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plounce · 4 months

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researching stuff for a post about misinformation regarding girl scout cookies and man this article (10/28/23) about this palestinian-american girl scout nearly made me burst into tears

In her short 17 years on earth, Amira Ismail had never been called a baby killer.

That’s what happened one Friday this month, Amira said, on New York City’s Q58 bus, which runs through central Queens.

“This lady looked at me, and she was like: ‘You’re disgusting. You’re a baby killer. You’re an antisemite,’” Amira told me. When she talked about this incident, her signature spunk faded. “I just kept saying, ‘That’s not true,’” she said. “I was just on my way to school. I was just wearing my hijab.”

Amira was born in Queens in the years after the Sept. 11 attacks. She remembers participating as a child in demonstrations at City Hall as part of a successful movement to make Eid al-Fitr and Eid al-Adha school holidays in New York City.

But since the Oct. 7 attack by Hamas, in which an estimated 1,400 Israelis were killed and some 200 others were kidnapped, Amira, who is Palestinian American, said she has experienced for the first time the full fury of Islamophobia and racism that her older relatives and friends have told stories about all her life. Throughout the city, in fact, there has been an increase in both anti-Muslim and antisemitic attacks.

In heavily Muslim parts of Queens, she said, police officers are suddenly everywhere, asking for identification and stopping and frisking Muslim men. (New York City has stepped up its police presence around both Muslim and Jewish neighborhoods and sites within the five boroughs.) Most painful though, she said, is the sense that she and her peers are getting that Palestinian lives do not matter, as they watch the United States staunchly back Israel as it heads into war.

“It can’t go unrecognized, the thousands of Palestinians that have been murdered in the past two weeks and even more the past 75 years,” Amira said. “There’s no way you can erase that.” That does not mean she is antisemitic, she said. “How can I denounce one system of oppression without denouncing another?” she asked me. The pain in her usually buoyant voice cut through me. I had no answer for her.

Many New York City kids have a worldliness about them, a certain telltale moxie. Amira, a joyful, sneaker-wearing, self-described “Queens kid,” can seem unstoppable.

When she was just 15, Amira helped topple a major mayoral campaign in America’s largest city, writing a letter accusing the ultraprogressive candidate Dianne Morales of having violated child labor laws while purporting to champion the working class in New York.

“My life and my extremely bright future as a 15-year-old activist will not be defined by the failures and harm enabled by Dianne Morales,” Amira wrote in the 2021 letter, which went viral and helped end Ms. Morales’s campaign. “I wrote my college essay about that,” Amira told me with a slightly mischievous smile.

In the past two years, Amira has become a veteran organizer. Last weekend, she joined an antiwar protest. First, though, she’ll have to work on earning her latest Girl Scout badge, this one for photography. That will mean satisfying her mother, Abier Rayan, who happens to be Troop 4179’s leader. “She’s tough,” Amira assured me.

At a meeting of the Muslim Girl Scouts of Astoria last week, a young woman bounded into the room, asking whether her fellow scouts had secured tickets to an Olivia Rodrigo concert. “She’s the Taylor Swift of our generation,” the scout turned to me to explain.

A group of younger girls recited the Girl Scout Law:

“I will do my best to be honest and fair, friendly and helpful, considerate and caring, courageous and strong, and responsible for what I say and do, and to respect myself and others, respect authority, use resources wisely, make the world a better place and be a sister to every Girl Scout.”

Amira’s mother carefully inspected the work of some of the younger scouts; she wore a blue Girl Scouts U.S.A. vest, filled with colorful badges, and a hot-pink hijab. “It’s no conflict at all,” Ms. Rayan told me of Islam and the Girl Scouts. “You want a strong Muslim American girl.”

At the Girl Scouts meeting, Amira and her friends discussed their plans to protest the war in Gaza. “Protests are where you let go of your anger,” Amira told me.

Amira’s mother was born in Egypt. In 1948, Ms. Rayan told me, her grandfather lost his home and land in Jaffa to the state of Israel. At the Girl Scout meeting, Ms. Rayan was still waiting for word that relatives in Gaza were safe.

“There’s been no communication,” she said. When I asked about Amira, Ms. Rayan’s eyes brightened. “I’m really proud of her,” she said. “You have to be strong. You don’t know where you’re going to be tomorrow.”

By Monday, word had reached Ms. Rayan that her relatives had been killed as Israel bombed Gaza City. When I asked whom she had lost, Ms. Rayan replied: “All of them. There’s no one left.” Thousands of Palestinians are estimated to have been killed by Israeli airstrikes in Gaza in recent weeks. ... Ms. Rayan said those killed in her family included six cousins and their children, who were as young as 2. Other relatives living abroad told her the cousins died beneath the rubble of their home.

As Ms. Rayan spoke, I saw Amira’s young face. I wondered how long this bright, spirited Queens kid could keep her fire for what I believe John Lewis would have called “good trouble” in a world that seems hellbent on snuffing it out. I worried about how she would finish her college applications.

“I have a lot of angry emotions at the ones in charge,” Amira told me days ago, speaking for so many human beings around the world in this dark time.

I thought about what I had seen over that weekend in Brooklyn, where thousands gathered in the Bay Ridge neighborhood, the home of many Arab Americans, to protest the war. In this part of the city, people of many backgrounds carried Palestinian flags through the street. Large groups of police officers gathered on every corner, watching them go by.

The crowd was large but quiet when Amira waded in, picked up her megaphone and called for Palestinian liberation. In an instant, thousands of New Yorkers repeated after her, filling the Brooklyn street with their voices. My prayer is that Amira’s generation of leaders will leave a better world than the one it has been given.

i believe she recently got her gold award (which, if youve never been in girl scouts, is really difficult - way more difficult than eagle scout awards), or is almost done with it. i hope she's doing okay.

this article (no paywall) about muslim and palestinian girl scout troops in socal also almost made me cry (it's like 2am). i really really hope all these kids are doing alright. god. they and their families all deserve so much better

#chirps

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elumish · 6 months

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Things to keep in mind when writing stuff involving (U.S.) federal offices/federal employees/federal contractors:

You need a badge to get in. If you don't have a badge you will at minimum have to go through a metal detector and have your stuff be x-rayed and sign in and then have an escort. You might get a guest lanyard, a temporary ID badge, or a wristband. At maximum you just won't get in.

You can potentially get in with a badge for a different agency, but you will still likely need to sign in and be let in manually, because your badge won't have building access to swipe you in past security

It can take a long time to get a badge, and it's way worse for contractors. For contractors it can take anywhere from days to over a year to get badged.

Working for the federal government doesn't necessarily mean you have a security clearance. A lot of civilian agencies just require a public trust, which generally involves much lower requirements and a much less invasive background check but can involve the equivalent of a Secret clearance background check (namely if you have a law-enforcement sensitive public trust).

You need to get fingerprinted, which may happen at the actual badging office or at a random contracted fingerprinting place. Basically all fingerprinting is digital at this point.

You need to get fingerprinted even if you have already been fingerprinted/badged elsewhere. They generally don't talk to each other.

Having a clearance can make it a bit easier/faster to get a public trust elsewhere due to reciprocity, but it can still take a while.

Federal buildings are often set pretty far back from the road and/or they have barricades in front of them.

It's not uncommon in some agencies to see mix of people in uniform and people not in uniform. Not all uniformed services are military. Public Health Service Commissioned Corps and NOAA Commissioned Officer Corps are both non-armed uniformed services.

Most federal employees operate under the General Service (GS) pay scale, and people will sometimes be referred to as a GS-X (e.g., GS-13, GS-14). This is an easy reference of relative position.

Some federal employees may operate under other pay scales, such as the Federal Wage System for blue-collar workers. High-ranking federal employees may be under the Senior Executive Service (SES) which is above the GS scale. Other agencies (e.g., the SEC) use their own pay scales.

#u.s. government #executive branch

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mintmatcha · 2 months

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Inevitable Things : chapter one

aizawa x reader fic

cw: aizawa x reader, cisfem reader, office AU, no quirks. no porn in the first two chapters, sorry gang :)

masterlist | next chapter

Prome Medical Devices hired you as a personal assistant to the CEO, Toshinori Yagi, shortly after he was diagnosed with his second bout of prostate cancer and shortly before they learned it had metastasized to bone. It was a tragic, yet expected turn of events.The man had been sick most of his life, they told you, he's probably slept in hospital beds more times than he's slept in his own. It was, like most things, inevitable.

Over the following weeks, through chemo and taps and rotating hospital doors, he began working from home and handling only the absolute basics, and your silly assistant job evolved into more. You had only planned to stay for a couple months, but then another horrible thing happened.

You became Somehow Important.

Days went from scrolling on Twitter between writing notes to juggling everything that no one else could handle. Sitting in for meetings, handling calls, scheduling reviews and system checks, running to the pharmacy midday: there's nothing you haven't done. It’s a lot, but in the grand scheme of it all, it's nothing-- especially compared to the things that everyone else gets done here.

8:35am. The security man gives you a nod without checking for your badge. Engineers skitter around the office like cockroaches. It's always a good sign when no one immediately comes to find you; that means your boss is still alive and doing about the same as he was yesterday. No updates, you’ve found, are good. No one bothers to tell you when good things happen: you’re the fixer, the emergency contact. When you’re being informed of anything, it’s because someone else wants you to clean up the mess.

(The only exception is from the man himself. Toshinori sends you the best kind of updates; mundane things from his life that he needs to share, like pictures of his duck pond or his review of the new coffee shop in town. It’s enough to keep you going, even when the day absolutely blows. You only had a few months working directly with the man, but he was fond of you-- and everyone was fond of him.)

Outdated filaments thrum down the halls. Your heels click against the tile with every step, a slow march to another day of monotony, a kind of dread that not even your phone can distract you from. Because your position is rather undefined for the corporate world, your desk is in an awkward spot, sandwiched in the hall, equidistant from the engineering department, the CEO's office, and the coffee machine. In terms of convenience, it's lovely, but it also means you have nowhere to hide.

Before you can even make it to your desk, a young man pops into the way and heads straight for you, a bit too quickly to be passed off as casual. Your heart sinks, then you realize it's just one of the interns: a college kid who's clearly had too many energy drinks already.

“Hey,” Denki smiles with too much gum, so wide his cheeks almost swallow up his eyes. He’s a scruffy, dirty blonde, a patchy black streak on one side of his head. His button down is obviously unironed, so crumpled it almost looks like a pattern, matching perfectly with his untied tie. It’s a good thing that he’s cute; you doubt he’d have gotten this far in life if he wasn’t.

“Good morning, how are you? Have a good night? You look so pretty this morning. MILF town over here.” he says, twiddling the toe of his shoe into the carpet. “I made the pot of coffee for you,so you don’t have to worry about that-”

You cut him off. “What did you do?”

The interns don’t report to you. If anything, they run parallel to you. If there’s anyone they should be ass kissing, it should be the department head, not some personal assistant, but the group considers you an ally. Maybe even a friend.

“I wouldn’t say that it’s something that I did,” the boy explains. He sucks air in through his teeth. “It’s more like what I didn’t do.”

“Denki.”

“It’s just the reports! I have to submit them end of day and it’s just not--” He juts out his bottom lip. “Can you proof my work? Please? The Eraser’s going to have my head if I make another mistake.”

The lead engineer is infamous for deleting whole chunks of code that the interns have made and ruining months of their work. Last month it was Ochako's work, who then spent the rest of the day at your desk, sniffling. The four others were equally terrified of the man, constantly fretting and bitching about the ‘cruel working conditions.’ If Prome wasn't so prestigious (and internships weren't necessary for graduating) there’d be no interns left. You’re sure Eraser would prefer it that way.

“Please?” Denki clutches his hands together in prayer. “Please, please, please?”

You don't even pretend to hem and haw.

“Email it over before lunch.” you say and he lights up.

“Aw, you’re the best!” He turns away and practically skips down the hall. “I’m gonna drop off Izuku’s stuff too, okay?”

There’s no chance to say no before Denki’s gone. You flop into your chair and kick off your heels, trying to convince yourself that you don’t already regret saying yes. You catch your own appearance in the black screen of your computer. Makeup doesn’t do much to cover up the fact you’ve been crying. You can see it in your eyes, in the creases of your skin that you wish weren't there. Even as the screen lights up, you can still catch your own face, starting back with that sad, sad expression.

It's been mostly sleepless nights since Touya left, but you push through and ignore whatever you can. You miss your travel mug, the one that matched the coaster on your desk. You miss your forks, the ones that weren’t the awful ones from the thrift store down the road, bought solely out of panic when you returned to an empty apartment. Most of all, you miss him, how the apartment felt warmer with two bodies instead of one, and how secure you felt with someone who loves you.

Your screen loads and a big, red 24 flashes in the corner-- fuck, the works already piling up. You try to squish any thought of Touya’s disappearing act into the back of your head. Like a dog, Touya always comes back home to you. He just needs to be wild for a bit, play off leash, and then he’ll crawl back like always.

You check your phone. He’s still saved under “AVOID AT ALL COSTS” and the last five texts you sent are all unread. Your thumb hovers over the delete button for a moment; it’d be easier to cut him off and end this cycle. You can stop pushing the boulder up the hill, just for it to tumble back down again. You could pursue someone else, maybe someone nice or smart or at least not rude-

Focus. Compliance is raising concerns about the new platform and manufacturing has CC'ed you into an issue about screw heads, two things that you know nothing about. You flip your phone over and push through. What’s the difference between a hex and a truss and why should you care?

11:59. You’re none the wiser about either topic, but the dust seems to be settling and everyone seems to be happy enough. Denki’s reports are an absolute mess, bad to the point you start to wonder if he even tried. The pages aren't even formatted correctly, so it’s going to take most of your lunch to iron out the wrinkles. Luckily, Izuku is a bit more competent and his tasks look great, so-

“Oh, baby girl!”

You stop typing and sit straight up to peer over your computer screen, hiding the remnants of your microwaved lunch. With arms raised high and dressed in his finest ironed button down, Yamada Hizashi enters. Tall, blonde, thin, and leggy: Hizashi would have been a Victoria’s Secret model if he wasn’t a man. His long hair is tied back into a messy bun, a couple of loose tendrils floating around his face in an effortlessly, annoyingly charming way as he marshes straight for you.

“Let me see ‘em!” he demands loudly, a smile on his face and his hands on his hips. “Come on, baby. You know what I want.”

If it was anyone else, you’d think the man was a creep, but Hizashi is just so earnest about the way he lights up a room. With a belabored sigh and a grin, you roll your chair back a bit and stick your leg to the side to reveal your pink, fluffy slippers. The man claps his hands together and laughs a deep, hearty chuckle, genuinely bemused.

The bunny slippers had started as a secret. The original dress code had required women to wear heels to work, which was fine, until the back of your feet became nothing but blisters. To give yourself some respite during the day, you had hidden a pair of slippers under your desk, just a little treat to make it through the day. It seemed like a genius idea-

Until the day the fire alarm went off. In the surprise, you had forgotten to change your shoes back, and proceeded to spend the next half an hour outside with the entire company in your violently pink shoes.

Luckily, everyone thought it was pretty funny.

Especially Hizashi.

“Seeing my work wife is the best part of the week.”

You throw a hand over your heart and gasp, trying to hold back your smile. “Only your work wife?”

“Oh, babygirl, I’d marry you in an instant.” He leans over your desk with another sigh, this one heavier. “I’d make you the trophy wife you were born to be.”

“Cool it, Mic.” Your heart sinks a bit at the voice. “HR is going to have your head if you aren’t careful.”

Aizawa “The Eraser” Shouta makes his third appearance at the coffee machine this morning. He’s an average sized man, if not slightly short, with dark hair and the beginnings of a salt and pepper beard. The muscles in his jaw flex whenever he looks your way, almost as if he’s chewing away his annoyance. The most notable thing about him is a scar on his high cheek bone, long healed and silver in the light. He sits his coffee cup - a beat to shit Stanley thermos from long before they were cool- under the tap and lets the java pour, that sour expression never leaving his face.

Aizawa has worked here since the beginning. As one of the founding members of Prome and a lead engineer, he’s had his hands in absolutely every machine the company has produced, and yet he carries himself with none of the pomp and circumstance he deserves. Instead of abiding by the strict dress code, he wears a bright yellow sweatshirt that has an obvious coffee stain on the pocket. It’d be charming if he wasn’t an infamous dick. The two of you rarely interact, despite the fact he visits the coffee station next to your desk multiple times a day, offering you no more than a nod most days. The interns are terrified of him-- and rightly so. You’re also scared of him. You’ve never met anyone else as tightly wound or as obsessed with work as him; there’s a rumor that he even sleeps here some days.

“Don’t listen to him,” Hizashi says. “He’s just jealous.”

“I’m not jealous, I’m protecting the company from potential litigation when bunny slippers over here-” he juts a chin your way- “ decides your flirting isn’t fun anymore.”

You knew he wasn’t jealous. It’s an open secret that Aizawa doesn’t like you very much. Unlike any other of the department heads, he never allocates you work or stops by to chat. There was even a rumor that he wanted to eliminate your position last year; you wouldn’t care so much if he didn’t have the power and sway to make that happen.

Hizashi pops a hip to the side. He isn’t afraid of anyone it seems; he even claims to be the man’s friend after hours.“Would you rather me go back to flirting with you?”

Aizawa stares back, only the trickle of coffee echoing in the hall. Finally, when it almost reaches the top, he shuts it off and glares. “You’re not even supposed to be in office today, Mic.”

Hizashi had always been the most notable salesman in the company, but once the CEO’s health went downhill, he had taken over a lot of the speaking roles as well. Interviews, speeches, and the like: Toshinori Yagi had dubbed him Mr. Microphone and the name had just stuck. From what you can tell, he’s actually pretty close with Aizawa and the other founding members outside of work as well.

“I have a quick meeting with the marketing gals in a couple minutes,” Hizashi explains. He brings his attention back to you, brows waggling. Fuck- you know what he’s about to say.

“And I wanted to wish my wife an early happy birthday.”

Oh, god. Your face flushes with heat-- you had hoped he had forgotten that. You glance over to Aizawa, who seems more interested than usual.

“It's tomorrow,” you explain. He nods curtly.

“Our office darling is going to be thirty, flirty and feeling fine!” Mic explains further. Ugh. You wish he didn't sound so happy about it. When you think about it for too long, turning thirty feels like the end of the world, an evil you just can't avoid. It's better than the alternative, you guess.

“Are you and the boyfriend planning on a romantic night?”

A second gut punch of a statement.

“Oh, no, I’m just-- he--” You almost get emotional for a moment. Thirty years old and single: it feels like the end of the world for some reason. Everyone else is getting married or having kids or living some dream life. Fuck-- even two of the goddammit interns are engaged and they're practically babies! At this point, you might as well give up and die alone; no one else is ever going to want you, are they?

The glimpse of Aizawa in the corner, watching you with those judgemental eyes, sobers you up quickly.

“We broke up, so I’m just staying in.”

The two snap their heads towards each other. Mic waggles his eyebrows, not so subtly gesturing to a non receptive Aizawa. You know that look, the excitement and relief. It’s not a secret that no one really liked Touya-- people have been openly voicing their contempt for years. He wasn’t a bad guy, except for the times he was, but people only ever remembered the bad things.

“Oh, is it…?” Mic bites back his words, debating how harsh he should be. “Is it for real this time?”

Touya always comes back. Everyone knows the routine by now.

“Yeah,” you lie. “I’m done with him.”

“Good.” Aizawa says. You grimace at that; even he knows? You didn’t know he paid attention to anything outside of work, let alone your shitty interpersonal drama.

“More than good. Amazing! Spectacular! I’m so, so, so proud of you!” Mic adds on and you pretend it doesn’t bother you. It’s strange; the more others despise him, the more your heart aches. Touya needs you and you need him; who else will have him?

Who else will have you?

“That means we can go out for drinks to celebrate!”

“Oh, it’s okay, you don’t have to do that.”

“Too late, nope. We’re having a two-for-one birthday single bash tomorrow.” He’s on his phone, typing wildly. “I hope you have something pretty to wear because I’m going to show you how you deserve to be treated.”

Fuck. You’d rather be alone, sniveling and waiting for Touya’s return in your apartment, but Hizashi is smiling. His intentions are good; it’d be cruel to deny him.

“Nemuri knows some awesome spots-” The man is a whirl, typing and talking and walking. “You better get excited, baby girl.”

“Oh, yay,” you offer weakly. Hizashi isn’t listening anymore; he’s caught up in his own plans, briskly walking down the hall. A breath you didn’t know you were holding sneaks out and you slump back down to your seat.

“You really don’t have to let him walk all over you like that,” Aizawa says. He swirls his cup slowly, watching the rim.

You try to offer the man a smile, but you can tell it looks forced. Sure, Hizashi can be a lot, but he just wants to help, as misguided as that urge is.

“It’s okay.” When he doesn’t look convinced, you add. “Really.”

“Are you sure?” he presses, voice tight.

“Mhm.” You return to your keyboard and start typing, hoping that he understands the social cue. “Thanks though.”

Thankfully, he lets it go. Turning down the hall, he starts to sip his coffee, but then freezes mid stride.

“You make this?”

“No.”

“I can tell,” Aizawa says, examining his cup. “It’s fucking dog water.”

That comment is so off kilter that you can’t help but snort. Aizawa watches you for a beat more, maybe bemused, maybe not, then nods. With that, he leaves, an empty coffee pot in his wake. Another item to add on your growing list.

The rest of the day goes by quicker than you need it to. Denki leaves a little bit after lunch for a doctor’s appointment and the rest of the workforce trickles out after. The head of development, Nezu, has you run through potential presentations before you follow up on compliance’s worries again. The coffee pot was refilled four more times, all by you, and your messages to Touya still sit delivered and unread. Two hours after the work day was supposed to end, you slip your heels back on. Denki’s files are pretty much unrecognizable now, but that’s a good thing. All of the college students are intelligent and more accomplished than you’ll ever be, but you’re not sure why they can’t figure out basic busy work. There’s nothing hard about it, other than focusing.

With a final press of a key, your personal printer hums to life. A staple and a paperclip and you’re done: now it’s just a quick trip to engineering and you can finally go home. Your work isn't physical, but God, hunching at a desk all day takes a toll on your body. A flare of something eats at your lower back as you stroll the empty building and try to rub the grit from your eyes. You think there’s a frozen pizza at home or maybe some pasta-- though, you can’t remember if that was from this monday or last monday. Maybe it’d be safer to just throw it away.

The department itself is a long row of cubicles, with miscellaneous machines and computers littering the other side of the room. You recognize old prototypes and parts of Prome's most famous product: a hospital bed.

Before you had set foot in this building, you never thought a bed could count as a medical device -- or as something highly complicated and thoroughly engineered -- but this bed is different. It’s comfortable, lightweight, and durable, all while able to track a patient’s movement and comfort. It even records a patient's glucose, body temperature, SPO2, and many other medical things that go over your head. When used correctly, bedsores rates have been reduced to nearly zero and hospital related illnesses are caught significantly earlier.

In about three months, the newest model will be released, complete with full integration into electronic record systems. If everything goes according to plan, it’ll be revolutionary. Working here is a headache, but you do take pride that it's a company that does good.

“Do you need something?”

You jump at the sound of the voice, flipping around to search the room. Tucked at the end of it all is an open office door. Inside, Aizawa is perched at his desk, head in one hand, reading glasses in the other. He’s illuminated only by the computer screen, his deep, dark eyes bouncing side to side as he carefully reads.

Aizawa always looks tired, but now so especially; his heavy lidded eyes are drooped with fatigue and his skin is pallor, black stubble dusting his unshaved cheeks. There’s no bite or annoyance to his voice-- maybe even a little levity. For once, you don’t want to scurry away from him like a mouse, hiding in the shadows and corners to avoid his claws. You still approach cautiously, heels sharp against the tile. The silence in between each hit makes your skin prick with an unknown nausea.

“I thought everyone went home.” You say.

“Everyone did. Just me-- and you, apparently.” He taps out a word or two. His office is devoid of personal items, desk covered in nothing but stacks of papers and illegible post notes, nothing to hint to his personal life. It’s been three years, yet you have no idea what his personal life is like-- if he even has one, that is.

“No slippers tonight?”

That was either a dig or a joke. You aren’t sure either way, but the way your shoes sound when you walk even closer feels like its own answer. When you reach the corner of his desk, he finally looks your way. It hits you that you've never actually been this close to him before. It's always been passes in the hall and distant conversations. His skin is smoother than you'd thought it'd be, with creases between his brow that fill themselves when he-

“Do you… need something?”

“Oh, uh-- Denki left these at my desk by accident,” you lie, sliding the file on to the corner of his desk. “I think they’re for you.”

He regards you again, more thoroughly this time. With a tilt of his head, he inspects your face, eyes flickering between your two. In the dim, they’re nothing but black dots, an inkinesss that you could fall into if you were any closer.

He’s pretty. And that’s an unsettling thought. You’ve never allowed yourself to consider that before. Immediately, you walk the thought back. No. Nobody with his personality is attractive-- hands down. Touya is the only dick you need in your life.

“You should go home. It's late.” he says before turning back to his work. He types a couple things, then hits the backspace and deletes it all again. “Go home.”

Adjusting the bag on your shoulder, you sigh, the workday catching up to you. “You should too.”

“Hm,” he grunts. He takes a long sip from his thermos, tipping it back to suck the dregs. You’d never noticed the sticker of the bottom before- a faded and torn image of an orange cat. “Maybe.”

That’s a no. You don’t push the issue. You start towards the door, then pause.

“Do… do you want me to make another pot of coffee before I go?” You’re not sure why you offer. Everything’s been put away and cleaned for tomorrow. It’d take at least 15 minutes to set up again.

Aizawa slides his glasses back on, adjusting them by the bridge, only for them to slip right back down the flat bridge of his nose.

“You don't have to do that.”

With that you leave, no proper goodnight dismissing you. The tap of your heels and the clack of his keyboard mix into some sort of soft, unbalanced rhythm. Despite yourself, you think of Touya, of where he is and where he isn’t. Is it also quiet there? Has he thought of someone else in the same way you just did?

When the doors of the building close and the security guard nods your way, the sound of percolation echoes behind you, the final drops falling into a freshly brewed pot.

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todays-xkcd · 8 months

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So what do we do when we get to base 10? Do we use A, B, C, etc? No: Numbers larger than about 3.6 million are simply illegal.

Factorial Numbers [Explained]

Transcript Under the Cut

[Cueball is standing in front of a large poster. There are two uniformed officers (a Ponytail and a further Cueball, wearing badged hats) approaching Cueball.]

[Poster:] Variable-base Factoradic™ numbers

Base 7 Base 6 Base 5 Base 4 Base 3 Base 2

3 5 3 0 1 1

Left side

Base 10 Factoradic

1 1

2 10

3 11

4 20

5 21

6 100

7 101

21 311

22 320

23 321

Right side

Base 10 Factoradic

24 1,000

25 1,001

5,038 654,320

5,039 654,321

5,040 1,000,000

999,998 266,251,210

999,999 266,251,211

1,000,000 266,251,220

1,000,001 266,251,221

Cueball: Small numbers like seven or nineteen shouldn't use big numerals like "7" or "9". Cueball: I mean, "9" is the biggest numeral we have! It should be reserved for big numbers. Cueball: Small numbers should be written with small numerals like "1" or "2". Cueball: That's why my variable-base system uses...Hey! No, listen! [Caption under the comic:] Factorial numbers are the number system that sounds most like a prank by someone who's about to be escorted out of the math department by security.

#xkcd #xkcd 2835 #factorial numbers #webcomics #mathematics

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hoshifighting · 6 months

Text

Code of temptation

Synopsis: When a series of cyber threats puts national security at risk, Y/N is assigned to lead the investigation. Her team is complemented by Vernon, a computer genius known for his dexterity in deciphering the most complex codes.

Words: +1k

Reader! SecretAgent x Vernon! Hacker

Warnings: Smut, oral (f. receiving), penetrative sex, exhibitionism, unprotected sex (wrap it up), dry humping, fingering, hair pulling, chocking, dirty talk and etc.

Your tight TechWear is starting to get uncomfortable, your fingers attached to the trigger, and your arms are already weak from holding the heavy gun, one wrong movement, everything is done. You wait for the sign from Mingyu, who is already in position to catch the target “1, 2, 3… Now!” he says in the little point of sound in your ear, and you do your shot.

The bullet hits the target directly in the head, and Mingyu runs in the middle of the basement to steal the small device that is the pivot of the mission you have been working on for the last few weeks. The both of you run to the back door, you enter the armored car that awaits you.

“Objective accomplished successfully, mission completed with distinction and mastery.” Your chief says on the other line. Body finally relaxing on the car seat, while you do a little weak punch on Mingyu’s hand.

[…]

“We did a great Job Mr. Lee, we trained for this, but it’s difficult ultimately, they are more attached to the systems day by day, so we need to take action, and ask for the Department Head to recruit a Technical Expert, so we can obtain coordinates during missions” you point your pencil on the map in front of you “Promise me that by the end of the month, we will have some ‘technology guru’ to help us, and I promise to complete another mission as always.” that said, you leave the meeting room slamming the door loudly.

[…]

You hold a cup of coffee while you try to decipher the nominal codes on the computer screen, you snort and immediately give up on understanding the logic of the system in front of you. The computer room doorbell rings, and you can see a young man with brown hair waiting for the door to be opened, showing his FBI badge. You put your fingerprint into the system, and the door is slowly opened, revealing the boy, holding the shoulder strap from his backpack, wearing a black uniform, just like yours.

“First off all, I am almost freaking the fuck out seeing all these algorithms with letters on the same screen” you point to the computer with raised eyebrows, and he closes the door behind him “and we should have met before the mission started, but since you're here now, we need to track them down as quickly as possible.” He agrees and sit on the chair in front of the desk.

“My name is Vernon by the way” the sarcasm is proliferated from his lips, while he maintains an extremely unbothered expression.

You snort incredulous at his audacity - even though the ironic tone in his voice may not have been intentional - you stop to look at him from top to bottom, analyzing his mannerisms until he actually starts doing something on the electronic device that hovers in front of him “very funny of you, but I would like more respect since I am leading this mission, and the hierarchy is very-“

“Oh come on don’t play like you’re 10 years older than me!” He says with the face still buried on the screen “and since you are leading the mission amidst so much cyber invasion, you should at least know how to clear your history, if I were your enemy, and found out that you listen to the same Backstreet Boys song for 9 hours straight, you would definitely no longer be my target, freaky ass girl”

The heels on your feet touches the cold ground towards him “This is an invasion of privacy!” You turn the chair, so now you make eye contact with him, pressing his shoulders on the chair.

“This is being on the verge of madness!” You let him go, sitting on the couch on the other corner of the room, drinking your coffee ashamed.

The clicks on the mouse and the sound of the keys were driving you crazy, until he lifted his back from the chair and widened his eyes towards the computer, you run to see the screen popping a map with a lot of red ropes interlinked “Fuck! they’re on the building!” You recognize the structure of the department you are hiding in, running to get your guns attached to your waist, while Vernon turns off the trackers “We need to run away right now, we don’t have time!” You hold his arm, and you run through the company halls, until you leave the building, running down the opposite street. You led the way, while Vernon, the shy hacker, tripped over his own legs. The sound of sirens echoed through the streets, mixing with the frenetic rhythm of your footsteps. The cobblestone streets made escape even more challenging.

"Y/N, I think they saw us!", Vernon exclaimed, breathing hard.

You threw a quick glance behind you, displaying a confident grin. "Don't worry, Vernon, I have a foolproof plan." you say with pure sarcasm, and with a quick gesture, you grabbed Vernon's hand and led you into a narrow alley. The space between the two of you is tiny, you can clearly feel Vernon's minty breath hitting your face, the space doesn't help either, as your breasts are pressed against Vernon's chest - he'd be lying if he said he wasn't starting to like it.

The tension in the air was palpable as your eyes met, breathing heavily, you shared a moment of complicity that transcended the imminent danger. You instinctively grabbed Vernon's forearm, running your fingers over the skin still warm from running his eyes revealed a mixture of surprise and expectation, an electrically charged silence filled the narrow alley as your proximity grew. You, who are normally focused and fearless, felt a unique vulnerability at that moment. Then, without words, but with a shared intensity, you leaned slightly towards Vernon. The world around him disappeared when his lips finally touched, an instant of defiant lust in the midst of chaos. The narrow alley became a stage for the beginning of an immense desire between the two of you.

His right hand goes to your neck, pulling your hair, and the other, grab the meat of your ass, you moan in his mouth - you had even forgotten that you had a small beef with him earlier -, your hand goes down until you can fill your hand with his hardened cock, making him stop the kiss to bite his lip “Turn around” he orders. You hardly turn because of the compact space, and now your ass was pressed against his dick, as he pulls your skirt up, massaging your clit over the thin fabric of your panties “More, we don’t have time!” You whisper, and he slaps your cunt “Stop being hasty! Where's your 'foolproof' plan uh?” a high pitched moan leave your mouth, your hands holding on the little bricks of the wall so your face doesn't lie on them.

Vernon pulls your panties to the side, entering his fingers in your cunt, you hump your ass against him, feeling he hiss in your ear, the wet noises from your pussy and the sound of your panting breaths fills the alley, you moan feeling him going faster with his fingers. He suddenly stops the movement, opening his jeans, so he can slide his cock through your folds. “You are so hot, but fuck, you are so annoying!” he pulls your hair, slowly moving his hips finally diving into your heat, your eyes roll at the back of your head, his mouth kissing your neck.

The space was small, but he was doing wonder with his hips, circling his hips so his tip brushes against your g spot, making your legs go numb, you're lucky that he held you tight with an arm around your hip “Such a whore… Tsk”

You can hear footsteps approaching you, while a light from a flashlight approaches, Vernon pulls you to hide deeper in the alley.

“I think I heard something coming from here!"

He covers your mouth with one hand as he bites your shoulder, furrowing his eyebrows, still pounding deep inside of you, feeling your juices run down your thighs.

“It must be all in your head, come on, they must have gone that way!”

Vernon pulls you to rest your back against his chest, chocking you, while his hips are working faster “Afraid of being caught hm? So nervous that got you clenching so hard around my cock.” Your mouth opens, as you feel your orgasm approaching, his dirty talk between his moans was driving you crazy, squeezing him, while he throw his head back. “Fuck, I’m cumming” his cock twitches inside of your pussy, shooting ropes of cum inside of you, moaning low in your ear.

You can feel his cum running down your legs, he starts to rub your clit again, so slow it almost burns, his scent invading your nostrils, making your mind go blank, your body begins to tense, and an intense climax makes your legs shake, as he laughs proudly in your ear “Hmm… Thats it! Good girl..” He turns you around, so now you're face to face with him again, his kisses going down your jaw, as he fix your skirt.

“The night isn't over yet, we still have targets to catch” he gets dressed again “but first, let me clean you up” he bends down, licking your thighs, until he reaches your pussy, holding your leg up on his shoulder, while you tremble sensitive. He stands up, wiping his mouth with his thumb. Vernon steals a kiss from you, before pulling you to run through the streets once again.

#seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #vernon smut #seventeen imagines #svt smut #hansol vernon chwe #chwe vernon #chwe hansol x reader #seventeen reactions #seventeen headcanons #vernon x reader #vernon #vernon angst #hoshifighting writes

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katy-l-wood · 2 years

Text

deviantART, Twitter, and the Death of the Social Media Subscription (And why tumblr might be getting it right.)

Okay, so I've been thinking about making this post for the last couple weeks since Twitter started melting down, and now deviantART is melting down as well which adds an interesting new twist. This post isn't going to discuss AI art directly, but I will touch on userbase feedback/administrative response in relation to what happened with dA.

Firstly, a little background on me: I grew up on dA. It was my first social media site and for a long time my only one. I started using it without an account when I was around 10/11 and made my first account when I was 12 in 2007 (which, of course, involved lying about my age). From then on I LIVED there. I uploaded art, I joined and ran contests, I became a volunteer for the forums in my mid teens, I alpha and beta tested new features, I wrote detailed write-ups of new feature launches, I watched the site launch multiple new versions of itself, I filled out feedback surveys, and I paid for years of subscriptions before I got seniority from being a former volunteer. Hell, they even offered me a job once, but I was 18 and no amount of money in the world would make me willingly move to Hollywood where they were based.

Point is, I was tuned in. Immensely. So what I'm talking about here? It's from that point of view.

dA has had subscriptions the entire time I was a member. They were always relatively affordable and offered you features that made the site better, but if you didn't have them the site was still perfectly usable. The subscriptions originally got you stuff like using journal skins, putting custom CSS on your page, access to private subscriber forums and chats, more storage room, etc.. Perks, but nothing you couldn't function without. Over the years other things were added, like being able to schedule uploads or change your username, but, again, these were PERKS. The site was still totally usable without those features. Your art still got seen, people could still find your content in the search, people could still leave comments.

But here's where Twitter and it's current nonsense comes in: as part of a dA subscription you got a special symbol in front of your name. These symbols changed over the years and originally were just standard keyboard symbols. For example, as a senior, before the symbols changed to what they are now, my username looked like this:

^Katy-L-Wood (which was affectionately referred to as the senior hat.)

If I was staff, my username would have looked like this:

$Katy-L-Wood

There were other symbols as well for things like volunteers, deactivated/banned users, and regular users. Everyone had their symbol and it worked so well. It let you know at a glance if a member was a trusted staff member that would give you real information about something, or a volunteer that could help you with harassment in the forums, or a senior member that likely knew all the ins and outs of the website.

To me, it feels like that's more in line with what Musk should have done with Twitter. He should have left verification as it was, and then introduced a new symbol to denote subscribed users. A blue plus sign or something. If you were verified AND subscribed you'd get, IDK, a blue check with a white outline around the blue. (And, even then, an additional symbol wouldn't have really been necessary, but everyone just likes neat little badges. They're like stickers. Everyone loves stickers.)

Then give the subscribed users special features that ENHANCE the site, but don't serve as a detriment if you don't have them. Give them a more robust inbuilt scheduling system. Give them security features like inbuilt auto-deleting of older tweets. Give them larger upload limits for images and videos. Give them more profile customization. Give them a longer bio with multiple links. Give them the newsletter feature. Give them the monetization features.

Because you know what? It is totally valid for a website to offer subscriptions, to try and monetize themselves. It costs money to run a big social media site, and advertising as we know it is dying. Websites need to figure out other ways to bring in money, and a good subscription model can do that.

But Twitter did not choose a good subscription model. They chose one that caused chaos to the tune of billions of dollars across multiple major industries. They choose one that would have made the site totally unusable without the subscription, due to how it was supposed to push subscribed users tweets onto the main feed.

Then we circle back to deviantART. I could talk about the downfall and now death of deviantART for HOURS. But we'll focus on subscriptions here. Because their subscriptions are no longer worth it. The majority of the fun perks are gone. There's levels to the subscriptions now, and those of us like myself who were supposed to have lifetime subscriptions as a thank you for helping moderate the site are not at the topmost level, which feels like a kick in the teeth.

And the limited features the subscriptions do have now? Many aren't perks. They are major functionality aspects. You want to get any sort of analytics for your page? Pay for them. You want to be able to take commissions via the website for more than $100? Pay for it. You want to customize your page to suit you and your work like you used to be able to do with a subscription? Well, you only get a couple choices now, and no custom CSS.

Then there's Fragments. IDK why, but deviantART seems obsessed with coming up with weird little currencies that cause a ton of harm. Their first one, Points, tanked the art market EVERYWHERE, even outside the website, in a way that still has an effect well over a decade later. Now they've gone and added a second one on top of the Points, which are still there as well. This new one is called Fragments. Fragments can be used to purchase little badges that you can award to deviations you like, comments you enjoy, etc.. There's three levels and the third one, the diamond badge, is the issue here.

See. As a senior member I get gifted 300 of these Fragments every week by dA, and I get to use them to purchase the badges. A diamond badge, specifically, costs 300 Fragments, and if I give someone a diamond badge (and they're not subscribed yet), it ALSO gives them a free month of the lowest level subscription. So every month I can, essentially, hand out a free month of subscription to anyone on the site.

I just checked my account and, as I've never used Fragments, they've just built up in my account. I have over 18,000 of them right now, which is enough to award 61 months of membership. A month normally costs $3.95, so all told that's about $250 worth of memberships that I can hand out using just over a year's worth of fragments.

Clearly, dA is banking on people getting a taste of subscription and then paying to continue it. But they're still essentially handing every subscribed user a $250 check every year. 10 users and that's $2,500 they're not getting. 100 users and it's $25,000. For a company hemorrhaging money and struggling to hold on to its userbase, there are a lot better ways to keep users around that don't involve trying to coerce them into paying using underhanded marketing techniques.

It doesn't matter, though, because ever since dA launched their new "Eclipse" version of the site, and now this fiasco with AI, there are no recovery options left. They're done. They have exhausted all goodwill anyone had for them. They took away tons of subscription features, they took away tons of site features overall, and time and time again since Eclipse launched they have 100% ignored user feedback. AI is not the first time they asked "hey, how do you feel about this?" a few months before launching a new feature, and then completely ignored every single thing the userbase said and launched the feature anyway. Then, this time with the AI, they not only did that, they were outright rude towards those who rightfully called them out. During the live meeting with the CEO and concerned artists the CEO repeatedly talked over those who were present, dismissed concerns, and just outright acted like. Well. An asshole CEO.

All of this is to say: a subscription model CAN be a great way to keep a website alive, to not be beholden to a world of dying advertisers, but you've gotta do it right and you've gotta do it consistently. Twitter did it wrong, and it'll kill them. deviantART started out doing right, did a 180, and now it's going to help kill them.

But tumblr. Ah tumblr. Our little blue hellsite. They've dipped their toes in the water of subscriptions and, so far, haven't really gotten those toes chewed off for doing it wrong. And why? Because they've made it fun to give them money in support of the website. It's fun to get crabs or a shitty horse on your dash (or inflict them on others), it's fun to mock the Twitter downfall with the special double blue checks, but the site is still totally usable without these things. (Er, well, as usable as tumblr ever is, lol.)

I, personally, would like to see tumblr build a more robust subscription/monetization system, because I think it could be what saves this site we love so much. But they have to keep it fun. They have to keep it optional. They have to keep the site usable without it. They have to make people want to subscribe, not force us to because there's no other way to use the site, or because we've been tricked into it.

(Putting the words "Long Post" here so they'll stay attached even in reblogs.)

#Long Post #deviantART #Twitter #Tumblr #Death of the subscription #Social Media #Analysis

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crazyunsexycool · 3 months

Text

A love as sweet as honey

Prologue

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: Sad Steve, Crying Steve, Lottie being cute, not much else

A/N: Here we go!! This is set in the My Little Love universe The rest of the story will be updated once My Little Love is completed so there aren't any spoilers. Timeline wise this prologue happens during chapter 30 of My little love and characters from that series will play a part in this one.

Series Masterlist

The tower loomed over the street. It glistened in the light of day, a beacon that called out to you. Everyone rushed around as you stared up at your new place of employment. With a deep breath you make your way into the building. It was odd to be in the middle of the city at the Avengers’ tower. The initial job offer mentioned working upstate at the compound. You had even started looking for a place closer to it. It didn’t matter either way to you as long as you had the job.

“Hello. It’s my first day and I was told to ask for Dr. Banner.” You told the receptionist that sat by the elevators.

“Name?”

“Y/N Y/L/N.”

She types your name into the computer.

“I need to see an identification.” She smiled and held her hand out as you dug through your bag.

She grabs it to verify your information and adds something in the system. Then she grabs the phone and calls someone down.

“You can wait to the side someone will be right with you.” She says as she hands you back your ID. “Have a great day and welcome to Stark Industries.”

You mutter a thanks and move to the side of her desk. She was much too chipper for your taste but maybe that was why she worked as a receptionist. There are not a lot of people around the lobby but there are a few guards dressed in full on armor. You’d been to the lobby of the tower in the past and it hadn’t been this empty before. As you wait for whoever is coming you can’t help but anxiously fiddle with your pearl necklace. The elevator dings open and out comes a man in a black suit, slightly curly but short hair. His facial hair frames his smile as he comes up to you.

“Dr. Y/L/N correct?” He asks as he stops in front of you.

“Depends on who you are?” You eyed him suspiciously.

He chuckles. “I’m Happy Hogan, head of security. Why don’t you follow me and I’ll get you all set up with the proper clearance and work ID. Then I’ll take you up to the lab. If you are in fact Dr. Y/L/N.”

“Lead the way.”

“Excited for your first day?” He asked as you got into the elevator. Not really bothered by your standoffish attitude.

“Yup.”

He nods. “Many people apply for those lab jobs but very few get it and even less get to be Banner’s assistant. You should feel proud about it.”

You give a tight lipped smile. In reality you were ecstatic about this job because word around town was that this position as Bruce Banner’s assistant had been vacant for close to a year. It wasn’t necessarily the work itself but the famous scientist had specific requirements when it came to an assistant. You still didn’t know what they were but you assumed you had whatever it was Bruce Banner needed.

Happy leads you into an office where he proceeds to hand you a temporary badge with the right clearance. Then he takes your picture for your actual badge. He goes over a few general safety protocols and procedures. Finally after what feels like an eternity Happy takes you up another few floors up to where the labs are.

“Good luck.” Happy says as he knocks on the office door.

“Dr. Y/L/N it's great to see you again.” Bruce says once he’s opened the door. He waves to Happy as he’s walking down the hallway. “Please come in.”

You follow him in and take a seat across from him, only his sleek black desk separates you. The office itself is very clean, the walls are so white they almost hurt your eyes and there are barely any knick knacks or photographs lying around.

“I’m very excited to be working with you.” Bruce says and gives you a small smile.

“Me too. It’s an honor to be working with you. Still can’t believe I’m here.”

“Well believe it. Your work was very impressive and I’m sure we’ll do great things. Now before I show you your office and work space do you have any questions?”

“No, I think everything was covered at orientation. But, I get an office?” You perked up. The thought of having a space just for yourself was thrilling.

“Of course, everyone needs a quiet place to work. It’s attached to a much smaller lab if you have other things you’d like to work on. I insisted on it. I wouldn’t want to limit your own work just because you work with me. And Tony loves to fund new ideas so keep that in mind.”

You nodded along but were about to burst at the seams that you had such an opportunity. Clearing your throat you ask, “so if there was something I wanted to work on, do I have to ask for permission or present any preliminary research or documents before I can work on it?”

“Nothing so formal. As long as we know what you’re working on and we’d both like updates on your progress from time to time. Also if you need someone to look over anything or bounce your ideas off of please don’t hesitate to come to us. Other than that you’re free to work on whatever you want. Any possible equipment or materials are at your disposal. But it can’t interfere with our work.”

“Absolutely not.” You shake your head.

Bruce smiled, seeing the excitement in your eyes. He stands and waves you to follow him. First he shows you to your office where you drop off your bags. Then he lets you look around the small lab that was meant just for you. You roam around and marvel at how well equipped it is even if it’s small. Finally Bruce takes you to his lab and you can’t hide how impressed you are. You don’t hide your eagerness to explore either. It’s like letting a kid roam around freely in a candy shop or toy store.

Bruce doesn’t waste much more time. He quickly hands you an official lab coat with Stark Labs embroidered on it as well as your name. Then he shows you what you’ll be working on first. The two of you fall into a very comfortable rhythm for the next few hours.

“Banner.” His name is called from the doorway and you look up from your station to see none other than Natasha Romanoff standing there. “We have a lead and we leave now. He’ll be needed.”

He, as in the Hulk. You forgot that Bruce turned into the Hulk with how quiet he is. Bruce nods but sighs as he takes his white lab coat off and hangs it. Then he turns to you.

“I’m off now but I sent instructions to your email for what to do next and Friday can also help you if needed. Friday, please introduce yourself.”

“Hello, Dr. Y/L/N. My name is Friday and I am at your disposal.”

“Hello Friday.” You say. “A.I?” You ask Bruce and he nods.

“She has access to absolutely everything so you can ask her for anything. Of course if you don’t have clearance she won’t give you the information. Now about the mission. I may be gone the rest of the afternoon and evening so make sure you just head home at a reasonable hour. Friday will make sure to lock up the lab and help you set up your own codes to give you access. If I’m not back tomorrow just keep working on what you are now or work on one of your own projects.” He informs you. “I know it’s a lot but-“

“I’m your assistant, this is what I signed up for.” You reassure him and he nods. “Good luck on your mission.”

He nods again and says a quick goodbye before leaving. You look around the empty lab and just take a moment to appreciate that you were actually at your dream job. It was incredible. After everything that you went through to finish school with no support and the previous jobs you had where you weren’t valued you finally got to where you wanted to be. You smiled to yourself and asked Friday if she could play music. She asked what you wanted to listen to and you gave her the name of your favorite artist. Music started playing through the room and you got back to work.

For the next few days you followed the same schedule. You’d get to work at around 8:00 am, look at the instructions that Bruce had left for you on that first day and stopped when you felt like it was time to do so. Most nights you’d leave by 7:00 or 8:00 pm. It was easy to lose track of time when you were doing something you loved.

Bruce was finally back a week later. There was a defeated and tired look on his face when he greeted you that morning. You weren’t good with comforting people so you weren’t sure if asking if he was ok was the right thing to do. He didn’t give you much of an opportunity because he just dove into work and explained that he would need your help with some kind of testing in about half an hour.

Sure enough the half hour went by quickly. It was punctuated by the arrival of a little girl to the lab. She had stunning blue eyes and black hair that both framed her face beautifully and accentuated her rosy cheeks. Next to her was a boy with similar beautiful eyes and shoulder length black hair. You assume that they’re siblings. Behind them were four people. An older man, a young woman with red hair whom you thought was part of the Avengers, Steve Rogers and Tony Stark himself.

“Mowning Buce.” The little girl greeted as she bounded over to your boss. She smiled up at him while hugging a pink teddy bear.

“Good morning Charlotte. How are you this morning?”

“Am kay.”

“That’s good.”

The corners of your lips quirked up at the interaction. Kids were sweet, you liked kids more than you did adults. They never seem to have ulterior motives and were innocently but brutally honest most of the time.

You felt eyes on you as Charlotte continued to talk with Bruce. When you look over you see the boy with his brows furrowed, trying to decide if you’re a friend or foe. You give him a small smile and look back over to Bruce. This time you see Charlotte looking over at you.

“Hi.” She says as she gets closer to you. “Is Buce new fwiend?” She points at you.

“Yes?” You look up at Bruce for help and he just nods. “My name is Y/N.”

“Y/N. Is cute.” She approves of your name and you smile. “Am Wottie an is bubba an gwandpa an Wanda an Tony an Steebie.” She points at everyone she mentioned.

“Hello.” You give an awkward wave.

“Is Avenguh?”

“Me an Avenger? No. I just work here in the lab.”

“Can be fwiend?.”

“Of course.” You nod and Charlotte smiles at you.

“Alright Charlotte are you ready?”

“Am weady Buce.” She moves back toward Bruce and takes his hand.

As everyone follows Bruce around you look in their direction only to find Steve Rogers looking your way now. He gives you a small grateful smile before walking away.

“Y/L/N, good to finally meet you in person.” Tony stands besides you. “Your work was really impressive, I’m sure you’ll fit right in.”

“Thank you for the opportunity.” You say first as you go from looking at him to the small group at the end of the room. “She seems sweet. If you don’t mind me asking why is she here?”

“Lottie can see the future. Her brother Henry can turn invisible. We run some tests just to make sure they’re hitting their regular growth milestones and that there are no underlying conditions we should worry about.”

“Oh.” Now you were intrigued.

“You’ll see her around here a lot. They live here, and their parents are on the team.” He gives you their names. “You seem to have the approval of our little social butterfly over there. She likes to roam around so don’t be surprised if she pops in for a visit.” Tony chuckles.

“What do you mean?”

“Trust me when I say that you’d know if she didn’t like you.”

You nod as you watch Bruce pick her up and set her down on an exam table. Tony excuses himself and joins the group. Moments later Bruce asks for your assistance. You’re mesmerized by the readings as it seems that Charlotte is having a vision.

You definitely loved your job.

You had just walked back into your office from a small break when you heard it. Someone was in your lab. If it were Bruce or even Tony, you’d be ok with it. But someone else poking around your things annoyed you beyond belief. The doors that connected your office to the lab slid open as you went to see who it was. There was a man with his back to you. His shoulders shaked lightly and you could hear some sniffling. You took a step back with the intention of leaving him alone but he turned his head to look over his shoulder. The moment he heard you he looked in your direction and he composed himself.

“I’m sorry. I thought this place was empty.” He says and turns around completely.

Steve Rogers was standing in your lab, crying. He didn’t seem the type to cry at all but even less to do so in a semi public place. You stand there awkwardly as you think about what to tell him but he beats you to it.

“I’m Steve. You must be Banner’s new assistant right?”

“Yeah, Y/N.”

“Sorry for this,” Steve looks sheepish at the fact that he had been caught by a stranger. “It’s been a couple of tough weeks. One of my best friends is missing. Her family is devastated.”

“You must be too.”

Steve nods, his eyes suddenly glued to the floor.

“I’m sorry. Is that what the missions are about? Dr. Banner has been pulled for a few of them.”

Steve nods again.

“I’m sure you’ll find her soon.” You murmur.

“I hope so.”

There was an awkward silence between the two of you. All you wanted to do was get back to your office. It was right behind you all you had to do was take one step back. It’s not like you were really good at comforting people.

“Steebie.” You could hear Charlotte walking through the hallway.

“I should go get her. It was nice to meet you.”

The sliding door behind Steve opens and in walks the charming little girl you met a few weeks earlier.

“There’s my best girl. C’mon.” Steve picks her up, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

“Oh hi.” Charlotte says when she sees you. “Is new fwiend, Steebie.”

“You’re just making friends all over the place, sweetheart. Can you say bye to Ms. Y/N.”

“Bye bye Ms. Y/N.”

“Bye Charlotte.”

Steve gives you a tight lipped smile and a small nod and starts to walk out. The little girl in his arms waves and smiles as the doors start to close.

You walk back into your office and blow out a breath. In all honesty that interaction wouldn’t be the weirdest thing you’ll ever witness while being employed by Stark Industries.

It would also be the first of many interactions that you would have with the blond haired, blue eyed super soldier.

Permanent taglist

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Series taglist

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#A love as sweet as honey series #Steve Rogers x reader #dad!Steve Rogers x mom!reader #Captain America #Steve Rogers fluff #Steve Rogers angst #Steve Rogers smut #girl dad!Steve Rogers #Steve Rogers fic #Steve Rogers series #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you

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kashisun · 10 months

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SIMBLR OFFICE HCS

There are like 10 coffee machines because 75% of y’all seem to be on a liquid diet

The ac and heating bill is insane because too many of you live at work and during the winter it gets cold as fuck

There was a dress code but clearly no one cares so it was dropped

The turnover rate is super low cause once people get in the job they just never leave for some reason

Don’t ask how but there’s a greenhouse so that the chefs can get the freshest fruits and vegetables

No one ever remembers their badge to pass security so now there’s a fingerprint system

No one knew what the company does ( hell even i’m still confused) because they don’t post information about the company on the job application site

They have a movie theatre room

That’s all for now….

Feel free to reblog and add your own stuff of course ☺️🫶🏿

#The Simblr Office

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idwtransformers-vibe · 2 months

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(⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠) a fluffy fic with idw prowl, maybe (fem.reader) them having to share a habsuite because they're transferred to a different facility. so, one berth. prowl, after mass displacement, begrudingly sleeps next to the human and reluctantly submits to the cuddles (human is too soft not to cuddle.)

Heya! Hope you don't mind me using my Soul-Spark Airways idea in this! If you want, I can tag you in it!

Now, onto the one berth trope (my favorite tbh)

IDW Prowl sharing a berth with fem!reader:

"Are you serious?" Prowl glared at Optimus and Soul-Spark Airways maintenance manager. "What do you mean I have to share MY hab with (Y/n)?" He demanded an answer. He does not like the thought of sharing his space. He loved his space. Never once had he ever had a roommate, not in his personal quaters, at least. The war is over. Why should he share his space with a human?

"Prowl, it is only temporary. Unfortunately, her documents got mixed up, and someone at the badging office deactivated her badge by accident. She is not allowed to be alone on Cybertron until her badge is working again, and since it's not working, she can't be alone without an escort... You are the only one available with the authorization to escort her." Optimus explained apologetically. He knew he was asking for a lot with these terms. While he didn't want to force Prowl into this, he would hate for the woman to get stranded somewhere on Cybertron.

"We'll try to get her badge sorted as quick as we can and try to relocate her documents." The maintenance manager chimed in. He felt bad for both his mechanic and Prowl. Mainly for the mechanic, though, as this was sheer bad luck.

Prowl glared at the human who stood on the table before him. He glared down at the fragile yet resilient being. "Why not find the IDIOT who deactivated her badge and the IDIOT who lost her he documents?" He seethed.

"Well... The badging office is a different company-" The manager was soon cut off by an irritated groan.

Prowl has met (Y/n) before. She had done heavy maintenance on him after he had gotten into a pretty bad battle. At the time, she was the only mechanic available and performed emergency repairs on him. He hadn't seen her since then, though. But, he has spoken to her before through comms. She had always helped him with getting things delivered. "Fine. She can stay with me." He huffed. His optics narrowed at the two as they both seemed to have a look of relief on their faces.

"Thank you... We'll have someone pick her up."

"You better have someone alright." He grumbled.

A few hours went by. He figured (Y/n) was having to go through strict security protocol as she no longer had her badge.

Soon, he heard a knock on the door. He left his desk and went to open the door. There she was, in her mechanic uniform with a bag full of clothes and necessities. She gave him a smile, quite happy to see him again. "Long time no see." She smiled.

"Indeed." He moved himself out of the way to let her in.

Once she was in, he shut the door behind her. She seemed to be admiring the cleanliness of his hab. "Nice place." She complimented.

Prowl didn't respond. He only carefully moved past her to go back to his desk. (Y/n) tried to see what he was looking at on the datapad, but was too small to see. She heard him grumble in his language over something. She can understand Cybertronian somewhat, but only enough to greet someone or to excuse herself.

Little to her knowledge, Prowl was trying to locate her documents herself. But since he does not work for Soul-Spark Airways, he was denied access. He could manipulate the system... But he doesn't feel like facing the consequences of losing this company's trust.

So, he simply set the datapad down and looked down at them. "I'm going to lay down some rules. Do not touch my stuff, do not leave this hab unless I am with you, or until you have your badge back, and do not stick your nose into my business, and once you have your badge, you're out, understood?"

She nodded. She was warned that he was quite prickly. Although, it was go figure for her. He was always stern and prickly when he wanted certain things transported when the war was going on not too long ago.

Later that evening, after (Y/n) had her dinner, and Prowl had refueled. One got ready to turn in for the night while the other was looking at more data files. "So... Where will I sleep?" The woman asked.

Prowl sighed and looked over his shoulder as if she were disrupting him. She wasn't. He's just annoyed about sharing his space. "You can sleep on my berth."

"What about you, though?" She asked with confusion in her voice. There was only one berth here, where was he going to rest?

"I plan on staying up."

"Prowl, I've worked on your systems before. Your tanks don't have enough energy to pull off 24 hours. Not like an aircraft bot, they can do 24 to 48 hours." (Y/n) explained. This earned her quite the grimace from the autobot. He clearly didn't like being told that his body could not handle the 24-hour function.

"Rest." He ordered.

"You know I'm right-"

"And I don't care. Now sleep." He ordered once more.

The mechanic rolled her eyes some. He was still the same stubborn mech. So, she laid on his berth without another word. She tried to sleep, but it was proven difficult. She spent so much time being a Cargo-Runner that she had gotten used to the sound of a bots internal system running. She normally slept inside of her aircraft bot friend. Their system internal system was loud, but soothing to her. So the sudden silence with the only sound of tapping was a bit unsettling to her.

Prowl would tap away at the files. His systems started signifying that it was time to rest. He would defer the warning, but then it would come right back. This kept happening that he just tossed the datapad onto the desk. He turned his helm to look at the barely sleeping human. A part of him yearned for human touch. The plush and soft feeling of them was almost the equivalent of a human hugging a soft plushie, almost.

He carefully stood up from his desk and made his way over to the berth. He stared at her more. The soft hue of his optics glowed down on her figure. He went back and forth in his mind. A part of him says no, why in Primus's name would he cuddle someone, while the other part him wondered what's the harm in cuddling a human? This could help him relax, which is something he really needed. 'Oh, frag it.' He thought to himself. Prowl carefully laid next to (Y/n)

This startled her slightly, a little surprised to find herself being spooned by the grumpy bot. "Prowl?"

"Go to sleep." He mumbled. Prowl was not about to have this conversation now. He didn't want to, and he never will.

She could feel his firm hold on her. It didn't too tight, but firm enough to the point that she couldn't move, but she found a way to shift herself around some enough to face herself towards him. He surprisingly felt comfortable, he felt warm. He felt like something that came fresh out of the dryer.

So, she laid her head on his chassis. There was the sound she craved to hear, they running sound of the Cybertronian system. She could finally feel herself become sleepy.

Prowl was a bit surprised by this, but he accepted it nonetheless. He slowly rubbed her back and entangled his legs with hers. This felt good on his joints, not that he was that old, but it does feel good. He could see why a lot of bots made cuddle buddies out of the humans. Maybe he could make a cuddle buddy out of her? Well... Maybe not... He needs to give it some thought. For now, he'll enjoy this moment. He buried his face into the top of her head and sighed with satisfactory. Maybe this arrangement wasn't so bad after all.

#transformers idw #transformers #idw prowl #idw prowl x reader #hope this was good!

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timevisionsecuritysystems · 1 year

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Door access control system Dubai

Timevision is one of the leading door access control system installation and supplier in Dubai. We provide the world’s leading and excellent door access control machine in your requirements. access control system provides have become the new standard for ensuring security and convenience. Door access control installation simple and easy to authentic person door access with access controller. If you're a business owner or property manager, you know the importance of managing access to your space while also providing ease of movement for authorized personnel. The main objective of door access control installation is movement for authorized personnel with door access. Different types of door access authentication methods are available fingerprint access control system, face recognition access control system and RFID card access control system.

A door access control system is a security system designed to restrict access to a certain area or building. It allows only authorized personnel to enter the premises, ensuring maximum security and safety. Installing door access control systems has become a necessity for businesses and organizations of all sizes. Here, we will discuss the benefits of installing a door access control system and the factors that should be considered before choosing a door access control supplier. If you are looking Door access control system Dubai timevision one of the excellent access control system installer and supplier.

Main advantage of door access control installation

Always improve your office security without any physical requirements and security. Access control ensures that only authorized people can enter the premises, minimizing the chances of theft and loss of sensitive information. And the access control system provides excellent door access premises. For example, certain employees can be granted access to certain rooms while others cannot. The access control system mainly focused on the systems can be accessed remotely, allowing management to monitor and control access even when they are off-site. Door access control systems help eliminate the need to replace lost or misplaced keys, reducing costs associated with traditional lock-and-key systems.

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cherryredstars · 5 months

Note

Can you do the Mike bodyguard x introvertshy!reader (fem)

Pairing: Mike Schmidt x fem!reader

Summary: It’s never a good idea to ask Abby for help.

Word Count: 1K (Not Edited)

This is by far the easiest job he’s had.

It sounds insane, but it really is. Even though he’s highly underqualified and it was a god given miracle he got the job, it’s by far the best job he had. More than generous pay, reasonable hours, and the girl he’s protecting is more than happy to have Abby for company. That’s not even the best part. The best part is that he gets all of that, simply for doing nothing. Literally nothing.

Is he technically supposed to be protecting this rich dude’s daughter that he has never heard about until he started working as her bodyguard? Yes. And he does do that. You won’t believe how easy it is to protect someone. Especially when said person is more of an introvert than he is. Which means, he protects her while she’s inside her stupidly expensive, gated mansion that has a state-of-the-art security system. Yup, paid to do nothing except look outside her bedroom window every now and then.

And the girl, she isn’t bad to be around. She doesn't look down on him or Abby for being working class. She strikes nice and polite conversation. Genuinely listens and nods along to what someone is saying. Smiles like the sun and has giggles that glitter. Insanely pretty, looks like a dream. Mike isn’t opposed to the fleeting touches she gives him either.

Really, he almost craves her attention.

He wants to explore her soft, delicate mind. Wants to see what she thinks about and how her own mind keeps her company. He needs to know what words and what topics will keep her engaged. What does he have to say and ask and do for her to perk up in that specific way she does. What will make her voice ring out forever and ever and ever.

Note for future reference: Abby is not the person you recruit for help.

Abby, surprisingly, doesn’t make up a fuss when Mike asks her. She only pauses from her drawing, gives him a bored look, and mutters out an ‘whatever’. She does give him a blank stare when he goes over the plan with her as they eat dinner, but that’s not anything new. On the drive to the mansion, Mike constantly annoys her about remembering what they went over. He only stops when Abby tells him a car is about to hit him when he was looking back at her and not on the road. She scared the crap out of him, and he grumbled and scolded her the rest of the ride for saying such a horrible joke.

The real disaster happens when they get there. It’s normal in the beginning. Mike scans his identification badge at the gate, parks in his designated spot in the employee lot, helps Abby carry her coloring supplies inside, and he meets you at the door. You have a smile on your face as you see Abby, instantly taking the things out of her hands as you strike up conversation. You act like whatever Abby is saying is the most important information in the word, nodding along with a serious expression and applying a perfectly timed comment. He trails behind the two of you, his heart swelling the tiniest bit.

You lead them to the living room, taking a seat on the floor with Abby sitting besides you. You spread out all of Abby’s coloring supplies on the coffee table while Mike finds his usual position at the doorway of the room. He’s directly across from the girls, giving him a perfect view of them drawing and coloring. He’s fidgety the whole time. He can see the girls talking, but they speak in hushed whispers among themselves. He thinks it’s idle chit chat and he’s anxious for when Abby starts with the plan.

He wishes she never started with the plan.

Abby looks up at him, their eyes connecting. Mike gives her subtle nod, looking away quickly when you look up from your paper and follow Abby’s gaze. Abby turns back to her paper, and you follow soon after. As Abby colors in a rainbow on her paper, she speaks up.

“I think my brother has a crush on you. He was asking me how he could get you to talk to him.”

He’s going to strangle her.

Mike’s mouth drops open at Abby’s words. His cheeks feel like they’re melting from how hot they are. His eyes are saucers as he looks to his sister, his gaze shifting to you. You’ve straightened up, a bashful look on your face as your cheeks darken with a blush. Your gaze meets him, and the two of you look away quickly. It’s awkward after tha. The two of you sneak glances at each other every now and then, looking away quickly as your eyes meet. He might just quit.

At the end of his shift you walk him and Abby to the front door as usual. Mike’s carrying all of Abby’s things, Abby already wobbly on her feet with a need to sleep. At the doorstep, Mike gives Abby his keys to unlock the car, ushering her to go inside and he’ll be there in a minute. Abby goes without a fuss, too tired to talk. As she gets inside, Mike turns to you, his ears burning pink.

“Hey, listen. I’m sorry about what Abby said earlier. Really, it was in-”

He’s stopped short by you shaking your head, a small smile on your face. “It’s okay, Mike. Really.”

It eases his worry slightly and he nods and he goes to turn away. Halfway to the car, your voice calls his name again. He turns around questionably, seeing you still in the doorway. Your hands are clenching the side of the door tightly, and your cheeks flame. “I… I can’t wait to talk to you tomorrow.”

Mike is left a gaping mess as he watches you hurriedly closing the door. His face is tomato red as he robotically turns around and gets inside his car. He almost shits himself when Abby pops out from the backseat, her face appearing above the middle console.

“Does this mean the plan worked?”

Join Cherry’s Discord Server

#cherry's requests🍒#mike schimdt x reader #mike schimdt xy/n #mike schimdt fnaf movie #mike schimdt x you #mike schmidt #josh hutcherson #josh hutchinson #fnaf movie x you #fnaf #fnaf movie #fnaf movie x y/n #fnaf movie x reader

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poppadom0912 · 1 year

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Gymnastics

Characters: Jay Halstead x Sibling!Reader, Will Halstead x Sibling!Reader

Warnings: Annoying girls, incorrect gymnastics, incorrect justice system, injuries, drugs, blood etc.

Summary: Today was your time to shine but someone just had to ruin it.

A/N: Hello, hello, hello. So it’s been a month since I last updated but i am officially back in business now that all my exams are over and education is done till September. I will be much more consistent in my writing now that I’ve got so much free time but I can’t promise much because my inspiration is still haywire.

I have never once seen gymnastics competitively and google was no help in the legal department so I apologise for any mistakes in advance. But I do hope you enjoy this!!

I also wrote this on my phone so there will probably be several mistakes.

"Are you sure blue's my colour?" You asked with uncertainty, smoothing down non-existent creases in your leotard. Last night, you were more than confident that everything was going to be perfect but now that you were standing in front of a mirror in the dressing room, you were starting to second guess yourself.

"Girl, that teal blue and your luscious red locks are a match made in heaven!" You best friend scoffed, a smile on her face as she looked at you incredulously, shocked that you were even doubting your appearance in the first place.

Tilting your head to the side, you hummed. She was right, you looked great and boy were you glad you got the good looking genes from your family.

Unfortunately for everyone today, Will and Jay couldn't make it because of work and you immediately understood. Being an ER doctor and a detective in Chicago was a big job in itself so when they sat you down the other night and remorsefully explained, you knew you'd be by yourself.

But, you had Emily and she'd been by your side every step of the way. gymnastics was actually how the two of you met. You were there on your own free will, her mother was forcing her but after sharing that class when you were five, you'd been as thick as thieves, even when she quit and started volleyball.

"I'm sorry that Jay and Will couldn't be here." Emily said, standing next to you, helping fix your hair when your were struggling to keep your baby hairs down. "But, I'm recording everything so they don't need to worry-"

Emily cut herself off, her eyes wide as she looked in the mirror that the two of you were standing in front of. Confused, your followed her gaze and the biggest smile broke out on your face.

Whipping your head around, you looked at your two idiots dumbfounded. What the hell were they doing here? Most importantly, how did they get in?

"What are you guys doing here?" You asked still shocked, going up to them and wrapping your arms around them individually. It was only now you also noticed they were in their normal day to day clothes-

Nevermind. You could see Will's doctor ID sticking out his pocket with his wallet and phone and Jay's badge and gun was secured on his belt.

"Did you just come from work? Why?" You asked again, your brows furrowed as you stepped back.

"You think we'd miss this?" Will asked rhetorically, holding his hand out for you to stop when you opened your mouth to reply. "It's a rhetorical question Y/N, of course we'd be here."

"Getting today off was easy." Jay shrugged, his lips tugging up into a smirk as he finally addressed your sparkly blue leotard. "You look great."

You rolled your eyes, swatting his hand away from touching your shoulder. You did not need him getting glitter everywhere now at all times.

"You know what, how about you guys go find your seats so I can finish getting ready in peace?" You said snarkily, walking towards your bag for your water bottle and your phone.

"You sure?" Will asked, wanting to make sure you had everything you wanted and needed. If you really wanted to be alone then they'd grant you that.

"Yeah." You nodded, gesturing for Emily to join your brothers. "The competitions about to start soon anyways."

Emily nodded without any reluctancy, having spent the entire morning with you. Bouncing on her toes, she was a ball of excitement. With a quick and brief hug, letting your brothers do the same, she showed them to their seats.

"Break a leg kid!" Jay smiled, wishing you the best of luck so that you could win the competition you'd been dreaming of.

"Don't listen to him, do anything but break your leg." Will tsked, pushing Jay out the changing room. "Good luck and kick their asses."

"Don't swear!"

"Jay! Let's move!"

Their arguing slowly faded away. You laughed, shaking your head at your stupid older brothers shenanigans because even though they were acting like a bunch of five year olds, they still managed to show up and now doubt, they were going to show out with their encouraging cheers.

"Where's it gone?" You whispered to yourself, emptying your duffle bag into the bench, all of its contents falling out, everything but your water bottle and your flask.

It'd become a thing since you started gymnastics. You always had a water bottle and a flask with a drink that usually had electrolytes to help you before, after and in-between. You swear your packed your bag this money, you triple checked with a checklist and everything.

Grumbling under your breath, you were stretching your arm out to grab your phone and text whichever brother was higher up your contacts so one of them could get your liquids but you stopped yourself upon the dressing room door being pushed open.

"What do we have here? If it isn't my favourite gymnast, Y/N Halstead."

Kelly-Marie was your all time nemesis since you started preschool. You weren't too sure how it all started out but you couldn't really care less. No matter how you acted, nice or horrible towards her, she was keen on making your life a living hell in and out of school.

Rolling your eyes, your swallowed back any snarky remark and remained crossed legged on the cold floor. Boredly, you looked up at her through your lashes, not wanting to waste any time of day on her because a minute was too precious for her.

"What do you want Kelly?" You asked, looking up at her briefly before going back to your phone to continue doing what you planned on doing.

"I just came to do two things, so simple even a raccoon could do it." She smiled, her hands behind her back obviously holding something.

Once again, you held back from replying, instead biting your tongue so hard that you could probably draw blood but the annoying voices of your brothers telling your off for hurting yourself if what stopped you.

"Good luck Halstead." She said smugly, her ivy green leotard sparkly under the lights on the changing room. "May the best gymnast win."

From behind her back, she pulled out two very familiar looking bottles causing your brows to furrow in confusion and curiosity. How the hell did she get her hands on your things?

Cautiously, you took your bottles from her hands, setting it down on the bench. Now that you were standing up, you were now chest to chest and thank goodness you didn't inherit your mother's height. You got your height from your brothers which meant you were taller than Kelly, you could look down at her a little. Such a small notion putting you on a higher pedestal than her.

"I'll see you on that podium Kelly." You replied calmly, not letting yourself get worked up over her. You weren't going to get someone as petty as her ruin your day.

Sashaying her hips, she walked away, her dirty blonde hair yet to be put into its bun that Kelly wore.

Burning holes into the back of her head, you gulped down your drink, the fact that Kelly found it and willingly gave it back to you on her own accord going over your head.

*****

Despite her name being Kelly-Marie, her surname was Ainsley which meant she went before you. You had mixed feelings. Her going first meant she would be hard to beat since she set an expectation for the rest of the competitors but it also gave you time to judge and compare your routine to hers.

And you could proudly say that when she finished, you were only filled with more confidence.

Bouncing on your toes, you blew out several puffs of air, smiling at your three supporters who were sitting next to you, keeping you company before it was your turn.

Both your water and drink was half finished and it it wasn't for Will who said you'd need to go toilet once it was your go that stopped you.

You didn't want to mention that you were starting to feel light headed, you could feel beads of sweat also starting to collect on your forehead because you'd have an entire doctor assessing you for problems which you obviously didn't have, you were just nervous and needed to win this; you wanted to win this so badly ever since the prime age of five.

Ignoring Kelly's haughty laugh as she skipped away to her filthy rich parents, you rolled your shoulders back so they wouldn't be so tense.

"Alright squirt, go show em what you got." Jay massaged your shoulders from behind you, bending down so he could speak in your ear alike to a coach. Speaking of your coach, she was rounding the rest of the girls from the changing rooms so they could watch you light up the room.

"Wooo! Go Y/N!" Your brothers shouted in sync, clapping as you got onto the mats once your name was called out. You sent them a bright smile, chuckling at your short best friend who was jumping up and down in encouragement.

Inhaling deeply, your swatted away the nagging voice at the back of your head telling you to sit down. Your hands felt clammy which was very unlike you and your throat felt weird.

Despite feeling fully hydrated, the room started to move, colours and people meshing together but that all went away with aggressively rubbing your eyes.

With your songs slowly bleeding out of the speakers, the mats vibrating coursing through your body, you swallowed back your desperate need to throw up. What the hell was wrong with you?

Not giving it another thought, the only thing on your mind being that you crushed this competition, you mumbled a quick prayer under your breath and the floor was all yours.

Your flips and rolls all started off perfectly precise. Your talent mixed with your red hair and blue costume was so mesmerising to watch from a distance, the whistles and encouraging shouts only proving so.

It was now that time in your routine that you got onto the balance beam, one of your favourite things to do whether you were upright or upside down but you felt less than excited to get on. Something was definitely wrong.

Jay and Will noticed it straight away. The way you faltered, swaying once you attempted to stand up straight with your shoulders back but from afar, they could only speculate on your wellbeing.

But then, despite you endless efforts to remain upright and continue on, you fell.

Now, the fall was from a big height but hitting your head on the beam and landing awkwardly on your foot caused you some damage.

Gasps echoed across the hall, everyone either on their feet or in their chairs, mouths agape at the sight of your limpy body falling onto the mats.

Without a second thought, your two brothers, who had been on their feet through the entire routine you attempted to finish, were apologising while they squeezed their way out the row of seats, running down the small steps and straight towards you.

Getting onto his knees, Will knelt by your side, his hands going to your pulse point on your neck, sighing in slight relief when it was there but it was weak.

On instinct, Will relayed everything he did aloud, not realising that he was actually doing it. Luckily for him, it allowed for Jay to be kept in the loop even if he didn't understand quite a few of the words that he was hearing. Also, no one from the public could hear so that too worked in their favour.

Putting his ear close to your nose, Will held his own breath while he waited for yours. It came out occasionally, along with the unsteady rise and fall of your chest but you were breathing.

Somewhat happy at his findings, Will began rubbing your sternum, the glitter feeling like sandpaper against his fingers and knuckles. It was only when you groaned, eyes still screwed shut that Will stopped.

"Y/N, can you hear me?" Will asked, not fazed by the blood coating his fingers when he checked the back of your head. "You with us sweetheart?"

"I'm calling it in." Jay said once he saw that you were bleeding from your head, even if you weren't, he wasn't going to take any chances.

"What's wrong? Is she okay?" Emily stood a metre or two away from your unconscious body. She desperately wanted to hold your hand but didn't want to be in the way. Her eyes widened at the sight of blood seeping from your hair and onto the blue mats. All of a sudden, she was assuming the worst.

With his hand back on your sternum, trying to wake you up properly, Will looked over his shoulder only to find an anxiety ridden Emily. "Hey, Emily, can your breath for me?"

"Um, yeah." She licked her lips, nodding repeatedly as she did so. "I'm okay, what do you need?"

"Can you check her bag? See if she ate something off or if she took something." Will hated the words that rolled off his tongue so easily but he had to tick all the boxes.

"Yeah, I can do that." Emily nodded again, taking small steps backwards, taking one last good look at you before rushing off towards all your belongings.

Your mumbles were basically incoherent, your lips too heavy to move but the words you were trying to make out caught the attention of both your brothers, their heads snapping up to yours.

"And there she is." Will said with a smile, relieved that you were no conscious. "Jay, keep her head straight, who knows if she's got a spinal injury."

"I thought you could check for that in the field?" Jay asked, swearing that he remembered Will telling him something along those lines one night.

Will rolled his eyes. "I can but I don't want to risk anything, it can be done at the hospital."

"She's definitely broken her foot." Will winced, gently feeling around for anymore broken bones, trying to see if you hurt yourself more than what they could see.

There weren't any signs but somehow, it was either the experienced doctor or the experienced brother but Will knew what was about to happen.

"Move her onto her side." Will rushed out, moving you along with Jay as fast as possible. With no argument, Jay listened to his older brother and within seconds, you were throwing up.

"She's ingested something." Will said lowly, rubbing circles into your breath as you finished up.

Before Jay could reply, Emily came running back with your two bottles in hand. "We ate brunch at our usual place and these are the only thing she's had since then." She said, gesturing to the two bottles in her hand.

Without a second thought, Jay shared a look with Will who nodded, silently telling him he had it from here. Getting back onto his feet, Jay told Emily to keep those bottles with her unless he told her to let go.

"Alright, listen up!" Jay shouted, not bothered that his voice echoed throughout the hall. "No one leaves! And I don't care what it is or who you are, no one means no one!"

Even if Jay wasn't a detective, he very easily would've spotted the family of three trying to escape from the corner of his eyes. "Excuse me! Did you hear nothing I said?!"

The family of three all halted, turning back one by one to glare at Jay because who was he to tell them what they could and couldn't do.

"Well, excuse me but just who do you think you are?" The woman replied. She had on heels and was wearing a black and green pantsuit, matching with her husband and her daughter. "Do you have any idea who we are?"

Jay rolled his eyes, he really wasn't in the mood. "No, i don't know who you are and I really don't care either."

"Watch your tone young man!" The woman tsked, scolding him like he was her child. "You have no right to hold us against our will."

Not wanting to hear the woman's whiny voice continue scolding him, Jay wasted no time unclipping his badge and showing it right to her face.

"Detective Jay Halstead, badge number 51163 with the intelligence unit.” Jay said with ease, almost robotically with a straight face, his lips curling into a smirk at the speechless family. "Once again I want to reiterate, no one leaves."

"Jay! The paramedics are here!"

*****

Without asking, once the paramedics arrived and saw the Halstead brothers, there were no questions asked about going to Med. Before they left, intelligence rolled onto the scene.

The details had been kept light and for a good reason. All Jay needed to say was that he possibly caught something and he needed someone, probably Voight but everyone ended up coming after hearing Jay needed help.

Walking into the hall, only now did they remember why Jay asked for today off and it was like a scene out of a movie when they all entered the competition hall.

You were being put onto the stretcher and wheeled away, Will telling Jay he was going with and he could come with them.

Despite his heart urging for him to follow his two siblings, Jay insisted on staying so he could hand everything over and as soon as he was done, he'd be over at Med.

Explaining the situation, Jay took the two bottles from Emily, putting them in an evidence bag before telling your best friend to go with Kim who was going to take her statement.

It took ten minutes max for Jay to relay everything he knew to Voight before he was being forced away. Family meant everything and even if you weren't blood you might as well have been.

At Med

"Alright, talk to me Courtney- Will?" Maggie cut herself off, walking besides the stretcher even as she stared at the doctor in shock. "What are you doing here on your day off-"

Once again, Maggie cut herself off, glitter catching her attention. Looking down, Maggie was shocked to find the youngest Halstead semi-unconscious.

With a knowing glance, Maggie shouted for any free doctor roaming around the ED which just so happened to be Connor. "Rhodes! With me in three."

With plenty of ease, everyone helped transferring you onto the gurney. Will extensively explained how you got your injury and the aftermath, only mentioning all the medical details, leaving out the very large blanks.

Allowing Connor to do his job, Will stood back and prayed that you'd come out alright. In his mind, you had an amazing success rate but it was the brother in him that made him think otherwise.

*****

With you still unconscious, Will forced Jay to leave and go back to where the competition was being held. He promised the second you woke up, Jay would be his first call.

The entire unit was still at the centre, questioning everyone. Antonio was currently talking to a very angry Mrs Ainsley.

"Emily's going to go the Med with her mum, I've got everything I need from her." Kim said, approaching Jay as soon as he entered the hall. "Took Y/N's bag and all her stuff to forensics."

Jay hummed, clenching and unclenching his jaw as his eyes remained glued to the three member Ainsley family. "Will said they'd get a toxicology report."

"That's good." Kim said, pressing her lips together as she looked at her colleague apprehensively. "How is she?"

"Unconscious." Jay kept it short, not wanting to think about you lying in a hospital bed. "Will wouldn't let me stay, annoying bastard."

Kim smiled, walking with Jay further into the hall. Before she could comment about how Will was only being any ordinary older sibling, she was stopped by a furious yell.

All eyes turned immediately to the rich woman who had now lost all composure. Kelly-Marie stood boredly in her leotard still, arms crossed as she waited without a care in the world.

Jay had been on the receiving ends of your rants way too many times - he's lost count at this point - but he clearly remembers several of them being about one person in particular.

"Kelly Ainsley?" Jay called out the teenager, stepping towards her, making sure his badge was on show along with his holstered gun that he completely forgot to take off.

"It's Kelly-Marie." The blonde sassily corrected him, looking him up and down with lots of judgement. "Who's asking?"

"Detective Halstead, Y/N's brother remember?" Jay asked rhetorically. "I've seen you around quite a lot. You've been in the same team as Y/N since you started."

No one was going to point it out but Kelly-Marie visibly gulped, her posture changing at the mention of being your older brother. Not only did she remember him but she heard things about the older Halstead brothers, she knew to be wary.

"Kelly, I've got some questions for you."

*****

When you woke up, you couldn't remember a thing. You recalled the competition and you remembered your name being called but that was it, after that, it's all murky and hazy.

Groggily you sat up, wincing at the pain shooting through your body, coming from no place in particular. What the hell happened?

Looking down, you found your hair had been taken out of its tight ponytail and your hair fell freely down your shoulders. You were also dressed in a hospital gown, your teal blue leotard probably cut up in a bin bag somewhere.

Confusion flooded you. Why were you all alone? Not that it hurt not seeing your brothers glued to the chairs by your bedside but you were genuinely curious about their whereabouts.

Before you could press the button to call for a nurse, the curtains were pulled opened and you never felt more relief than you did now.

The first person you saw was Will who did a double take upon seeing you awake, alert and sitting perfectly upright.

"Hey, how you feeling sweetheart?" He smiled at you, coming to your side to gently pull you into a hug, pressing the lightest but a very meaningful kiss into your hairline. "You gave us a scare y'know?"

You winced. "Yeah, about that, what happened?"

"You don't remember?" Will pulled back, looking down at you in concern but for some reason, he didn't seem surprised.

"Um, I remember getting ready and going onto the mats when my name got called but its all fuzzy after that." You said, squinting your eyes as you tried your hardest to try and remember but it only sent a wave of pain to course through your head.

"Yeah, let's not do any of that." Will said, grimacing when you winced through the pain, squeezing his hand as tight as you could without breaking any bones.

"Emily and her mom will be back tomorrow." Jay said, his badge now hanging from his neck. His eyes were on his watch as he walked into the treatment room. "Voight and Antonio are with the Ainsley's."

"The Ainsley's? What did they do?" You asked, genuinely wanting to know what a horrible person like Kelly-Marie and her parents had to do with all of this.

"Y/N." Jay said breathlessly, like all the breath had been knocked out his lungs. He'd never felt more relieved ever in his life than he did right now. "Thank goodness you're awake, we were so worried."

"Okay yeah, I get it. You were worried about me but what about the Ainsley's?" You waved off your brothers concern, curious to what happened to your long time nemesis and her parents.

Will and Jay shared a look, having a silent conversation with merely their eyes. It was something they always did when it regarded you and you always hated it. Even as you got older, they never stopped.

"Y/N, you were drugged." Will told you straight, deciding that beating around the bush would be useless.

Your lips formed on o shape, nothing coming out as you sat in shock. Trying to retain the very short and simple words, you looked at your brothers back and forth until it all dawned on you.

"It was my bottle, wasn't it?" You asked in realisation of when you could've taken any drugs. "What was it?"

Jay looked hesitant to answer you but knew you wouldn't let up. Holding your hand in his, allowing you to squeeze as hard as you wanted, he told you as gently as he could.

"GHB." Jay said grimly, looking at you closely for your reaction. "It's also called the date rape drug."

You felt like being sick.

“Wow.” You breathed out. For a second, you forgot how to breathe. “I know we hate each other but…”

You struggled to find the words, mouth agape as you looked at your brothers back and forth dumbfounded.

Finally, you set your eyes on Jay and asked. “What’s going to happen to her?”

Jay swallowed harshly, you could tell from how his adams apple moved and how tense his jaw was. His eyes met Wills for a few brief seconds before looking back down at yours.

“The most that we can legally do is charge her as a minor. We can request for things such as community service and probation if jail doesn’t stick.” Jay told you carefully, unsure of how you were going to react. “Her parents are rich and have a lot of influence but we’ll be pushing hard, don’t you worry.”

You hummed, fully understanding the means Jay was willing to go through just for you. You couldn’t help but feel guilt but you also couldn’t help the tears of anger that began to blur your vision.

“Hey, hey. It’s all going to be fine, alright?” Will said, squeezing your hand three times before lowering the bedside barriers and sitting besides your legs. “No matter what happens we’re always here and-“

“And worse case scenario, we just happen to know tons of people who are willing to do a favour or two if we need them.” Jay smirked, cutting of Will’s thoughtful words with his own that hinted as illegal violent behaviour.

“Jay, you are literally in my ER. Don’t even try it.” Will said with the smallest smile on his face while trying to sound serious. The threat was very clearly implicated though when Jay held his hands up in surrender.

“Okay but Y/N, let me remind you that Hank Voight is my boss-“

“Jay!”

#onechicago #one chicago x reader #will halstead #will halstead x reader #will halstead x sister!reader #jay halstead #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead x sister!reader #halstead sister

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weixuldo · 6 months

Text

Allow me// ch 13

Vader x Reader

a/n: so this one is kinda short but is necessary for the plot!! we’ll have some vader and reader interactions in the next chapter!!! :) ty for the support!!!

Vader has been gone longer than anticipated…

warnings: cursing, angst, harm, body horror?, cannon typical violence

_____________________

You walked down the brightly lit corridor with a small transport droid behind you; it carried your tool bag and some parts that had to be specially ordered to fix one of the hyper speed engines.

Once you reached your destination you swiped your security badge and the deep belly of the ship opened its maw to you. The machinery and technology that allowed the vessel to operate was all at the tip of your fingers.

You had always wanted to come down here and surprisingly you hadn’t ever had a reason to, but before Vader left to meet with his master he noticed the engines had been running at lower parsecs than usual and asked you to take a look.

The Executor had been docked on Hoth so that you could inspect and repair the engines (otherwise you would be vaporized if you attempted to inspect them while they ran).

You had actually never been to the icy planet and were excited to see a few sights before going back into space. Vader told you that he would take you on a stroll when he got back- he knew how much you loved exploring new systems and biomes (a conversation of one of your many late night talks).

Hopefully the meeting between Vader and the Emperor went well and you could debrief with V later today.

Earlier you had seen Palpatine’s ship go off to another system, so that seemed to be a good sign.

Though, you hadn’t heard from Vader yet- but it was common for you not to hear from him until later in the day- especially when you had a demanding task; so you didn’t think much of it.

___________________________

Vader’s mind was consumed with painful memories and the anguish his body was currently feeling as he laid on the burning shores of Mustafar.

His prosthetic ports ached and the flames licking at the metal didn't help the surviving skin that surrounded them.

Half of him was just ready to give up- He had been in this same position before and chose to cling onto life, but what did that life provide him?

Days of pain and suffering in a suit that would be his coffin, mental anguish over the decisions he had made, manipulation from the man he was supposed to be working with… all he was here for was being a weapon of the empire. He didn’t matter.

All of this re-lived pain because he aided his dead wife’s handmaiden (who knew that he was Anakin and told him Padme’s last words were ”there’s still good in him”).

He didn’t know if there was still good in him- if everytime he attempted to prove his wife’s last words true, he got punished; how would he go on trying to be good?

But on the other hand; why live if there was no good in him- why bring more suffering into the galaxy?

In his moment of thought the bank of the river started sliding and he felt the heat intensifying by his legs. In defeat he closed his eyes; what else was there to live for?

The last time he was here, Padme was what kept him going. At the time he thought she was still alive and he needed her. He stayed alive for her, he dragged his mutilated body across the burning coals to get back to her.

He remembered the pain he felt when he found out she had passed… he would not survive news like that again…

In that instance a burst of color flooded the nothingness of his closed eyes; beautiful greens, blues, and purples.

Soon the colors started forming images, images of you. Your smile, your hair, the adorable look on your face when you finished a big project, the look you gave him before falling asleep curled up to his side.

You.

He needed to get back to you.

In his panicked state he pushed you far from his mind; never would he want to associate suffering with you. But now he understood, you were his motivation.

His pillar of light, his guiding hand.

His eyes shot open when realized that was a double edged sword; yes, you were his reason to live, but he also knew that his master loved to manipulate him… and he would spare no soul who would give him more power.

And now Vader wasn’t there to protect you.

As he slipped further down and the flames began to lick at his already burnt skin, his eyes widened and he gripped the gravely bank with all of his might. He was going to come home to you.

He needed to get back, he needed to make sure Palpatine didn’t do anything drastic (the emperor already intervened in his previous relationship and he would not let that happen again).

His desperation and worry soon became anger and pure rage- the thought of Palpatine laying a hand on you made Vader livid.

After he made his grueling crawl up the scolding shores he wasn’t even thinking about his recovery time and procedures he would need done once he got back; all he could think about was making sure you were safe.

_________________________________

You usually at least saw Vader once a day, even if for only a short period of time, so you were rightfully anxious when you hadn’t seen him in almost 48 hours.

No matter how much you tried to ignore it you couldn't help but worry about him; the other night he told you he had to meet his master, most likely under unfavorable circumstances…

Would the emperor have done something to him? He couldn’t have, Vader was his strongest, right?

Plus Palpatine left the other day…

Your brows knit together as you tried to fall asleep; why were you so worried?

Vader was a grown man who was more than capable of taking care of himself. You just needed to stop being “worst-case scenario”-

Wait.

You sucked in a sharp breath when you realized that you couldn’t sense Vader’s force signature; the more you thought about it, you hadn’t felt it this whole time- you were too wrapped up in your work to notice.

But, again… He was perfectly equipped to handle himself…yeah- no need to worry.

No need.

…

…..

…….

As much as you wanted to believe what you were telling yourself, your gut told you something was wrong. And you’d be damned if you were just going to sit here and let that worry fester.

You knew the Emperor was scheduled to come back aboard tomorrow morning to oversee a transport. You could act dumb and attempt to coax information out of him; It was definitely a lofty and irrational idea, but what else was there to do?

________________________________

The air was thick with dread and tension as you slowly made your way up to the loading dock with your helper droid that carried your tools. You pretended to tinker with one of the ventilator shafts until Palpatine was within your view.

After a few shipments were packed and transported, you took a breath and headed towards the emperor.

Only a few steps away and his sickening yellow eyes landed on you; in a panic you bowed to him and rushed out an apology.

“Stand, my young friend” he spoke with a curious tone.

You did as the sith asked and allowed him to examine your features.

“What troubles you?” he asked, placing a wiry clawed hand on your back. You hold back a shiver.

“I am one of Lord Vader’s mechanic’s and I have not received another task from him in a few days. I have finished all of my pending duties and I worry the Lord will become angry if he returns and I have not accomplished anything further” you spoke formally and as if you had no idea where he had gone.

“I was debating whether or not to approach you. I know you are a very busy man, but I also know that you are my Lord’s superior, so you may have a more urgent task I can attend to- I would rather not putter around and waste the empire’s time”.

The hooded man smiled a toothy grin, “Ahh, young one- your ambition pleases me. I may have a task for you, but first what is the other question you wish to ask?”.

You did have another question, but you didn’t think you indicated that you had one.

“Oh, I was just wondering if you knew where my Lord went off to? It’s not like him to disappear without letting his staff know” (that wasn’t entirely true, but you might as well see what you can get out of the old man).

“I’m not sure where he’s gone off to, hopefully he will return to you soon. I can tell he means a great deal to you” the pale man creepily smiled before dismissing himself to attend to other matters.

Shit.

Maybe you shouldn’t have said anything.

_________________________

Vader groaned in pain as the mouse droid he just rewired began to fuse a random droid’s leg to his port; He needed to be able to walk somehow and this is the best he could do as of now.

He knew it was going to hurt like hell when he would eventually have to get it seared off (He wouldn’t be able to get his new prosthetics on without getting this replacement leg off.)

Once he was relatively put together he prepared himself to hoist himself up. He winced at the pressure of his weight on the unfamiliar legs, but nevertheless, he pressed on.

He made his way through the dingy compound, looking for ways out and back to you.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a low level bounty hunter. Did this fool really think he could take Vader?

Without any effort, Vader slammed the armed man against the opposite wall once he started to get too close.

If there was one, there were more, Vader needed to get out of here before a real threat came his way…

***

a/n: thanks for bearing with me through finals eeekkk sorry i’ve been on an atrocious upload schedule

taglist: @vadersassistant @sxoulohvn @khaleesihavilliard @kashasenpai i @darling-murdock @beautifulbearpolice @salvatoresister1 @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @blueninjablade3 @jujuba096 @missmannequin @jellydodger @mirastark @wyvernthekriger @duckyhowls @monada43 @lauriidoesstuff @vienettacream @ray-rook @itswhatever06 @ilovenielperry

#darth vader x reader #anakin x reader #darth vader #vader #anakin #sw darth vader #darth vader fic #star wars x reader #anakin x you #star wars #allow me #star wars comics #starwars x reader #starwars fanfic #darth vader x y/n #darth vader x you #darth vader fanfic #vader x reader

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foxofninetales · 7 months

Text

You get more leverage with a crowbar

"...I told you," bristles Elliot, stalking in an angry little half-circle around the open – very open – door. It's a heavy door, fireproof, and designed to add an extra layer of overnight security to the collection in the room beyond, but it hadn't been able to stand against the explosives that had been packed around its hinges and lock. "I told you there was something off about the whole setup. Or do you think that it's just a coincidence that someone else decided to rob the museum right after we took down all their security precautions?" He prowls back around again, feet automatically stepping over the unconscious security guard who is dreaming happily on the low-pile carpet – one of several who lies scattered decoratively around the museum thanks to Sophie’s intervention.

Hardison sees his point, but at the same time, it's not like mister punchy-man is the one who has been putting in the hard work on this heist so far. "You're upset? Who spent hours”– okay, lie, it was like five minutes, but he has a mystique to cultivate here –"making sure all the alarms were disabled just to find that someone took advantage of his hard work–"

"Your hard work!" Sophie breaks in with an expressive wave of her hands. "You think it's easy spending two weeks being a docent? On a museum salary? During field trip season?!" She shudders beneath the name badge (not hers) that she is still wearing. There are sticky handprints on the hem of her sensible grey suit.

"Quiet!"

They all stop and look at Nate, who is staring down at the fallen door with a deeply contemplative expression. Hardison can almost hear his fans spinning. "Do you ever feel," he says slowly – and that is his sit-up-and-pay-attention voice, his mastermind voice, his I'm-at-heart-a-deeply-creepy-bastard voice, "that we were being led the whole way here?"

Hardison knows by now that the best way to speed up Nate's processor is with a little kick of wounded pride, and he's got plenty of his own to share. "Naw – you're saying that someone mailing us a newspaper article about the failed repatriation attempts around the duke's collection might not have been a coincidence?"

"I'm saying," says Nate, rising predictably to the bait, "that I think this is less to do with the temple and more to do with some other person or agency about which we, currently, know far less than they apparently do us."

"I can tell you they're Chinese," interjects Elliot. Nate's laser-focus snaps to him, and under that stare he gives a shrug. "Or at least that they learned how to build explosives by working with fireworks in Liuyang. Smell that." He takes a deep sniff and let the breath out through his mouth, just like he's at a wine tasting. What a freak [affectionate]. "Notice how the sulfur tang hits the back of your tongue? The bitter finish?"

Hardison sniffs dutifully, but mostly smells...smoke. And not even much of that – not even enough to set off the museum's smoke detectors even if they and everything else in the adorable little setup the museum thinks is a security system weren't sitting there obediently waiting for Hardison to tell them what to do. "Mmmhmm, sure," he lies, with the ease of long practice. "And you're trying to say you know where this guy trained from a smell?"

"It's a very distinctive smell," says Elliott, right on cue. Damn, Hardison is gonna get Elliot bingo fast tonight. "But the explosive placement on that door is more like the placement you'd use in underground structures, so we're dealing with someone who was trained on explosives in mines, or excavation, or–"

He stops dead. Stares at nothing, brows drawing down in a tangle, and mutters something that sounds mystifyingly like "cultural artifacts". Then tilts his head back and yells like the tiniest, angriest rooster in the world:

"WANG PANGZI, YOU GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE RIGHT NOW!"

There's a moment's pause, and then a deep rumbling chuckle. They all turn towards the source of the sound, just in time to see a man amble into the light. He's a big man, fat-over-muscle, but he moves with the kind of ease that tells Hardison that he knows how to use every ounce. Elliot is glaring at him like he's going to go for his ankles any second, but Hardison is saved from having to intervene (i.e., get out his camera) by the delighted trill that comes from Sophie beside him.

"Pangzi, darling!" She drifts forward like a battleship under full sail and is almost instantly wrapped in the big man's arms, both of them breaking into a fast-paced chatter in a language Hardison recognizes from his hacker forums and subbed dramas as a Chinese dialect (not that the man's features and the fact that he's apparently *also* robbing an exhibit of Chinese antiquities aren't also something of a tip-off). Whoever this guy is, Sophie knows him well, so well that their expressive movements as they both gesture effusively with their hands interweave effortlessly.

Hardison's so busy bemusedly watching this unexpected love-fest that he misses the moment that someone else appears on the scene. What he doesn't miss, though, is Nate stiffening beside him. It's almost a Sterling-level stiffen, and that has Hardison glancing over pretty damn quickly, but all he sees is another man, Chinese like the first but a little younger, and far too ordinary in appearance to be in a museum at midnight with an unconscious guard and a still-smoking door. Hardison looks him over evaluatingly: the glasses say "geek" and the sweater says "prep", but the scar on his neck says either "danger" or "has a hell of a story about a power tool".

"Wu Xie," says Nate, not so much smiling as allowing his teeth to surface from the depths. Oh, Nate hates this guy. Hardison perks up in interest.

"Nate," says the man, returning the smile – and Hardison may not know him, but he's stolen enough antiques to recognize a matched set when he sees one. Innnnnteresting. Hardison tries to remember where he's heard the name Wu Xie before – and 3.5 seconds later, it hits him like a box of rocks.

He flails.

"Wait a minute," he says, loud enough to break through the sound of Sophie and the fat man (who appear to have started singing) all indignation at being used by the competition evaporating like smoke in the face of a much greater injustice. "Wait. A. Minute. If that–" he points at Nate's latest nemesis, who blinks "–is Wu Xie, and that–" another, increasingly accusatory jab of his finger "–is Wang Pangzi, then does that mean"– he can hear his own voice getting higher –"does that mean that Zhang Qiling is around here someplace?"

He spins around, futilely scanning the ceiling, and finishes his circle aimed squarely at his cheating, holdout, betrayer of a boyfriend who'd better enjoy having every internet link he clicks be a rickroll for the next week because he knows what he did. "You know Batman and you didn't tell me?!"

** * **

In the quiet shadows of a balcony above, a dark figure crouches on a railing, his black clothing somehow managing to blend with the dimly-lit neutrals of the museum walls. His posture is attentive but comfortable; his hood is pulled down low over his face, and strapped to his back is a black and gold sword that would be worth a heist in its own right.

Silently, a line drops down from the ceiling and a second figure in black – this one upside-down and with a blond ponytail that hangs down like an inverted exclamation-mark – slides down to hang even with the first.

"Hey, Xiaoge," says Parker, holding out an open bag of marshmallows that she'd liberated from the gift shop.

Not turning his head, Xiaoge nods, and takes a handful.

And together they chew in companionable silence, while their families sort things out below.

#dmbj #leverage #dmbj x leverage crossover #should i have been writing something completely different?#absolutely yes #but this has been living in my head for a while and wanted to come out today #my fic #foxfic

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