(( This is a prompt for Dirk wherein he works with recovering victims of human trafficking and is acting as a temporary caretaker for one of their most recent cases. This is geared toward recovery and hurt/comfort, but due to the nature of the roleplay, it's in NSFW for content. No smut will be present in this, at all, and no romance without plenty of development. Any characters are welcome, but please run your choice by me first. Let me know if there’s anything else that needs discussing and enjoy. )) God, how did he get roped into this? Dirk was considered a prodigy all throughout his high school and university years; there was no doubting his skill was as genuine as they came, but alongside intelligence came egotism, and with a sensitivity to even the slightest changes in a situation but in people especially, there was a tendency to, as one of his old professors had put it with a healthy dose of stark amazement, "play puppetmaster." If something didn't go exactly as he'd calculated, Dirk would crumble almost instantly, and this was very, very much NOT according to plan. The actual plan? In brief, it entailed joining a special subdivision of the police department, gaining acclaim and the respect of his peers and superiors, being promoted, and enjoying as much notoriety as he could get. This? This was glorified babysitting detail. In retrospect, Dirk knew it was bound to happen eventually, but he had hoped it could have waited until he had more of a foothold in his career, not when he was so green he smelled like a fresh meadow breeze, but there was no help for it now and he would have to take his assignment like the adult he claimed to be. His department worked with human trafficking; more specifically, tracking down victims and separating them from the people that handled them. Dirk mostly worked with the technological aspects of each case with no hurry to have any part in doing the dirty work, but the clean-up crew had come looking for him regardless. It was more often than not the responsibility of a network of safehouses to take in and rehabilitate the victims that were often traumatised and suffering from a great deal of abuse and battering. However, once those resources were tapped out, it was up to the members of the police department themselves to give those victims a place to stay, and as luck would have it, Dirk was slated to be the caretaker of their latest recovery. Joy upon joys. It had to be some cosmic joke that Dirk Strider, resident stone-faced techmonkey and manipulative bastard, as proclaimed by those of his peers eager enough to make an enemy of him, would be put in charge of all things domestic and mothering. Toddlers caught one glimpse of his awkward fumbling in the face of anything even resembling the terror of "emotions" and screamed bloody murder, for god's sake. If there was anyone, anyone out there less suited for a job that took tact and delicacy, it would be him. Try telling that to his hardass of a captain; every complaint of Dirk's fell onto deaf ears, and there was nothing left to do now but square his shoulders, man the fuck up, and hope he didn't cause too much irreparable damage. After he'd gotten word that his charge was going to arrive later on in the evening, thankfully sedated for the ease of transportation, Dirk took to alternating between pacing the floor of his apartment and attempting to clear away the clutter of disembodied robotic limbs and gutted torsos with the wires still unattached and sticking out like innards he'd left lying around from the tinkering he did in his spare time. Finally, one of his female colleagues notified him that she was on his metaphorical doorstep and they were brought in, a plainly malnourished thing whose name he'd been informed of in their case file, though he was hard-pressed to recall it now. Though he had a spare room left abandoned since his younger brother had flown the nest, the two of them worked together to settle Sleeping Beauty on the couch with a pillow and blanket he'd managed to scrounge up from a linen closet filled to the brim with swords. At last, that part of his job was complete. Dirk bid goodbye to his coworker and settled on the floor nearby to fill out the requisite paperwork in order to finalise the arrangement of him having legal responsibility for the survivor until they were deemed rehabilitated and fit to rejoin society. He couldn’t help but wince at the wording of that, chewing absently on the cap to his pen as he marked his signature and initials in the appropriate place. Once that was finished, he passed the time waiting for them to wake by continuing to piece together one of his latest mechanical projects, one that was unfortunately slow going due to his numerous trips to the kitchen and back. Shit, he really did have a problem with stress eating. Not that he wouldn't eagerly go to his death before admitting it to anybody, mind, but it was a problem he could at least acknowledge in the privacy of his own thoughts, thank you very god damn much. Finally, after what felt like hours but what likely wasn't nearly that long, he was alerted to a sound that had him dropping his third consecutive glass of Orange Crush in order to rush back into the living room where his charge waited, apparently awake and alert. "Oh, wow, uh, hey there. Welcome to the waking world." Shit, now was the time to say something befitting of a caretaker. "Listen, I know you're probably ten kinds of disoriented right now, but there's no need to worry. You're safe now." Oh, god damn, the shades, he still had his shades on. Dorky pointed anime sunglasses were not what one would consider professional eyewear, and Dirk mentally kicked himself as he slid them off and into his back pocket, leaving the warm gold of his irises visible. It made him feel odd. Exposed. He'd get over it; there was no way it could be worse than what they must have been experiencing now. Belatedly, he realised that this was probably time for him to make introductions. "My name's Dirk Strider. I’m with the police and I'm the one you’re going to be staying with for a while. Not long, hopefully, just enough so that we can be sure everything's... uh, shipshape." Shipshape? Holy fuck, was he ever bombing this. "Is there anything I can get for you? Food and water’d probably sound nice about now, yeah?" Nailed it.
"You can't kill the client Naruto, it doesn't work that way"
Art is an Explosion!
Feel offended? Cry me a river and drown in it.
I sure like tv.. And wearing pants
99.8% of anime fans are obsessing over Naruto.. If you are the last few of the clan who can think up three or more better anime than this, paste this on your signature please (E.G. Black Lagoon, Darker than Black, Higurashi no Naku Koro Ni and Elfen Lied)