver for the Chiefs, before retiring in 2015, that's the one." CJ said, "And now coach for the LA chargers."

"Wow, that's crazy. I wanted to play under him if he was at Bama, but-"

"Hey!" Layla said, sitting down next to Spencer, "Christine,"

"Layla. I'll see you around, Spencer." CJ said, gathering her stuff and moving tables. Part of her agreement to herself to get better, was not hanging around her old group. CJ still had an hour left for lunch, and went to the only place where she felt welcome in this school.

CJ knocked on the door and waited for the welcome in. The door opened and CJ held up her brown paper lunch sack and had a shy smile on her face, "Can i eat here?" She asked.

"You're always welcome in here, CJ." Mrs. Riley said, and shut the door behind her. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a long pep talk to get CJ to even walk into the girls locker room, and to the dance coach's office. It was an even longer one to get her to open the door and talk to the coach. The coaches and teachers had known about the terms of CJ's parole, and knew that they had to give her a fair chance at trying out for the team.

"Alright, let's see what you can do. You'll learn the dance, and then me, and the other coach, and the captain will give you a mock tryout, and see how you do," The coach, Mrs. Williams said to CJ, "Go get changed, Hadley will give you a uniform."

Hadley stood outside the door, and walked CJ to an open locker. She handed CJ a new uniform and waited for her to change.

"Hey listen,. . ." Hadley started but CJ slammed her locker shut and looked at Hadley, "How are you?"

"How am I?"CJ said looking at the girl who was once her friend, "That's all you have to say to me, after what I went through?"

"CJ, listen, I'm so sorry for what. . ."

"It wasn't your fault, now let me go to practice, since I have to prove to everyone I still deserve to be on a team that I helped build up from literally nothing." CJ said and pushed passed Hadley to the gym. The girl sighed, and could at least tell her friend group that she tried to talk to her.

CJ tied her box braids back, and stretched on the floor with the rest of the team. The girls would stare at her and whisper occasionally, but CJ tried her best to ignore it. Hadley sat down across form where CJ was stretching and faced her. She began stretching too, and CJ just looked at her.

"What are you doing?" CJ asked her.

"Stretching with my captain." She answered and touched her toes with her arms out straight.

"I'm not the captain anymore." CJ shrugged and pulled her legs into the butterfly stretch.

"Well, you and I both know you can out dance Emily Pierce any day."

"She's the captain, oh my god who let that happen?" CJ said and wrinkled her face in disgust.

"Well after your mom stepped down as the head coach, Mrs. Williams took over. Hence why EP is the captain."

"Alright ladies!" Emily Pierce's voice rang out over the gym. CJ groaned and stood up, fixing the black spandex on her body, "We are going to run through Countdown and then learn the new dance. So places!" Everyone moved to their places except CJ, who stood in the back, "Oh CJ, you can um. . . stand next to Hadley."

CJ nodded and stood next to Hadley in the front. When the music started, CJ remembered the dance from the year before. She started moving in the familiar moves that she knew, and obviously caught the eye of the captain who stopped the music almost immediately.

"What are you doing?" Emily asked her.

"My dance, this is my dance."

"Not anymore, this is my dance. I changed things after you up and got yourself arrested. Now stand in the back and follow the group." Emily said and CJ nodded her head and moved to the back.

For the rest of the rehearsal, CJ was quiet and stood in the back, following the moves the Emily was teaching the group, even though she hated every second of it. When practice was dismissed, she was the first in the locker room, taking her uniform off and shoving it into her dance bag. She slammed her locker shut and stormed out of the locker room, running straight into a hard, muscular body.

"Hey, watch-" "I'm so sorry." They both said at the same time. CJ looked up at Jordan Baker, the one person she didn't want to see.

"CJ, you good?" Jordan asked. He could see the red lining of her eyes and nose, as she was about ready to cry.

"Ignore me like you have been the whole day, Baker. I'm fine." CJ said and pushed away from Jordan. She was thankful that her father was waiting at the front of the school. CJ ran down the steps and into her brother who was waiting for her. He engulfed her in a tight hug, and ran his through her hair as she cried. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That night, at the Baker household, Jordan walked up to his mom, who was unloading groceries into the fridge. He hadn't ever asked his mother about why she took CJ's case, even after everything she had done to his family. But now, that CJ was back at Beverly and constantly running into things in his life. Hadley had said that she seemed civil at dance practice, but Jordan didn't trust whatever CJ was trying to do.

"Hey, Mom." Jordan said.

"Yes, hun?" Laura said and closed the fridge.

"Why did you take CJ Jackson's case?" He asked.

Laura paused a minute and sighed, "I can't discus that with you. Why? What's going on? She try and contact you or Olivia again?"

"No, even worse, She's back at Beverly. Rumors are going around that she got released early."

"And they let her back at Beverly, after all the things she had done?" Laura asked surprised, "Guess money really does get you things."

"Mom," Jordan said somewhat defending his ex-friend, "You know that's not true. Hadley said that she's trying to get her spot back on the dance team, and that she seemed to change."

"Listen to me Jordan, girls like that, who strive off of their parents success and money, don't change. I. . . I defended CJ Jackson because her parents asked me too." Laura said honestly, "CJ didn't want a lawyer or attorney. She plead guilty and was ready for her charge. If you ask me, she should've gotten those 15 years. She is and was guilty for that boy's death, there' no doubt in my mind."

Jordan looked down at his shoes and didn't say anymore. He turned on his heel and walked back up to his room. He hated the feeling that was settled in his chest. He so much wanted to fight against what his mother was saying about CJ. Jordan was one of the only friends in his group to believe CJ. He was also the only Baker who believed her too.

#all american #all american cw #all american imagine #jordan baker #jordan baker imagine #spencer james #asher adams #olivia baker #jordan baker x reader

[distractedhistotech]

They talk about stuff

“You don’t have a lot in the way of food,” commented Lewis as he looked around the van.

“Ugh, I know! The usual space is being taken up by arms and tools!” complained Vivi.

“It was mostly junk food,” admitted Arthur.  “Neither of us are good enough cooks to make decent meals on the go.”

“I could cook for you,” offered Lewis.

“Oh, right, you mentioned that you were a chef,” recalled Vivi.

Lewis nodded. “Yeah, I really enjoyed it.  I haven’t really cooked anything since I died so I’d love to be able to cook for you guys.”

“If you do, I should warn you that Vivi and Mystery eat obscene amounts of food,” warned Arthur.

“Eh, I’m used to cooking large amounts of food,” pointed out Lewis.  “I just need supplies.”

“Oof, we might need to rework the budget for that,” commented Vivi.

“I dunno, it’d probably be cheaper than eating out all the time,” pointed out Arthur.

“Healthier too,” added Lewis.  “I might need a couple of tries to get the hang of it again though, especially if I cook using my ghost fire, which I’d really like to try.”

“I would literally pay to see that,” said Vivi.

“Uh, what if there are weird side effects from cooking with ghost fire?” asked Arthur.

“We still have that campfire stove, right?” asked Vivi.  “Dunno why.  It’s not like we ever use it.”

Lewis suddenly felt very concerned about his lovers’ nutritional health.  “I know how to use a camping stove so I can use that instead if you’d be more comfortable that way,” he offered.

“I’d still like to see you cook with your ghost fire,” commented Vivi.  “It’s just energy transfer so it’d probably be safe.”

“Maybe I could try making popcorn,” suggested Lewis.  “It won’t actually use fire, but there will be heat.”

Arthur thought for a moment.  “I guess it would work to see if anything odd might happen.”

“We do have a couple of bags of popcorn somewhere,” said Vivi.  “Wanna give it a try now?”

“Sure.”  Lewis started looking through the supplies. “So where are we going?  The Techno Con?”

“That’s not for a few days,” said Arthur.  “We’re gonna stop at a couple of other places on the way.”

“We’re gonna go to a Ripley’s museum today,” said Vivi.  “We might be cutting it a bit close, but we’ll definitely be able to make the ghost tour.  We have a couple of free days just in case, so we can explore the museum tomorrow if we don’t have time today.”

“We’ll probably get to Techno Con at least a day early,” continued Arthur.  “We figured we’d relax a little and go on a date…” Arthur glanced back at Lewis.

“Don’t worry. I’ll give you two some privacy if you need it,” said Lewis.  “Just leave me a book or something, and I’ll be happy.”  He groaned.  “You wouldn’t believe how boring it was without books…or TV…or music…or generally any sort of entertainment.”

Arthur physically recoiled.  “Ugh, yeah, that sounds awful.  Hold on, I have some audible books.  Or some really old cassettes of books.  Could you hand me my laptop?”

Lewis grabbed Arthur’s familiar laptop.  “Sure, here. Got any romance?  They’re my favorite.”

“Huh.  I would not have guessed that looking at you,” commented Vivi.

“I get that a lot for some reason.”

“I like sci-fi and action,” said Arthur.  “They’re might be one that’s more romantic than usual.”  He frowned.  “Actually, maybe you should look through them, but I’m not sure how that would work. Most ghosts seem to have a weird effect on electronics.”

“I haven’t really had a chance to try,” admitted Lewis.  “I have been curious though.”

Arthur handed his laptop back to Lewis.  “Why don’t we find out?  Don’t worry about the files.  I backed everything up on flash drives before we left.”

Lewis examined the laptop in confusion.  The wallpaper was a picture Vivi had taken of all of them heading into a dark house, except Lewis had somehow been removed from the picture.  Had someone photoshopped him out or something?  Or was this part of whatever was keeping him from telling Vivi and Arthur who he was?

It disturbing whatever it was.

Lewis decided to ignore it for a moment and just see what he could do.  “So…I don’t think the touch screen is working.”

“Makes sense. Those work by picking up on the tiny electrical signals at the tips of your fingers,” explained Arthur.

“I wonder if a ghost with electrical powers could use a touch screen,” wondered Vivi.

“Oh, the mousepad isn’t working either,” said Lewis.  “I think I can still type, but I don’t think I can use a computer without a mouse.”

“Oof, yeah, that’s difficult,” agreed Arthur.  “I guess we could see if a physical mouse would work, preferably one with a cable. Until then, I guess you’ll have to direct one of us from over our shoulders.”

“That’s fine. I’ve managed to survive…uh, exist this long without electronics.”

“Now, let’s see what we’ve got.”  Arthur scrolled through his list, reading a quick summary of the books he had on his computer.

Turns out he had the first Harry Potter book.  They figured it would last most of the day, and everyone liked it, so that’s what they went with.

“You know, I was adopted when my parents found me on their porch,” commented Lewis.

“Heh, seriously?” asked Vivi.

“Yeah, although I was, like, five at the time, and they tried to find my birth parents first,” continued Lewis.  “I could never remember anything from before that though.  Made figuring out where I came from kind of difficult.”

“I never really understood why stories use the cliché of leaving a baby on the front steps of a house for the owners to raise,” commented Arthur.  “It seems like most people would either call the police to report child abandonment and possibly endangerment or just take the kid to a nearby orphanage.”

“Plus it might be really cold,” added Vivi.  “I mean, this takes place during Halloween!  In Britain!  Given, I’ve never been there, but I think it would be pretty cold.”

Arthur nodded. “That too, plus unless you know the people really well, you have no idea how they’ll be treated.”

“Yeah, I was a lot luckier than Harry,” admitted Lewis.  “He probably would’ve been better off in an orphanage.”

“How come no doctors ever wondered about why Dudley had a pig tail?” questioned Arthur.  “I mean, humans do sometimes have tails, but they’re usually removed pretty early on, and they aren’t curly.”

“They probably did talk about it,” said Vivi.  “Remember, the books are told from Harry’s point of view, and he really doesn’t want anything to do with the Dursley’s.”

“Maybe Vernon bribed someone?” suggested Lewis.

“I dunno.  I can’t remember his position in the company he works for, but how much money could you make making drills?” questioned Arthur.

“Hey, some drills are pretty big,” pointed out Vivi.  “They gotta cost a lot.”

“Yeah, but a lot of that will be in materials and other resources used to make the drills,” argued Arthur.

“Maybe he’s embezzling from the drill company,” suggested Lewis.

That got laughs from Vivi and Arthur so he counted it as a win.

“Why wasn’t Peeves in any of the movies?” questioned Vivi.  “I mean he was in the videogames, so why not the movies?”

“Budget,” Arthur said simply.

“I’m pretty sure time was a problem too,” said Lewis.  “The movie was made before 2 hour movies were considered normal, so they didn’t want to make it too long.”

“Annoying, but it makes sense,” muttered Vivi.

It was surprisingly not awkward at all.

#Lewis pepper #Arthur Kingsman #Vivi Yukino #mystery the not dog #mystery skulls animated #msa #ot3 au #I need to come up with a good au name for this. #memory issues #random conversations

[obi-wan-kanbonemi]

Ruin My Career

Obi Wan Kenobi x Reader Spy/Modern AU

I’m not really proud of this one, but oh well, there’s always room for improvement and there’s always gonna be off days

sorry for typoes

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Keep your eyes on the rode Kenobi....,” You spoke out as you clutched the bottom of your long, black gown that glittered ever so slightly from the passing cars on the opposite side of the rode. Rolling it up on your upper thigh, you began to strap down a harness, hands expertly grabbing your gun and loading the magazine in it and placing it on safety before harnessing it, dress being pushed back down.

“Looking at your legs is the last thing on my mind...” Obi Wan spoke out with a little wink as he reached down to grab his own gun, it disappearing within the jacket of the smart suit that was tailored perfectly for his body, but upon that thought you only blushed and looked away from the body of Obi Wan Kenobi.

You would have to complain to your agency once this shit show was over and done with. The Mandalore Agency was who your worked for, filled with the most toughest women spies internationally. It would forever be your home, your family. Obi Wan on the other hand resided with the Coruscant Agency and that agency seemed like an entirely different world than your own.

“Don’t try to fall in love with me, it being against your code and all. I don’t want to be the naughty one that ruins your whole career....,” You whipped back with a playful pout, earning a roll of the eyes from the man beside you who finally began to slow down before the gigantic mansion where already party goers were slinking through the front door. “Alright, the information is on the fifth floor, down the hall and to the right, try not to set off the alarm at the door, once in break into the computer and download anything thats on there, we can look through it later. I’ll guide you through any hiccups through our earpieces, Anakin should also be on the same frequency too and has the whole layout of the building memorized as well,” You explained quickly as the valet stepped forward opening your door and helping you out, Obi Wan tossing the keys to him before offering his arm to you.

“Yes, I know, and then electronically send it to Anakin back at base” Obi Wan whispered into your ear as he led you up the grand staircase, his hushed voice sending a shiver down your spine. You wished you could have done this all on your own, but with your agency and his having to always manage to work closely together, you were always stuck working with the handsome man beside you. Once inside with the many lights and the chandeliers washing their light upon you, he couldn’t help but let his eyes give a quick scan of you before looking ahead “And might I add that you are absolutely stunning?” He said with a slight smirk on his face, gaining a scoff from you.

“Guys, can you two stop flirting and save that for later? I got a movie to catch or my ass is grass,” Came in the voice of Anakin through the earpieces, earning suppressed laughter from you and Obi Wan.

“I’m going to to the bar for a drink...,” You spoke to Obi Wan, already sashaying your way to perch yourself at the bar, Obi Wan taking that as his cue to sneak through the party goers and to the empty staircase, already making the dreadful ascension up.

“Can I buy you another drink, beautiful?” Came out a voice beside you. You letting out a few curses in your head, you slowly turned toward the older gentleman that had to choose to bother you out of all the women lounging about in the grand ballroom.

“Uh, be careful, that's the guy we really don’t want to catch on to what's fucking going on...” Anakin spoke through the earpiece nervously, Obi Wan panting slightly as he still hurried up the stairs. “He’s the guy our agencies are getting fed up with,” Anakin explained quickly.

“Oh, so it's fine when a sleazeball calls you beautiful and not me?” Obi Wan sighs in relief as he finally stood before the correct door, his hands already gloved and whipping out tools to begin dissembling the security system on the door. Though the man couldn’t help but look from side to side and behind him in a paranoid manor as he tried to silently bust into the room, a thin layer of sweat already appearing upon his brow.

“Obi Wan, that is not what we should be worrying about, now be careful not to trigger that alarm. Don’t drink any of that stuff he got you,” Anakin ordered, but all you could do was listen to their bickering and commotion as you thanked the man for the drink as he handed it to you, you slowly bringing it up to your lips and faking a sip as Anakin instructed, lipstick staining the rim of the glass.

“Alright, I’m in...” Obi Wan announced quitely as he slowly stepped into the empty room before making his way up to the computer, gloved hands wiping the sweat upon his brow. Sitting in the chair that sat before it, his fingers were already quick at working at the keyboard, bypassing the system and already beginning to download and transfer the information and send it to Anakin. “Just a few more files and we are out of here” Obi Wan spoke out, whipping a few nervous looks over his shoulder and past the doorway and to the empty hallway. “Got it” he said with a sigh of reief, already silently moving out and onto the hallway to make his way back down the stairs.

“Hey you! Stop right there!” shouted voices at Obi Wan, which in return his gun was whipped out, leaving the three individuals dead before him. “Um, guys, we got to go...” Obi Wan yelled into the earpiece as he was already racing down the stairs, heavy footsteps and gun fire following closely behind him.

“I’m sorry, but I got to go, maybe I’ll catch you around...” You spoke out as you lifted yourself slowly from your seat, offering a flirty smile to the individual, but instantly ducked for cover once the other whipped out a gun. “Shit, Obi Wan! Hurry up!” you shouted, the party goers screaming as many bullets were pelted in your direction.

Obi wan on the other hand finally reached the room that you were located in, finally spotting you and sliding to where you were positioned at, already peeking over the bar that the two of you hid behind, shooting the foes that were after you. “Well hello there!” He said with a grin upon his face as he settled back down next to you to avoid the rapid fire of bullets that were now being shot at you.

“Guys, I’m programming the car on a route behind you, just jump through those big windows in the back” Anakin instructed, frantic clicking being heard as he spoke, possibly from him frantically typing away at his computers.

“You ready?” you asked, fear and nervousness evident on your face.

“Darling, I’m always ready!” Obi Wan said as he grabbed ahold of your hand, sprinting with you to the huge glass windows that Anakin instructed you to exit through, bullet shattering the glass and the both of you jumping out and falling to the grass below, trusted car rumbling with its engine on. Hurriedly the two of your hopped in, car automatically speeding off as the two of you caught your breath, looking at each other before cheering and hollering, arms falling around each other and soon finding each other in a heated kiss, hands clutching onto each other and roaming through each other’s hair.

“Guys...can you two not? I’m young and impressionable....” Anakin spoke up, face now appearing on the screen at the car’s radio, you and Obi Wan laughing as the two of you pulled away, pulling out your earpieces and turning them off. The poor boy, stationed up in his room covered in many movie and band posters and possibly sitting there in his pajamas having to help and sit through those two spy’s make out session. You would have to remember how a teenager was even allowed to work for Obi Wan’s agency, but right now you were too intoxicated by the handsome man at your side and the way his lips were just passionatelyon yours earlier.

“Anakin, go get your teenage ass on that date you had” You spoke with a laugh, cutting off his next sentence as you switched him off.

“Now come here and ruin my career, my sweet,” Hummed Obi Wan, earning a smirk from you as he now had control of the car, you smirking as you now pressed your lips to his neck. It wasn’t long until that very car pulled over onto the side of the back road it was on, the occupants preoccupied.

#star wars #ben kenobi #obi wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan-kenobi-x-reader #star wars obi wan #star wars prequals #anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #ewan mcgregor #star wars x you #star wars x reader #star wars x y/n

[softbiker]

Born to Run - Chapter 9

Warnings: a couple of bad words I think

Word count: 1.7k (sorry for the short chapter!)

A/N: Apologies for getting this out a day late you guys. This week was something else. Anyways, here’s a couple thousand words of mutual pining! Enjoy responsibly. The slow burn continues, and I would apologize for continuing to string you guys along, except I am literally not sorry. 

She chewed on the cap of her pen, staring at the purchase orders in front of her. Her eyes slid over the same lines again and again, not reading a single word. Numbers and letters blurred together across the page. She didn’t even realize she wasn’t reading them.

It had been like this all morning - her brain couldn’t stay here, in the fluorescent sterility of her clinic, behind a desk, in an exam room. Her patients’ voices floated through her ears, just white noise humming in the back of her mind. She kept pinching her leg, trying to bring herself to the present, but nothing she did worked. She couldn’t focus on anything, anything that wasn’t-

-Bucky’s waist between her arms, squeezing him tight as she saw the goosebumps raise on his arms in the night air. His jacket still sat on her shoulders, keeping her warm on the back of the bike as they sped home, only two of them, painting country roads in light and sound-

The pen dropped to the desk, startling her. Her cheeks heated with embarrassment, though thankfully no one was around to see her driven to distraction at the mere thought of-

No. Nope. Not right now.

This is so unprofessional, she scolded herself.

Charlotte poked her head into the office with a knock, announcing another patient this afternoon, and Y/N sighed and pushed back from her desk. Tried to get her head in the game. In the exam room, her patient (a routine checkup) babbled about the corn harvest and the price of tractor tires and something else she’s not listening to - snapping her gloves into the trashcan and-

-the door opened softly, him tugging her along with their hands still laced together, the clubhouse dark and quiet, and they’re hushing their giggles like teenagers who have things like curfews and bedtimes. She feels a little dizzy watching him smile over his shoulder at her, and there is something in it, in the way his eyes are so wide and bright in the dark, and when she bumps into him by accident - motorcycle legs unsteady - he wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her through the halls-

“- a whole month?”

The patient has her eyebrows lifted, expectant.

“...I’m so sorry, what did you just say?”

“I was just saying that it was hard to believe we’ve gone nearly a month without rain,” the woman said, mouth curling into a sly smile.

“Oh. Oh, yes you’re right.” Y/N shook her head. “At least the harvest is nearly done anyway.”

“Mm. So what’s his name?”

“Who?”

“You know who - the man you’ve been thinking about this entire appointment instead of listening to me talk about corn.”

Y/N floundered, tripping over herself in an attempt to deflect the question.

“No one, it’s nobody,” she shook her head vehemently. “I’m just a little tired today, so I’m spacing out a little. I’m very sorry about that, so unprofessional of me.”

“Mhm.”

**********

“Hey! Earth to Barnes!”

“Huh?”

“I’ve asked you three times where you put the toolbox.” Sam had his arms crossed, smirking. “Too busy thinking ‘bout your girl?”

“She is not my girl, Wilson.”

“You sure about that?”

-she shushed him for laughing out loud when she tripped over the common room couch, but she couldn’t stop smiling either, and he couldn’t believe how much she glowed even in the dark. Couldn’t pull his hand away from where their fingers had been laced tightly since they were sitting together on the grass-

“Yeah, I’m pretty damn sure.”

“Whatever you say man, I’m just looking for a toolbox.”

Bucky pointed behind the bar, where he knew that Clint would have left the tools after working on a leaky sink.

“Probably back there. Barton was using them.”

“See? That wasn’t so hard.”

Bucky didn’t reply, just rolled his eyes and went back to cleaning his gun. He always carried, part of the job, but now that he was practically serving as Y/N’s bodyguard, he checked and re-checked his weapons on a daily basis. He was carrying 2 extra knives in his boots now, besides the one in his belt, and he sharpened them every other day. It soothed him a little, the routine preparation, knowing he was in control. That would keep her safe.

And then, afterwards, he could tell her everything. Get it all off his chest. If she was still listening after that, then maybe they could start with dinner. Or a movie. Something normal, low pressure - he was terrified of scaring her away.

Staring at the can of grease on the coffee table in front of him, his mind couldn’t help slipping back to-

-standing in the hallway outside her door, him leaning against the wall and smiling at her, still holding her hand. Her eyes were bright as she smiled back at him, their faces only inches apart, noses almost touching. He wanted to kiss that smile, and he thought, with that look in her eyes, that she might let him-

The grease can clatters off the coffee table, knocked over by a twitch in his hand. He cursed and tried to snatch it up before too much of the oily stuff leaks out onto the rug underneath the coffee table, but he could already see the inky stain soaking into the fibers. Nat was going to have his head.

**********

There were stacks of files on her desk to go through, all of them old patients; she volunteered to help out with the clerical side of it all, sorting out the patient files, transferring or shredding whatever was no longer needed. It was tedious, but so was sitting alone and refreshing her inbox. 

Y/N shuffled another file over to the ‘Keep’ stack, having made her own notes on the patient’s chart just this morning. She glanced at the pile that hadn’t been done yet - it mounded on her desk, threatening to spill over into chaos on the floor. She should have been grateful for the distraction - for anything that would keep her from thinking about Bucky as she had done all morning. But as the afternoon wore on so did her boredom, tugging at the fuzzy edges of her mind and making her stare at the clock as the minutes ticked on, slowly bringing the end of her day.

She was rescued by a knock on her office door, Stacey poking her head in.

“You’ve got a walk-in. I think he’s been here before.”

“Alright, thanks.”

Y/N tugged on her lab coat and hung her stethoscope around her neck as she stood from her desk. The digital clock in the corner of her computer screen blinked 3:58 p.m. Only another hour or so until Bucky would pick her up…

She snapped her fingers and wrenched herself back to the present, however unwillingly. There was a patient waiting. A little flag outside the door told her he was in exam room 2. She took the little chart from its place by the door, flipping it back to take a quick look before she went in.

He looked up at her when the door opened, giving her that same sleazy smile she remembered.

“Hey, doc,” Rumlow waved with his fingers. “Long time, no see, huh?”

**********

They were supposed to be working on Steve’s bike, getting some overdue maintenance done on her before their big meeting this week. Stark and a couple of his guys were coming down, starting the prep for their final move on this mission.

As if reading his mind, Sam spoke up.

“You ever think about what you’re gonna do when this is over?”

“I think you asked me that the first time we met,” Bucky grunts, hefting the toolbox from its place in the garage. “Back in the Army.”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Got me in a lot of shit since then.”

“Didn’t answer the question.”

Steve’s bike sat propped up in the middle of the garage, and Bucky dropped the toolbox next to it, grabbing the oilcloth slung over the seat. He didn’t look back at Sam.

“Course I think about it,” he shrugged. “But I still don’t know.”

“Hm. I figured you would need to go see about a girl.”

Bucky rolled his eyes but dropped to his knees, flipping the box open. His voice was softer when he spoke. 

“She’s not really looking to build a life here, you know.”

“So? Neither are you. Just part of the job.” Sam shook his head. “I swear you are the biggest fucking idiot if you-”

Bucky threw the dirty oil rag at him over his shoulder. Sam squawked as the rag hit him in the face, and dove for Bucky, the two of them grappling on the drop cloth spread over the garage floor. Though both men were strong and fit, Bucky had the advantage of sheer muscle mass, and managed to pin Sam on his stomach with a hand twisted behind him.

“Say ‘uncle’.”

“Alright, alright asshole - uncle, okay? Uncle!”

Bucky shifted his weight and eased up onto his knees, letting Sam roll over. He laid there, flat on his back, for a moment and gave Bucky the finger.

“You started it.”

“Hey idiots!” It was Natasha, standing in the doorway, rolling her eyes. “Get in here. You’ve gotta see this.”

Sharing a look, they scrambled to their feet and followed her out of the garage, down the hall to the common area. Most of their fellow Avengers were already there; Steve, Clint, and Wanda were clustered together on the couch, with Nat behind them, leaning over the back. Thor, recently returned from a cross-country ride with his brother, sat in the armchair, rubbing his chin.

“What is it?” Sam asked, making his way around the couch. “What’s going on?”

Steve looked up, his brows dark and drawn together. His eyes slid past Sam and straight to Bucky, and the look softened a little with...was that pity? Bucky’s stomach dropped.

“What is it, Steve?”

Steve swallowed harshly, licking his lips. Glancing down, Bucky noticed he was holding a piece of paper in his hands, small and square like a notepad.

“Buck…”

“Fuck, Steve, what?”

Blowing a breath out his lips, Steve held out the note to him.

“This was left on the front door - not sure when, we just found it 10 minutes ago.”

The paper was from a notepad - a prescription pad, one from the clinic, with Y/N’s name printed across the top in a small, neat font. No prescription was written on it, though. A skull and crossbones was drawn in crisp, black marker, bleeding through the thin sheet. At the bottom, a short note:

SEE YOU SOON, DOC.

#bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #avengers #avengers fic #marvel #marvel fic #biker!bucky #biker!bucky au

[sweetdejun]

coterie: the mini rubik’s cube (2/2)

gang!x1 x fem!reader

synopsis: you’re an ordinary girl, with an ordinary life. but what happens when you catch the gang that is famous for keeping their deeds under the table, in action?

coterie’s masterlist can be found here

pairing: kim wooseok and y/n

a/n: brief mentions of bullying, cursing, and an overall emotional rollercoaster. it’s good to be back :))

so within the next few weeks, wooseok got a new desktop mailed in along with a second swivel chair. you distinctly remember wooseok calling you over to the room, and when you stood at the doorway, he sent a broad smile your way before pushing a cardboard box over to you. “what’s this?” “oh, it’s your swivel chair that you’re going to put together.” you scoffed, “what, you’re just gonna watch me?” “not really,” he motioned his head towards the desktop. “I'm gonna set this up for you, so have fun doing that!” he handed you the toolbox and gave you one last thumbs-up before turning around to your computer. huffing, a strand of hair flew in front of your face as you sat cross-legged in front of the box and eventually assembled your new chair. the only sounds that were heard in the room were wooseok’s fast typing and your small sighs as you’d exhale after putting together one piece at a time. so naturally, to get rid of the silent and awkward air surrounding the two of you, you started the conversation. “so, I was wondering, how did you get all that information on me? like where I went to school, and what my schedule and stuff were like?” wooseok’s typing speed didn’t seize but he continued, “I’m a hacker, that’s what I do.” you snorted at his comment, and this caused him to turn his head around fully to face you. “what’s so funny?” “you sound like the guy from agent cody banks, bro,” you guffawed and shook your head. wooseok just blinked back at you. “who?” this caused you to put down the wheel and screwdriver. you looked up at him, your jaw dropped. “what? you’ve never seen that movie before? alright, wooseok, the first assignment from me to you: we have to have you watch agent cody banks. it’s a classic movie.” you started telling wooseok all about your love for movies, and how you grew up watching some of the films your parents found to be iconic and then movies that were iconic in your generation. you seemed to be so lost in your own little world, that you didn’t notice wooseok was now finished setting up what he needed to and was not diligently listening to you, watching the small twinge in your eyes only grow brighter as you progressed further. “oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to bore you or anything. movies just get me so riled up,” “no, I didn’t mind it or anything.” you were caught off guard by the tone in his voice. “you know, you’re different now than what you were two weeks ago. I was scared to even talk to you,” you mumbled the last part to yourself, hoping he wouldn’t hear but alas, a bitter smile made its way onto wooseok’s face, “yeah, well I haven’t had the best experiences with people, in general.” you did get him to watch cody banks later that night though, which he enjoyed (you thought you saw him smile).

that was one of the few non-work-related conversations you’d had with him. well, if you count work as wooseok walking you through the programs, and file systems, then yeah. but you hadn’t gotten your first real assignment until a few days later. it was three in the morning and you were sleeping soundly when you heard rapping against your door. you groggily opened your eyes, sight still blurry from sleep and you staggered out of bed, the corner of the bed bumping you just above the knee. “ah, fuck,” you mutter, rubbing the inflicted area as you continue to the door. you open the door, and squint, making out wooseok standing there, chest heaving. “what in the world?” wooseok enters your room, pushing you to the side. “may I ask what you’re doing in here, at 3 AM?” “I’ve got your first assignment, and we need this done as soon as possible.” it took you some time to comprehend his words. “wait,” you start, “you want us to start on this now?” wooseok nodded as if it was obvious. if your eyes didn’t shoot open before, they were now. “so hurry up, come out and into the computer room, I’ll give you the details there.” “can I at least bring a coffee with me?” for a second, wooseok squinted, then grunted, “fine,” before walking out of your room, leaving the door ajar. “uh, thanks for closing the door,” you grumbled, before changing out of your pajamas and fixing your appearance a bit. you went into the kitchen and began making your coffee (you only got around halfway through, though, because soonja came into the kitchen, helping you make your coffee. you thanked her and insisted she go back to sleep, but she refused until the coffee mug was in your hands.) slowly, you walked to the room with steady steps, and knocked with your other hand. seconds later, the door gently swung open and you made your way to your chair, silently praying that it wouldn’t fall apart then and there (it didn’t). after taking a swig of your coffee, you set it down and pivot your seat to face wooseok, and before you can ask him anything, he starts, “seungwoo needs some details on the military leaders, because he’s about to send dongpyo to one of their bases and we need all the information we can possibly get.” then he jotted down a list of things he needed you to get. you scanned the note and it seemed like you only needed to find who this guy was affiliated with, in terms of his friend circles. not bad, you think, before getting to work. so from three to almost five-thirty, you’re hopeless, and although wooseok offered to help, a part of you wanted to do this by yourself. so you refused, to which wooseok nodded, then said, “I’ll be heading to bed, let me know when you’re done.” you mumbled a ‘yep’, then kept going. it’s not like you didn’t know what you were doing, you thought, it’s just slightly more difficult than you perceived it to be. luckily, wooseok left you something similar to a cheat sheet, and you quickly were able to get the information. 

at this point, you were about seventy-five percent done, and just finished research on the military leader’s favorite bar’s owner, when something striked you as interesting. the bar owner was from the same high school as jinhyuk. lee jinhyuk; the guy who got you into this whole thing. after jotting that information down, you couldn’t help but let your curiosity get the best of you, as you clicked on the high school name. loads of records popped up on your screen, from student yearbooks to records on all the staff from the past 10 years and the student incidents and records. you set out to look for jinhyuk’s stuff, again, out of sheer curiosity. only then were you surprised with what you saw on the screen. a picture of jinhyuk, tall and lanky as he still was with his arm hooked around wooseok. he still looks the same, albeit his features have definitely sharpened since and dare you say, he looks much more attractive now. you don’t know if it was from the lack of sleep or the caffeine, but you pieced some things together: jinhyuk did mention to you that he was close with one of the x1 members, and you did ask wooseok how he got the information on you, it’s clear that jinhyuk and wooseok are still quite close and they probably share everything with each other. your curiosity sunk into you further, and then you went back to the database before searching up wooseok’s name under the high school. the first thing you saw made your heart stop; it was an article labeled, “student runs away from school after severe bullying”, and reading it, you learned that around five or six years ago, wooseok had transferred midway through his senior year to this high school, for “personal reasons”, and people had called him a freak and had bullied him, pulling all sorts of stunts on him. one day he just ran away from school. as you read the finishing sentence of the article, your eyes started to sting and you couldn’t look at it anymore. you quickly closed the tab, gathered all your information and sent it right away to wooseok, shaky hands hovering over the keyboard. you press enter, clear your throat and whisper ‘going to bed’ because you can’t trust your voice right now, and you hurry on back to your room, where after some difficulty, you’re able to find your languor once more and fall back into a deep slumber. 

when wooseok and you began opening up towards one another, he showed you a different side of himself. he was no longer the asshole you made him out to be when you first met him; rather, he made a complete 360 of his original impression. but now, you understand why that may have been hard for him. your mind wanders off into these thoughts and you don’t notice that wooseok has been calling you for some time. it’s only when he barges into your room, finding you on your bed, eyeing the blank phone screen in front of you. “y/n,” you flinch, and look up to meet wooseok’s concerned gaze. “what’s going on? I’ve been calling you for a while,” you clear your throat and snap your eyes away from his, before saying, “sorry, I was thinking about something, did you need something?” wooseok’s eyebrows furrowed at your sudden movements. why did it seem like you were avoiding him? had he done something wrong? maybe he upset you? these questions began to hiss at his anxious state, that he was holding together in front of you. “uh, I just wanted to make sure you didn’t have any problems last night, looking for the information,” he starts, but you stop him, reassuring him with a smile too wide and a nod too positive, but it’s convincing enough as he nods quietly, before muttering that he’s gonna go, then gently closes your door as he leaves the room. you let go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding and push your hair back with your hands. it’s hard to avoid wooseok ever since you learned of his past; you see him every day, now, because you kinda have to. not that you don’t want to see him because of course, that’s not the case. in fact, you’d say you were growing quite fond of the man for some time now. which is why avoiding him has grown to be such a difficult task for you. but seeing him will only remind you of what he’s been through. you felt guilty for learning all this information without his being aware of it, and it felt like you violated his privacy. and you did, and so whenever you saw him, that guilt went off in your head like an alarm, a reminder.

you were paying the price for your curiosity, so much so that one night, you couldn’t sleep. it was like the guilt was eating you away, so much so that it was now in the way if your everyday life. you kept your conversations with wooseok minimal and silently did as you were told because you were afraid that it would be a matter of sentences before you burst. you grunted, burying your face in your hands as you paced back and forth in your room before you decided to put on your robe and slippers, then headed out to the backyard. the sounds of the cicadas and the stars shining in the sky managed to calm your jittery state, and your breathing relaxed a bit until you heard, “y/n? what are you doing out here?” you turn and lo and behold, by the back door leaned a relaxed wooseok, hands stuffed in his pockets. “couldn’t sleep. I had to clear my head,” you tell him, turning your head back to the sky. his footsteps are approaching closer and the sound of your heartbeat starts to reach your ears. then, his hand rests on your shoulder and you turn slowly to face him. “what’s going on? you’ve been distant for some time, you never talk to me anymore... did I say something?” you shake your head instantly, reassuring him that he didn’t do anything wrong, but then his voice grows louder, “well, why have you not been talking to me then? you’re avoiding me and I don’t even know why!” shocked by the sudden outburst, you don’t realize that tears are welling up in your eyes and wooseok’s widen. “I-I’m sorry, oh no, no, please don’t cry,” and wooseok, panicked, begins walking backward. enough is enough you think, and you wipe your eyes violently and whisper, “wooseok, sit, I’ll tell you everything.” and so you do. as you tell him the story, you notice the changes on wooseok’s face, this being one of the only times he’s expressed emotions as vividly as he ever did with you. “I didn’t want to say anything because I felt guilty. I felt like I did something I shouldn’t have, and I’m really sorry,” but he cuts you off, emotion thick in his voice, “no, I’m sorry. I get it, you were only curious. I transferred midway through the year because my family was breaking apart. my dad used to gamble, and he gambled away our home. my mom was fed up, so she took me and my younger brother and we ran away from him. I don’t talk about this a lot; in fact, I only told seungwoo about it, but, the reason I left was... was because it was suffocating living like that. wake up in the morning and go to school, only for people to push you around, take your stuff, and then the whole cycle repeats itself. I wasn’t alone, though, because I had jinhyuk. I spoke to him before I left and I told him I would leave, of course; he’s more than a friend, he’s like a brother to me. that’s why he and I are still as close as we were. but anyway, that’s why I have problems when there are circumstances in which my personal space gets violated. I don’t like it when people touch my things, I don’t like it when things aren’t a certain way and seungwoo knew this before he offered me this position.

“I get it, you were only curious, that’s why you made the decisions that you did. thank you for telling me, I thought I had done something to make you upset, and so I felt .” wooseok finished, looking up to see you silently crying. his hands reach up and wipe your tears, and you choke back a sob. “why are you crying?” “because you didn’t deserve any of that, you have such a good heart, wooseok. you are such a good person and it’s upsetting to know what you went through.” then you wrapped your arms around him, tucking your face into his neck. at first, wooseok doesn’t know what to do, body freezing at your sudden action, but then he slowly melts into your embrace and reciprocates it. after you calm down a bit, you push away from his embrace, bashfully gazing to the ground. “I’m sorry about that, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything,” and wooseok smiles at your cute form. “y/n,” you look up at him through your lashes and see the grin on his mouth and wow, you didn’t think he could get more attractive. “I like you.” and although a pink hue settles on his ears, he continues, “at first I was upset you picked me. I thought I would teach you stuff, and you would just mess things up all the time, and I would have to correct your mistakes, but you proved me wrong. you’re one smart and kind young woman and I’ve had the honor and privilege to work with you. but with time, your quirks and habits grew on me, and well, so did you. so tell me, will you go out with me?” your heartbeat picks up its pace again and leaning in, you plant a small peck on his lips, and before you can pull away, wooseok’s arms wrap around your frame, pulling you in and deepening the kiss. then wooseok pulls back, cupping your face in his palm to lock his eyes with your own. “yes, kim wooseok, I’d like that very much.” and it is safe to say that since that night, you’ve experienced nothing but beautiful, radiant days, and peaceful, serene nights.

a/n: ahhh that’s over! thanks for waiting, I hope you guys liked it! this was written after my midterms so some parts of the storyline may seem a bit wonky, just fyi, but that’s all for wooseok. now, who do we want to see next? did you think it was going to be wooseok? if not, who did you associate with the mini rubik’s cube? comment down below <3

#kim wooseok #wooseok fluff #kim wooseok fluff #x1 wooseok #wooseok #kim wooseok angst #x1 series #x1 #X1 aus #x1 au #x1 angst #x1 writings #coterie #coterie by sweetdejun #sweetdejun #비상: QUANTUM LEAP #x1 quantum leap #quantum leap au #quantum leap #kpop angst #kpop writing #kpop fluff #kpop #kpop aus #kpop au #kpop series

[itsgabriel-james]

Hesitate || Self Para

Walking through an empty school hallway was refreshing for Gabe. The past few weeks had been eventful. Students still pointed and stared and whispered. They did it towards him and towards Maddie. It was becoming less and less each day at least.

As Gabe headed to his guidance counselor’s office, he was glad she wanted to meet with him during study hall and not in between classes. He took the long way, feeling a sense of relief of how quiet the hallways could get.

Knock knock. Gabe half smiled as he reached the counselor’s office and Mrs. Amston looked up from behind her computer. “Oh Gabe, perfect timing.” She pushed her glasses to rest on her head and began searching through her filing cabinet. “Well come on in,” she said.

Gabe sat down in the chair across from her desk and watched as she pulled his file out of the cabinet and set it on her desk. “So, how has everything been?” She grinned at him, almost as if she forgot the drama he was previously involved in.

He raised his brows as he slumped in the chair, “It’s been better. Maddie still doesn’t like to be around everyone, but.. I’m still here for her.”

Mrs. Amston nodded her head slowly, “Okay, but how are things going with you?”

Gabe shrugged his shoulders, “They’re okay. Everyone is applying for colleges and stuff. I applied to a few. URI, Fairfield, UConn, Penn State, Amherst.. Boston U..”

Mrs. Amston listened to Gabe with intent before opening his file, “Gabe, those are great schools. And I encourage you to apply to great schools. I fear though, that your grades may prevent you from attending those great schools. Some of those schools have a low acceptance rate as it is, and if your grades and attendance are low, they won’t give your application a second look.”

Gabe furrowed his eyebrows as he listened to her, “Well my attendance has actually been pretty good since I joined the team. And I can get my grades up, it’s not even the second semester.”

Mrs. Amston let out a soft breath, “Unfortunately it’s not this year the schools are going to pay most attention to. It’s last year’s.”

Gabe clenched his jaw, beginning to feel frustrated with the news. He had been working his ass off to keep at least constant C’s in his classes to stay on the team.

“My dad died last year. I transferred in the middle of the school year! They’d understand wouldn’t they?” He scoffed, sitting up in the chair.

“Yes, of course they understand that, but your grades at your previous school suffered before that, Gabe. I’m not saying you won’t be able to go to the schools you want. I just think you should also apply to local community colleges, as a back up,” she told him, pressing her lips together.

Gabe stared at her for a moment, trying to process everything she was saying. He was never that bad of a student. He didn’t think all the times he skipped or assignments he failed would catch up to him so fast.

“Look, I will be happy to write reference letters for you, and I already know that Coach will, as well as Principal Ward. We will do our best to get you into one of the schools in your top choices,” she reassured him.

Gabe fought a frown and nodded only slightly, not sure if he felt like talking about it anymore.

“And I know this may be none of my business, but I want to make sure not to get your hopes up. I know your mother is out of the picture, and you have been staying with Principal Ward. Do you have the funds to pay for college? Has he discussed paying for you? Or at least co signing for your financial aid? Or did your dad leave you enough for college,” she raised her eyebrows.

As soon as she mentioned it, Gabe felt his stomach turn. He stared at her desk, the details becoming blurry as he zoned out. Could he expect Harrison to pay for him to go to college while already having to pay for Madison? And after he bought him a car. He had his inheritance from his dad, and it definitely wasn’t enough to pay for all four years of any of the schools he applied for. He would be buried in loans for years. Was he good enough to get a football scholarship? Probably not, he only played one season. Maybe there was more money somewhere? Did he have to call the attorney to go back into his dad’s will? There had to be a college savings account for him somewhere. Or did his dad never bother? Did he just know that his son would be a high school failure? Maybe he shouldn’t even bother finishing high school. It would probably be easier for him to get his GED and work for the rest of his life. Maybe his mother-

“Gabe?” Mrs. Amston looked at him with concern.

He blinked a few times and looked at her before standing up abruptly, “I can’t..” He shrugged it off and mumbled something incoherent before slinging his backpack over his shoulder and leaving her office.

He ignored her pleas for him to come back and pretty soon he couldn’t hear them. Gabe quickly headed to the exit as the hallways filled with students switching classes. He forgot he was supposed to meet up with Maddie to walk her to her next class as he ran out to his car.

Before he knew it he was on the way to his family attorney’s office. He parked the car outside if the building he spent a lot of time at when his father died. Gabe nearly stormed past the receptionist, ignoring her urging him to stop.

“I need to see my dad’s will,” Gabe said with little breath, the attorney standing up in alarm.

“Gabe James, I wasn’t expecting you. Did we have a meeting?” Mr. Cooper asked with surprise.

“I need to see my dad’s will. My inheritance, was that it? Was that everything? Am I gonna be able to pay for college?” He rattled off quickly.

Mr. Cooper let out a soft breath and headed over to the door to his office, closing it. “Gabe, have a seat, please. Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee?”

Gabe sat down and shook his head, “No, I just want to know if I’m going to be able to pay for college.”

Mr. Cooper nods his head before taking a seat, “To answer your question, Gabe, yes. You will be able to pay for college.”

Gabe thought he would feel the weight lift off his chest, but it only got heavier.

“You are a beneficiary of a trust fund. The only catch is that you don’t have access to it until you turn 21,” he finished.

Gabe bit down on his lip, “Even though my dad died? That age limit doesn’t get overruled?”

“It would,” Mr. Cooper cleared his throat and pulled out the Will and the bank trust fund information. “If both co-signers were deceased. Your mother is the other trustee.”

Gabe felt the weight on his chest grow heavier as he listened to the attorney.

“Unfortunately without your mother’s permission you don’t have access to your assets until you turn 21,” he says.

“Can I have the documents, please?” He raises his eyebrows.

Mr. Cooper gave a nod of his head before making copies of the documents and handing them to Gabe. “Do you need anything, Gabe? How are you doing?”

“You’ve given me what I need. Thank you, Mr. Cooper. You can send me a bill,” he says before standing up.

“This one is on the house,” Mr. Cooper reassured Gabe as he watched him quickly exit his office.

Gabe couldn’t believe it as he got back into his car. He leaned his head back against the head rest and exhaled heavily. His drug addict mother was the remaining trustee on money he didn’t even know he had. Money he could use for college, for an apartment, to pay back Harrison one day. He knew what he had to do. He had to find her and get her signature.

#self para

[end-o-the-line]

Trying to track the Winter Soldier through both canon and history....god help me....

As a follow up to the First Avenger timeline, insomnia brought us here.

February 1945 - Bucky falls from a goddamn train in the Alps. We've gone over this.

Okay, we know Bucky was in Russian/Hydra hands by early '45. The first thing to look into is Operation Paperclip. You may recognize this from TWS, but it was not made up by the MCU, it was a real thing. In May of 1945, a U.S. Army Major Robert B. Staver sent a telegram to the Pentagon, pushing the idea of capturing and using German scientists toward the war effort in the Pacific. They proceeded to do just that, housing captured scientists in southern Bavaria. So smart, keeping the Nazis in Germany and stuff. By November, the project had been renamed Operation Paperclip. For secrecy?

Most of the early objectives of this operation were to keep the German scientists from emigrating to non-’murica friendly countries and continuing their work. Eventually, the US realized it was just fine for them to continue their work, as long as it was for them. By the end of the war, Germans with 'marketable' knowledge were being 'recruited' through ‘orders’ for their families and such to report to Allied bases; the important ones were then moved to ‘secret’ locations (one was code-named DUSTBIN and it was proooobably in the desert near Los Alamos idk) and ‘questioned’; detained for months at a time.

Some of these scientists were later removed and charged for their war-time actions. Since we know Zola was still part of SHIELD when he built the nightmare computer in the 70's, he obviously wasn't one of those charged with the atrocities he committed. None of the scientists were free to roam until at least '47. That leads us to believe that Zola couldn't have gotten his hands back on Bucky for at least 2 years, likely more. It's possible Zola never got his hands on Bucky again, if you take Bucky's memories as more like amalgams and assume he just uses Zola as the face for any and all faceless scientists he encountered. It's not out of the question.

Moving on. Bucky is found by Russians, and since we've been over that too, needless to say it's highly unlikely that many Russians were deserting the Red Army to go be buddies with a mostly Nazi-associated Hydra operation at the end of WW2. The Russians and the Nazis were not friends, mmkay, Russia lost nearly 40 million people during WW2, and only 9 million of those were in combat. But, by the time the first traces of the Cold War come around, Russians in Hydra would definitely be a thing, just like Americans in Hydra would be a thing. Again, the date 1947 comes into play, as that's a pretty accepted start date of the Cold War tensions. But.

But.

Bucky was found by some very lost Russians and brought in, where they took him fuck knows where to pimp his ride. There's not much we can take from the MCU with the meager flashbacks, but there is a very clear timeline from Captain America: Winter Soldier Vol. 2. I'll fill in what I can from the MCU, since that's what this is focusing on, and rely on the comics for what I can’t.

March 23, 1945 - Bucky's KGB file is created by the KGB branch in Dnepropetrovsk Region, USSR, which in 2016 became known as Dnipro Raion, Ukraine. (**Thanks to Morrighan on AO3 for this translation!) Of note is the giant Dnipropetrovsk Automobile Factory, built by German POWs starting in December of 1945, which was planned by the Russians as a secret military machining plant. It wasn't under way at this particular date, but the supplies for such large industry were, and it stands to reason the future Fist of Hydra would have been brought to a place that was intended to become the center of the Soviet secret weapons think tank.

May 7, 1945 - Bucky dies. Like, literally. The comics are clear on this, that when the Russians found him he was frozen solid, and dead. One of them had been on a mission with the Commandos, though, and after seeing Bucky in action, suspected he had the serum just like Steve (he didn't, he was just a badass), so they thaw him like a Thanksgiving turkey to try to get tissue and fluid samples. When he's thawed, he's dead as a doornail. They revive him, though, and even the scientists are kind of shocked it worked, since he did not, in fact, have the serum. What he did have was the memory of how to kick ass, which they learn the hard way haha, so they sedate his ass until they can get all their samples from him. Having said that, MCU canon directly controverts this. MCU Bucky DOES have the serum, that's been made very clear from several of his feats of strength that did not include the metal arm, and he was obviously not flash frozen in the Alps because he remembers shit. So. Do with that dichotomy what you will, just thought I'd share.

May 21, 1945 - After determining that they can't recreate the serum from him, and that he's gonna kick their asses if they let him stay conscious, Bucky is put into cryo-freeze. Even the scientist making the notes is all IDFK about the order when it's given by Karpov, he's like birch is crazy.

In the flashback scene from TWS where Bucky's metal arm is being attached, the doctor uses a handheld electric bone saw.

The patent for the first hand held reciprocating saw was filed on June 27, 1952. Trust me. You do not want to try Googling that, okay, let me take the hit on those visuals. I spontaneously became a vegetarian. Anyway, it's safe to assume the flashback scene of Bucky getting what remained of his arm cut off was at the least 7 years of captivity later. Since Bucky hasn't aged any more than the Capsicle did, it's safe to assume, and mentioned in those pieces of comics canon, that the Russians essentially said *shrug* and stuffed the half-dead American soldier they found in the fridge for a decade like my grandmother used to do to the stuff she canned every summer.

Since the cryo containment they stuff him back into after he has the metal arm was actually in the operating theater, hence already tested and in use (and mobile, apparently? what did they do push him around on a handcart?? that would be the worst job) it's a pretty safe assumption to make that even MCU Bucky was almost immediately put on ice after being captured because he kept trying to kill folks, and kept that way until at least mid to late 1952, if not later.

Personal tangent? If the Russians/Hydra already had a Cryo tank to conveniently throw Bucky into, one can assume they had a use for it, right? My personal theory is that it was for Super Soldiers, meaning someone had at least theorized that a Super Soldier could be frozen. How many fucking Cold War resources do you think were put toward hunting for that fucking Valkyrie in the Arctic?

June 1954 - The date comes from Captain America: Winter Soldier Vol. 2 again, and it gels with the info above about the arm-attachment so I'm going with it. Bucky becomes the 'Fist of Hydra' and is then put back on ice because the Fist of Hydra tries to strangle his doctor. It would be super easy to split his time and say he was with the Russians until the dissolution of the Soviet Union, then was transferred to Hydra's control, but this Fist of Hydra line makes that impossible. So even though the Russians in the form of the KGB had him, they were obviously still working under or with the Hydrapus. Bucky worked for Department X in the Comics, but that's not an MCU thing, so. That's where the MCU and the comics diverge wildly, and make this a migraine-inducing task. Right after they let him out of Cryo, Bucky escapes, but since he's in the middle of the goddamn Soviet wilderness, he doesn't get far.

1959 - The first page of the file Steve receives from Natasha about the Winter Soldier is probably dated 1959, from the KGB branch in Lvovsky Region, USSR, which is the Lviv Region in Ukraine. The area is super varied in landscape and population, which could have served as a proving ground of sorts for a weapon like the Winter Soldier. This can probably be taken as a pretty clear date for when the Winter Soldier officially became 'active' under the direction of the KGB. That's five years from the metal arm being attached to becoming the Asset, during which you can only assume they were working on the base programming for what would later become the wipes.

1964 - This is technically when the Winter Soldier's kills start being counted, if you take Natasha's 'the last 50 years' literally. So I'm going to ignore pre-64 history, pretty much, and assume that the 5-10 years after June 1954 were spent turning Bucky into The Winter Soldier with mindfucking, training, languages, ect. It's important to note that in the comics, Bucky was never tortured, per se. Not physically, I guess, though the defining line of ‘torture’ here is thin. He was already an amnesiac, so they used a combination of sensory deprivation and 'Mental Implantation' experiments to make him loyal to them. You don't make someone loyal by beating the shit out of them, you know? There's also evidence in the movies in the way Bucky reacts to people; he is clearly in charge of the STRIKE team, not taking their orders; he doesn't flinch when Steve touches him, nor does he mind one bit the Wakandan doctors who are hooking him up to IVs, ect. He does not outwardly behave like a man who was subjected to decades of beatings or what have you.

Look at that cupcake, Jesus.

Since MCU canon is sparse with language info, I'll go with Comics canon on this; Bucky has stated that before Hydra, he spoke six languages. Hydra's own notes state that he spoke four. We'll go with Bucky on this one, since he would know amirite. I can't figure out what all 6 were for sure, but there is solid evidence that he spoke fluent English, German, and Russian. The other educated guesses would add Japanese, French, and Italian to that tally. It's also possible his sixth language was cursing, because even Deadpool is shocked at Bucky's language when he goes back in time and meets him during the War. Those are the most likely, simply because they were the relevant ones to the War effort and where he was deployed. There's a panel with War-dressed Bucky speaking Chinese, but wtf dude I mean....he was too young to be sent to China at any point before the War broke out, and there's no reason the War Department would have taught him fucking Chinese in the 40's when he was up to his ass in the European Theater, so that panel might be an alternate reality thing, idk.

After Hydra, he was additionally fluent in Chinese (probably post-Hydra, fuck that panel), Spanish, Polish, Romanian (MCU canon), and he became passable in Kree. At one point when he is Bucky!Cap, Steve seems to be under the impression that Bucky can also understand a dog barking. I don't know if that's a Bucky thing or a Steve thing, but it's apparently canon that Bucky talks to animals like a crazy cat lady enough that Steve thinks he's understanding them. Idfk dude.

Sooo, TL;DR:

WW2-era: English, German, Russian, Japanese, French, Italian (probably), and foul language.

Winter Soldier-era: Chinese, Spanish, Polish, Romanian, Kree, and dog? Probably a lot more, probably ALL the Soviet Bloc languages, tbh, I just don't have hard evidence of them. Ehhhh.....

.....while I at first assumed he was talking about the other Soldiers collectively in this scene, we could also assume that Bucky is telling Steve and Sam all that info about the other Soldiers because he's listing his own stats. So it's possible Bucky himself speaks upwards of 30 languages by the time he breaks free from Hydra. In addition to the Soviet Bloc, if he also spent a lot of time in Asia, the Middle East, and Africa, all those different dialects could easily add up to 30+ languages.

Most of the 'training' he was given during that proving ground period would basically have been the Russians field-testing him and being all WOO he already knows this, because Bucky was already a Grade A Badass. They would have updated him on new technology as soon as it was available to him, because he can obviously fly SHIELD fighter jets without blinking an eye and is rather fond of commandeering random flying machines . . . I imagine he’d only be able to steal one of those and then realize he doesn’t know how to work it once.

1959-1964 - I got sidetracked. Anyway. There is some chatter in the fandom that Bucky killed Kennedy. If we take the 50 years thing literally and go with the 1964 date, he probably didn't. If we take it almost literally and infer the 1959 date on his file was from his first field test or mission, he . . . really could have killed Kennedy. I do like to mix my movies, though, and imagine that Bucky was sent to Dallas, met up with Magneto trying to stop him, hai there metal arm, and got wrapped up like a burrito in a chain link fence before he could fire a shot.....

Anyway....despite how well-armed the Winter Soldier is . . . jesus I just re-read this and realized I made a horrible pun but I'm not changing it because it made me laugh, most political assassinations are not usually by gun or knife. You can't have plausible deniability if you shoot someone in the face. That's why the Winter Soldier's reputation is as both assassin AND spy.

So I’m going to highlight some real-world events that you could ascribe to the Winter Soldier through the years, if you are so inclined to write these things in stories. Dates and locations are between the spades, for ease of tracking this sneaky bastard's possible real historical movements. Bold dates are confirmed by MCU canon.

♠ September 11, 1973 - Santiago, Chile ♠ The apparent suicide of Chile’s president, Salvador Allende - with an assault rifle – during the Pinochet coup. Being honest, this was probably the CIA, but still.

♠ early December 1977 - Cairo, Egypt ♠ David Holden - a writer, journalist, broadcaster, and possible CIA agent - was the Chief Foreign Correspondent of the Sunday Times, and is shot in still unexplained circumstances just before the peace talks between Egypt and Israel. With his connections, and possible CIA ties, there is no telling what this guy was up to, or who would have wanted him to stop doing it.

♠ April 17, 1978 - Kabul, Afghanistan ♠ Mir Akbar Khyber, an Afghan intellectual and a leader of the Parcham faction of the People's Democratic Party of Afghanistan (PDPA), was killed outside his home. I don't know how. His death led to the overthrow of the republic, and to the advent of a socialist regime in Afghanistan.

♠ December 23, 1978 - Phnom Penh, Cambodia ♠ Malcolm Caldwell, a British lecturer in southeast Asian studies and a Marxist writer who was a vocal supporter of Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge, was killed for no apparent reason other than being a douche. This one's interesting because there was a witness: About 11:00 p.m. that night [Elizabeth] Becker was awakened by the sound of gunfire. She stepped out of her bedroom and saw a heavily armed Cambodian man who pointed a pistol at her. (Sounds familiar right??) She ran back into her room and heard people moving and more gunshots. An hour later a Cambodian came to her bedroom door and told her that Caldwell was dead. . . He had been shot in the chest and the body of a Cambodian man was also in the room, possibly the same man who had pointed the pistol at Becker. Three days later, Vietnam invaded Cambodia and ended Khmer Rouge.

In comics canon, the Winter Soldier goes rogue some time in the 70's - I think, I cannot find it - on a job in NYC after seeing his little sister Rebecca on the street. Hydra tracks him down and pets him on the head and takes him back because he doesn't know why he bolted. After it becomes obvious that he's having issues, he shadows the head of the program (Lukin, the dude from Civil War) for two years as his personal bodyguard, then is put back into cryo. It isn't until after this stretch that the mind wipes start, because his behavior is degrading more and more and he becomes harder to handle. There is a ten year stretch here in the late 70′s to mid 80′s, basically, that this could have gone down.

♠ August 17, 1988 - Bahawalpur, Pakistan ♠ President Muhammad Zia-ul-Haq of Pakistan dies in a plane crash, along with 31 others, including a shitload of important politicians I don't want to bother listing. Witnesses report the plane flying erratically, then nosediving and exploding on impact. An investigation concluded it was a 'criminal act of sabotage'. Zia-ul-Haq's most enduring legacy was his indirect involvement and military strategies against the USSR's war in Afghanistan.

♠ November 24, 1989 - Peshawar, Pakistan ♠ Abdullah Azzam, a Palestinian Islamist leader - who Wikipedia claims is also known as the Father of Global Jihad - was killed with his two adult sons by a car bomb. In a narrow street across from a gas station, a bomb that had a 50-metre detonation cord led to the sewerage system where the assailant presumably waited. He literally laid in the sewers waiting, that's hardcore. Anyway, Azzam both controlled the jihadi forces who had fought against the USSR in Afghanistan and opposed the extension of the Islamist war to targets in the non-Islamic world. His protégé was a man named Osama bin Laden.

♠ December 16, 1991 - Upstate New York like a goddamn hipster ♠ Yeah, Mission Report and stuff. Howard and Maria Stark are murrrrrderrrrred in a car. (I have actual real meta that circles around this but that’s for a different bout of insomnia I guess).

♠ December 25, 1991 - Siberia, probably, jesus is anyone still reading this? ♠ The USSR is dissolved. It's likely they moved all their Hydra assets into Pierce's control shortly after this, meaning the Soldier became 'the Asset' and moved to DC like a politician. The scenes from Civil War with the other Soldiers going all Mutiny on the Bounty had to have happened somewhere in December of 1991.

♠ 6 April 1994 - Kigali, Rwanda ♠ The plane carrying Rwanda’s and Burundi’s presidents, Juvenal Habyarimana and Cyprien Ntaryamira, is shot down as it prepares to land, precipitating the Rwandan Genocide and the First Congo War. That's one hell of a precision strike, if you want chaos.

♠ November 11, 2004 - Gaza Strip, probably? ♠ Yasser Arafat dies in a Paris, France hospital, for reasons that are still not clear but apparently began to develop on October 25, 2004. Many believe he was poisoned by polonium laced into his clothing and belongings, which is why this one is sort of hard to place for a Winter Soldier location. I'm assuming he would have at least accessed the home in Gaza City, Palestine?

♠ July 30, 2005 - a mountain range in southern Sudan near New Kush ♠ John Garang, leader of the Sudan People’s Liberation Army (SPLA) and Sudan’s new vice-president, dies in a helicopter crash after the January 2005 peace agreement, which leads to rioting in Khartoum.

♠ 2009 - Odessa, Ukraine ♠ The Winter Soldier visits Odessa so he can shoot Natasha Romanov in her bikini line, plus an engineer dude or something I'm too lazy to go looking for the story tbh, we've all seen the movie.

♠ May 4, 2012 - just outside nuke range of Manhattan, New York ♠ The Battle of New York. If I was Hydra, I'd have my greatest weapon poised and ready to go kick some alien ass if all else failed, kwim, but not so close as to be exploded. You can't rule the world if someone else has already conquered that shit.

♠ within a week of Monday, Memorial Day, May 26, 2014  - Washington, DC ♠ (brilliant date analysis from Katie_P on AO3!) Nick Fury is almost killed, twice. It's apparent that the Asset's home has moved from Siberia in the 90's to a bank vault in DC at some point in the last . . . IDK, 23 years. . We all saw the chase in the street, but the Soldier takes his shot through one of Steve's walls using thermal imaging on his scope, then plays ultimate frisbee with Captain America for a minute before saying fuck it and going back to the bank where they keep him.

Then some moron doesn't read his instruction manuals thoroughly and sends Captain America's dead best friend to kill him without anticipating the inevitable joint Cap/Asset system error.

Anyway. The Soldier saves Steve's dumb ass one more time, then bolts and heads back to the bank to utterly fuck that shit up, but he doesn't kill anyone there. He specifically says he has enough blood on his hands, and lets them all live. Then he ghosts and doesn't resurface until he smells plums two years later. As settled as he was in Romania, he probably spent at least half a year of those two years there.

That's all I got.

Okay Jesus, so that was a lot of work. Comics mentions that I didn't include? Steve and Bucky knew Wolverine during WW2. They fought together several times. And later, the Winter Soldier helps Wolverine escape from the Weapons X Facility, which Wolverine doesn't find out until much later. I don't know when that is and . . . God help me, I kind of don't care at this point? Also, one panel has Bucky claiming that he killed Hitler. If so, good.

#bucky barnes #the winter soldier #history nerd rants #research #fic reference #history sorta #timeline #meta maybe? #captain america #MCU detail references

[sirkkasnow]

02 Always Take the Nickel Tour

Ao3 link

07/01/13 Monday

Morning dawned with a pleasant chill. Between Stan, Soos and Ford, they got the old station wagon - a sky-blue Ford Fairlane - rolled away from the house and tucked in at a shallow angle next to the Stanleymobile. The S still leaned forlornly against the dented siding. They’d get it hauled up and nailed back into place later.

Stan swept the road-trip debris off the front passenger seat and cracked the glove compartment. He set aside the age-yellowed manual and the service records, most of them crisp and fragile on ancient transfer paper, one new, extensive and computer-printed.

He then flipped through everything else, scanning with an expert eye for items of interest. 

Brand new insurance card in the name of Clara Jane Merrick. A small collection of much older insurance cards in the name of Charles and Caroline Merrick. Vintage pressure gauge, matte black LED flashlight, heavy-framed designer sunglasses, can of pepper spray.

Photograph in a gold-stamped cardboard frame. Stan fished that one out, curious. The photo stock was the old-school linen textured stuff. Three blondes of varying shades grinned back at him, lined up like nesting dolls by age – forties, twenties, preteen – with matching sunhats and huge smiles. The smallest and darkest-haired was instantly recognizable as Clary. She was maybe twelve years old here, a beaky girl still growing into the aquiline nose neither of the others shared. He flexed the frame in one hand, squinting in to read the penned inscription on the photo's back - Carrie, Charlie, Clary.

Stan filed that away for later reference, returned the less-relevant stuff to the glove compartment, then leaned way over along the bench seat to pull the hood release.

The sun had slipped past noon by the time Clary finally emerged from the house, looking far less threadbare than she had the prior night. She was crisply dressed in yesterday’s Bermuda shorts, a fresh button-down shirt and a silk scarf patterned with dragonflies - wrapped twice, snug, knotted off-center at the throat. “Good afternoon, Stan.”

“Hey, Clary. Feelin’ better?” He was elbow-deep in the car’s guts by now, a few unsalvageable bits laid out on an old towel to one side. Grease streaked his forearms. The engine was pretty nice for something near the age of his own wheels, a huge V-8 that had seen very little use. This must have spent most of its life in a garage.

Clary stepped in alongside Stan, peering despondently into the engine compartment. “Sore, but rested, at least. What’s the diagnosis?”

Stan hissed in thought. “Drive belt assembly’s shot, electricals are kind of a mess. Radiator hoses of course. Think the engine block’s okay. The body damage isn’t too bad.”

Clary ran exploring fingers along the battered chrome of the front grill, mouth set in an unhappy line. “Except for the concave hood, I suppose. What can I do to help?”

“Know anythin’ about cars?”

“Repair? Not a thing.”

“It’s gonna be a while.” Stan glanced sidelong to study her profile.

“Ford said it may take weeks.” Clary’s tone was conflicted, teeth catching lightly at her lower lip, brow furrowed.

“Ford doesn’t know what he’s talkin’ about when it comes to cars, but yeah, he’s not wrong. This thing’s old and the parts are gonna be a pain to scavenge up.” Stan straightened and toweled off his hands. “Orderin’ stuff in would take a while and I know from experience that you don’t always get the right widget through the mail. Might have a couple ideas about local sources…we’ll see. You okay?”

That air of pinched distress was tight around her eyes again. She rolled her shoulders back, looking up and out into the forest. An unhurried breeze set thousands of green-velvet branches into whispering motion. “Okay enough. It’s gorgeous here,” almost as an afterthought.

Stan flicked his gaze heavenwards for a weary moment. Yeah, she’d be staying for the duration. What the hell was it with tourists and pines? “Y’get used to it. Check out the Shack yet?”

“Not yet. I was promised an expert guide.” She stepped away, heading around the back of the wagon to unlatch and hoist down the mountain bike from its rack. A faint residue of reddish dust clung to the tire rims. “Maybe when I’m done unpacking the basics? Since I’m going to be here a few days, there are people who need to know my plans have changed.”

“Thought you were on vacation.”

“Money never sleeps, and unfortunately it’s easy to get some things done on the road.”

She trailed back and forth for a while, parking the bike and hauling a larger duffel bag into the house. Stan worked methodically through the last few items on his engine checklist and jotted down an occasional note. By the time she returned he had a more or less complete catalogue of what needed work. He lowered the badly-dented hood into place and latched it. “Fixin’ this is gonna be an adventure.”

“I was afraid you’d say that. Let me know what you need in terms of parts, I can cover whatever – “

Stan ducked his head, stifling the wide flash of his grin behind one hand. “Careful, kid, don’t leave yourself quite that wide open. This is pretty much on Ford anyway so I’ll take most of it out of his hide. C’mon.” Clary paced in his wake, looking up and out across the Shack grounds like she hadn’t bothered before – probably a fair enough assessment after yesterday’s chaos. “So car repair’s not your bag, no shock that. How about arts and crafts? Tall tales? Improv?”

“I’ve had to put on a song-and-dance routine for the IRS a few times. Does that count?”

That startled a laugh out of him. “Depends on whether you pulled it off.”

“I definitely pulled it off. At least no one’s come looking for me yet.”

“Maybe you help me help Soos around the Shack, then, put those tap-dancin’ skills to the test. A favor for a favor.”

Clary frowned at him in puzzlement. “I’m game to try. This is all a bit outside my wheelhouse.”

“Honestly, you could get stuck in way worse places than this. We’ve got tons of stuff for the discernin’ passerby. Merchandise, magic, mystery, uh, mayhem, you get the picture.”

They walked through the house and he held the showroom door open for a moment. Clary peeked through at the flock of tourists trailing after Soos like happy ducklings. “You interested in this kinda stuff?”

“Interested enough to read the bumper sticker. Not enough to actually plan you into my itinerary.”

“Damn shame, that, you’d be missin’ out on the ninth wonder of the world.” He managed to time it in sync with Soos’ patter, the rhythm of the show familiar as breathing, and got a chuckle in return. “They’ll wrap up in a few, we’ll take a quick look at the gift shop until they clear out. Then you get your Founder’s Tour.”

“That’s you, then, not Soos?”

“Got it in one. I built this place from the ground up! Sure, the house was here and the junk was here, but I’m the one who spun it into a wondrous house of mysterious junk.” His hands swept up and out in a marquee arc. Clary gave him that wry, oblique glance he was getting used to.

The gift shop was temporarily abandoned. Stan made himself comfortable leaning against the counter and watched her pace the periphery, trailing careful fingertips over the snow globes. “Take a look around! If you see an impulse buy, make it.”

“I’ll pick out a few things before I go. If I don’t have physical evidence, no one will believe that I was here.” She picked up a snow globe, flipped it over to stir the flakes into motion, then set it down with exaggerated caution and headed for the freezer.

“Just because you’re stayin’ over does not mean you get to sneak in here for an ice pop.” He watched her peer through the glass at their collection of frozen novelties. “This as far out west as you’ve gotten? I mean, we’re off the beaten path and you’re just passin’ through, right? Most folks would’ve taken the main route north of here.”

“This is my fifth state in - “ She frowned, then sighed. “Three days with the overnight, I guess. I’ve been taking it slow and sticking to the state highways, since I’m traveling solo.”

“Long way to drive alone.”

“Yes.” Clary skimmed through the T-shirt rack and plucked out a question mark to hold up against her chest. “You started this place up, then. Can I ask how long you’ve been at it? There’s some history here, I can see that much.”

“Thirty years.” Easier to say now that the long wait was over, that was for sure. He studied her thoughtfully; she was a tough read compared to the usual Gravity Falls crowd. “Can’t say that I ever thought I’d start to enjoy this line of work, originally the idea was just to get the mortgage paid, but go figure. Built a pretty nice business out of tellin’ lies – ‘scuse me, stories.”

A bare sliver of a smile curled along her lips. “You did. I can tell this is a local institution. You’re retired now?”

“More or less. My brother wanted to haul me off on an expedition. Couldn’t say no.” Stan ducked his chin, smiling to himself. “Couldn’t up an’ close the place either, so I left it all to Soos. Been nice to come back and see what he’s made of it, stick my hand in again. You can take the man out of the Mystery Shack, but you can’t take the mystery out of the man, I guess.”

Clary came to rest at the counter next to him, hands empty, he noted. “So I get a rare chance at a tour from the original Mr. Mystery.”

“What, nothin’ here inspires you to drop a wad of cash?”

“I think I’ll make my purchases after I have a functioning car.”

“Fair enough. You’re about to witness a true master in action.” The excited murmur of shopping-primed tourists was beginning to build at the interior door. “We’ve got maybe twenty minutes before the next gaggle rolls through, so you get the short form. Anythin’ specific you want to see?”

They slipped out of the shop as the current group started to trickle in, ducking into the showroom. Stan couldn’t help sweeping an arm out to indicate the entire collection. “Behold, the Mystery Shack!”

Clary appraised the exhibits with cool cynicism. “Which one of these gets the least attention? I’ve always loved the half-hidden displays best.”

She strolled at his side, hands in her pockets, lips twitching now and then as he spun familiar stories. Coaxing a laugh out of her at the right points, a smile here and there, felt like a little victory. There was a customer like this in every tour, the one who’d been dragged along by family or friends. If that one could be won over the rest of the group would be eating out of his hand.

“I have no idea what this is. Must be a Soos addition.” Stan peered at the tiny huts shingled with pine cone scales built into a series of branches suspended from one of the ceilings, glittering with well-concealed LED lights. “All right, the Village of Cannibal Pixies, to whom we’re apparently now rentin’ space in the showroom. They’re out huntin’ their fellow fairies for the rest of the day, but they’ll be back this evenin’ and no doubt throwin’ quite the party, which is just as well, because most of the other fairies ‘round these parts are about as much fun as a root canal….”

She had to bite her lip against a horrified laugh. “I thought these were all your creations?”

“Nah. You’ve gotta keep the mix fresh. Throw in somethin’ new and the tourists will flock through the doors. It’s been almost a year since I got to add a new exhibit, actually.” Stan nudged her in the side with an elbow. “And you are gonna help me put my mark on the place again. Think you’ve soaked up enough inspiration?”

“I’ve soaked up something. Inspiration for what, exactly?” Stan ushered her through another door, one tucked into the shadow of a larger display’s curtain. They wove together through a twisting hallway and he savored her blink of surprise when they emerged a few steps down the hall from the kitchen.

“We’re makin’ another attraction for the showroom.” He’d already laid out most of the basics earlier that morning, with a vague plan towards taking stock and maybe patching some bits and bobs together, but the prospect of testing their new guest’s creative skills – not patience, that’d be rude – was too good to pass up.

The contents of the kitchen table were pauper’s choices, honestly. A handful of pelts, odds and ends left over from birds long since parted out for other projects, a couple of smaller skulls, coils of heavy aluminum wire for armatures. Clary sifted through the remnants with a careful hand and a dubious expression.

“Surprise me.” He dropped off a tack hammer and a few brads on his way past. She made a faint incredulous noise, her head swiveling to follow, and Stan shot her a flat look of challenge: Show me what you’ve got, bean-counter.

Her shoulders stiffened, and she settled cautiously into one of the kitchen chairs. “Pliers?”

“Toolbox under the table.”

The toolbox jangled heavily as she hauled it up into easy reach. He tuned out the low noise of her work for a while. His own projects kept him plenty busy – sprucing up the display cards for a couple of the new oddities Soos had incorporated, reviewing the merch inventory and a couple of new concepts, moving on with a hum of pleasure to update the current supply list for the Stan O’War.

It was the better part of an hour before he heard the chair scrape back. “Tinfoil?” Clary asked.

“Two drawers over from the fridge.”

A few clunks and a crinkle, then he heard her muttering spoon, spoon under her breath, clattering through the silverware drawer. She paced back over to the table and dragged the chair back in with a shallow sigh. Stan glanced over and saw her hunched over an armature, brow creased as she padded out the shape.

“You all right over there?” He was trying not to laugh. This was not the kind of focus he’d been expecting.

“Flashbacks to high school art class, nothing too traumatic, I promise.”

This went on for a while. Stan drifted out of the kitchen to track down one of the Shack ledgers and his last box of spare critter bits, which he set wordlessly at her elbow. She ransacked the contents and didn’t look up when she spoke. “Putty?” He rattled through a drawer and dropped off half a jumbo packet of the plumber’s two-part type on the table, which Clary pulled in and unwrapped.

It was well past five when something mostly complete sat before her. She had come up with a compact little mustelid nightmare, something weaselish in build with elaborate grasping talons pieced together from every sharp claw remaining amid the sorry leftovers he’d dumped out of his dwindling box of tricks. Wings scavenged from a sharp-shinned hawk he’d collected on some roadside ages ago were anchored in half-furled at the shoulders. The mink skull had been carefully if inexpertly re-skinned. Brow ridges and tiny, twisting horns sculpted out of plumber’s putty crowned the toothy head.

The thing was cute in an amateur way. He thought, bemused, that it might make a decent plush toy.

Clary flipped the critter over, features creased in complete concentration as she stitched in the last bits along the belly. “Got any paint?”

Stan folded his arms, trying and failing to suppress a grin. “Y’know, normally I’d just patch together bits from a fish, a squirrel and a chicken, and call it good.”

“Hell with that, we’ve got tourists to impress.” Clary hissed under her breath as she stabbed herself with the needle. When she finally stretched, he heard her neck pop and saw the wince. “What time is it anyway?”

“Half past time to pack it in, kid.”

She sat up straight in surprise, glancing out the window into the saturated deep-golden light of late, late afternoon. “Oh no.”

Stan tilted his thumb her way, letting the grin widen. “So I think you might be on the hook for pizza tonight. Seein’ as how you’ve been dead to the world for hours and we’d be goin’ with cereal otherwise.”

An indignant pause hung in the air as her brows rose sharply. “There’s still plenty of time for me to call my insurance company. I might well have whiplash. Those old-school bench seats with no headrest are infamous for that.”

He slung a dirty look over his shoulder as he retrieved the paintbox from a cupboard. “Ford said you were fine.”

“I don’t think I heard him mention a medical degree in that list he rattled off.”

“All right, fine, we’ll split pizza for the gang.” Her eyes narrowed to calculating slits. “Lady, you drive a hard bargain. Howsabout you tell me what this thing is and then we’ll talk.” Stan opened the paintbox and sorted through half-empty tubes of acrylics. “You know how to drybrush?”

“Nope.” Clary studied her spiky-clawed creation, somewhat at a loss. “Let me mull this over a moment….”

“It helps to have some idea what you’re doin’ before you start stitchin’ things together, y’know.” Stan picked out a dark chocolate brown and laid down a quick basecoat on the horns. “You’ve outfoxed the IRS? Then all you gotta do is think on your feet.”

There was a brief quiet. The weight of her gaze lingered on him as he dipped into a deep purple and started shading along the inner edge of the brow ridge.

“This is the lesser Northwestern horned hawkweasel,” she said at length, adopting the deep, plummy tone of a nature-documentary narrator. “Or the midnight mink. Fierce far out of proportion to their size, these crafty, fearless creatures feed mainly on fish and whatever birds they can catch. Usually solitary, as the moon wanes they gather up in gangs to hunt their favored prey – nightmares. The bigger, the better.”

“Where’s a winged weasel gonna find nightmares in the depths of the Cascades?” Stan plucked out a liner brush and limned the eyes with a perfect pinstripe of metallic teal.

“Everything that can think has dreams. These little fellas like the blackest, bleakest ones they can find, and some of the denizens of these forests have deep and terrible dreams. If not for these guys, some of those denizens might wake up.”

Stan snorted in soft amusement as he laid highlights in along the horns. “Not terrible for a first shot. Soos might dig the idea, and hell, at least Lovecraft’s long since out of copyright, yeah?” He sat back, assessing, then touched on a last few dots of color. “This is about as show-ready as it’s gonna get. Hang on a sec.”

He toted the not-quite-weasel down to the office, setting it on the least cluttered file cabinet for later – it was going to need a story card at the very least – then swung by the deserted gift shop, cracking the vending machine open to fish out a couple of ice-cold Pitts. Clary was packing away tools by the time he returned to the kitchen, and he set a can within easy reach. “Nothin’ like a cold one to finish up the day. Cheers.”

“Cheers.” She picked up her can, popped it, then tapped its edge against his. “I’ve got to wonder.” He eyed her, momentarily wary, as he dropped into his own chair. “What possessed a man from New Jersey to land way out here in the hinterlands of Oregon? It’s certainly pretty, but this is about as close to the absolute middle of nowhere as I’ve ever been.”

“You actually interested in me? Or do you ask everyone these kinda questions?”

“I’m mainly interested in you.”

That was a bit of a surprise. A chuckle snagged in Stan’s chest as he met her frank regard. “Usually the longest I can get people to listen to me is when I’m sellin’ somethin’, and even then it’s tough luck.”

“I don’t buy that for a second.” The faint curve of her smile was half obscured by the rim of her soda can. “No way you kept this place running for so long without knowing how to string an audience along in suspense.”

“It’s, ah, it’s a knack. I’ve been good at it ever since I was a kid.” He cleared his throat and took a lingering sip, buying a moment. Her brows quirked in expectation. “So, you’re serious?”

“How long do you plan on leaving me in suspense?”

“The last time someone started askin’ personal questions, she tried to eat me,” Stan muttered. “Can you imagine? I’m practically skin and bones.”

That bought him a sharp laugh, right on the beat. “Come on. You can’t just leave it there.”

Stan took a long look at her, then drew breath, fired up the cockiest grin in his repertoire, and launched in. “So, y’see, there’s this irresistible thing called ‘revenge’….”

Clary was a good listener and a better interrogator, absorbing whatever outrageous half-truth he had to offer without scoffing, pressing with well-targeted questions at every opportunity. Every time she cut close to the bone he’d flash her something shiny to distract. Verbal sleight-of-hand was so second nature by now that he barely noticed doing it. Stan couldn’t tell how much of it she was buying, which was disconcerting as hell.

In the end he paid for the pizza. She slipped in behind him to press an overgenerous tip into the delivery driver’s hand.

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There are plenty of repair records in the glove box, the old manual, and some other potentially interesting odds and ends.

Just take the repair records and the manual.

Go through all the personal paperwork.

Is there any money in there?

#Gravity Falls #gfdatingsim #DDtMMW #Swooning Over Stans #Stanley Pines #oclicious #fanfic

[sosa-sketch]

Fright or Flight: Chapter 2

Parings: Prinxiety // Logicality // Platonic LAMP

Story Summary: Virgil and Patton investigate the New Prince Castle, when a brutal accident kills Patton. Patton wakes as a ghost and meets friendly ghoul Roman, who has been haunting the castle for 20 years. Virgil is determined to bring Patton back to life and brings Logan, the ghost expert, to help him out. Time is quickly running out, and the four must work together to undo death. If only it was as simple as Logan made it sound.

Unknown to them, a secret entity in the castle does not plan on letting them succeed.

Previous Chapter   Next Chapter 

When Patton first met Virgil, his last intention was to become friends with him. Virgil had built up a notorious reputation over the first few months of school, and his grades did nothing to disprove his status. Patton wasn’t the type to judge a person’s character based on rumors nor looks. No one was a higher believer in the benefit of doubt than Patton! However, Virgil’s first impression did not help his case.

Virgil transferred into Patton’s English class the second semester due to a schedule change. When the teacher stated a new team project was to be completed, Patton did not shy away from offering to be Virgil’s partner. He understood how difficult it could be being the new kid in a class full of friends and cliques.

The project was hefty, an collection of novel analyzing, essays, vocabulary, and journal entries. Patton was not looking forward to the Shakespearean project-Shakespeare’s language was alien to him. It occurred to Patton that pairing up with the soon-to-be-dropout may not have been his best idea. Nonetheless, Patton refused to be jaded.

The first day of the project, Virgil refused to touch the work.

“There’s no way I’m touching this project.” Virgil sneered. “Especially about Shakespeare.”

“Huh?” Patton had not fully processed Virgil’s words. “Is it because you don’t understand it?”

“Sure.”

“Neither can I! I guess Shakespeare really has our brains shaken up! Maybe we can ask the teacher to go over it for us?”

The teen huffed and shook his head. Virgil laid his head on the wooden desk and his eyes slipped closed. He napped for the rest of the period.

His behavior continued for weeks. Patton had tried everything in his power to get Virgil to help him out. Patton’s seemingly endless supply of compliments and encouraging gestures served no help.

Patton’s mind had conjured countless excuses for Virgil since Virgil himself refused to give one. At the beginning the excuses had seemed feasible. Lack of sleep? Family issues? However, by week three, Patton was already scraping the bottom of the barrel, trying to justify Virgil’s dismissive attitude with clones and possible mind control. Virgil was no closer to lifting up a pencil, there were ten days left of the project, and Patton still understood little to nothing about Shakespeare. Patton was flying solo and time was ticking.

The final week before the project was due, Patton caught the flu.

Patton would chalk up the flu to the top three sucky sicknesses of his lifetime. His fever was raging, his skin drowning in sweat while the insides of him iced over. Patton couldn’t tell when being awake ended and when sleep began. The only alarm in Patton’s body was the churning in his gut that rushed him to the toilet.

Understandably, the project was the last thing on his mind.

Patton would not remember his Shakespeare mission until the Sunday before it was due, when he was shaking off the final remnants of the flu. The realization hit him like a train, but by the time he went flying off his bed and hurriedly logging on to his computer to check the time, Patton knew it was hopeless. There was no way he could get the project done in a few hours and counting. Not when all his energy was going into fighting of sneezes and headaches.

Patton was dejectedly scrolling through his email filled with newsletters from adoption sites and animal protection agencies when a subject line caught his eye: “English Project.” Linked to the email were word documents and an audio file. Perplexedly, Patton opened the email.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: English Project

Patton,

so apparently you’ve been sick. class is way more quiet without you their, which is wierd.

i think i did everything you hadn’t done. it’s gonna be really mispelled and confusing and shit. sorry. i’m not the best with righting. feel free to fix anything.

get well soon.

-V

p.s. sorry for acting like a jerk. i owe you a explanation monday.

Patton hugged his computer screen and laugh with relief. He had no idea why Virgil was so nervous. His ideas were brilliant. A week later, Patton would see an A in his gradebook for the Shakespeare project.

There was a reason why Patton never lost faith in people.

True to his word, the next week Virgil explained his mistreatment to Patton. Virgil struggled with dyslexia. While he was getting tutoring in overcoming his learning disability, Virgil’s writing made him incredibly insecure. His old teacher always let him work individually, but the new teacher wasn’t having it. Before class, the teacher pulled him aside and told Virgil he was no different from any other student and would have to work with a partner. Virgil, determined to spite the teacher and anxious to seem like an “idiot” in front of Patton, would pretend to sleep the whole period.

“All your writing took was a quick grammar fix. The ideas were so good! I’m not just saying that to say that, they actually were! I could never think of something like that.” Patton reassured enthusiastically.

Virgil flushed a bright red. “I didn’t do much. Shakespeare is a lot easier to understand with audio.”

Patton listened to the audiobook of Macbeth that night. Virgil clearly wasn’t giving himself enough credit.

Virgil and Patton quickly grew close once the project was done. Virgil was still quiet, snappy, moody, and detrimentally insecure, but he began to open up more as the months went on. By senior year, Patton and Virgil was joined at the hip. Two peas in a pod.

Virgil had grown a lot since freshman year.

Being joined at the hip with Virgil meant that Patton got to understand Virgil by the simplest change in body language or expression. It also meant that Patton became aquatinted with anyone close to Virgil.

Patton already had a bad feeling while Virgil’s tone had shifted on the phone the night they were chatting about yearbook quotes. Remy sending Patton a text only confirmed the ball of dread in his stomach.

Rem: pat can we talk ?

Patton: You don’t even have to ask! Everything ok?

Rem: it’s about v

Rem: have you guys talked recently ? out of school

Patton: We talked last weekend. Over the phone. Why? Is Virgil fine??

Rem: idk. he came over to my house a couple nights ago at like 5 am. talked about some ghost shit.

Patton: He woke you up to talk about ghosts??(language!)

Rem: looking for affirmation that he wasn’t some obsessed ghost freak. i told him nah

Rem: but tbh he kinda is obsessed

Patton: He is passionate about his ghosts! But that’s not a bad thing.

Rem: v strongly disagrees. the whole thing about the yearbook and ghost quotes really messed with his head

Patton: I didn’t mean anything bad by it! It was just an idea! I promise! I’ll apologize to him!!!

Rem: wait no thats not what im saying. no one blames u

Rem: is he doing any ghost stuff anytime soon

Patton: Yep. He’s going to visit a castle!

Patton: Is that bad?

Rem: don’t you remember last time v became paranoid abt something? he pulled some real stupid stuff just to prove ppl wrong

Patton: Yeah. I know.

Patton: Gosh now I’m worried :(

Rem: i just dont want him doing anything he’ll regret on the trip. can u just…idk watch out for him pls ? ik v can take care of himself. but sometimes he gets into this headspace that’s self-destructive

Rem: tbh i dont like his ghost stuff as it is. i dont need him doing something dumb either

Patton: I understand Rem. That’s really sweet of you <3 <3

Patton: I’ll look out for him! I promise!!!! :-) :-)

Rem: ty. dont tell v abt this convo tho

Despite feeling uneasy about it, Patton understood Remy’s request to keep silent. Telling Virgil about their conversation would only push Virgil away and make him defensive. It’d be impossible to look out for him.

Virgil had already given Patton a way in. Patton had to talk to Logan for Virgil and get any supplies he might need. Patton loved visiting Logan in and of itself. Maybe Logan could help him out.

Logan’s business was located near small shops clustered along the beach. It was a hotspot for tourists, where knickknacks and souvenirs were sold and expensive attractions were advertised. Patton walked along here with Virgil sometimes, stopping at the arcade or mirror maze. Patton had met some of the most interesting people in the small touristy town.

Among the attractions was a dark blue shingled building with a pointy-roofed top. Painted letters on a wooden board spelt out “Afterlife Exposed.” Patton stepped through the door and a bell gently ringed, signaling his arrival.

At the sound of the bell, a tall, dark-haired man turned around. His navy suit blended in with the darkness of the shop. The man’s lean body was captivated beautifully in the suit. Patton quickly averted his eyes, blushing furiously.

“I have been expecting you-oh. Greetings, Patton. What a surprise.”

“Hi Logan!” Patton waved enthusiastically. “Who were you expecting?”

“No one. It’s a new rule Father has implemented. I must say it to every customer to ‘set the mood,’ as he calls it.” Logan dragged his hand over his face exasperatedly. “I find it quite ridiculous. But business shall be business.”

Logan’s father technically owned Afterlife Exposed. But he was always hidden in the back, gathering supplies or experimenting. Logan was currently studying entrepreneurship in college in order to take over the family business someday.

“How may I help you today, Patton?” Logan inquired, stepping around the counter to stand in front of him. He was even taller up close.

Patton filled Logan in about the New Prince Castle family murder and Virgil’s plan to investigate the castle for one of his ghost routines. Logan nodded politely the whole way through.

“I see. What an intriguing case. What exactly does he need from me?”

Patton shrugged cluelessly. “Anything you think might help, I guess.”

“What’s his budget?”

“A coffee and cake pop from Starbucks, if he uses his gift card.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “And he sent you to purchase something from here? Why, he couldn’t even afford a keychain.”

“Come on, Logan! He’s one of your most loyal customers and between us, he’s going through a rough patch. Can’t you help him out? Please?”

Logan massaged his temples and sighed. “Patton, it’s just not something the business can afford to do right now. My Father and I have been dealing with a sort of rough patch as well. You and Virgil have my sincerest apologies-truly, you do.”

Patton nodded dejectedly, “I understand.” Spotting Logan’s hesitant expression and tense form, he rested a hand on Logan’s shoulder and grinned. “Really, I do. I don’t blame you.”

Logan gave a small, tight-lipped smile in return. Gently shaking Patton’s hand off his shoulder, he clasped his hands together tightly. “Well, is there anything else I can do for you?”

“I’m not too sure.” Patton pursed his lips in thought. “Well, actually. I was wondering if you could tell me the dos and don’ts of ghost hunting. The yays and nays. The cats and dogs-actually no scratch that, both of those would be a yay.”

“With all due respect, Patton, I think Virgil has got that covered.” Logan reassured. “He must have asked me a dozen times prior to his first investigation.”

“Oh yeah, I know. It’s for me.” Patton corrected.

Logan raised an eyebrow in perplexion. Patton had never shown an interest in ghost hunting when Virgil wasn’t to be found.

Patton thought quickly. “I just want to understand more. For when I talk to Virgil. Sometimes I really don’t get half the explanations coming from the kiddo’s mouth.” It wasn’t a lie. “Just…how do you deal with ghosts?

“I see.” Logan clicked his tongue. “I’m sure Virgil could explain it to you more in depth. But, if you’re ever in doubt, chalk it up to one thing: respect. Is what you’re doing respecting the afterlife and their home? Are you portraying common courtesy? Treat them with the same respect as the living, if not more. There are exceptions, as with anything, but for the most part, that should keep you out of trouble with spirits.”

“Respect.” Patton repeated.

“You have strong morals, Patton. If you’re concerned about involvement with the afterlife due to your closeness with Virgil, I would not worry. Lack of respect is the last of your weaknesses.”

Logan pulled out his phone from the back of his pocket. “I apologize, I must return to my work. However, if you or Virgil have any more questions, feel free to give me a call.”

Patton gushed and thanked Logan, jotting down his number. Logan flushed a gentle red and held out his hand for a handshake.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Patton.”

Patton swatted Logan’s hand away and brought him in for a hug. “Thank you, Logan.”

Logan awkwardly pat Patton on the back before ungracefully untangling himself from the embrace. “I was only doing my job. Now, I understand it’s none of my business, but I recommend getting some rest. You look exhausted.”

“High school has permanently carved bags under my eyes.” Patton shook his head defeatedly.

Logan gave an amused smirk. “You sounded like Virgil.”

Patton beamed. “Like father, like son!”

Just as Patton was about to turn around to leave the store, something in the corner of the room glistened, catching his eye. “Hey Logan? Just one more thing?”

Logan hummed at him, encouraging Patton to continue.

He pointed to the object at the corner of the room. “How much can I get that for?”

 “Walkie-talkies. I sent you to Logan Berry, one of the smartest, most knowledgeable people about the afterlife in this town, and you come back with a Ghost Buster walkie-talkie.” Virgil grunted, dangling the toy by its antennae.

“You can have the Casper the Ghost one instead.”

“What? No! Ghost Busters is better, anyway.” Virgil groaned. “That’s not the point. How about advice? Did Logan say anything?”

“Just to respect the ghosts. Have common courtesy. Which you better be doing anyway, even without Logan telling you to do so.”

Virgil threw his hands up in exasperation and fell down into his sofa as the cushions engulfed the skinny man. “Obviously I respect them! The last thing I need is coming home possessed and cursed! He knows I know that. That’s really all he said?”

“Besides giving us his number.” Patton confirmed. “Which I already gave you.”

Virgil grumbled. “Whatever. One day I’ll get enough money to- wait. The walkie-talkies. There’s no way you could have bought them with my money, I would not have had enough. Please don’t tell me…”

Virgil got a glance of Patton’s sheepish look and groaned. “Patton, we have a rule! No buying each other anything!” He buried his head in his hands. “I can’t pay you back. You know that.”

“Hey…” Patton took a seat next to Virgil and laid a comforting hand on his knee. “It’s okay. They weren’t expensive. You don’t have to pay me back.”

Virgil looked at Patton in between his fingers. His voice was muffled against his palms. “You know how I feel about that, Pat.”

“Virgil, come on.” Patton pleaded.

Virgil shook his head. “Thank you. But, you need to return them.”

Guilty silence settled among the two, but neither made a move to leave. Both were lost in their own worlds when an idea struck Patton.

He nudged Virgil. “I know a way for you to pay me back without money.” At Virgil’s unimpressed look, he protested, “Seriously! It would mean a lot more to me than whatever these walkie-talkies cost.”

“Yea?” Virgil lifted his head from his hands. “What is it?”

Patton stared at Virgil’s stormy eyes as his heart pounded. In all honesty, this was the last thing Patton wanted to do. He was terrified. But, he thought back to the conversation he had with Remy, and the last time Virgil did something senseless unsupervised due to paranoia. “I want to go ghost hunting with you. At the New Prince Castle.”

Virgil’s jaw dropped. His eyes darted around Patton’s face before he shook his head and gave a weak chuckle. “Sure, Pat. Whatever you say.”

“No, I’m serious!” Patton insisted. “I’ll respect the ghosts and do whatever you tell me to do!”

Virgil was dismissing Patton before he could finish his sentence. “No, no, no. You hate ghost stories, Pat! Especially ones that are spooky and gruesome. You’d hate ghost-hutning. It’s dark and there’s lots of weird noises and tons of spiders. No way. I’m not adding more guilt to my conscience.”

Virgil made a move to get up from the sofa, but Patton refused to let the conversation drop. He grabbed Virgil’s hand and pulled him back to the seat. Virgil landed with a clumsy thump.  

“Kiddo, I know I hate all those things. I’m sure I’ll be scared. But, you’ll be there too! I love you more than I hate all those things combined.”

“Patton, we can do something else together. Go to the movies. Or bowling. Normal teen stuff.” Virgil reasoned.

Patton retorted, “But ghost hunting is important to you.”

“It’s not that important. It’s a simple hobby. I don’t care that much about it.” Virgil cut off.

“I know, I know!” Patton quickly backtracked. “What I meant was that ghost-hunting has been a cool way for us to bond. It intrigues you-a perfectly normal amount-and I like seeing you happy! Just like you go walking with me along the shops by the beach even though it’s super crowded and you hate it.”

“Patton, what’s your point?” Virgil grilled.

“My point is I want to try this thing that you enjoy with you. Just like you try things for me. It’s senior year, Virgil. No one hates thinking about it more than me, but we don’t know what things are going to be like after high school. I want to find a husband, start a family. Maybe study veterinary science. You could have a publisher for your writing, become a famous author, and move. I want to do this with you. I want to get over my fear.”

Patton stared at Virgil hopefully and held out his hand. “What do you say? One more big adventure for the dynamic duo?”

Virgil stared at Patton, looked down and roughly shook his head, froze, then stared at Patton once more. Virgil’s foot rapidly tapped against the floor, creating a dizzy, distracting melody. Finally, Virgil pulled his hair and glared at Patton. “You’ll be careful?”

Patton nodded eagerly.

“And you’ll stick with me no matter what? At all times? I want you in my sight.”

Virgil dramatically groaned, closing his eyes and throwing his head back. “I guess you can come.”

Patton shot up from his seat, whooping with joy and hopping around the sofa. “Thank you, Virgil! Thank you! We’re going to have such a great time!”

Virgil peeked one eye open and gave a soft grin. “Yeah, I guess we are. You’re sure you wanna do this?”

“Never been more sure of anything in my life besides my love for you and cats! I pinkie swear it.”

Patton and Virgil intertwined pinkies before Patton winked and let go, embracing Virgil.

“Let your moms know you’re going to be gone for the weekend.” Virgil smirked. “We have a haunted castle to explore.”

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #remy sanders #deceit sanders #LAMP #CALM #platonic lamp #hurt/comfort #family fluff #fluff #logicality #prinxiety

[disruptedvice]

2019 writing meme

i was tagged by @startofamoment​, no doubt because I’ve been talking up that b99 porn star au that I started writing in 2016 but never completed.

It looks like how this meme goes is two lists: Things I am definitely going to write (or things I am definitely most likely going to write from startofamoment’s post) Things I’d like to write, time (and creativity) permitting

But I’m gonna do mine a little different, cause the thing is, I’ve already started writing drafts for literally all of these, like years ago in some cases, so- I mean, I’ve already started writing every single one of these, and have 4+ pages on some, 16+ pages on others, and there’s no telling what year they’ll actually be posted, but here’s some things from my technically wip stuff

Basically, works that I’ve already started the process of writing but who knows when they’ll be completed and just damn, I’ve got so much

The starmora/thorkyrie one shot where Valkyrie reacts to meeting and finding out who Gamora was the way that everyone expected Thor to react to Gamora in IW (confrontational AF- cue Valkyrie harshly whispering “How can you trust them?” and Thor just deadpanning “You literally sold me into slavery when we first met”)

Starmora college AU + artist!Peter and kickboxer!Gamora

Peraltiago Contract killer!Amy and target!Jake AU

Peraltiago Conceptual photographer!Jake + Model!Amy (also, former Art Student!Amy)

Childhood friends starmora AU/both raised by ravagers

Post IW/Post Endgame thorkyrie reunion one shot

Flight attendent!Jake Peralta + hates flying passenger!Amy Santiago

Pornstar peraltiago AU + coworkers to friends to lovers trope

The married peraltiago pregnancy multichapter fic I’ve been planning for AGES

Peraltiago Actors AU (Jake and Amy are actors on a TV show called Brooklyn Legal)

More and previews/excerpts under the cut ~ 

(And because tumblr mobile is going wonky, if this post looks weird, you can just open this post in your phone’s browser and tada! It’s in a readable format and looks like how I actually posted it!)

Dude, so I’ve got some previews for some of these, but I literally just copied and pasted without editing the slightest, so you can see while I may have pages and pages written out for all these stories on microsoft word/google docs, they are still very clearly not ready to post

That multichapter peraltiago pregnancy fic that I’ve had planned since, oh, FOREVER and still haven’t gotten around to-

“I just realized I'm gonna have to stop making sex tape jokes and switch over to dad jokes.” ”Jake, you already make way too many puns to be healthy and tell soul crushingly lame jokes all the time. You already make dad jokes, but they were just called lame jokes before you had a kid. Now your lame jokes can be called dad jokes. But you always had them.”

[In baby fic Jake still tackles her and pulls her to the ground, but its a careful tackle and he always makes sure to catch her and break her fall. It's kinda amazing how quick he does it, how they'll be chasing each other and he'll pull her to the ground, pull her into him. It's almost strange, how quick and gentle he is with it. With her. At first she might have worried about his rough housing, but he was always delicate. Careful but still fun. And she never had to worry about losing her balance with him]

Jake tackles her and she's laughing and hitting him on the arm and saying ”The baby, the baby!” And he pulls back and says “You know, you can't keep using that excuse. It's not fair.” And Amy says “I've still got months and months of that excuse” and he says ”It’s like saying you have to pee during a tickle fight. Now I have to let you go.”

{When Jake says excuse not fair cause its like saying she has to pee during a tickle fight and she thinks that's a fair excuse too not just baby, Amy asks jokingly "do you want me to pee on you?" And he says "you don't know. I might be into that."}.

Contract killer!Amy and target!Jake AU-

where they used to be childhood friends but hadn’t seen each other since they were like 9 years old, and then Amy realizes she recognizes the person she was just hired to kill

She's been struggling with this dilemma in her head for the past few days and even though it's completely irrational she decides not to do it. She decides to help him. She decides to help keep him alive. She actually did a coin toss. Heads she goes through with it and shoots him, tails she helps him. She flipped the coin. It landed on heads. And that cemented her decision.

She was going to help him.

She breaks into his apartment that evening since she learned he would be out.

She wears gloves. Looks through any papers he had, trying to find financials, but there's nothing to suggest why someone wanted him dead.

She wouldn't be much use keeping him alive if she didn't know why someone wanted him dead in the first place. And all the wire transfers for who hired her were anonymous. She turns on his computer and it isn't even password protected. It was a desktop and not a laptop, but still.

He must be the most naive and trusting idiot in the world.

She looks through the files on his computer and nothing useful turns up. He's so normal it's pissing her off.

She looks through his emails and there isn't even a hint of one lousy affair.

And she doesn't feel an ounce of guilt invading his privacy because it was a whole lot nicer than killing him.

She deserved a thank you.

But she can't find anything on why anyone would want him dead.

His plans were dinner with friends or something and it's been an hour at this point and she knows he could walk through the door at any moment and catch her.

Catch her having broken into his apartment. And she still had nothing.

And she decided to fuck it and just ask him. Just sit down on the couch in his living room and ask him who would want to kill him when he gets home.

This whole operation was already fucked, why not fuck it up some more? ___

she hears him unlock and open the door when he gets home. She hears him enter, shut the door, lock it behind him.

He walks down the hallway, finally to his living room and sees her.

He just stares at her and she says "c'mon dude, why the hell is it so hard to find out who wants you dead?"

And Jake blinks a couple seconds and then he says "uh, are you okay? Do you need help or something? Do you know where you are?" He asks like she may have accidentally gotten into his locked apartment cause she had a concussion and didn't know who the hell she was.

And she says "seriously? Seriously, man? I broke into your apartment and you ask me if I'm /okay/?" She sounds frustrated.

And he says "I think that's a fair assumption unless you were the worst robber in the history of ever. I walk in and there's a stranger sitting on my couch. Not stealing my couch, sitting on my couch. Correct me if I'm wrong but professional robbers are A: supposed to take stuff and B: supposed to be gone by the time the home owner comes back. So an empty handed stranger sitting on my couch who just starts talking to me like it ain't no thang instead of trying to flee the first thing my mind jumped to was not a criminal mastermind. Though that actually might be a smart plan after all. If you would've gotten a bowl of cereal and kicked back with the TV on the only logical assumption would be that you just walked out of a hospital ward and and the homeowner would probably call an ambulance to take the obviously confused and concussed woman back to the hospital and you could just walk out the door with all their valuables while they're making that call. That would actually be a great plan."

And Amy's like "don't give me tips on how to rob you better! What the hell is wrong with you?"

And Jake says "but you're not actually robbing me, are you? Cause you're doing a pretty piss poor job of it. Since you're not actually stealing anything can tell me what the hell you are doing here?"

Pornstar peraltiago AU + coworkers to friends to lovers trope

After the confessing feelings for each other part and kissing the heck out of each other:

“Okay, this is really nice and I'm loving it, but I also wanna be with you, not whoever we're supposed to be at work. I want to be touched by Jake Peralta, you know?” Her voice tiltered out, almost wincing, but she was sure he got what she meant. “Fuck, that's all I've ever wanted. Amy Santiago. Who I watch movies with and laugh and who falls asleep on my couch and I have to resist kissing her on the forehead every time.”

Brooklyn Legal - Peraltiago TV show actors AU

Eliza was essentially the let loose wild card character in their cast ensemble, something that could not be more opposite of the actor playing the character, Amy Santiago. Jake's character was in the main cast too, Lucas, who was the awkward book type, preferring hard cover law books when he had to research any preferences for cases instead of just using a computer. Jake and Amy still end up falling for each other.

Starmora college AU + artist!Peter and kickboxer!Gamora

“Your drawings. They’re not bad,” she said simply. “And either you messed up on this one here, or that man was not showing proper form,” she pointed out, down at one of his figure drawings of a man kicking the open air.

“Would you like me to show you how it’s actually done?” Gamora offered with an air of disinterested professionalism, though he’s certain he can see a smirk that’s just begging to be brought out from her lips.

He stared at her, blinking like an idiot. Then he started nodding, still like an idiot.

She gave him a single, curt nod in return before heading back to the mat she was practicing on, this time with a specific move in mind.

Gamora moved into position, breathed out, and let it overtake her.

  "Would you like me to show you how it's actually done?" She offers with an air of disinterested professionalism, though he's certain he can see a smirk that's just begging to be brought out from her lips. Peter blinks once, twice. Like an idiot. Then he starts nodding, still like an idiot. Gamora nods at him once before walking away, walking back towards the mat, positioning herself right where she was practicing before. This time, though, with a specific movement in mind, putting on a show. She goes through her practice arsenal of moves, throwing in that one basically two or three moves, since his goal was to capture figures in motion, not figures in a pose. She kinda loses herself in the routine, and what he probably expected to be a 30 second demonstration turns into 5 minutes of her exercising and moving fluidly through her practice until she's breathing heavy and broken out into a sweat. When she decides to pause and take a break, she looks back over to her new friend/acquaintance, who is furiously scribbling in his sketchbook. Well, that's not quite true. His pencil is gliding across the page in a swift and fluid fashion, much like her movements were earlier. They're both getting their practice in of the art forms they've done a thousand times before, moving through the motions.

Conceptual photographer!Jake + Model!Amy (also, former Art Student!Amy)

When they're about to get started Amy says “I - I like your works.”

And he gives her a soft and polite smile with a “Thanks.”

And she realizes that everyone probably tells him that. Everyday. And they're probably all lying. And if they're not it was probably because they looked them up the night before and memorized all the facts so they could impress him.

That's why she got the polite smile. Because he hears that lie a million times a day by people trying to be polite or something.

And she recants immediately “No I don't. That was a total lie. I didn't even know your name until two weeks ago.” And she's totally flabbergasted but his smile is genuine now instead of polite and she doesn't know what to say or where she's going, but he has a really good smile and she just wants to keep talking so he'll keep smiling. “I like a work of yours. It was the only one I'd seen, and I didn't even know it was yours until two weeks ago when I looked you up and I saw it and I saw you made it, but I just recognized it by sight cause when I heard your name I didn't think I knew anything you ever did, but I was scrolling through it all and I realized that I'd seen it before. And I really liked it, I just didn't know who made it. I mean it's in a museum by my house and your name is on the plaque but all the times I looked at it I never even bothered to read the plaque. Not because I didn't like it, I just never read the plaques in art museums even on the stuff I really love. So I don't like you works or even really know any of them. I just really like the one.”

Childhood friends starmora AU

Later that night, after the eclector had left port, Gamora and Peter were sitting in Peter’s room, just talking.

“How come you didn’t tell me you could fix ships?” He asked, thinking that would have been something good for him to know to convince Yondu to let them take her aboard.

“I don’t,” Gamora said simply. At the confused look he gave her, she grinned something mischievous, like they were partners in crime. “I lied,” she admitted, laughing into her hand.

Peter in turn laughed that much harder.

“But I am a quick learner!” Gamora added quickly. She was pretty sure she could trust Peter, but she had still only met him today, and she had lied to his- captain? From the insolence he spoke to Yondu with, he seemed more like his father. Not in the way that Thanos insisted on calling himself Gamora’s father, but his actual father. She had come up with the lie spur of the moment, because her situation was urgent, and she needed to get off the planet as soon as possible. Anything was better than her siblings finding her and taking her back. Any repercussions from that fib paled to what would be in store if she was brought back to Sanctuary. “I’m good at memorizing stuff, so I can learn how to fix engines if the mechanic on board shows me how. I meant that, about earning my keep. I can be a- a apprentice or something. It wasn’t a total lie.”

“You’re not gonna tell him, are you?” She asked worriedly.

“What? No! I’m not a tattle tale!” Peter told her immediately, and even though she didn’t know what a tattle tale was, she could figure out what it meant from context clues. “He’ll probably figure it out on his own, though. But that’s okay-” he added quickly, when he saw the look of genuine fear in Gamora’s eyes. “Yondu says he values ‘ngenuity ‘‘n stuff. That just means if you manage to pull one over on him he’ll prolly laugh and give you a pat on the back and maybe a smack on the head for being a smart ass, but that’s it. I wouldn’t be here right now if Yondu wasn’t impressed by the few times I’ve managed to actually trick him. I mean- many times. I’ve tricked him oh so many times. Lots.”

Gamora laughed at that, because Peter was such a horrible liar. She didn’t think that was such a bad thing. No, it wasn’t bad at all.

Then flashforward like eight or so years and of Peter and Gamora fall in love because of course they do. So it’s really more of a raised by ravagers falling in love with your best friend starmora AU with a childhood friends prologue (plus some good ol fashion Peter whump with him almost dying on a solo mission they undertake cause yessss)

Post IW/post endgame Thor/Valkyrie reunion fic

“Hey! It’s me! It’s really me! I swear!” Thor held his hands up in a defensive posture, but that only seemed to anger her more.

“I know it’s you! That’s why I’m hitting you!”

She took another swing at him that he easily blocked- either she was too sleep deprived to at least hit him well, or she wasn’t trying as much as she wanted to seem.

They’d sparred before, and this definitely wasn’t even close to the full force of the Valkyrie. Still enough to hurt, though. Her movements were sloppy in a way she’d scolded him for when they had trained together following Ragnarok (“You’re too open, your majesty,” she informed him, with her trademark mocking tone at his title. Thor didn’t really mind. The teasing tone. He definitely minded the kick to the ribs he just got- it felt like they’d been punted into him. “When you swing, you swing wildly, and you make so much of yourself a target. You need to keep your hands up, when you punch, pull back, keep your shoulders tucked. It’s like you’re expecting your opponents not to hit back. Sure, you’re fine if you knock them out on the first punch, anything other than that, your technique leaves you wide open and your ribs prime for kicking,” she informed him, smirking while he was still struggling to breathe evenly again.)

It was the same too open critique she’d criticized him for months ago, the one that she said was fighting like he was expecting his opponents not to hit back. Her swings left her wide open, now.

Though, if she knew it was him, then she also knew he wouldn’t hit back. So maybe the too open fighting made sense right now.

“Aren’t you glad I’m alive?” He asked, blocking an elbow strike and deflecting the punch that followed. He caught her wrist, wrapped his hand around it before she could pull it back (“You’re too open”)

“Of course I’m glad you’re alive,” she growled, sounding much more mad than glad.

Starmora AU where they live in a seaside town and go to college together, and have a competitive rivalry going on as captains of the swimteam, then one day Gamora’s out on the ocean and a storm comes rolling in and she’s tossed overboard, only to be rescued from crashing waves by mermaid!Peter - like seriously, what the hell? This idiot that she’s known for years has a motherfucking mermaid tail???

Oh, and there’s a Sentinel/Guide AU with sentinel!Gamora and Guide!Peter

Plus, some lovely Elspeth Quill prompts that make my heart glow

Also, the B99/Peraltiago Daemon AU where Jake’s daemon is a badger named Jeremiah, and everyone’s like, how did the most cuddly person of a human being get something as scary and confrontational as an American Badger? They took on bears and wolves! On purpose!

Almost forgot about the multichapter Peraltiago space ark AU- it’s technically a series of one shots in the same universe, and a song fic, based on a concept album (so there’s 11 chapters, since the album has 11 songs in it) - I have the first chapter of this completely done, but nothing close to the other 10, and I feel bad about having so many multichapters open at the same time and updating them so slowly (hence why all this crap is in my unposted junk), but I might post chapter one of this soon just as a little ‘screw you (I say to myself and sense of obligation/anxiety), I’m having fun writing this, that’s the only mandatory thing about fic writing, if I’m enjoying myself and taking forever, that’s something to rejoice in, not feel bad about

So yeah, goodness knows when all this shit will be out. I think the closest things I have to done are the Peraltiago space ark ch 1 AU and the Thorkyrie reunion fic

Ima tag @peraltiagoisland, @nymphrea, @star-munches, @marypoppinswasmyfatherbitches, @thingssunspokenorotherwise, @interabangs, @perilinpeace @elsaclack

Please don’t feel obligated to participate if I tagged you, and if you’re looking for an example for the way you’re actually supposed to do this ask meme and not my weird way, startofamoment’s post here is good

(cough cough elsaclack i almost didn’t tag you cause i didn’t want you to be pressured cause i know how that be sometimes, but i love u, and your writing, and also wanted to wave some of my peraltiago stuff that i’m exctied about in your face and be like ‘look what I made!’/’haven’t made yet’)

But really, same goes for everyone here, you’re tagged because ily and i love your stuff, and don’t feel obligated to participate, don’t do this if it’ll stress you out/make you feel pressured in the long run, only do it if it sounds fun cause you’re all so freakin’ great and i want you to have fun

#b99 #gotg #thorkyrie #peraltiago #starmora #fanfic #MCU fanfiction #AU #writing meme #thor x valkyrie #my fic #ask meme

[taeliciousdaelicious]

Of Binary Codes and Blue Candies || jhs

Genre: Action, fluff (idk to what extent), gang!AU, humor (if you squint hard enough)

Pairing/s: freelance hacker!You and hacker!Hseok

Description: “Oh my gosh, I lost to you and I’m fracking laughing at it.”  —; part of the Lacerta series

Sequence of events: myg, knj, jjk, jhs, ksj, pjm, kth

Word Count: 4,726

Note/s: Mentions of characters from the other installments of the Lacerta series. Also, I don’t know a thing about hacking. I just researched at the last minute and I’m still pretty sure it’s not 100% enough or accurate. Pretty sure Google is watching my IP address, though.

The e-mail that you received had been shady enough. Yet, you attributed your lack of self-preservation to the fact that you were a month behind on rent and your bills were starting to pile up. So, without any question—just like what the said e-mail instructed—you accepted the job. You convinced yourself it would be worth it since the pay would easily amount to three average-level assignments. And above all else, hacking is delicate work. You’d rather have this one than three more of this for the same price. Or so you thought.

Now that you were staring at the computer screen, however, you couldn’t help but focus on the twitching of your left eye. Anxiety was starting to bubble up, slowly climbing up your throat. You forced it down, trying to keep calm and rational. The network you were tasked to infiltrate... It wasn’t simple, to say the least. Whoever owned it must have been a highly-cautious man or woman, seeing as the difficulty of hacking it was on par with a government system or a worldwide organization.  You took in a deep breath before popping a blue gummy candy into your mouth. Briefly, you remembered it being advertised as ‘organic’, prompting you to think about of that one, memorable school lab experiment with gummy bears.

While you chewed, you could feel yourself slowly calming down now that your mouth had something to do. Your friends had called you out, saying you had an oral fixation or something. You had never heard of such a thing before so you didn’t think much of it. That was, until another friend mentioned that she could match you up with someone who “would make full use and thoroughly enjoy” your oral fixation (which you still deny to this day since it sounds like a load of baloney).

Realizing that your mind had wandered off, you shook your head vigorously before focusing your eyes on the screen. Cracking your knuckles, you decided that it was time to suck it up and get to work.

Of-fucking-course, it would be hard to hack into right off the bat. You already wasted two hours of your life trying but to no avail. Whoever this person was that required your services clearly forgot that you needed some information so you could actually do what you needed to do. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you took deep, steadying breaths before deciding to leave an e-mail of inquiry. You weren’t prepared for the reply, though.

“Oh, are you fucking kidding me now? Really? What have I gotten myself into?” you questioned out loud although no one could hear you.  You read the e-mail again, just in case you were reading it wrong. You groaned when you deduced that you weren’t dreaming and that it was, in fact, real. It seemed that you had drawn the short lot in this life. “Lacerta. Whoever the fuck you are, I am skinning you alive if I ever find you.”

Tracing where the e-mail was sent from had been very tempting but judging the person’s character through the concise and curt messages, he or she must be smart enough not to let a hacker track them down. It was just your luck that you were tasked to go against the city’s most notorious gang. You sent another e-mail, asking if you could drop out of whatever this was. However, the response had been immediate. ‘Think about your decision very carefully, Y/N.’

Great, so now you can untangle yourself from this. Biting your lower lip, you popped another gummy candy into your mouth to de-stress. The sweetness brought a sharp pang to your senses and you positioned yourself again for work. You did your best on gathering information about Lacerta, getting in-touch with your contacts in the field for some help to acquire some data to reduce the time spent on this. The faster you finish, the better.

It was late into the night when the first stage of your hacking job was considered well and truly done. You stretched on your seat, yawning widely. Your eyes burned from reading over lines and lines of information flashing on your computer screen for the past couple of hours. Still, you’re not done hustling. It was time to see the chinks of the proverbial armor of Lacerta’s database.

“Client wants me to hack via the Internet or wireless LAN. The git. Making my job harder than it has to be” you muttered under your breath. What you weren’t admitting was that you were mildly relieved by that. At least, you didn’t have to sneak into wherever their base may be and do who knows what that might get you into more trouble or worse.

After setting up all the hacking tools you thought and knew would be applicable for whatever you had in mind, you collapsed on the couch backed up against a wall. “Alright, time to get some shut-eye, Y/N.”

You nursed a mug of coffee as you blearily blinked at the computer. Now that you had found the weakness in their system, you were determined to set your plan in motion. Yawning widely, you placed the mug down before cracking your knuckles.

“Alright, time to work” you muttered to yourself. Soon enough, your fingers were flying through the keys. The incessant clacking was the only thing heard in the otherwise silent room. And by all means, everything that happened afterwards wasn’t what you expected.

For starters, it seemed suspiciously easy to break into their system. It only took a few rifling and sorting through the data flashing through the screens in your room to find the file you were supposed to extract. Quickly, still apprehensive, you transferred it into your hard drive (your just in case Plan B if stuff happened to you) before completely erasing it from Lacerta’s system. Then, for a wild second, you paused, long enough to attract attention from whoever was keeping their database secure. And yet, no attacks were being launched your way. Either the person on the other side was a really lax one or incompetent. Still, you weren’t about to stay just to get caught. With a bark of disbelieving laughter, you left your signature before doing a scan of your own system, double-checking that you were as clean as could be.

Don’t freak out too much. I’m pretty sure no one would miss someone’s cheating footage, right? — Gray Hat

In retrospect, it was kind of stupid to think that it was the last of it. However, you were sorely wrong, as proven to you three days after that job. You had just paid your rent after your shift down the local restobar when your phone buzzed in your pocket. Closing your front door, you kicked off your shoes as you fished it out. The message flashing on the screen made you stop in your tracks.

From: Unknown Number So, Gray Hat. Let me guess, the dude in the video asked you to remove it, yes? (Received 10:13 P.M.)

It was from an unknown number. You didn’t know how that person got hold of you but it felt like a bucket of ice was doused over you at the implications. Your mind was already jumping to conclusions, thinking you were about to suffer repercussions from the job you took. You bitterly cursed your last client in the confines of your mind before the sudden continuous ping of your phone made you jump in shock.

From: Unknown Number

Either ways, that’s not the point. The point is this

How the fuck did you manage to hack into the database without setting off the alarms I placed

Like

Dude/Dudette (Received 10:14 P.M.)

It only wailed like a siren after detecting the file you deleted without admin permission

Also, is ‘Gray Hat’ a codename or something

Or that’s just you identifying yourself as a literal gray hat

Please answer me

I hope that didn’t sound too demanding (Received 10:15 P.M.)

You decide to address each of his queries one by one.

To: Unknown Number

Gray hat as in the hacker term gray hat

It’s dudette

Also, that’s a secret I’m not sure I am willing to tell

What’s in it for me? (Sent 10:16 P.M.)

From: Unknown Number

Thank god you’re smart

Also thanks for answering

I’m a dude btw just getting it out there

I thought I had to track you down for a one-on-one

So listen (Received 10:17 P.M.)

I have a proposal, gray hat dudette (Received 10:18 P.M.)

You couldn’t help but snort in derision at his words. A proposal? Who in their right mind would agree to an anonymous person’s proposal? The mystery client from the last had taught you enough lesson. You wouldn’t fall for this kind of thing again. Yet, you couldn’t help but read the rest of his texts when you received them.

From: Unknown Number

Would you be willing to

Like hmmmmmm

Meet up??? ?? ? (Received 10:19 P.M.)

Because

I might or might not want to offer you a job (Received 10:20 P.M.)

Staring at your screen for a full minute, it still took you some time before you could formulate a coherent answer. Your hands trembled faintly even as you typed it out.

From: Unknown Number

I don’t know what kind of game you’re trying to play, pal

But seriously (Sent 10:24 P.M.)

Please do stop trolling me 

Delete my number

Don’t even attempt tracking me down (Sent 10:25 P.M.)

I will report you to the police (Sent 10:26 P.M.)

From: Unknown Number

Phew

Thought you blocked me

Although

That���s a funny thought (Received 10:27 P.M.)

What are you gonna tell the police

“The person I hacked is contacting me please stop him”

I don’t think you’ll get out of that complaint unscathed, dudette (Received 10:28 P.M.)

“This fucking git” you vehemently hissed. You were typing furiously when he suddenly flooded your phone again with messages.

From: Unknown Number

Okay you know what

How about this (Received 10:28 P.M.)

Let’s meet and talk in the police station

Just say at the front desk that you’re there to meet Blue

Does that make it better for you? (Received 10:29 P.M.)

If anything, it made you more apprehensive. You exited the messaging app just to check your e-mail for the details. Your client made it clear that it was Lacerta you were hacking three days prior. So, if this male was really a part of Lacerta, what possessed him to suggest meeting in a police station?

You decided to ignore his messages. Chucking your phone on your couch, you went through the motions of preparing yourself some dinner—the usual fare of microwavable food—before settling down to eat it and watch some movies. Soon enough, you forgot the anonymous person who was bothering you earlier as you got immersed in the show you were watching. However, a soft ‘ping’ sounded from your laptop. You put the bowl on the coffee table and checked your e-mail notification. What you found made your heart pound a little harder against your ribcage.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Cute mail address. Also, a friendly reminder that I know how and where to find you. :) (Received 11:54 P.M.)

Fucking hell.

So it went without further ado that you would meet him at the police station, as crazy as it sounded. Heck, even you felt like you were losing your mind at the very thought of a possible member of a wanted gang in a building housing the very people who are out to get them. You unlocked your phone and dug the messages from last night, prompted by the stranger’s unwelcome e-mail.

To: Blue

For fuck’s sake

Alright fine, you git

We already established what you wanted

What’s in it for me

And how do I really know that I am not being conned or anything into this

Be honest or I swear I will start hacking with a malevolent intent for the first time in my life (Sent 11:55 P.M.)

From: Blue

Wow

You type fast, woman

Also

We’ll be paying to pay you whatever amount you are willing to work for (Received 11:56 P.M.)

But within reason!

We don’t shit gold nuggets okay

Also a heads up

You might or might not end up working with me 

As for reassurance that you won’t be hacked to pieces (Received 11:57 P.M.)

There will be a police officer waiting outside of the station

He’ll be sporting an outrageous hair color

Like

Neon yellow (Received 11:58 P.M.)

Tell him that you’re there to meet Blue

He’ll take you inside

If he doesn’t he has a gun in a holster strapped to his hip okay

If all else fails, pepper spray is the way

So see you tomorrow, Hatter (Received 11:59 P.M.)

You reviewed the messages again before looking straight ahead. The light changed and you crossed the road, feeling your nerves spike up gradually. The police station was a few blocks away and your steps grew considerably slower, displaying your reluctance. Still, at least it seemed that Blue was telling the truth or maybe it was coincidence. A person in a police uniform was standing right outside the doors leading to the station. He wore a formidable scowl... which was a contrast to his neon yellow hair. People stared as they passed by, to which the man only scowled further.

You were worried his face will disappear and cave into itself when he scowled even more when you approached him. Feeling a little silly, you hesitated. However, you remembered the messages you exchanged with Blue. Steeling yourself, you opened your mouth and boldly said, “I’m here to see Blue.”

His face slackened for a moment. You worried you got the wrong person when he suddenly blurted out, “No way, it was a girl who hacked into Lacerta?”

That instantly made you bristle in anger and frustration. It seemed that there was still some prejudice against women. Also, his choice of words and his tone felt a little too depreciating and condescending than you liked. Squaring your shoulders, you raised your chin haughtily as you hotly retorted, “Is there a problem, sir? Maybe you’d like me to dig deep and accidentally unearth your secrets just to prove my skills? But then again, I don’t have to prove myself to narrow-minded moose like you.”

“Narrow-minded—? What the fu—”

“Officer? I was under the impression that you were here to escort her inside, not insult her with your deep-rooted sexism due to societal stereotypes. Hatter, good to see you, by the way. I thought you wouldn’t come until I saw you pass through one of the CCTV cameras lining the path.”

You blinked blankly at the man that suddenly appeared, the door beside the police officer held open as he looked at you expectantly. The first thing you noticed was how excessively blue his outfit was. Still, it looked good on him. Pastel blue button-up and dark blue slacks. Then, you realized he called you ‘Hatter’, the moniker Blue from last night called you.

“Blue?” you tentatively called him. You were rewarded by a blinding smile. You fought the urge to hold a hand in front of your face to block your eyes from the brilliance. He jerked his head, wordlessly inviting you inside. Sneaking a glance at the officer still scowling at the two of you, you squeezed yourself into the narrow opening. You tried not to brush against him as you took in the interior.

“We’re going to talk in the conference room. Hey, Detective! Tell Namjoon not to bust a nut just yet. Hatter just arrived” he called out to one of the people milling around in the station, a woman giving him something between a stink eye and a look of amusement. Her gaze casually slid towards yours, her lips quirking to a smile.

“A word of advice: you really don’t have a say in the matter. Just skin him alive with the benefits you’d like to receive” she told you. The two of you watched her walk away while tapping on her phone.

“Right, let’s get inside” he said to break the silence that settled awkwardly. “This way, Hatter.”

He ushered you inside the conference room and closed the door, isolating you from everyone else. You noted, with a wave of relief, that the blinds weren’t closed and the door wasn’t locked. It meant that if anything went wrong, someone from outside would see and you could make a quick escape. Your attention was caught when Blue cleared his throat.

“First off, you can call me Hoseok or Hobi. I don’t care about the honorifics or what unless there are other members around us” he started without preamble. “Also, if you want, I can keep calling you Hatter or you can share your name to me. Your choice, really.”

You snorted at that, unable to help yourself when you replied, “I’m pretty sure you did a background check on me already, Hoseok.”

Hoseok raised an eyebrow before smirking in amusement. “I see that you’re blunt and fast to pick up on things. Great. So, I’m offering you a job in Lacerta because a.) we’re kind of in the middle of a... thing right now and with the way you hacked into our system, your skills impressed me—impressed us—and unanimously made the decision of contacting you to hire you for that. Also, because we need someone else to help us in that thing that I mentioned.”

“Translation: I’m useful and it would make more sense to hire me than kill me. Next” you nonchalantly said. Hoseok shot you a look for interrupting him but nevertheless continued.

“Anyways, b.) I’m asking you to please say yes because Namjoon will throw me into a river full of alligators if your decision is otherwise. Look, I was sleep-deprived during that time and he was furious that I let such a slip-up happen. Please, save my ass. Like what Miss Detective said earlier, you can skin me alive with the benefits that you’d like to receive.”

You gave his pleading look a hard stare before deeply sighing. “Alligators only eat dead things” you mumbled.

“Is that seriously the only thing you caught from my rant?” he asked you, narrowing his eyes a little. You rolled your eyes and leaned on the table, pinning him down with your eyes.

“What does this... job entail?” you asked almost hesitantly, afraid that it might ask more than what you could possibly and are willing to give.

Immediately, he answered, “It just a behind-the-scenes thing. You’ll do what you do best: hacking. You won’t get to be sent on the field. Don’t worry about that. However, you might have to talk to Lacerta members at times.”

You frowned at how vague his description was. Unsatisfied, you crossed your arms and prodded further, “Don’t be so stingy with details. What else am I supposed to know.”

“All other things are classified unless you agree to work with us.” He paused for a moment before saying, “But all I’m going to tell you right now is that we need you because we have a conflict with Cepheus right now.”

He simply took in the disbelieving expression on your face. Cepheus? As in the rumored rival gang of Lacerta? Maybe you were in deeper shit than you thought. Still, you were still thinking of the money and benefits. You weren’t about to shoot his proposal down just because of a little danger. After all, what is life without some thrill?

“Based on what you saw of my skills, how much are you willing to pay me to work for you guys?” When he rattled off the amount, your eyes went as wide as saucers before blurting out, “Holy fuck, sign me up. Just please, can I have a bodyguard to accompany me at all times? Also, keep my family out of this.”

“What happened to skinning me alive for benefits?” he joked.

“I will, just much later when I can think more properly. Also, there’s no contract on paper yet. We’ll need that if you’re going to hire me. I refuse to go by words.”

He nodded in assent. “Alright. Also, there’s a spare room in our main house if you feel like your current place is less secure.”

You merely raised an eyebrow at his words before standing up. “I think we’re done here. I have to go now. My shift at work starts in less than two hours.”

He hummed before saying, “I’ll send you a draft of the contract later via e-mail. Also, we might need to meet again to clearly outline what you can do, will do and are to do while you work for Lacerta.”

Just before you could say that you understood him, a figure right outside the room caught your attention. Without warning, Hoseok yelled loud enough to be heard outside, “I sealed the deal, okay! Stop hounding me, Namjoon! That was just once! Never again!”

You jumped at the sheer volume of his voice, clapping your hands to your ears to muffle the sound. When he was done, you shot him an aggravated look before dryly commenting, “A heads up would have been nice.”

He huffed and muttered, “Sorry but that asshole needed to learn how to stop watching and hovering over everyone like a hawk. That’s Namjoon, the gang leader.”

“Oh” you supplied, more shocked by his usage of the word ‘gang’ than the actual information itself. He simply smiled, as if he found something funny before shaking his head in amusement.

“Alright, I won’t keep you for longer than necessary. See you next time, Hatter. And you’ll have to tell me how you hacked into our system by then” he said. You smirked wryly at the reminder as you moved to the door.

As you opened it, you paused and turned towards him. “Y/N in private, Hatter in public. I’d like to keep my anonymity. Also, I want a Jacuzzi in my bathroom."

“How do you know your room has a bathroom?”

“The twitch of your nose tells me my guess was right. See you, Hoseok.”

He spluttered. “Are you seriously asking me to basically do a renovation—”

“I am technically saving your ass” you said in a singsong voice. “Told you I’m not done skinning you alive for benefits.”

And then you shut the door behind you, leaving a Hoseok who was halfway between amused and exasperated at how things were turning out.

Your bowl of blue gummy candies was depressingly empty and you sulked like a kid as you stared at it. Settling into Lacerta’s main house was a little harder than you thought. what with everyone freely carrying their weapons around the house. It was safe to say you were terrified to your wit’s end during the first three days. It was more than a week now since you first arrived and had finally felt a little more comfortable. Still, the realization that you just willingly got yourself into this mess boggled you to this day. Munching on your candies had been your way of de-stressing even when the job assigned to you was simply just monitoring and storing the devices and the system Lacerta was tracking. However, you didn’t realize that your favorite food was gone until your fingertips hit the bottom of the bowl.

This was how Hoseok found you inside the computer room, scowling and pressing the keys of the keyboard harder than what was necessary. He took a moment to glance around the room before settling on the bowl on the desk.

“Blue gummy candies, correct? The one that tastes like mixed berries?” he asked. It made you stop whatever you were doing instantly and abruptly turn to face him.

You looked at him in confusion, not noticing he interrupted your work as you asked, “How did you know?”

“I eat the same stuff, too. I keep my stash hidden because the others like to dip in and empty my bowl out” he casually remarked. He unlocked a cabinet underneath his desk with a key, brandishing a larger bowl, filled to the brim with the same gummy candies you adored and loved. You watched with large eyes, uncaring when Hoseok laughed. “Go on. We can share this.”

You settled into a harmonious silence then. You monitored and saved data. Hoseok sorted through them and read through the ones that seemed important. He wrote down some notes on a pad of sticky paper and would often stick them on the corkboard on his side of the room. After some time, someone slipped into the room.

“Hey Hoseok hyung, have you figured— Oh, candy!”

Before he could get a single piece, you have swiped the bowl away. The young man looked at you with a shocked expression as you hugged the food tightly to your chest. You frowned at him while Hoseok struggled to breathe from laughing hard.

“Jungkook, don’t bother. Hatter is having sugar withdrawals and she won’t be sharing any time soon” he told him. Jungkook merely pouted before moving away from you, peering at Hoseok’s notes instead.

“Hmm, look’s like we’re on to something” Jungkook commented. “I can see a pattern but I can’t connect point A to point B.”

“I thought I was the only one thinking that” Hoseok said, relief coloring his voice. While eating the candies, you watched the two of them as they conversed and made guesses on what could Cepheus’ next move possibly be. You took the time to study your (un)official work partner from head to toe. At first glance, it was easy to deduce that he was attractive. However, you also noticed how lithe he was and how graceful the lines of his body were. When he moved, his body was fluid and light. You also didn’t miss the muscles that shifted under his clothes, evidence that he didn’t spend his days simply sitting in front of computer screens.

“Y/N? Am I your latest science experiment? I’m not used to the probing look.” Hoseok’s voice snapped you out of your reverie. Your eyes darted around, only to see that Jungkook already left. Upon seeing his amused smirk, you flushed and turned away, mumbling a ‘sorry, lost in thought’. You pointedly looked at your own screen with determination and continued working with vigor. You heard him chuckle and hoped that he wouldn’t mention anything about your stare from earlier.

“How are you settling into Lacerta so far?” he asked casually. You briefly stole a glance, only to see he was still looking at you. The smile was still there and it made you flush even more in embarrassment.

“Good, I guess.”

“Really? I just noticed that you eat a lot of your gummy candies when you feel stressed” he pointed out his observation. It made you flinch lightly, realizing you weren’t being as discreet or careful as you thought you were. “If it helps, you can talk to me. Rant or something. Just give me a heads up if you’re about to cry.”

You laughed at his words before lightly saying, “Nah, don’t worry too much. That was just me working both my mouth and mind at the same time.”

He raised an eyebrow at that. “So you mean to say, you’re overthinking and stress-eating because of that?”

When you gave him a sheepish look, he chuckled before telling you, “Don’t worry too much. Happens to the best of us. I’m not about to hound you for more details if you don’t want me to pry.”

“Thanks” you said with sincere gratitude. He merely replied with a smile, matching yours before giving you a salute. And then the two of you returned to your work.

“You look good in blue, by the way” you offhandedly complimented him but you didn’t miss the grin he was shooting you from your peripheral view.

“I think I’d have to whip out my signature blue slacks then. I just discovered when and where Cepheus planned to meet some of their ‘investors’.” He shot out of his seat and was at the door in a blink of an eye, hollering down the hallway.

“Namjoon hyung! We struck gold! It’s time to get Seokjin’s pretty face out there.”

#bts #bts jhope #jung hoseok #jhope #hoseok #kpop #Tumblr fanfic #fluff #action #gang!au #hacker!hoseok #freelance hacker!you #gang!bts #criminal!au #bts jung hoseok #bts hoseok #bts lacerta series #i'm tea-deprived while writing this #i'm so sorry if this is bad

[beheadingofmakai]

“Exorcist” Is A Strong Word

<- Previous Chapter

5:31 AM was not a nice hour to be up and about for Vinn Ingram, but there simply was no other choice. Sure, the cold winds that blow through Mint Hill Street were a very convincing argument to buy a scarf the moment today was over, the uphill walk made paying a taxi very, very attractive even though it was a short walk, and the deadly combination of both made our new Exorcist miss his bed sheets with the agony of a lover who left his sweetheart behind to go to the war, but alas, this was a necessary evil if he ever was to see his workplace at all. At the Seventh Office of the Mythic Affairs Bureau, work hours begin at 7:00 AM, which is a whole one hour and twenty nine minutes our daring star could’ve spent tucked in bed dreaming about sunshine and puppies, but if the last two days were any indication, this was a bad idea, and that bad idea has a name: Bastian Ashfield, his partner.

“Mother fu... Arc damned cold wind... Uphill walk in the middle of... This better be worth it...” muttered the displeased Vinn to himself, making his walk under the purple early morning skies. Two days ago, Bastian raided his apartment and snatched him away to a sudden necromancy case, and yesterday, Bastian once more got him by the cuffs and got him working with a truant demon after an exorcism. These last two days, he’d been roped into all this work without being able to even see his office or meet his other colleagues. For a top scorer like Vinn, this was like a rusty, jagged spoon to the heart, as it was vastly unprofessional from him to not even greet his other seniors at the office just because this hydromancing asshole of a tyrant decided to start paying him house visits. Well, no more! Today, Vinn left far earlier than he was supposed to, as he wasn’t gonna risk a third day of impromptu plate-juggling. Maybe now, finally, he was gonna be able to do things right.

But Arc damn the wind is cold.

“I should almost be... Oh! That over there is the office, isn’t it?”. Vinn perked up and broke into a calm jog, and indeed it was. A four story building, solid and made of brick, with a large sign that read the “7th Office” in bold black letters. It didn’t indicate what it was the office of, just that it was the 7th. Magic and the supernatural is a well kept secret, after all, so whoever stumbled in there by accident would just be told a lie about this being a real estate firm or maybe an engineering firm. At long last, Vinn was going to be able to meet people that hopefully weren’t condescending jerks!

As Vinn approached the building, the door swung open, and what strode out froze Vinn in his tracks. A very tall woman, at least two heads taller than Vinn, with long dark green hair and a somewhat dark complexion, but the prodigious height and the curious colors of the dame weren’t what paralyzed Vinn, it was the long, curved, thick black horns that protruded from her head that did, peeking through holes in her large brimmed hat. 

“Hm? Hey there, I haven’t seen you around before” the mountain spoke. “For consultations and filing reports, head to the left desk, and for general questions, the help desk is on the right. We’ll help you in however way we can.”

“...Oh!” finally reacted Vinn, taking his eyes off the horns, hoping he didn’t offend. “Oh, thank you, but I work here, actually, it’s good to meet you, I started two days ago, my name is Vinn Ingram.” Upon hearing this, the woman brought a hand to her mouth in surprise, and immediately smiled gracefully, lifting her hat just slightly so she could take a better look at him with her piercing crimson eyes.

“Ah! You’re one of the graduates! How silly of me, my apologies, I assumed you were a new client. I haven’t seen you around, but, well, I suppose the same can be said for others, hmhm. Well met, Vinn Ingram.” -- the woman bowed with dignity and poise found only on professionals -- “I am Fatima Allanach, Exorcist here at the Seventh. Have been for years now. A pleasure to meet you. I would love to chat with you more, but I need to go out for something rather pressing right now. Which division are you on? I’d love to drop by later to properly meet you when time isn’t a pressing concern.”

“Oh, no no, don’t let me hold you back, the pleasure is all mine!” hastily replied the novice. “I’m in the 3rd Division.”

“The 3rd... That’s... I see, so you must be an intel support, then? Well, have fun with Nicholas, he’s kind of a stick in the mud before 9:30, but he’s very good at what he does. You’ll learn much. Well, farewell, until later.”

With a graceful half-bow and a smile, the large woman in the trench coat walked away, her horns disappearing from sight as soon as she headed to the streets. Can’t be seen with those by civilians, after all. Vinn couldn’t help but wonder what she meant by “intel support”. He was very much a fully fledged Exorcist, and his partner was Bastian, not some “Nicholas”. Well, whatever, he thought, maybe she was just confused and in a hurry. They’d meet later, so no biggie.

Finally at the 3rd floor, Vinn looked up which office was the 3rd Division’s in his briefing e-mail. It was more than a bit daunting when his worst suspicions were confirmed and that large, imposing cast iron door was, indeed, his office. With someone like Bastian on their payroll, however, the iron door made complete sense, unfortunately. “Well, whatever, let’s get to it.”

The already small room behind the iron door was made even smaller by the sheer amount of chaos within. Paperwork everywhere, pizza boxes, the scent of coffee and mana leftovers mixing into what can only be described as a terrorist attack on the senses, and one very bitter-looking blonde man sitting at the very end of the room, surrounded by cabinets, coffee mugs, and his computer, mashing away at that keyboard like it owed him money. 

“Uh, he--”

“And why the hell are you here this early again, Bastian! Can I just not have my own little world of-- Huh?”

“Um.”

“Oh.”

The red haired man and the blonde bitterness extract given a human form looked at each other awkwardly for a second, before the latter finally threw a brick and smashed the silence. “...Who, who the hell ar-- Who might you be? This is the 3rd Division, I think you got the wrong door, pal.”

“Uh, hey there, no, I work here. Effective as of two days ago, but it’s my first time showing up due to... Exceptional reasons, I guess. I’m Vinn Ingram, assigned here as of August 4th, a pleasure to meet you, Mister...?”

“No Vinn works here, dude, just go to your office.”

“Um, sir? I do work here, it says as much in this e-mail, I’ve been working for two days now on field.” 

“No you don’t.”

“Sir...”

“Dude, come on, I know everyone in this office and-- Hold that phone, what did you say your name was again?”

“V-Vinn Ingram, partner of--”

Whatever came after his last name fell upon deaf ears and was drowned by the loud tik and tak of the keyboard’s cry for help as the blonde man’s fingers struck it with surgical precision. A few seconds of awkward keyboard sounds later, the man’s face seemed to be right out of the cover of a cheap gas station horror novel. “Bastian’s partner? That Vinn?”

“That’d be me, yeah.”

“What the fuck, you haven’t quit yet?”

“E-excuse me?”

        Of incense, ink stains, and the murky menace lurking beneath it all:                                        – Chapter 3: Neon War Paint –

“Oh, um, ahem, h-hey, welcome, Vinn, welcome! I just, mm, never really expected anyone partnered with Bastian to last more than one assignment with him. Or less than one, really. I hope you’ll understand, he’s kind of, mm, not a very nice person.”

“Oh, trust me, I could gather that much. But yeah, I’m here, alive and willing still, somehow.”

Molotov cocktails burst green with envy at the explosive laughter the man by the computer just showcased with peerless cacklesmanship. “By the Arc, man, you really went and... I’m Nicholas Dunbar, Seventh Office 3rd Division information agent, assistant, and secretary, an actual honor to meet anyone who somehow survived Bastian.”

Vinn could only sigh, half laughing and half crying internally. “Vinn Ingram, once again, now assigned to this office as that oaf’s partner, the pleasure is mine. So, um, Nicholas, is Bastian just... Like that? In general?”

“He very much is like that in general.” replied the intel agent as he prepared some coffee on the worn, jury rigged coffee maker that had what was very clearly a band aid somewhere on its base. “See, the thing is, you’re the fourth partner that’s been assigned to him, and the only to survive the ordeal without quitting the job or requesting a transfer after... Well, not after, during the first day.”

“And I can see why. I’m here this early because he kept going to my place and roping me into more stuff, telling me he has to test me on this and test me on that, what a prick.” Vinn recounted as he tried to navigate this disaster room of pizza boxes and stray paperwork, making a futile attempt to find his desk.

“Yeah, you’re actually the only one I’ve met, haha. I kinda just assumed you’d be roadkill as well, no offense. You aren’t the top scorer of the Mythic Law Enforcement Academy for nothing, after all. Man, Bastian is real good at this job, one of the best, I dare say, but his people skills just haven’t been the same anymore...”

This last statement perked the novice Exorcist. “Mm? What do you mean with ‘anymore’?” The inquiry clearly changed something in the atmosphere, as Nicholas simply looked down and then at the coffee maker, gripping it by the handle and serving two piping hot mugfuls of coffee, offering one to Vinn.

“I can’t really tell you, man. I hope you understand. It’s kinda personal to him, and I’m not about the snitch life.”

“Ah, no no, sorry, didn’t mean to put you in the spot. Thanks for the coffee.”

“Say, since you’re here early, I might as well tour you through the Seventh, what do you say? Introduce you to the people, show you where stuff is, the works.” offered the intel agent, sipping his coffee, his voice certainly softer than before. This wasn’t an offer Vinn was going to turn down.

“I’d very much like that!”

                                                         ——-

The Seventh was a sturdy, spacious building. That cramped little hellroom that was the 3rd Division was not indicative of just how impressive and accommodating the rest of it was. Air conditioning, ample hallways, and effective use of space made it easy to navigate through and easy to fit all the relevant facilities. It certainly was a whole different beast from the antiquated brick fortress that it seemed to be from the outside. Nicholas and Vinn made small talk as they passed by the various other offices, most of them empty due to how early it was, heading to the Infirmary in the first floor.

“The Infirmary is open practically all the time, and it’s the first place you go to after an assignment, and the last place you go to before clocking out and leaving for the day.” Nicholas explained as he ringed the bell. “Cordiality is nice, but it doesn’t mean much in general in the Seventh, since we are all about getting the job done first and foremost. However, if there’s anyone you gotta be good with, that’s the Infirmary crew, because these people keep us alive. I think you’ll agree with me when I say you’d rather be on good terms with the people in charge of keeping you alive, yeah?”

“Hah, no argument there. I planned to come here first thing after finding the 3rd Division.” Vinn replied, adjusting his vest as Nicholas opened the door. “Hold on, don’t we have to wait for them to give us the ok?”

“I mean, by protocol, yeah, but as long as you ring the bell, Aria doesn’t really mind if you come in, Mister Stiff.” laughed the intel agent. “Can’t blame ya, though. You are the top scorer of this year’s promotion, so I assumed you’d be kinda stiff, but man, trust me, real work is a lot more... Earthly, if you will. Don’t take all those regulations and strict protocols to heart. As long as you do your job, no one minds.”

Vinn shrugged his shoulders as if saying “I guess”, which only prompted another chuckle from Nicholas. Inside the Infirmary, a woman with two large white wings and a long lab coat checked a clipboard and wrote on a little notebook propped on a desk. “Hey, mornin’, doc!” greeted Nicholas, prompting her to turn around with a pleasant smile and kind eyes.

“Hey, Nick, good day! Hm? Who’s the kid?” the doctor enthusiastically replied as she set down her clipboard. “Oh, one of the fresh meat, huh? Hey, I’m the patch up artist around these parts, name’s Aria, a pleasure.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss Aria, I’m Vinn Ingram, ‘fresh meat’ at the 3rd Division. We’ll be seeing each other.”

“Oh, so you are a new intel agent? You’re lucky, Nick is awesome at his job, just, be sure not to catch him before 9:30, he’s kinda--”

“Oh no no, he’s not mine, Aria.” interrupted Nicholas, a wry grin plastered on his face. “Take a wild freakin’ guess who he is partnered with.”

Aria tilted her head in confusion, looked at him real good, the ol’ tip to toe scan with the eyes, and she realized, given his build, that he was no pen pusher. Those strong limbs were for working out in the field. “Wait, Bastian’s!? No way, but it’s the 6th! Any partner of his should have transferred already! Holy moly, you are some next level shit, aren’t you?”

Nicholas laughed out loud while Vinn simply sighed and pinched his nose. “Yeah, I guess I am fecal matter of the next degree. Man, he really is infamous for this, isn’t he?” The two of them laughed, but before Aria replied, she caught the Nicholas’ eyes, insolence brewing behind them.

“Oh... You wanna do that, huh...? Ok... Hey, Vinn, I applaud your manners for not pointing out my wings.” said Aria. “People usually get impressed by them and sometimes, it get uncomfortable, so hey, nice. But, at the same time, I can’t help but be a bit disappointed, since I am proud of them, as an Angel and all.”

Those last words perked Vinn up. “An Angel, you say...?”

“Yup! Ain’t the Seventh impressive? We practically have a demon in Bastian, so we make up for that with an actual Angel in our Infirmary. Not something many offices can claim, yeah?”

It’s true that those impressive, white feathered wings were the definition of majestic in any dictionary you could find, but Vinn didn’t seem impressed at all. “She’s not an Angel, though.” he declared.

“Oh?” Aria smirked. “I am, though. What proof do you have that I am not an Angel? Are you saying these wings are fake?”

“It’s true that you have not moved your wings at all, so they could be a prop, but no, they are the real deal. However, ‘wings’ does not equate to ‘Angel’. No offense intended, but the palms of your hands are very rugged, and your musculature in general suggests heavy physical work, instead of the more magically inclined personality of Angels. Speaking of your hands, you did a pretty good job trimming them, but I can tell those talons grow up to be very strong, sharp, and destructive. You’re not an Angel, Miss Aria, you’re a Harpy.”

The rapid fire analysis left both Nicholas and Aria dumbfounded for all of five silent seconds before they both broke into laughter. “Oh, wow! This kid is the real shit, ain’t he? Damn, when was the last time, anyone saw through this little prank, Nicholas?”

“Wasn’t it Fatima many years ago? Haha, damn, anyways, that was impressive, I’d expect no less from top scorer of this year’s promotion. Nice job, Vinn.”

The young man was getting a bit flustered with all this praise and attention, but thankfully, before he had to say anything, the bell rang again, and the door swung open, a tall, muscular, blonde man wearing sunglasses walking in shortly after.

“Heyo, doc, I’m sorry I didn’t come before, I came t’ greet ya! Name’s... Oh, Ingram?”

“...Hold on, you’re Daryl. Hello.”

“Oh, you two know each other?” Nicholas inquired, resting against a nearby counter top.

“Yeah!” the large blonde lad replied. “We both graduated this year. Ingram’s the top of the class, so I remember him. Didn’t know ya were here, dude.”

“Likewise. I wouldn’t have expected to meet you so soon after graduation. Good to see you. Which division are you on?” Vinn cordially conversed. 

“2nd, the boss woman told me to go greet people already, got kinda mad that I hadn’t yet, so here I am. Heyo doc, and heyo other dude I don’t know, here’s to some good ass work and all that.”

“Nicholas, good to meet you, though I am just the tech dude at the 3rd, it’s this lady you oughta pay your respects to. She’s a nice Angel doctor that’ll keep you in this world, no matter how banged up you get.” the intel agent explained, a chuckle already charging up behind his lips.

“Wait, an Angel!?” yelled the shocked Daryl.

“Oh, don’t say that so loud, I get kinda conscious... But yes, I am Doctor Aria, pleased to meet you. I hope you’ll trust my--!”

In a move that shut everyone in the room, Daryl approached Aria and outright kissed her, holding her chin up to better feel her tongue with his. When it was all said and done, Daryl simply took a contemplative hand to his chin. “Ya ain’t no Angel. You’re a Harpy. See, Angels have soft tongues, and kissing them feels like warm honey bathin’ yer tongue, an indescribable feelin’, really. But yer tongue was thick, rough, and strong. It wasn’t warm honey, it was more like a powerful adversary, a tongue to remember, ‘cause it ain’t easy. I like Harpy kisses far more than Angel kisses, there’s that roughness to them that makes them--”

The sound of her palm meeting his face echoed in the Infirmary.

“How dare you...!?” the doctor exclaimed, slapping him across the face.

“Ooph, yeah, see, Angels don’t slap like that, that’s a Harpy’s strong hand, alriOOPH.”

“What the fuck are you doing, dumbaaaaaaass?!”

The sound of his spine singing a melody of pain and regret echoed in the infirmary as his body was lifted off the ground by a single righteous uppercut.

“Yep, just on time, if you’re in the 2nd, then your partner is...”

“W-woah what the hell!?”

With just a single punch, the large blonde man was downed. Behind him, a brawny, tough-looking woman stood with the River Styx in her eyes, shooting ballistic missiles at the battered young man with her glare.

“I take my eyes off you for one second and you’re already doing dumb shit again! I am so sorry, Aria, this one’s on me, I’ll buy you all your drinks next time we go out drinking, ok? Please forgive this good for nothing piece of shit!” the big woman apologized as she stomped on the downed idiot.

“F-Fiona, don’t worry about it! It’s fine, it’s fine, don’t kill him in the Infirmary, please, that’s a lot of paperwork to deal with!”

Lifting him over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes, the imposing woman desperately apologized. “I’ll educate this dipshit, even if it kills me, or if it kills him! I’ll go now, see y...ou? Hey, who’s this kid, Nick? New techie for the the 3rd?”

“Naw, he’s Bastian’s.”

“Cut the bullshit.”

“I am not dumb enough to lie to you, Fi.”

Fiona’s eyes widened. “You’re legit his partner? Woah, some big fat balls of brass, you must have! Well, kid, introductions will have to wait ‘till later, I have a shithead to lecture. Try not to get killed. Let’s go, you imbecile.”

“M-my spine... Let me get it checked first...” begged Daryl like a beefy, floppy sack of wounded potatoes with all the dignity of a headless chicken.

“Oh, sleep it off, ya wuss, let’s go.”

As fast as she came, this tornado of a woman left, leaving Vinn speechless. “Is she... Is she always like that? Who was that? Did that really just happen?”

“That’s Fiona, and yeah, that’s her modus operandi. Leaving the door open is also part of her, but she’s a lovable tower of muscle and alcohol.” explained the doctor, going back to her clipboard. “Be a dear and close it, will you?”

As Vinn approached the door left open by the human cyclone, he spotted her outside, still carrying Daryl, being lecture by a tall, thin man who had an aura of authority and resignation to him. Before him, however, Fiona couldn’t stop bowing apologetically.

“Well, that’s our Fiona, 2nd Division Exorcist. Watch in awe as she is lectured by the Chief because her cropped tank top, ‘perfume’ that smells like 6 AM tequila, and habit of carrying coworkers like veggies at market spit in the soup of Officewear Regulations. Heh, this is a daily show by now.” Nicholas elaborated, as if watching a movie while eating pop corn. “You know about Oni, Vinn?”

“Oh! She’s an oni? That explains the strength and the pungent stench of alcohol.”

“Nope, she’s married to one, and he’s helping her with her drinking habits.”

“...Classy. So, that’s the Chief, huh? I’d better go say hi to him now.”

“Woah there, buddy, I’d suggest not. He’s lecturing her right now, but he’s a very busy man, especially in the mornings. Leave him for the afternoon.”

“Is he a hardass or something?”

“Not... Quite, just trust me on this one. Let’s go back to our office, Dani should be here by now.”

“If you say so. Bye, Miss Aria, have a good day.”

“Mmhm. Have a good one, you two, I hope you survive, Vinn.” the doctor expressed with no ill will whatsoever, waving a friendly hand goodbye.

                                                        ——-

The more one looked at the office, the more it seemed that the door frame was a portal to a different dimension. How could this pigsty possibly be in the same physical plane, let alone building, than the neat everything else? There was a difference now, however: A lone girl sat by another desk.

“It’s weird not seeing you here first thing in the morning, Nick. I was wondering where you went.” she greeted.

“Yeah, was just showing the newbie around. Lookin’ good, Dani.” Nicholas chimed back with Vinn on tow, who politely nodded as if to greet her.

“Oh? New tech g--”

“Bastian’s partner...” Vinn clarified for what felt like the tenth time this morning.

“What!? Bast--”

“Please.” Vinn begged for what felt like the tenth time this morning. It was getting tedious.

“Oh, pfff, yeah, I guess you’ve already gotten your fair share of dumbfounded responses. Sorry about that! I’m Danielle, just call me Dani, though.” the girl responded before moving away from her desk without standing up, traversing through the pizza boxes and paperwork in a motorized wheelchair, controlled by a little controller on the right hand rest. Of note, her left hand and leg were prosthetic. Accompanied with the soft sound of her wheelchair’s motor’s vibration, Dani approached Vinn and offered her right hand, which he shook. “I’m the communications expert here, and since you’ll be working with us now, you’ll need one of these.” Her prosthetic hand held a firm grip on the bag while her regular hand rummaged in it, the sounds of junk and crumpling plastic raising many questions as to what was actually inside the otherwise trendy looking little bag. With an expression of eureka, she seemed to have finally found the desired item, which he proudly offered to the novice Exorcist: A tin can.

“A... Tin can? Wait, now that you mention it, Bastian had one just like this two days ago...” Vinn pondered, as he examined the item in vain.

“Ah! You were there when the Siren was sent in!? That jerk didn’t mention you at all in his reports! I will have some words with him, the nerve!” Dani fumed as she kicked her feet in frustration, nothing new when regarding Bastian and his old tricks. “Anyways, yes, that right there is a prim and proper tin can, but it may save your life.”

“There’s really nothing special about it, though... I don’t sense anything.”

“Eyup, it’s not until I do this--” With a touch of he right hand’s finger, the can suddenly pulsated, Vinn’s head throbbing as a sharp note drowned everything else in the room, only the can’s ‘heartbeat’ audible to him, until a few seconds later, his senses returned to normal, his head ringing like a struck bell no more. “--llo? Hello? Earth to Vinn?”

“Ugh... Yeah, I hear you... What was that? My head felt like it was going to explode for a second.” Vinn replied, clutching his thankfully unexploded head.

“Yeah, happens the first time. I’ve linked the tin can with you. Now, what this does is...” Danielle moved towards her desk again and held a similar, worn out tin can. “Put that against your ear.” Vinn complied, and once he did, Dani put her own tin can against her mouth, softly whispering words that shouldn’t have been audible to anyone, yet were clear as the skies to Vinn. “And now, we can communicate easily!”

“Woah! That’s... I’ve never seen anything like this! So basically, these are like cellphones now?”

“Better than cellphones!” she declared, chest puffed out. “Cellphones can be traced, need time to make a call, need the other party to notice and accept the call, and if you’re underground? Yeah, not happening. Tin cans are the future of communication! Well, among us, anyways. This is Communications Magic, my area of expertise. Keep that tin can on you at all times, and we’ll be able to talk shit about Bastian at all times, seamlessly and with no interruption.”

“Now that sounds like a good time.”

“Well, I’m sure glad you two seem to have kicked it off well!” Nicholas finally interjected. “Now, you did say something worrying, though: You’ve actually been working the last two days, but Bastian neglected to mention you in his reports, which makes my job difficult. Plus, I don’t have your reports, either.”

“A-ah, well, I wasn’t exactly--”

“Exactly allowed near the office, I know, haha, don’t worry, I’m not going to put you on the spot, all this means is that I will grab Bastian by the neck and have him rewrite his reports. His lack of mentioning you meant to me that you had quit, which is... A pattern, really, so don’t worry, you get a few more days to write your reports, but the sooner you have them for me, the better.”

“Ah, that’s why you reacted that way...” Vinn said, recalling Nicholas’ exasperation earlier. “Well, I hope you don’t have a hard time getting him to re-do those... I already know that he’s--”

“A damn hardass, a jerk, and a piece of shit to work with?” a voice behind Vinn chimed in.

“Yeah! That’s exactly what I was gonna sWhere did you come from and how long have you been there?”

“Aww, I’m glad to know that I have a cute widdle pwartner who wuvs me so much!”

As Vinn turned around, he met face to face with the plastic, hostile grin of Bastian Ashfield, a tall, solidly built man with his wavy ponytail resting on his left shoulder as always. “So can I join your shit-talking power hour? I am like a trebuchet full of excrement, ready to sling the highest quality turds, so? We good? Can I join you fine gents in--Hrg!”

That dull sound just now was a piece of scrap metal hitting Bastian square in the forehead. “You big jerk! You were keeping Vinn out of the office for the last two days and you neglected to even mention him in your reports! As both a person and an Exorcist, you are terrible!”

“Oi, who the hell throws junk metal at people!? At least make it something like a plastic bottle, or a--Argh!”

And that dull sound just now was a broken clock hitting Bastian on the side of his face.

“Don’t talk back!”

“Yes ma’am! Please don’t give me a concussion, ma’am!”

“Denied!”

“Alright, hold it, hold it, please! I’ll stop! Quit chucking assorted reclaimed metals at me!”

“...Are these two like this all the time?” Vinn whispered to Nicholas.

“Just when Bastian’s a dick.” 

“...”

“...”

“...”

“So yeah, all the time.”

“I see.”

                                                       ——-

“...Well, now that we are all here, I suppose a formal welcoming is due... But first... You clever little rascal. You left home really early, just to avoid me, huh?”

Vinn simply glared at Bastian. “I knew you’d try it a third day. Get off my back, already. I humored your two ‘tests’, and not even knowing what my workplace looks like for three days in a row is not exactly professional.”

“...Tests? Vinn, what did this oaf make you do?” Dani inquired, already reaching for the next piece of junk in her little bag.

“Don’t worry, it wasn’t anything terribly cruel. You’ll see in my report later, but basically, the necromancer of two days ago and a case with a stray demon yesterday. Both ended up well, so-- Hey, speaking of, where’s the necromancer?” Vinn asked, having just remembered the rather high profile criminal they brought in.

“Well, I’m not at liberty to say just yet, but let’s just say you’ll know soon enough.”

“Bastian, could you please treat him like a member of our division already?” sighed the girl.

“Oh, no no, Bastian is not being Bastian for once, he really isn’t at liberty to say.” Nicholas interrupted. “All information on the case -- the necromancer herself, the undead horde, and the fact that a Siren was dispatched -- is all confidential. In fact, we should not discuss it at all. He could actually get questioned by the Blackvests if his lips are too loose.”

“Ah, so it is actually confidential... I was curious myself, too, to be honest. It’s the first actual necromancer in forever, isn’t it?” Dani asked as she drank some of her freshly brewed coffee.

“First I’ve seen in active service, and in general.” replied the seasoned Exorcist. “Sure, you get punks who reanimate rats and dogs here and there, and then we have to go in and put the feral critters out of their mindless misery. But one that has actually reanimated humans? And didn’t even bother thralling them? Just letting the do as they please? That’s very weird, no matter how you spin it. Anyways, I am not lying when I say you’ll know soon enough.” Bastian readjusted himself and reached into one of the many seemingly empty pizza boxes, producing a cold slice and chomping on it. “Let’s go back to the man of the hour, now. Vinn, you’ll have to forgive me, but it was absolutely necessary that I test you in the ways I did. You aren’t an idiot, you could see that Exorcists don’t have the best reputation around, and deservedly so.”

The atmosphere in the room changed. 

“...Yeah. People feared me. People expected me to throw my weight around. People doubted me whenever I showed any cordiality or kindness. Exorcists really are not liked, huh? This is all very different from the Academy.” Vinn recounted, a disappointed sigh escaping him.

“That’s true, because a lot of Exorcists reign through fear, throw their weight around, and only smile when they want something out of you, or worse, when they already have what they need to blackmail you. The Academy is a bubble, Vinn.” Dani explained, her tone serious. “The Academy will make you believe your duty is just and your methods righteous, but in the real world, you can’t just go in blasting everything and coercing the weak into obeying or paying the price”

“Our duty as Exorcists, and related support parties, is to mete out justice in the Mythic affairs, whether that justice needs to clash against a Mythic or against a Human. We are supposed to be the entity that upholds justice, but a lot of Exorcists, well, they just smoke Mythics. We are supposed to stand up for Humans as much as we are for Mythics, but that’s not how it goes in practice.” Nicholas sadly continued.

“And that’s why I needed to test you.” said Bastian as he propped his legs on his desk. “I told you before, but you need to be able to hold your own in a fight, have the brains to figure out solutions to your problems, and have the heart to actually stand up for Mythics. I -- we -- have no use for yet another kid who slings death around to try and be the big strong Exorcist.”

Despite the shoddy appearance of the office, with the ocean of pizza boxes scattered everywhere and sundry junk adorning every corner, the files were where they needed to be, Nicholas’ computer was impeccable, and whatever actually mattered, was there. Messy as it was, it was the office of those who truly cared about their job, and about those said job entailed. Downing some coffee, Vinn took a deep breath.

“...Crude as they may be, I understand the reason behind your methods. I can’t say I’m mad, since it gave me a reality check I’d rather have now instead of later. It’s only... Fair, really.”

“Well,” Bastian replied, “Whether you are mad or not doesn’t really matter to me, what does matter is that you pass the tests. I was gonna tell you as much earlier today, but you eluded me like a slippery eel, which, I hate to admit, is also a good thing, so yeah, welcome to the 7th Office 3rd Division. I’ll work you to the sinews.”

“That’s just his way of being nice. Please do be patient with him, he’s an idiot, after aaAAAH! Damn! Ow ow ow!” Nicholas snarked before his hot coffee came to life and splashed his face, burning him.

“Maybe don’t insult an Hydromancer while holding a nice, fat cup of hot coffee, dumbass.” laughed Bastian.

“Pfff, well, you kinda walked right into that one, Nick, hehe. Still! It’s good to have some new blood in here, so by all means, welcome! I hope you have a good time! Don’t mind the office’s sorry state, we get our job done.” Dani cheerfully informed.

“Yeah, especially since all the pizza boxes are her doing in the first place, our cute little piglet.” taunted Nick, wiping the coffee off his face.

“He didn’t need to know that!”

“...You already put the order for today’s batch, didn’t you?”

“...I cannot confirm or deny that, Bastian.”

“Haha!”

It was a lively little office with just three people in it, four now, but Vinn could tell there was something different here, something he didn’t find in his time in the Academy, nor out in the field during these last two days.

There was a lot of heart and joy here.

There was anxiety, there were nerves, there was a lot of expectation, from both his partner and himself, but ll of those things, he already knew he was gonna feel. What he didn’t know, however, was how much he was going to crave to be part of this little world, where contact was easy and everyone seemed to get along like this.

And just like there’s a shadow by every light cast, so was there a woe that made his heart throb with a pang of concern: Were his people back home ever going to be able to partake in this?

If anything, this only steeled his resolve further. He left the comfortable wilderness for a reason against the protests of everyone that cared for him for this, after all.

“There’s no way I’m going back empty handed now.” he though to himself, after seeing that the human world is capable of compassion.

                                                      ——-

Just as the playful banter was beginning to calm down, someone knocked on the big iron door.

“It’s open, come in!” Nick yelled from the back of the office, already submerged in his files and keyboard once again.

“Please excuse me.”

As the door opened, Vinn perked up as he saw that pair of familiar horns, black like lacquered wood, curved with dignity, protruding through the holes of the wide brimmed hat. It was the tall woman from the morning. The dame simply giggled at his surprise, an elegant hand covering her lips.

“Now, why the surprise? I did say I’d come welcome you properly, no? Have you eased into your job with Nicholas yet? He’s a harsh instructor, but you’ve much to learn from someone with his diligence and experience.” she greeted bemusedly.

“Oh, no no, I’m not here as an info agent, I’m an Exorcist, partner with--”

“Well, well, well, if it ain’t Fat Fatima!” the brick that broke cordiality boisterously interrupted. “What do you and your five chins want? Don’t remember having any reason to expect a visit from you.”

“Bastian? What the h--!” tried to reproach Vinn, but he couldn’t finish his sentence. Just seconds ago, a gallant lady stood by the door, with a welcoming voice, a friendly disposition, and a kind smile. The very picture of manners and helpfulness. Where, oh, did she go? And when was she replaced by a twin with death in her eyes and wicked claws protruded, ready to slash a jugular or six? 

“Feh, Bastian... I didn’t come to talk to the wondrous sack of shit that pretends he’s people. Mind going back to your stupid magazines? Me and Nick’s new kid want to do some formal introductions, not that you’d know what those are.” snarled the dame, showing what were very clearly fangs.

“Nick’s got no new kid, shithead. If you mean that kid over there, he’s my new partner.”

“Oh, spare me, I’d think you’d at least give my intelligence some credit. Think of some more convincing lies if you wish to mess with me, Bastian.”

“Uh, hey, Fatima... Yeah, he’s not mine. Vinn’s an Exorcist, and Bastian’s partner.”

“What!? So he’s actually got a new partner!?” This reaction seemed to be popular. “Wait, so does that mean... Oh, uh...” The horned woman seemed to be troubled and wracked with guilt out of the sudden. “...Vinn, was it? I profusely apologize for the trouble I’ve no doubt caused you.”

Vinn didn’t really understand where this came from, and tilted his head just slightly in confusion, trying to think what this person he did not know before this morning could possibly mean by that. “I really have no idea what you’re apologizing for, Miss Fatima, you’ve done nothing but show courtesy to me.”

“Oi oi, so I’m just Bastian and ‘a damn hardass, a jerk, and a piece of shit to work with’, but she’s Miss Fatima? I’m glad to see where your loyalties lie, Vinn.” whined Bastian, a mocking hand to his own chest, as if deeply offended, nay, hurt.

“You said those things, I just confirmed them, geez.”

“Ah, allow me to elaborate...” interjected the horned lady. “First of all, I am the 1st Division Exorcist, Fatima Allanach, a pleasure to meet you, Vinn...?”

“Ingram. Vinn Ingram.”

She smiled graciously. “...As to what I did, well, I am the reason the Siren showed up two days ago.”

“Oh, you bitch! I should’ve figured you, of all people, would just call for them to mobilize all those delicious tax patros to give me a hard time! You could’ve killed me in the crossfire!”

“Oh, put a sock on it, Bastian.” -- all the grace she showed to Vinn was replaced by a vulgar hostility when addressing the hydromancer -- “Both of us know you wouldn’t die from a little Siren... Although I can’t say the same for your new partner. Had I know you had someone else there, I would’ve relented, and for that, I’m sorry. I just never... Thought you’d take another partner after Roderick, you know?”

The rooms atmosphere changed as Fatima’s voice softened with those last words. Even though this was the time for one of those patented Bastian Rude Retorts, he simply produced a cigarette, fiddled with it a bit, and then put it back in the pack. “Neither did I. But, well, here we are. And you, Fatima... It’s fine if you want to give me hell, but putting everything aside for a moment, even if its called for, never use the Sirens. Don’t confuse power for a basis of trust. Those things... Are executioners wearing their own coffins. Don’t forget it.”

“...That’s rich coming from you, Bastian.” Her sharp tongue was unsheathed once anew, albeit with a different, far more bitter fervor. “You don’t get to tell me whether I use a tool or not. Sirens are strong, and they can take care of practically any Mythic situation, small or large scale. It’s foolishness not to use an advantage when we have it.”

“Those things are not an advantage, Fatima. They are indiscriminate, they know only to kill and maim, how can you not see this!? We are Exorcists, it is our duty to--”

“--To utterly obliterate those bastards until they understand their place! How many more Humans must die to their savagery before you get this!? How many more Rodericks do we need in the graveyard before you stop spouting such naive drivel, Bastian?! Had a Siren been there with you that day, Roderick would still--”

“Shows how much you know! We’d both be death, and our assailants as well, leaving us with two less Exorcists and no leads whatsoever! Incredible! Great job! I can see why you are the 1st Division Exorcist clearly, with such a clear head absolutely not full of garbage on top of those shoulders!”

“You have no way of knowing that! When will you see the world for what it is already, you utter--”

“Everybody shut up!”

Nicholas’ voice boomed, drowning any whining in the small office, finally putting a stop to the bedlam.

“Don’t yank the chain, Nick, I need to make her understand--”

“Whatever, do that on your free time! You two schedule a nice, steamy, hot date outside of work hours, meet at a restaurant, order a fine beef steak dinner, and then beat the shit out of each other with it, I don’t care, but don’t go doing this in the office!”

Bastian and Fatima simply looked to the floor, or the ceiling, or anywhere that wasn’t Nicholas’ general direction, like scolded children caught trying to look inside the pot before dinner.

“Geez...” sighed the info agent, settling on his chair again. “Every time, you two...”

As if on cue, the office’s phone rang, Danielle dutifully picking it up.

“...Miss Fatima, did you mean that?” Vinn asked, a certain edge midst his cordiality.

“Hm? Did I mean what, exactly?”

“‘To utterly obliterate those bastards’, do you see Mythics that way?”

“...Oh, please don’t tell me you do share this brute’s view on the matter, Vinn? We are not called ‘Mediators’ or ‘Caretakers’, we are Exorcists. We exorcise, we hunt, we exterminate, that’s quite literally the job description. Things are this way for a reason.”

“And what would that reason be, Miss Fatima?” inquired Vinn without missing a beat, standing up. “What about being a human makes me inherently superior, more ‘people’ than a Mythic? We are not dealing with wild beasts, we are dealing with intelligent, sentient creatures who know love, hate, joy, and sorrow just as we do, who have a culture, traditions, and needs. You yourself are a Mythic, I fail to see the logic in--”

“Oh, the young man will watch his words.” Fatima replied with the same hostility she employs with Bastian, finally dropping her softer tone. “What I am doesn’t mean I should see things one way. It’s because I am a beast that I know exactly how terrible we can be.”

“That’s like saying we should destroy all slides in children's’ parks because one time, a kid scrapped his knee.”

“And only a fool would compare Mythics and slides horizontally.”

Vinn’s face was a mask of utter hatred and disdain for the horned Exorcist. “Miss Fatima, I think it’s about time you le--”

“What!? Y-yes, I’ll tell them immediately!” the communications expert yelled as she slammed the phone back on its base. “G-guys! You too, Miss Fatima! We’ve got a big situation down by Manduco #83493!”

“Dani, calm down. What’s the situation?” Bastian calmly asked, sitting back down and quickly picking up his flasks and other utensils. 

“The mass kidnapping from two months ago is happening again! It’s most likely the same perpetrator. It’s going on right now, a laborer that works at that warehouse forgot something, so even though it’s supposed to be closed off today, he went and found a lot of people just... Moving around, as if thralled. The first three divisions are to go there immediately.”

“Thanks, sweetie, that’s all we need. Well, let’s get going, we can’t lose a second.”

“I’ll go get my partner, let’s not waste any time.” Fatima said before disappearing into the hallway.

                                                     ——-

The dark blue car blazed a trail through the asphalt, going as fast as the worn out engine could manage, a bright red van and a dark green motorcycle tailing them. Inside the car, the grim-looking Vinn double checked his handcuffs and other pieces of equipment, a silence and grimace that didn’t escape the driver’s notice.

“Vinn, you good?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s the fakest ‘yeah’ I’ve had the honor of hearing. Look alive, this is a real bad situation. We need all six of us with our heads in the game.”

“Yeah.”

“...”

“...”

Bastian could only sigh.

“Oi, Vinn, don’t let what Fatima said get to you. It’s a kick in the dick, but that’s how many Exorcists are. She’s particularly partisan about it, yeah, but it’s better if you get used to it, hopefully manage it better than I do.”

Vinn only responded with a half-hearted chuckle and a few seconds of silence before reviving the dialogue. “I could understand it if it were anyone else, really, but Miss Fatima specifically is... Inconceivably weird. She was very cordial and kind before then, and is a Mythic, to boot, yet, she wants to kill her own kind so viciously? It goes beyond duty-bound hatred, that was just genuine hatred, how could you feel that way towards your own people?”

The usual brashness of the seasoned Exorcist was nowhere to be found, the sounds of the worn out motor filling in for dialogue for a few streetlights before Bastian found the strength to continue talking. “It’s... Complicated. Don’t hate her, please, she’s got her own problems.” Vinn almost fell out of the car upon hearing this. This had to be the first time he heard Bastian talk about someone so softly. He suspected they had a past from the previous conversation, but this only really confirmed it, especially if it was about someone he was just having a flat out shouting contest with moments ago. The dense mood was already suffocating enough, and they had a job to do right now, anyways, it was a good time to change topics.

“...So, these mass kidnappings... Damn, what a creepy name. Two months ago was the first one, right? How come they are deploying Mythic Law Enforcement for it now?”

“Well, last time, authorities had no idea magic was involved, but after investigating the area believed to have been where it took place, based on witness accounts of seeing the victims heading that way, heavy amounts of mana residue were found, suggesting that it was no mere mass kidnapping... Not that mass kidnappings are commonplace, anyway. So, it’s now a MAB affair.”

“Ah! Take this left, it should be there... Yeah, lots of cop cars. They must be barring civilian entry to the area. That’s a relief, at least.”

Bastian took a deep breath and gripped the steering wheel harder. “Well, ideally, I wanted to ease you into the job with easier cases, help you get to know Stroln as a city, with its Mythic underground world and all, but destiny calls, I suppose. This isn’t me underestimating you, but try to stick with me at all times. I have a stinkin’ feelin’ that this might get nasty.”

“...Got it.”

                                                     ——-

In front of the six Exorcists, the massive warehouse stood with its service door open, the lock smashed to junk by its foot. The structure was clearly from Pre-Amnesiac times, but well maintained and still in regular usage.

“...I don’t like this. It stinks.” said Fiona, 2nd Division Exorcist, assessing the situation. “This is no abandoned joint, the lock was smashed too neatly, and you’d have to be a fool to have such a flagrant vulnerability to your million patros business screamin’ to be exploited like this. What do you guys think?”

“Fully agreed.” Bastian commented. “We oughta have words with the owner or parent company of this place after we’re done here. As Fiona said, this is simply too suspicious. The lock really just looks like its there so they can file a police report on unlawful entry and claim innocence. It’s unlikely for any magic criminal to be so nuanced as to break a little lock, they’d usually go for a bigger door, especially if it’s a mass kidnapping.”

“Correct. They probably didn’t even use this service door.” Fatima added. “They probably opened the big cargo gate over there to get all the people inside, nice and neatly, and then simply smashed this lock to make it seem like they aren’t working with the owners of this place. This whole thing stinks.”

Behind the seasoned trio, the novice partners observed in awe how quickly their would-be mentors were piecing together the puzzle in front of them before even stepping in the building. The duties of an Exorcist include the subjugation of magic-wielding and supernatural criminals, negotiation with such individuals, and all around keeping this secret magical world hidden, but an important part of being an Exorcist is to play the role of detective as well. An Exorcist is, after all, the do-all end-all authority in the world of Mythic Law Enforcement, having powers and duties far beyond their mundane equivalents.

“They look and act like washed up garbage after a cruiser accident on the coast, but seein’ them like this really reminds you they are veteran Exorcists, don’t it?” Daryl commented, breaking the silence between the novices. 

“The way your worded that was really weird, but I know exactly what you mean.” Vinn responded. However, standing beside Daryl and Vinn was a third person who had not opened her mouth, simply looking at the experienced Exorcists work their craft and plan out how to advance. Vinn and Daryl both recognized her, and it is precisely because of that that the latter knew they shouldn’t bother trying to include her in the conversation, and why the former, who had zero social awareness back in the Academy, made the mistake of taking the initiative.

“...So, Nadja, I didn’t know you were assigned to the 7th as well.”

“...”

“Miss Fatima’s your partner, huh? Must be good working with her.”

“Interested in her looks, I gather?”

Vinn lifted his arms as if surrendering. “What? No, I mean how professional she is and all that. Anyhow, I don’t think we’ve ever talked, I’m V--”

“Vinn Ingram. Top scorer of our year.”

“Yup, the one.”

“...”

“...”

“...Pppffff, that went swimmingly, ya smooth operator.” chuckled Daryl.

“Oh, can it, at least I don’t go kissing girls randomly to determine their species.”

“Yeah, you don’t, and that’s really sad.”

“Hrrg...”

“Alright, coffee break over, kiddos, here’s the plan.” Fiona called suddenly, the novices perking up and giving her their attention. The anxiety of their first real operation, not to mention a rare cooperative operation between different Divisions, was beginning to well up in their guts. “Alright, so, the people are most likely still inside. Bringing a large amount of people here unnoticed, while not easy, is doable, but shipping them all together from here to wherever their destination is is another story. They are most likely waiting for a large transport, a bus or a series of van, maybe a large truck, we don’t know, and they are holding fort inside for now. We don’t know how many men it takes to keep all these people in there, but expect heavy resistance. We’ll go together, but if we need to split for whatever reason, stick to your partner. Questions? I hope not, because we ha--”

“A question.”

“Shoot, Nadja.”

“What level of lethality are we allowed?”

“Ideally, just enough to disable them. We have questions, they have answers. That means you shouldn’t use those things attached to your ankles.”

Nadja’s build was lithe, graceful, like a panther, and that made the large, black devices on each ankle stand out all the more. What looked like the point of a silver stake protruded downwards from the end of the device.

“Understood.”

Bastian spoke up now. “Alright, if that’s it, let’s head in. Keep chit chat to a minimum, and if you must talk, do it as silently as possible.”

                                                    ——-

Nary a footstep could be heard from the six trained individuals, moving like the shadow of a ghost across the large industrial complex-slash-warehouse. Something was clearly wrong with this place, as the air was stagnant, there were no signs of struggling whatsoever, and every door and window inside, in stark contrast with the service door, was neatly unlocked and undamaged, giving fuel to the veterans’ speculation, much to their dismay. They didn’t have to navigate much until the first shadow of adversity loomed close, by the internal courtyard. It was one at first, and then two, and then three, and then seemingly an endless amount of them, silhouettes walking as if entranced by a wicked siren’s song.

“...! Halt! I see many of them, and they are... You gotta be kidding me... Bastian, look at what they are wearing.” Fatima whispered, pointing towards a little window to their side that led to the courtyard.

If concern had a shape, it was Bastian’s face. “...Large pig masks and red robes. This is bad. Really bad.” Bastian mused, a bead of sweat running down his brow.

“Hm? Hey, hey, uncle, what’s wrong? Didja get cold feet over some costumes? What’s wrOW OW OW!” inquired Daring Daryl with the delicacy of an hydraulic press, as Fiona used one hand to cover his mouth and the other to give him an excruciatingly painful shoulder death grip.

“You beefy sack of crap!” Fiona chastised in whispers. “Flappin’ yer gums when you don’t know shit will only get you a Fiona Massage from now on! The grotesque pig mask and red robes are synonymous with a top wanted criminal, the Hog Priest! This is bigger than we could’ve imagined. Stay on your toes, everyone.”

“The Hog Priest has evaded capture several times, and there’s reports of them being sighted in multiple places at once... I suppose this explains it, though. It’s a legion of them.” pointed out Nadja.

The courtyard had a strange, purplish fog blanketing it, and in it, the pig-masked people wandered aimlessly, sometimes bumping into each other, sometimes tripping and picking themselves up clumsily, and in general, simply drifting along. Some stood still, vacant, some jogged slightly before calming down and clutching their chest, and all in all, it was a miserable spectacle.

“...Something’s wrong.” Fiona warned while putting on a pair of fingerless gloves, akin to those used by MMA fighters.

“Hm? Whatcha mean? They are just bobbin’ and... Oh.”

Daryl’s trap was shut tight once he realized little by little, they had all been stopping, and now, they all stood still, looking directly into the little window where they had been observing the courtyard from. No, not directly into the window, it was directly into their very eyes.

A suffocating, paralyzing, complete silence lasted all of two seconds before the window was smashed, a small canister almost hitting Fatima in the head being the culprit, from which an ominous gas shot from little pressurized holes.

“...Tear gas! Get out!”

In a frenzy, they jumped out of the window, out the gas’ range and right into a courtyard full of pig-headed foes that held pipes, shovels, and all manners of improvised weaponry, looking straight at them.

Not five seconds passed before an alarm siren loudly gave our Exorcists a warm, deafening welcome, sending all of the robed villains into a frenzy.

“Curses! Here they come! Defend yourselves and try to find a way out of here!” Fatima yelled, assuming a defensive stance and blocking a shovel strike with her bare hand.

As soon as the horde began its restless assault, the sinister purple fog that permeated the courtyard intensified, obstructing sight and puzzling the senses with its oddly calming fragrance. It was every man and woman for themselves, Bastian utilizing water to block the weapons and to push his assailants to the ground with immense pressure, Fiona disarming them with expert martial prowess, and Fatima simply utilizing a retractable baton to parry and disarm those who would attempt to harm her. In stark contrast, the novices were expending far more effort in the fight, visibly struggling, not for lack of strength or skill, but rather, because they simply didn’t know how to engage a foe without destroying them. Killing the enemy is easy, but when your duty is to subdue the enemy without killing them or doing enough harm that you’ll ruin their life from there on is an art all of itself, an art that the Mythic Law Enforcement Academy wasn’t keen on teaching. The lacking curriculum was showing all of its weaknesses. That, and a sinister whisper that was invading their mind, which made itself more and more apparent, numbing their reactions, misleading their movements.

“W-what in the world is this...? It’s like there’s a compelling whisper inside of my head... Someone warm and kind, someone I trust, telling me to drop my guard when they attack or to soften my body whenever I try to disable one...!” Nadja said as she unsuccessfully tried to take a shovel away from a masked minion, who simply shrugged her off and shoved her right to the floor.

“Is it the fog? No... It couldn’t be, the fog is welcoming, it’s familiar, a scent of my childhood, it couldn’t...” Vinn lamented, seemingly giving himself up to an incoming lead pipe strike before Daryl pushed him out of the way.

“Oi, you damn idiots! Where’s yer Domunus Tecum!” Daryl chastised, holding off the criminals with his huge frame.

“Domunus Tecum...” “Domunus Tecum!”

The second of the Six Spell of Self Defense, the spell of protection and shielding, a prayer for resilience. No sooner the two novices put their barriers up, their minds cleared and their bodies could move as they wanted them to. The whisper was still in their heads, but it wasn’t compelling and absolute as it was before.

“Just what is this voice? I’m not the only one that can hear it, right?” the exasperated Vinn asked as he used his many handcuffs and his colorful, unorthodox fighting style to subdue attackers.

“Bad news is what it is. Keep your Domunus up and strong, don’t stop pouring mana into it, or that whisper will claim your mind.” Fiona warned, fighting the good fight.

“C-chief! Hold the presses! These guys...!” Daryl screamed suddenly, a robed figure captured tightly in arms, unmasked. “Chief Fiona, these people are brainwashed civilians! Look!”

The face of the woman in Daryl’s grasp was catatonic, to say the least. A vacant expression and half-lidded eyes that looked nowhere, drool and tear lines telling a story that thousands of words couldn’t hope to match. “Oi, we gotta disable them without harmin’ them! They are just meat shields!”

“Shit...! That means there’s one mastermind out there, and they are just exhausting us! Fatima, do you think--”

As if his mind was being read, Bastian couldn’t finish what he was saying before Fatima was right by his side. “--you could use your poison to--”

“Neutralize them? Yeah, if I control the dosage, I can make it so I can knock them out with a sting each, enough to paralyze their muscles and yet not leave any lasting damage. I’ll need some help keeping them off me while I do this to each one of them individually, though.”

“I gotcha!” Fiona proudly declared, rolling to where they were, dodging several shovel strikes. “Daryl and I can keep ‘em corralled while your girl defends you directly, and Bastian and his boy can go for the brains.”

“I agree to this plan, but, poison? What do you have in mind? Do you have enough for all these people?” Vinn wondered, joining them.

“Oh, don’t worry about her, after all...”

With a wild smirk, Fatima leaped high into the air, her arms growing green fur, and a wicked scorpion tail, massive and heavy, protruding from her back, just under two pairs of feathered wings. Where there once was her elegant face now lies a lion’s roaring maw. She was much bigger than before, her impact on the ground sending several masked minions off balance.

“...She’s a Manticore. And a fat one at that, so she oughta have a lot of calories to turn to venom.” Bastian explained.

“STOP CALLING ME FAT, JACKASS.” the massive Manticore Fatima roared, deft swipes of her scorpion tail knocking out minion after minion, barb oozing with venom.

“We’ve got this area, you two! Get going! Whoever’s behind the fog, the whispers, and this mess is no doubt in that building over there. It’s the only structure to have a clear path to the streets in case they need to escape, and where they can survey all of this area!” explained the bruiser Fiona, joining Daryl in trying to corral the remaining minions with their superior physical strength.

“Yeah, we’ll get this over in a second. Let’s roll, Vinn!”

                                                   ——-

Two pairs of footsteps echoed in the smaller building, dark and permeated with the fog. Bastian and Vinn both had their Domunus barrier on at full strength, the incessant whispers of the once-compelling voice never going silent.

“This keeps getting worse and worse...” lamented Bastian, double checking how much water he had left in his flasks. “Vinn, do not let up your barrier. It could mean death.”

“What is this whispering, anyways? I’ve never felt anything like it, and I don’t think I’ve read on this before.”

“It could be a curse, but there’s not been enough time to set up one of this nature with such an intensity, so what I think is... Vinn, are you familiar with Mindreaders?”

“Of course, those who can read minds and such. It’s theorized that, Pre-Amnesia, Mindreading was highly illegal and dangerous, given how many surviving records there are that explain, in great detail, how to defend against it. It’s considered useless now, since everyone worth a lick of salt in the arcane arts learns how to counter it.”

“Textbook answer, as usual.” -- Bastian chuckled -- “Well, what I think we’re up against right now, and I hope I’m wrong, is a Mindscreamer.”

“A what?”

“Mindscreamer. It’s the opposite of a Mindreader. Instead of being able to read your thoughts, Mindscreamers practically broadcast their thoughts into others by force. Whatever they think, you ‘hear’ inside your head. They can also make it so their thoughts are subliminal and subconscious in your brain, controlling your behavior to a degree. It’s a really damn frightening power.’

“What...?” Vinn couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and yet, the constant whispering in his brain since the courtyard brawl began proved that these were no lies. “I’ve never heard of Mindscreamers before, what kind of wicked art is this? You’d think it’d be more popular, with how powerful it sounds.”

“That’s the thing: You can’t learn how to Mindscream. Mindscreamers are born, it’s not a skill, it’s genetic and exclusive to certain individuals, but we don’t know much about it. In a way, that means that, yeah, we don’t really have to worry about it falling in the hands of just about any thug, but... It also means we are up against someone very special, and that knows what they are doing. Take this fog, for instance.”

“I noticed... This fog smells like incense, like chamomile, specifically, but it’s actually haunted. It’s Incense Magic, and this is tailored to numb the senses and lower your mental defenses.”

“Clever boy. Indeed, the incense lowers one’s mental barriers, which makes you susceptible to the Mindscreaming. Whoever is doing this is competent, do not drop your guard. This is how they kidnapped all of these people almost effortlessly: They simply made them come ‘of their own free will’ with Mindscreaming... Sick bastards.”

The Exorcist duo kicked open a door in front of them at the end of a long hallway, and inside, an immensely dense cloud of magic incense blocked their sight. The air was stagnant, almost putrid, and there were things in this room. Piercing glares that couldn’t be seen but could perfectly be felt stabbed the two Exorcists as soon as they entered the room. Before long, a couple of pig-masked minions, brainwashed civilians, no doubt, slowly became discernible in the dense purple fog, with bright, neon-like markings making them stand out in the fog. They moved with far more coordination than the courtyard fodder, shuffling around, circling, keeping their distance, never moving too close, but never straying too far from the surrounded agents. Bastian lashed at a cluster with a tendril of holy water, missing the mark completely as they swiftly moved out of the way.

“...The Mindscreamer is in this room. They are being controlled too well, too skillfully. These aren’t like the puppets we fought on the first fl--!”

The subtle whisper of cold steel sliding through flesh cut the older Exorcist off as a knife plunged deep in his torso from the left, a masked minion without any neon markings having made it past his watchful eye as his focus was on the neon marked masks, a pained grunt and a hammer of pressurized water impacting against his assailant punctuating his sentence instead. “Mother fu... Clever bastards...”

“Bastian, are you ok!? Damn, they are using neon marked and non-marked masks! While we focus on the barely visible neon, they come at us with the plain ones. What a cheap tactic...”

“Cheap it may be, but it’s working! Focus on defending!”

Even with In Te Fallitur, the first spell of detection and true sight active, the sheer magic density of the incense made it difficult to see nonetheless, their vision improving just slightly. Assault after assault, the duo was sustaining more and more injuries at the hands of this well utilized assassin horde. Whenever a neon mask moved, two plain masks slid in the gaps of their perception, getting closer and closer, until they could hurt either Exorcist. Their attacks didn’t pack much power against the protected Exorcists, individually, but as the damage piled on, it was clear this was a battle of attrition they were not going to win by any means, especially considering that their enemies were but brainwashed civilians they couldn’t bring themselves to hurt seriously. 

“Haa... Haa... Bastian, can you make an intense flash of light somehow? With a flashbang or some small spell?”

“...Sounds like you have an idea... I can, but what do you want to do with it?”

“There’s really no time to explain!” Vinn barked as he parried an incoming knife just in time with a pair of handcuffs. “Just play it cool and shoot it right above that big group over there!”

“Vague ideas are better than no ideas at all, and we can’t keep this up for much longer... Alright, Aureola Oblito!”

As the spark that would soon become an explosion of intense light approached its point of contact, the ceiling above the horde’s densest point, the nimble Vinn Ingram lunged towards its center like a wolf in blood-starved hunt, shoving past the henchmen and women, and defending against pipes and knives. When he finally reached it, he yelled at Bastian, which he considered the signal, and looked down immediately.

“Praemium!”

Upon command, the little spark went supernova, a blinding light engulfing the room immediately, with every meat puppet in the room covering their eyes as if blinded, and yet, the light was rapidly devoured by the fog after its initial explosion. As the light faded, however, a man’s loud scream of pain echoed at the end of the room. It wasn’t Vinn’s or Bastian’s, it was the man who wore a plain pig’s mask in the middle of the horde, a knife sticking out of his arm, courtesy of Vinn.

“...How did you know?” the pig-headed man inquired, and he was immediately sent barreling backwards by a kick straight to the head, also courtesy of Vinn.

“You looked down to avoid the light. All of these people are brainwashed and not conscious, thus, blinding them wouldn’t do a thing to them. We’ve been striking them for a while now, and they show no sign or reaction of pain. You just made them act as if they were blinded, and joined in the act, but you yourself looked down so as to not be blinded, while the rest didn’t. Good try, though.”

“Quickly, stop flapping your gums and actually catch him!” Bastian screamed as he made his way through the now far less coordinated horde.

Vinn complied, but as he approached him, the Hog Priest lashed out with a large dagger, rolling backwards after Vinn stepped back to avoid being lacerated. Before Vinn could make his way to him, however, the Priest and another exact look alike became entangled in a strange dance, with many more plain masked minions joining in, and then, they all ran in different directions.

“...! Shit, clever bastard! There’s no way to tell which one’s the real one!”

“Don’t lose your cool, Vinn! The third one to the right is heading towards that staircase, which likely leads to a room adjacent to the streets, while the one to the far left is going towards a door, likely with the same idea in mind! The others are running randomly, but those two make sense in their retreat! It’s either of them, go after the right one, I’ll get the left one, go!”

“You may be a nasty customer, but damn, you pull your weight, Bastian! Good thinking! Catch him!”

                                                  ——-

Vinn chased the figure that might be the real Hog Priest ceaselessly, door after door, hallway after hallway, until the figure stopped in the middle of a large storage room with no windows, no doors, no exits. Cornered at last, the Hog Priest simply turned around and faced the Exorcist, the eyes of the disgusting, realistic pig’s head mask meeting Vinn’s green own. 

“It’s dead end for you, piggy. Undo the incense and the mind control, and turn yourself in nice and easy. Without your horde, you are out of luck.”

“Hmhm... Haha! Very nice, you... What a cruel mistress luck is, having me do this with you, of all people...” the muffled voice from behind the mask praised, a distinctly softer, different voice from the one before, which didn’t escape Vinn’s attention. “Now, you might be thinking, ‘did I get the right guy?’, and I have good news and bad news for you!” -- the Priest struck a cutesy and quirky pose while saying this, pointing at Vinn -- “Which do you want first?”

“P-pardon...?”

“I said! Which! Do you want! First! Good news or bad news!”

“...Good news?”

The exaggerated Priest lifted his arms in mock excitement, clapping and cheering excitedly with chants of “Woo! Exorcist! Exorcist!” before finally assuming a new pose. “Alright, so, the good news! The good news are that you have indeed caught the Hog Priest, congratulations!”

“...But your vo--”

“--ice is not the same you heard before, right? Yeah, about that... Here’s more good news: There’s two of us! So no matter which one of us you followed, and you followed both of us, there were only winning picks!”

Vinn immediately produced two pairs of handcuffs. “So, two of you, huh...? Well, that’s twice the questions we get to ask then, those are pretty good news.”

“Sadly, I also am obligated to tell you the bad news.” the Priest sadly informed, sticking an hand inside of his robes and producing a baseball bat covered in various, strange runes, pointing it at Vinn. “The bad news is that you die here.” she announced with an arctic voice unlike her variety show host demeanor of seconds before, taking a step forward and sending thunderbolts down Vinn’s spine. It was not the first time he’d been face to face with mortal danger, it was not the first time his life has been at risk, it was not the first time he was faced with a strong opponent. But, it was the first time in Vinn’s life that his body and mind screamed for him to get out of there fast, a primal, visceral flight response that didn’t even pretend to bother with the ‘fight’ half.

The bat came faster than a bullet from above, Vinn managing to block it only by reaction, leaving him wide open to kick to the gut which knocked the air out of him, and a subsequent palm strike to the chin that sent him barreling backwards against the wall. The Exorcist, in a panic, produced his standard issue handgun, pointing it at the Priest.

“You should’ve keep me close. Hands up, Hog Priest.”

“...That’s not even a Shootist Gun, that’s just a regular one. You... You are not taking this seriously, are you?”

Vinn took aim at his enemy’s leg and let loose a round, hoping to incapacitate him, but a simple swipe of the bat deflected the bullet right out of its path, the battered projectile hitting the wall next to Vinn’s head, missing him by a hair. “What the...!?”

“You really are a novice, huh. Should’ve kept to patrols and such, instead of getting roped into this hell. Then again, you yourself willing dropped into the wolf’s maw the moment you decided to become an Exorcist. Is the paycheck of a murderer really that tempting?”

“Not all of us are murderers! We’re trying to change it, we’re trying to heal this rotten system from within, which is more than can be said of mass kidnappers like you, so don’t you try and lecture me about moral codes!”

“Ah, yeah, in the eyes someone that doesn’t know what’s going on, of course it’s gonna look like we are the bad guys. ‘Changing it from within’, that’s some prime, class-A bullshit. You can’t possibly believe that. You’re smart enough to know you are but one good seed among a fetid, infected crop. You won’t fix the harvest by yourself.”

The Priest lowered his bat and pointed towards the door. “Leave.”

“...Huh?”

“You are outmatched. Leave through that door, exit the warehouse through the office sector, and desert the Mythic Affairs Bureau. Never again take on the mantle of the Exorcist, do something else. It’s for your own good. Do this, and I will not take your life. I will even guarantee you safe passage until you are out of Stroln.”

Vinn struggled to pick himself up after the brief but intense beating he sustained, putting his evidently useless handgun away. “...Why are you giving me a way out? What do you mean by a ‘good seed’?”

The disgusting pig in front of him tapped the “ear” of his mask. “A little bird told me that you do sincerely care for Mythics. You helped out a demon yesterday, helped him find a job that allows him to feed on human emotions without harming anyone when you simply could’ve smoked him. You’re a good person in a bad guy’s job, so I’m willing to compromise... No, I want to let you live. We need more people like you in the world.”

The disappointment in the hog’s fake eye was palpable when Vinn took a fighting stance instead.

“...Last chance, Exorcist. I’ll hold back no more.”

“How about you fuck off. I’m not gonna get lectured on morality by someone who brainwashes a bunch of people for a mass kidnapping. I’m through trying to reason with you. I’m done playing sweet. Let’s go for real.”

With a sigh and a head scratch, the hog picked up his bat and assumed a combat stance again. “I really wish we could’ve done this differently, but if you insist... I’ll give you a proper burial, at least.”

“Domunus Tecum!” the Exorcist chanted, renewing his protective spell, but he was not done. “Hostem Repellas Longius!” As he chanted this spell, a faint, red light covered Vinn’s body. Hostem Repellas Longius, the third of the Six Spells of Self-Defense, the spell of hostility, offense, and righteous violence. Simple as they may be, the strength of the Six Spells does indeed lie in simplicity, and with every brick you put on top of a good base, you get closer to making a wall. With attack and defense ready, Vinn put away one pair of handcuffs, holding only one with his left hand.

No more words were shared between the two, and they clashed fiercely in the middle of the spacious storage room, handcuffs meeting bat, the colliding steel singing a frantic sonata to which these individuals who couldn’t be more conflicted danced vigorously. Overhead strike, left swipe, shin kick, neck shot, eye gouge, they tried it all, and none could land. Vinn certainly seemed much different than before, and in a moment of carelessness, the Exorcist managed to grab the bat by the head.

“...! What’s with this grip!? Let go!” the Priest wined, struggling to get the bat back.

“Sure, here you go.”

Vinn’s hand glowed a dim silver and suddenly began vibrating at extreme intensities, the sheer force from the vibrations hurting the Priest’s arm, making her lose her balance from the pain. Using this opening, Vinn threw the bat away and lunged with his hand, grabbing the Priest by the shoulder, gripping hard for just a second before a skillful twirl of the Priest’s arm allowed him to set himself free.

“What was that...? You didn’t have enough time to do any of that weird vibration stuff to me.”

“It’s over, Priest. Don’t use your left arm and just surrender.”

The Priest simply laughed. “That bat thing was surprising, but you didn’t do anything to me. Now I know to watch out for it. I don’t feel bad at all, in fact, it’s like my left shoulder feels even better than before! Sucks to be y--!”

As the Priest picked the discarded bat back up with his left arm, an explosion of blood gushed from his shoulder, the sheer force of it shredding even the red robe and exposing his flesh, the Priest tumbling to the side and falling to the concrete ground, clutching his bloody mess of a shoulder as he screamed in agonizing pain. “W-what the fuck did you do to me!? Aaaargh!”

“You got confident without even knowing my style of magecraft, and now you’re paying the price. It’s simple in theory: Flux Magic. I know how to control the eb, flow, and movement of mana particles.”

“Haha, what...?” laughed the Priest, still in pain. “That’s... Fucking crazy... So that vibration was just you making a mass of mana vibrate at immense speed... You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“And your shoulder just now was me injecting you with an immense amount of mana, more than your body could possibly handle. Hence, when you moved the afflicted part, it burst like that. You were feeling well because you literally had an injection of energy given to you.”

“Clever bastard, first I see of anyone applying such an otherwise ignored principle of magic emission, Flux, in this creative a way. Hats off to you, friend. I suppose I gotta show my hand now.”

“Wait, if you move with that wound--”

Vinn’s warning fell upon deaf ears as the Priest, left shoulder oozing blood, dashed right against Vinn to renew his assault. Handcuffs parried the bat, but it was nothing more than a feint, Vinn’s stomach catching a knee that made him double in pain. As he tried to get his bearings, the bat’s runes glowed an eerie teal, the weapon bludgeoning Vinn in the side, sending him tumbling.

“Alright, let’s see what we get... Become The Body Of His Innermost Shackles! Terror Ink!”

From within the robes of the Priest, a turbulent torrent of ink exploded forth, covering the bat and transmogrifying it into what looked like a bizarre, serrated hoop weapon. Upon seeing it, Vinn was left speechless.

“Why... Why do you have that...!? That’s impossible!”

One didn’t have to look at the face behind the mask to know that the Priest’s expression was currently a smug grin. “So this is what you fear the most, huh...? Weird weapon. I can’t begin to imagine what its wielder must have done to terrify you so. This is Rorschach Magic, the Terror Ink. Anything inscribed with the right runes and provided with the ink can turn into the biggest fear of whatever it strikes. In this case, this weird... Hoola hoop thingy... Whatever it is. Well, let’s test it, shall we?”

The Hog Priest’s assault was renewed again, slashing and swiping with the bizarre ring-like weapon, one of the ends of the ‘ring’ detaching and flailing wildly as if seeking Vinn with a mind of its own. “Oh! It detaches! So it’s like a bladed whip, too!”

“Put that away! You have no idea what you’re playing with!”

“Nah, I’m good, now please die quietly, or at least making a funny noise!”

The weapon was extremely confusing. It moved with a mind of its own, one end reattaching and the other detaching at seemingly random swings, clearly not the Priest’s doing, wounding Vinn with each tricky, impossible twirl of the notched edges. Vinn, catching him by surprise, leaned forward instead of retreating anymore, as his back would hit the wall any second now, and clinched the Priest, trying to knock his weapon away, his superior positioning allowing him to elbow the Priest right on the wounded shoulder.

“Hraaa!”

“You’re done!”

But as Vinn went for another deadly grip, on the exposed parts of the Priest’s robe, thanks to the earlier bloody burst and the tugging their clinch had brought to their clothes, he saw something that he simply couldn’t comprehend.

Just below the left shoulder blade, there it was, a tattoo that he was sure was the circular object wreathed in something spiky he briefly saw on the girl yesterday. Seeing this, he immediately shoved the Priest and made some distance.

“Ooph! What...? You’ll really regret giving me space to move ag-- Huh?”

“You... Are the girl from yesterday, aren’t you? The one who helped me with Mathanac!”

“...”

“Why are you doing this? It’s you, isn’t it? I recognize the tattoo. You are the same height, too, now that I think about it.”

“...Aha, shit.”

With his free hand, nay, her free hand, the Priest removed the large pig mask and tossed it aside. Behind it was a beautiful girl with striking magenta eyes and shoulder length white hair, her right lock dyed black. A tragically familiar face, with a pained, regretful smile.

Just yesterday, they were hanging out in the streets of Stroln, trying to find Mathanac a job.

“Hey there, Mister Exorcist. Cat’s out of the bag, it seems!”

“Why are you doing this...?” the anguished Vinn inquired.

“Hey now, it’s not like we are lifelong friends or nothin’, don’t get all dramatic on me. This is just... Who I am, really. One half of the Hog Priest, protector of Mythics, and seeker of clarity.”

“What does that even mean? Why kidnap so much people?”

“Mister Exorcist... Vinn. Look, please, just walk away. Pretend this never happened. It’s impossible for you to believe me right now, I understand, but you gotta trust me, we are doing this for the common good. It sure as hell doesn’t look like it now, but this is all for the good not just of Stroln, but of the world. We need these people, and we’re not gonna hurt them or anything! I promise!”

“How can I possibly believe that when every moment since I stepped in here has been a fight to just stay alive?!”

“If Exorcists were the kind of people that you could explain things to, we wouldn’t need to do this! You are decent, Vinn, but you are the exception! Exorcists are a rotten bunch! There’s simply no more time, we need to--”

In the middle of her impassioned speech, an alarm went off on the bulky wristwatch the girl was wearing. 

“...Tsk. Vinn, this is my last warning.” she murmured, with softness and honesty, not a hint of hostility to her voice. “You really are a good guy. I could tell from how much effort you put into helping Mathanac yesterday, and with how much respect you treated him. Please, walk away. Retire from the Exorcists, and leave Stroln. It’s going to get ugly, and we need people like you in the coming world, people that will receive Mythics with arms wide open. If we meet again in these conditions, know that I will not show you a shred of mercy.”

“...The coming world? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Good bye, Vinn. And for both our sakes, let’s not meet again until the next world arrives.”

The wicked weapon in her hand suddenly turned black, and then seemed to melt. As the ink peeled from it, its true shape as a baseball bat returned. Pulling a little detonator from the robe’s pocket, the girl smeared some of the neon paint the other masks had across her face and smiled farewell as she pressed it, an explosion nearby blasting a hole in the wall.

                                                 ——-

                                                                            Meanwhile, in another room,                                                                            in another part of the building...

“Isn’t the view up here just divine, Bastian Ashfield?”

“Yeah, I gotta give it to you, man. You’ve gone and given me the perfect scenario, not gonna lie.”

“Oh? Is that so? Would you mind elaborating?”

“I ain’t much of a nature landscape fan, but urban stuff? Cities? My jam. Love ‘em. I also love interrogating domestic terrorists. In some minutes, I’ll be making you spit blood, curses, and answers while enjoying the beauty of Stroln in the afternoon, and that? That’s priceless. If I had a nice, bodacious babe to praise me while I’m kneeing you in the throat, it’d be my second birthday, not gonna lie.”

“Haha! Confidence is really good. Exorcist scum really dream big, don’t they?”

“Damn right we do, and I dream the biggest of them all. So, are we done flirting?”

“Very much so, Ashfield.”

The banter was followed with silent sizing up, not one of the two men moving an inch as they stood on top of the main building’s rooftop. It had been an arduous, lengthy pursuit, but it all came to this. Face to face at last with the wanted criminal, Hog Priest, the Hydromancer was already grinning like a madman. He truly had been waiting for a chance to unwind, you see.

Without warning, a sharp, potent tendril of pressurized water lunged directly towards the Priest like a lance, only to be met with an invisible wall, mana sparks and the sound of magical diffusion concluding with a mass of useless water falling helplessly to the floor. Stretching his arms, the Priest let out a chuckle, hundreds of incense sticks popping out of his robes all over his body.

“What...?”

“Vervain incense, Ashfield.” the Priest explained mockingly. “Very strong magic retardant. For once in your life, splashing water around won’t save you.”

“Incense Magic... Never thought I’d come across someone wacky enough to weaponize it for combat. Still, defense seems to be your only strong point, so I just need to punch through and I’ll be gold.”

“And how do you figure you’ll do that?”

“Well, I could do this, for starters.”

Just as suddenly as the first tendril, two massive jets of water erupted behind Bastian, propelling him with immense speed towards the Hog Priest, getting close enough to use a pressurized water slash that came a hair short of beheading the porcine foe thanks to his reflexes, managing to duck just in time with only the mask’s top being sliced off.

“Woah, man! What happened to that ‘interrogation’? Dead men tell no tales!”

“You can survive long enough without a piece of your face, no biggie.” calmly explained Bastian. “...That incense only protects you against long range magic, huh? Makes sense. The farther magic is from its caster, the less magic emission remains in it. That incense of yours has a heavy enough disruption that spells with little emission remaining in them will not be able to penetrate it, but the emission of my holy water is strong enough to pierce through it if I am close enough... You knew this, however.”

“Astute observation, mister miscreant. How do you figure the last part, though?”

The Exorcist smirked. “You have a pistol hanging by a holster on your right hip under those robes. You intended to keep me away by using it, rendering me helpless to hurt you from afar. And it could have worked, had you actually stopped flapping your gums and actually focused on the fight. You’re not much of a fighter, are you?”

Impressed, the Priest couldn’t help but lift his arms in not-so-mocking surrender. “...Guilty as charged. I’m not a fighter, no. My partner handles the direct combat end of the business, truth be told.”

A vinyl scratch inside Bastian’s head brought him to a full stop. “Wait, partner? Hold on, so the decoy that Vinn went after--”

As shock overcame Bastian, the crafty hog quickly reached for the gun on his hip, but Bastian, seasoned fighter as he is, immediately closed the distance again with two water propulsion jets.

“You got too cocky, shithead!” Bastian boasted, as his arm ascended to direct the water Priestwards, a splatter of crimson blood and the horrifying sound of ripping flesh polluting the air as a scream of agony echoed in the skies above the rooftop.

“...Did I, now, dear Ashfield?”

“W-what the shit...?”

With a loud thud, Bastian hit the floor harshly after being sent flying, a gash on his chest oozing blood. On the other side of the rooftop, the still-standing Priest had two massive spikes protruding from his chest, red with the blood of the Hydromancer they just downed. Removing his robe and torn mask, the Priest revealed short black hair, a scar on the right side of his face, and amber eyes. He looked like he was in his late 30s, with a mostly skinny, not-quite-lanky frame. Most notoriously, he was fully clad in stitched-together leather, crudely put together and of different animals by the looks of it. His jacket, shirt, pants, and even boots, all made of patchwork leather. The spikes slowly retracted back into his chest, seamlessly disappearing into his body, staining his shirt with the blood that was on the horns.

“You jumped the gun, friend, pun absolutely intended. You didn’t even consider I might have a way to deal with you up close.”

The blood oozing from Bastian’s chest slowly stopped, and it seemed to being drawn back into his chest by an unnatural force. “Oh!” the Priest exclaimed. “Your command of Hydromancy never ceases to amaze, Ashfield! Pulling your own blood back inside you with it! I guess it takes grit like this in order to live in the way you have.”

“S-stop talkin’ as if you know shit about me... What the hell was that...? I sense... Necromancy?” panted the wounded Exorcist, still on the floor, unable to move much. That statement made the man’s face shine with joy.

“You have a good eye, Ashfield. This is failed Necromancy... A poor man’s version, a mere counterfeit. Like every other Necromancer out there, I’ll never be a full fledged master of the death. However, I have no interest in that, and just this much control is good enough for me. My specialty is leather, allowing me to temporarily revive and reform any animal from leather, just for a short while, but hey, that’s all I need. Bringing back people is way out of my scope and ability, haha. What you experienced just now were the horns of a bull whose hide I have stitched on this shirt.” With a jolly stride and a confident gait, he approached the felled Hydromancer to deliver the last blow. “It was great playing with you, Ashfield, but you are a big pain in the ass, so I gotta put you out now, see ya!” From his right sleeve, a tiger’s foot materialized, razor sharp claws at the ready, and... Nothing. Nothing happened afterwards, as a spike seemed to have pierced the leather-clad man right through his chest. “...Ah... Haha, curses... You’re right, I’m not much of a fighter...” Bastian simply smirked again.

“Thanks for getting close enough to let me use my own blood on your shirt like that. Love ya.” Bastian had used the blood he had splattered on his assailant to pierce him from point blank range, incapacitating both men. It was pointless to even try to attack each other at this point, as the counter would kill the other.

“Pretty fancy necromancy you got there, friend. Leagues more creative than your run-of-the-mill shithead kid who revives a rat or a feral dog... Asperges Me, Domine.” commented Bastian as he put his hand on wound, controlling the blood so it stays inside while using a healing spell to close the wound.

“Me? Fancy? Don’t lie to yourself, Ashfield. Your Hydromancy is far more interesting. I don’t know how you get away with it, but surely more people have noticed it’s a facsimile, right?” the necromancer retorted, producing a needle from his utility belt and injecting himself in the arm.

“...!”

The Priest missed naught a beat in savoring the shock on Bastian’s face. “Heh, I knew it. You tricky scamp, of course I’d notice. I have plenty of experience and knowledge on spellweaving theory. You, sir, are no Hydromancer.”

“I command water, that’s Hydromancy, so you’re not really making a lot of sense here, amigo.”

“Oh, way too late to try and play it cool, friend. The cat is already out of the bag. Hydromancy is a traditional art of the Shaman school of magic. You befriend a spirit of water, make a pact with them, and with the spirit as a proxy, you gain control over the element of water. You, sir, have no such contract. Hydromancers are rare because it wouldn’t make sense to limit yourself to a single element. If you can make a pact with a water spirit, you surely can do the same with the other elements.”

“There’s plenty of ways to control water, Sir Pig.”

“Yup, and you are employing none of them. A way to bypass the pact with a spirit is to master control of remote mana particle emission, but that would only allow you to project water at short range, and without much potency. There’s far more practical uses of such power, and you make no use of them, meaning you have no such mastery. I can prove you haven’t made a single contract with a spirit of water as well, because you utilize holy water in your Hydromancy. Imbuing water with foreign energies, such as the holy energies of the Arc, is an insult to the spirits, and it would weaken your water, if not sever your pact with the spirit outright. Your water is most assuredly very powerful.”

“...”

“Just what are you, Bastian Ashfield? How come you can use water in the way you do? Could this be, perhaps, some sort of divi--”

“Shut the hell up!”

His wound finally closed, Bastian haphazardly stood up, ready to continue the fight. With a resigned, if not bemused sigh, the incense master stood up as well. “Mm, the drugs kicked in. Alright, let’s go, Hydroboy. Hit me with the best fake water you can muster, haha.”

“Man, props to you, you really get under my skin!”

As round two began, tendrils of water clashed with powerful tiger claws, pressurized jets of water were deflected by a tortoise shell, and a crocodile’s head was stopped from biting Bastian’s carotid artery just barely thanks to water spikes produced at the last second. The two men were evenly matched, and just as their dance was reaching its utmost violence, the large wristwatch on the man’s right wrist rang off an alarm. 

“...Time flies when you’re having a blast. Well, Ashfield, it was a pleasure to meet you, but I must take my leave. This has gone long enough.” 

Producing a small detonator from his pocket, the man pressed it without any hesitation or explanation -- apparently learning something about not flapping your gums in front of the enemy and just doing what you need to do --  and jumped off the railings of the rooftop, a series of explosion engulfing other parts of the warehouse complex.

“Shit, wait! You!” Bastian yelled as he approached the railings. Looking down, he saw the man safely running down the side of the building. That is, manifesting two long and thick ostrich legs from his back that stepped with such strength that their feet dug into the concrete of the building, safety being able to descend that way. “Bastard! He had it all planned...! I gotta get down there!”

“Adieu, my dear Ashfield! The name’s Balthazar Wharwood! Forget me not! Haha!”

                                                ——-

“Fatima, Daryl, help me shield the civilians from the debris! Nadja, go and assess the situation behind the building those two went to, it’s possible they might need your help with their escape if they haven’t captured them yet!”

With a collective “roger!”, everyone got to their task as assigned by Fiona, Nadja’s agile strides quickly getting her inside of the building. 

“I gotta say, Chief! Yer pretty cool when ya ain’t drunk off your ass!” excitedly proclaimed Daryl as he helped carry the no-longer hostile, but very much disabled civilians out of the dangerous warehouse.

“If that’s your idea of a compliment, my idea of gratitude will be to knock your lights out with a flawless right hook once we are out of here!” Fiona barked back.

“Keep your heads in the game, please! I cannot carry all of them safely without you to help me, even with this Manticore body!” pleaded Fatima as she carried as many people as she could on her back, safeguarding them with her wings.

Every couple of seconds, a new bomb went off, ever increasing the threat to the people in the premises. With just their limited numbers, they were saving as many people as they could.

                                                ——-

As Vinn finally reached the first floor, he made a beeline for the door that leads to the street, coming face to face with Nadja, who came from another hallway. 

“Are you alright, Ingram?”

“I’ve been worse, but no time to chit chat, she’s getting away!”

“She? The Hog Priest is a woman?”

“I’ll explain later, but if you see a girl with magenta eyes and white hair, she’s our mark.”

“Acknowledged.”

As the novice duo went into the street, there, in the distance, was the girl in the red robes with the baseball bat, alongside a tall, skinny man clad fully in leather. “...That must be the other Hog Priest next to her.”

“Hog Priest is two people? What a day. I’ll take the man, you go for the girl, since you were fighting her recently, you know what tricks to expect from her.”

They both nodded and dashed with all their might towards the Hog Priest duo, but just as they were reaching them, a line of machine gun fire threatened to fill them with holes, the two Exorcists backing away at the nick of time. 

“Ah, just on time, Sir Gatling Knight!” Balthazar greeted with joy, grabbing the white haired girl by the hand and running away towards a black van that awaited them nearby. The girl herself had no words, and just looked at Vinn in the eye one last time, bitterness and disappointment in those magenta eyes, before facing the truck and never looking back.

“Darn! What was that...!? Ingram, back away.”

“Don’t worry, Wharwood...” a muffled, sinister, if uninterested voice finally replied. “I’ll keep them away from you while you run with your tail between your legs.”

From their left side, a tall man clad from tip to toe in riot gear with several ornate engravings, a ballistic helmet with a visor that hid his face, and a cape on each shoulder that draped over the entirety of each arm approached them, a heavy machine gun trained at them casually with just one hand.

“I’ve no orders to kill you, but I can make an exception if you insist on pursuing them.” he announced not as a threat, but as a promise, the green machine gun disappearing behind the green cape, vanishing just like that.

“Move aside. We’ve no time to waste with you while they are escaping...!” Nadja commanded as she rushed not towards the van, but at the man himself. “You can give us answers, too!”

“Wait, Nadja! Don’t!”

But Vinn’s warning came too late. In just the flash of an eye, Nadja lunged at the man with a stake, which he shot out her hand with a pistol he produced out of thin air behind the green cape, making her recoil from the shock. As she fell, from his other hand came a shotgun, which he pressed against her gut and shot, the blood she spewed staining his visor and riot chestpiece.

“G-guah...!”

“N-Nadja!”

“Worthless. You, boy. Don’t make waste more ammo. The van is gone, anyways. You have no more reason to oppose me.” The armored man then simply threw the wounded Nadja at Vinn, turned around, and walked towards a manhole without the cover, presumably where he came from.

“Who are you? Why are you helping them?” Vinn asked as he tried to stabilize the wounded Nadja.

“...I’m the Gatling Knight, and why I help them is none of your business, but mark my words, on my honor as a Knight, if you oppose them, then you are bound to face me again, and if that happens, I’ll shoot you down where you stand. The first time you see me is a warning. The second time is your funeral. Be smart and don’t recklessly pursue your funeral. Now, tend to that fool. Her Domunus Tecum is flawless. If treated, she might survive.”

“...”

“Hoh, that’s a hateful glare, if I’ve ever seen one. Consider this, kid: You attack me now, you will meet the asphalt just as she did. You are exhausted from fighting Sacrifice, so you’re not at your 100%. I take you down now, and both of you die. You take her back, she might just make it. Your call. I can spare a few bullets, if you truly wish to force my hand.”

Cursing under his breath, Vinn had no choice but to carry Nadja back to where the other Exorcists were, as it was pointless to stay here, what with the Priests having escaped and his colleague nearing death with every passing second.

To call this operation successful would be a joke, Vinn though to himself.

“...And what did he mean by ‘Sacrifice’...?”

                                               ——-

                                                                                                 August 7th                                                                                                   12:01 PM                                                                                           7th Office’s Infirmary

“...And that’s what happened on my end.” said Vinn, concluding his report.

“I see, we both had a dog of a day, it seems. Damn pigs...” the bed-bound Bastian said with a half-laugh. “...Never imagined the Hog Priest, well, Priests would show up like this and cause this much trouble mere days after you started. You must really be cursed to end with me as your partner and those two wackos as your first foes, bwahaha.”

The younger Exorcist couldn’t help but laugh. “Man, the Academy really didn’t prepare me for this, I want a freaking refund. How are you holding up?”

“Doc says I gotta chill for the rest of today and tomorrow, and I should be golden. Oh, dunno if you heard, but after yesterday, all six of us have been given today and tomorrow as days off to recover properly. Which sucks, because it’s two days I gotta spend cooped up in here. Well, at least the good doc will keep me company, right?”

“I’ll just make it easy on myself and juice you up with so many painkillers that you’ll simply sleep the two days away, honestly.” doctor Aria casually commented from the other side of the Infirmary, a hint of playfulness in her voice.

“Aww, come on, Aria, you don’t gotta be that way.” jokingly commented Bastian. Vinn was somewhat surprised at how well these two seemed to get along. Bastian getting along with anyone was kind of a surprise. “So, yeah, go and take it easy, and... Discard that long face, boyo.”

“...Hm?”

“Oh, don’t HMM me, Vinn Ingram.” the Hydromancer chided. “I know your goody-two-shoes stiff little ass is probably all depressed because of how they got away yesterday. But, the fact is, the operation was successful.”

“...Was it really?”

“It was. We all survived, for starters. Nadja is in critical state, but Aria here is the best Arc damned doctor I’ve met in my life, and that I’ll possibly meet in my life, plus, Nadja’s Domunus was apparently strong enough that a point blank shotgun blast didn’t shred her organs to pieces. That should’ve killed her immediately, and yet, here she is. She’ll recover, I guarantee it. The rest of us were just battered and wounded to varying degrees, but we pulled through. The civilians? No casualties whatsoever. The bombs were a distraction, and none of them were placed anywhere where there were civilians. Fatima, Fiona, and Daryl made sure to evacuate all of them and search several times for more of them. All the missing people have been accounted for. We rescued them, Vinn.”

“...I didn’t consider it this way...”

“Look, man, I know seeing them escape is a kick in the dick, I know, but consider the rest of everything. We’ll get another shot at them, but had anyone died, there’s no coming back from that one. Not all of them are gonna go all flowers and sunshine, and hell, look at you, you are practically unscathed. Compare and contrast with my dumb ass that got saddled in bed. It’s fine, man. You’ll go crazy if you consider anything short of perfection a failure, man.”

“...Haha.”

“Hm? What’s up?”

“Nothing, nothing, it’s just so freaking weird to hear you be so nice and supportive, Bastian, that’s all, haha.”

“Yeah, and it’ll cost you 5000 patros. I expect them by the end of the month.”

“Hahaha, but really, thank, it helps a lot to hear that” Vinn said with a smile.

“Oi oi, don’t go smiling at me now, save those for nice girls, like the doc here. Hey doc, can I get a smile?”

Aria, without looking at him, just flipped him her middle finger.

“Bwahahaha, yeah, love you too, doc. Alright, Vinn, go enjoy your day off. Trust me, you’ll learn to treasure them.”

“Alright, I’ll just drop by the office to say hi to Nick and Dani and then go home.”

“Good idea. Oh, and Vinn?”

“Yeah?”

“A bit late, but welcome to the 3rd Division. We are going to get revenge on those sumbitches when round two comes, yeah?”

“You fuckin’ bet we will.”

It might not have been ideal, it might have been perilous, but what Bastian said was true, the operation was, ultimately, a success. A mass kidnapping prevented is indeed good news to numerous families, no one can deny that. The day was saved, and while the root of the problem is still alive, it would be foolish to not enjoy this little moment of peace, or so Vinn thought at least. Whatever little moments of peace he might have from now on, he must make the most of them, for he understands that this is merely the calm before the storm.

The girl’s words echoed in his head, particularly the “coming world” she mentioned. Stroln was slowly but surely being submerged in conflict, and with it, the casualties that inevitably come from the crossfire. More than anything, Vinn wanted to prevent that.

The future looked uncertain and bleak for Vinn, but at the same time, he witnessed firsthand how capable the 7th Office was.

As the door closed behind him, Vinn walked away from the Office, ready to rest his body and prepare his spirit for the trials that he knew were coming, and that he knew Bastian and him and the rest of the 7th would deal with. 

The world he wants rides on this, too, after all.

“...What a nice day for a nap.”

       Of incense, ink stains, and the murky menace lurking beneath it all:                                       – Chapter 3: Neon War Paint –                                                             End

                                                                           To be continued in Chapter 4

#code:exorcist #format:episodic #length:long