#also chose the current second place option | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moonydustx · 13 days

Text

warnings: mention of pain/migraines (period-related), mention of wanting to have children (but no mention of pregnancy). Law is a great boyfriend and doctor, as always. Completely self-indulgent since I've been feeling sick for the last week and had to hear the doctor laugh about it. Okay, I think that's enough for here.

You hated these days. You hated having a uterus and having to deal with all the problems it brought. You also hated the idea of wanting to have children - perhaps in a hypothetical and distant future - and this prevented you from getting rid of the organ.

You wanted to feel like other women, some cramps, mood swings and that was fine, but every month a few days before your period it was the same pain that went through your head. If it was your uterus that hurt, you would just ask him to remove the organ for a few days, but what do you do when it was your brain?

Feeling the first pangs, you immediately dropped your task, Law would understand the case. You took the small card out of your pocket and left it hanging next to the groceries you organized. It was an easy way to communicate on bad days, since talking out loud hurt enough that you chose not to speak.

Walking at a leisurely pace, the images around you became colorful blurs and even with just a few minutes between the start of the pain and the current moment, you already felt your head throbbing. Opening the room shared with Law, you felt around the dresser and found the pills, swallowing them without water. Afterwards, your body found comfort in the darkness of the room in the sheets that even covered your head.

I took the day off. Tomorrow, I'll be back.

Law tapped his fingers over the card. He always kept a calendar to keep track of these days and the card you had drawn by hand was just a trace of the little agreement between the two of you for when the day was bad with the problem he hadn't yet found the perfect remedy for.

Passing through the kitchen and his living room, Law picked up what little was capable of improving his situation. The closed door and the silence and darkness of the room indicated that it was another one of the crises.

"My heart?" the cute nickname used on rare occasions reached your ears in a whisper. You knew that Law was too rational for that kind of name, calling you that showed how much he loved you - and in that situation how worried he was. Law struggled to close the door without any noise. You knew he was next to you when you felt the bed dip. "How are we with the pain?"

"I took my pills, but it still hurts." your low, broken voice hurt him more than you could notice. It was frustrating for Law to be a doctor but still not have found the ideal solution.

"Babe did you eat?" your mumble in denial was the answer he already suspected. "Okay. Let's at least have some water, okay?"

He supported you to sit down and, still being held by him, drink the glass full of water that he had brought.

"Good job." he whispered, laying you down again and using the sheets to cover you once more. "I left here some more water and a den den mushi, straight to my room. If you need it, just call and I'll be back here."

"Thank you my love." The words left your lips when Law placed a small kiss on your shoulder.

As much as he wanted to stay there and hold you, wait for you to get better, he knew that taking time for you to be still and silent was the best option or at least the one you chose. He also knew that when you wanted, you would definitely seek his help.

The hours of that afternoon dragged on for Law, while for you they passed a little faster. Although it didn't completely help with the pain, the medicine gave you equivalent sleep for the whole day. Waking up a few hours later, the first thing you reached for was the other water your boyfriend had left there. Emptying the glass in a matter of seconds, you stopped to understand how you felt. Some of the pain had eased and you could see clearly now.

Feeling for the door, you soon found the handle and opened it little by little, letting the light invade the place. Blinking a few times to adapt to the light, you went to where you imagined finding your boyfriend. Sitting at the table, stacks of paper stacked in front of him and an apparently hot cup placed in front of Law, focused on whatever the task was.

"Come in." he answered the two knocks on the door you gave. When he raised his face and came across your figure, his face immediately softened. "Hi babe. How are you feeling?"

"A little better." the firmness in your words reassured him. "Can I stay with you for a while?"

"No need to ask." he dragged the chair back. "Just turn off the light and get cozy." he opened his arms.

Following his brief orders, it only took a few seconds for you to be cuddling up to Law, letting your face hang under the back of his head.

"I won't disturb you if I stay here?" you looked up a little, watching him adjust the small reading lamp on the table.

"Never. I'm glad you came, so I can at least take care of you a little." he spoke still in the same low tone he had used previously. "Unless you want to go to our room."

"Do you mind if I sleep here a little longer?"

"It's okay my heart. Just let me know when you need something, okay?" His hand remained on your back, making a light caress. "Love?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm sorry I haven't found the solution yet." Law's regretful tone almost revealed that all the papers on his desk were about possible treatments, possible surgeries, possible solutions to a small problem that managed to leave you like that, hurt and vulnerable.

"No problem. " you placed a quick kiss on his cheek. It was frustrating and brought tears to your eyes knowing that even if tomorrow or the next day you woke up well, in a few weeks you would be visited by that torment again. "I love you for at least trying."

"Please, don't cry." as if he could read your mind, Law asked immediately, pulling your face to look at his and finding your eyes on the verge of tears. "First, it's going to make it hurt even more and second, I promise I'll find something."

"Or..."

"No, I'm not going to put your brain in a jar of formaldehyde." Even with the entire dark environment and being physically impossible, Law could have sworn that the light laugh that escaped your lips lit up the entire room. "Just rest, my love. Tomorrow, if you wake up better, we can go up to the surface, get some sun and think about more solutions together, okay?"

"Or can we just eat chocolate and read together?"

"Whatever you want. Now rest, my heart, you deserve it."

#trafalgar d law x reader #law x you #law x reader #one piece

104 notes · View notes

alltoowelltom · 2 years

Text

Who'd You Rather

tom holland x reader

summary: if there's one thing Ellen is known for, it's exposing secret relationships

a/n: this was written so quickly and not proof-read. also, i picked Ellen because if anyone would do this, it would be her lol

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

July 2019

"So Y/N, are you currently dating anyone?" asks Ellen, taking a sip from her mug.

You shake your head.

"Not currently, no."

Ellen nods.

"Well, please don't worry anymore. We're going to help you find someone in a little game we like to call Who'd You Rather?"

"Oh God," you laugh, twisting slightly in your seat to glare at your manager for agreeing to this who laughed and poked her tongue out at you.

"So all you need to do is look at the photos I show you and pick between these two options, alright?"

"Okay, if you insist." you roll your eyes, facing the large screen.

"I do. So to start off, Timothee Chalamet or Dylan O'Brien?"

"Oh, wow," you laugh. "Starting off strong. Well, I was an absolute hoe for Maze Runner when it came out so I have to pick Dylan. Plus, I know Timothee better so it would be kinda awkward if I chose him."

The picture of Timothee fades away and is replaced by a new photo.

"Dylan O'Brien or Harry Styles?"

"Harry fucking Styles." you say without hesitation and the audience cheers. Ellen nods.

"Harry Styles or Florence Pugh?"

You bury your head in your hands.

"How could you ask me that, Ellen? That's like asking someone to pick between cookie dough and mint chip ice cream! Impossible."

Ellen mimes tapping at her watch and tuts at you.

"Time's ticking, Y/N. Make your choice."

You sigh.

"It's absolutely Florence then. Sorry, Harry."

"Florence pugh or Chris Evans?" Ellen asks.

"Flo."

Ellen's eyes gleam as she quickly reads the next pair of names, rubbing her hands together in a comically evil fashion.

"Florence Pugh or Tom Holland?"

You slide down on your chair, laughing and covering your face with your hands.

"Ellen!" you shriek. "I've just come off my second movie co-starring with Tom and he's literally my best friend. You can't ask me this!"

Ellen grins.

"Florence Pugh or Tom Holland?" she repeats.

You pout at the camera.

"Flo, I am so sorry. Please still be my friend. I pick Tom."

The crowd roars in approval and you wave a hand at them, laughing.

"Shhhh, guys."

"Tom Holland or Jake Gyllenhaal?" asks Ellen.

"Tom Holland."

"Tom Holland or Hailee Steinfeld?"

"Tom Holland."

"Tom Holland or Niall Horan?"

You hesitate, biting your lip as Tom's frozen grin stares down at you from the photo.

"I…fuck. Tom?" you say, almost as a question.

"So it's Tom?" Ellen grins. "Speak now or forever hold your peace."

You nod, sitting up straight and crossing your legs.

"It's Tom."

Ellen stares straight into the camera as an assistant signals an upcoming ad break. She rests one hand on your shoulder as she addresses the audience.

"Tom Holland, you'd better act quickly. Y/N is currently sitting by her phone, waiting for your call. Don't mess this up."

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

April 2021

You relax into the plush cushion of the chair on Ellen's set once again. You are paying attention, sort of. You nod and laugh in all the right places, offering stories and jokes when needed but your mind is miles away. Ellen can pick up on this and she shifts in her seat.

"Y/N." she says, holding eye contact. "Can I have your phone please?"

Your eyes widen as you reach into the pocket of your oversized blazer, following her request and placing the unlocked device in Ellen's waiting hand.

"I wonder," she says out loud, "who we can get to answer your call?"

"Oh God," you laugh, covering your face. "If no one picks up I'll be so embarrassed."

"The Watermelon Man?" Ellen questions, reading off of the screen. "Shall we call the Watermelon Man, whoever that is?"

You cover your face, laughing.

"Jesus. If Harry Styles doesn't pick up I think I'll throw myself off a cliff."

The phone rings three times before a voice rings out from a noisy background.

"Y/N! How are you?" laughs Harry. "This is a surprise, I have to admit."

"Harry!" you call out, before he can say anything else. "Ellen's hijacked my phone and started ringing people, I'm so sorry."

"Oh, she has?" Harry asks mischievously. "I'll make sure not to mention anything about our upcoming collaboration then…" he trails off and you can practically hear him winking through the phone as he hangs up.

"That absolute fucker," you laugh, rolling your eyes at his spoiler as Ellen is already scrolling through your contacts list again.

"Oh!" she exclaims, eyes bright. "Y/N, I thought you told us you weren't dating anyone? May I ask who 'My Darling 💖' is?"

You freeze on the spot, mouth drying out as you blink at Ellen, desperately trying to jump start your brain into snatching the phone back. You glance over at your manager who is sat stock still, just as shocked as you are.

The phone rings five times and you breathe a sigh of relief. It's 3AM in London right now, he's not going to pick up.

Just as you've collected your heart off of the floor and smoothed your hair down, ready to make a self deprecating joke about this mystery person not picking up, there's a pause and the a collective gasp from the audience as the phone connects.

"Hello my love, is everything alright?" asks Tom in his groggy, raspy morning voice.

Ellen's jaw hits the floor so quickly you're shocked it doesn't fall off entirely.

tysm for reading! reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

part 2

5K notes · View notes

themanifestingbrat · 1 year

Text

I manifested a new job!

But not just any job, this manifestation is pretty much life changing for me as I get to work in my desired city, make lots more money, and also live there for a discount!

✭ How it started✭ Obstacles✭ How I used my Imagination ✭ How it manifested

✭ How it started

So I already was tired of the job I was currently at and I needed a change. I had a difficult manager, annoying clients, and I wanted to move to another city.

I occasionally checked my company's website for new positions and kept my options open for a good month. During this month, I was still deciding between what I wanted but once I figured that out, a new opportunity was posted. It was literally calling my name! It was my desired location and a brand new building. So I immediately told my manager for her approval and applied.

✭ Obstacles

I didn't hear anything for two weeks and in those two weeks, I started feeling anxious because I got a random thought that I would be fired from my current job. It was totally random and it gave me a really bad feeling but instead of fighting it, I decided to flip it and affirm that I got hired at the new job.

After weeks of not hearing anything, I checked back to my work email (that I never use) and saw that they denied me because they couldn't get a hold of me! I almost freaked out but remembered who I was and stayed calm. I reached out to the manager to apologize and ask for a interview and she said YES!

My co-workers, although very supportive, kept putting negative thoughts into my head of how my manager would react to me wanting to transfer because she's so strict and needy. I didn't take it personal and I would affirm to myself that my manager adores me and supports me.

After my first interview with the new manager, she said she would reach out the next day for a second interview with another higher up. I didn't hear back for another two weeks but instead of assuming the worst, I returned to the state of someone who got the second interview scheduled. I even chose a day that she would email me back and when I would have the interview and it manifested in a week!

✭ How I used my Imagination

Now, I didn't do this to get anything or see results, I naturally did it to fulfill myself and also for fun.

I used affirmations here and there. No, I didn't track how long or when I would affirm. If I caught myself falling out of state, I would just shift back and maybe affirm once or a few times until I felt confident.

I imagined before bed of me working at the new job. This is something I naturally did because I love visualizing exciting possibilites before bed (sometims too exciting and I wouldn't fall asleep haha). I imagined what the office would look like, what my new coworkers could look like, what I would wear, etc. I created different scenarios that could happen.

After a few weeks, it did feel natural. I was bragging to my family that I would get the job. I even made a pinterest board of all the new outfits I needed to buy, I chose a new hairstyle and nails, basically thinking from.

✭ How it manifested

Regardless of what the 3D showed, I had the mindset I already had the job, cause "how can I lose if I'm already chose?" lmfao. After basically going through 3 interviews in a span of three months, the new manager called to offer me the position! I also forget to mention I wanted to manifest higher pay and the pay ended up being a few dollars over (hourly) than what I was okay with!

This job offers an opportunity to live onsite at a discount and it's a brand new luxury property! Now I am going to manifest living there at my desired rent, move in date, and all the other stuff that come with getting a new place!

206 notes · View notes

prettyboysdontlookatexplosions · 8 months

Text

one thing that's been percolating in my mind about mina and her relationship to women's history this time through is that like... it can be tempting (for me too!) from a contemporary perspective to kind of think as "traditional" and "progressive" as opposite sides of a spectrum upon which women can be linearly placed in terms of their beliefs. but it's a little more complicated than that, obviously. mina i think can be a little jarring to the modern reader because she is as a person obviously so independent, bright, curious, and hard-working, but her vocational ambitions as expressed in the text are limited to supporting her future husband, and i think there can be a tendency to sort of slot her as like, "ok, well, she's a little bit progressive, but not that far along," or whatever, and there's, again, a lot we can do to unpack that, but for me there are two things that have been coming up for me revisiting the topic on my second time through (disclaimer: i'm an idiot with a blog who doesn't know anything about anything & if any actual experts want to weigh in please do! also if anyone has any accessible readings on the new woman please do @ me because that phrase is it turns out fucking ungoogleable):

(1) i think it's important to remember that for all human beings on earth ever, there's not a simple unidirectional relationship between internal beliefs and external action/reality, nor do beliefs come out of nowhere or out of some ether from which we pluck ideas out of pure abstraction. a lot of looking at women's history is looking at how women chose to navigate the options available to them, which both inform ideology and also make it frankly sometimes just not that important. a book that really powerfully shaped the way i think about this stuff is kathy peiss's cheap amusements: working women and leisure in turn of the century new york. the way she explores her source material for that space and time really brought home to me that it's very difficult as a woman who came of age (for example) in the US after second wave feminism to really understand just how beside the point the question of "what do i as an individual believe about women's role in society" was for (as just one example) many women in that location, class, and period. it just doesn't matter compared to things like being able to pay your rent, or being able to afford a night out once in a while - which might mean letting a guy pay your way not because you think it's "the man's job" but because you don't make enough to go out with your own money ever - so maybe you do think it's the man's job but it's not because of some like disembodied attachment to traditional gender roles, it's because the men are the ones with the fucking money!

anyway. different place, different class position, slightly later period, but the general principles from that book have really stayed with me and have been echoing thinking about mina. like: how much does an assistant schoolmistress in 1890s london make? i'm not an expert but willing to bet it's not a lot? she's an orphan, actively aware that she and jonathan have only what they can cobble together. if she remains in the professional world after her marriage, who does the labor of running a two-person household - something we here on tumblr complain in 2023 is difficult if everyone has a full-time job, and which was much more difficult with more than a century's progress in domestic technology still to go (and this isn't getting into childrearing). would their combined incomes be enough to afford a domestic servant? idk shit about the economic position of late victorian women so these are not questions i am presenting as having ostensibly "obvious" answers - i really don't know. but i think these are things that are worth considering when we think about mina, her ambitions, & her relationship to shifting cultural currents (which were really shifting quite quickly - the "new woman" was such a recent coinage at the book's publication that if you assume, for example, that the epilogue is meant to take place in its publication year, the events of the novel precede its first appearance in print), and i think it's just never really quite as simple as "well this is what she Believed." our world makes our beliefs at least as much as the other way around.

(2) the other thing that's been in my head is that in a more contemporary framework of how gender operates, it is easy to assume the dichotomy of technology/science/jobs/boy stuff vs. domesticity/home/housewife/girl stuff extends backwards throughout time forever. but, first off, domestic labor is labor and mina is still very much looking ahead at a life of working full time - just not at getting paid. but secondly, homemaking was one of many things getting brought under the umbrella of "science" in the late 19th century (along with, to name examples from the book, psychology and criminology). like a lot of things in my brain the "scientific housewife" is something i vaguely remember hearing about in some college class or book but don't have any ready cites for, but while googling last night i found this very cool recent article [linked below because the app will not fucking let me make a text link] that looks at the evolution of instruction in science, housework, and domestic science at two english day schools for girls in the late victorian/early edwardian (the kind of school i think mina may have attended and taught at, as i don't believe we're ever given much detail about her place of work), and which provides some background info on the idea of the "scientific housewife":

Scholars have since recognised that the middle-class home was “the locus of back-breaking toil” Domestic servants were not as prevalent as once thought, and in some cases it was common for mistresses to work alongside them. The average middle-class woman would likely have been at least partially a housewife, or, in other words, she would have undertaken some domestic labour herself. In contemporary culture, a link was also being forged between housework and science; historians have charted the ideology of “scientific housewifery” or “scientific motherhood”, which encouraged women to embrace science, medicine, and technology in the nineteenth century, to enhance domestic life and make it more efficient, more enjoyable, easier, and healthier for the family. Work by Judy Giles and Joanne Hollows has suggested that ideals of a modern, scientific housewife emerged in the first half of the twentieth century with the decline of domestic service. Given that many middle-class women would have been undertaking housework themselves in the nineteenth century, this article asserts that the cultural construction of the scientific housewife existed before the decline of domestic service. This article builds on the work of Nakagomi by considering the place of domestic subjects and science in schools as a window into a broader societal conceptualisation of housework and the housewife.

one interesting thing in this article is that the two schools profiled actually had strong differences in how they conceptualized and approached their domestic programming, which reminds us that big-picture ideals are always being navigated, redefined, and contested in practice. it also emphasizes that for at least some teachers and schools for girls, the teaching of science was considered an important part of the intellectual development of the students - a position, fascinatingly, NOT taken by comparable boys' schools of the period, which tended to marginalized science education in favor of the classics, which was a wonderful little reminder for me about just how incredibly fake gender is. but also i think this article (which identifies some shifts happenings in the 1890s, like really this novel came out at The fulcrum point of the culture) helps us consider that the seriousness with which mina takes her future home-making as a vocation can be read as part and parcel of the novel's fascination with modernity, technology, science, and progress - and indeed given the moral panic about lazy mothering the article mentions as arising in the press a few years later it even lets us consider that mina's status as a female victorian ideal and her temperament of someone deeply pro-science may not have appeared to be in as much tension as we might assume.

#dracula daily #it's good to have hobbies. i guess. i guess this is good.

142 notes · View notes

k-rising · 1 year

Text

Pick a card: your current energy

DISCLAIMER: readings are used as a guide, but the decisions you want to make for yourself are YOUR RESPONSIBILITY. this is for entertainment purposes only.

☞ choose a pile that draws your attention the most.

☞ you can choose more than one option, but I recommend that you stick with the first one you chose.

☞ readings don't have an expiration date.

⁎₊✧˚♡⁎₊✧˚♡⁎₊✧˚♡⁎₊✧˚♡⁎₊✧˚♡⁎₊✧˚♡⁎₊✧˚♡⁎₊✧˚♡⁎₊✧˚

𝓟𝓲𝓵𝓮 𝟏ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ𝓟𝓲𝓵𝓮 𝟐ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ𝓟𝓲𝓵𝓮 𝟑

⁎₊✧˚♡⁎₊✧˚♡⁎₊✧˚♡⁎₊✧˚♡⁎₊✧˚♡⁎₊✧˚♡⁎₊✧˚♡⁎₊✧˚♡⁎₊✧˚

𝓟𝓲𝓵𝓮 𝟏

there is a very relaxed energy and a very confident one as well!

you are in a moment of your life in which you need to make a decision, but you have to be very careful with what you choose because, despite the fact that you have fascinating options and that they guarantee that you can achieve wonderful things, many times this doesn't happen; people can fool you. you have to think twice before making a final decision.

some of you may be working a lot with many people lately and others may be just in constant contact with people. whatever the case may be, this contact can benefit both you and the others.

for some of you, you are letting things flow. for others, on the other hand, you may want to start doing so. I'm visualizing you enjoying your leisure time and I'm also visualizing that you are beginning to pay more attention to your inner voice. you are reflecting a lot and making an honest criticism of yourself. you want to start living your life a different way.

a lovely surprise will come into your life soon and it will make you very happy. as I said before, your intuition is trying to give you a message... it's up to you if you want to listen to it.

you are leaving or you want to leave behind many things that have been bothering you for a while now. this can also be interpreted as meaning that you want to go on a trip to a distant place or move abroad, more specifically to another continent.

⸻

𝓟𝓲𝓵𝓮 𝟐

there is a mix of nostalgia, emotion and sadness all together.

I feel like you started to be more generous, calm and understanding, but something happened in between that, from one day to another, you started to feel sad.

for some of you, you may have experienced a not so pleasant situation and had to ask for help from a professional (idk why, but a psychologist comes to mind) or a friend/acquaintance/relative.

nostalgia here is key in this reading. you may have seen someone again that you haven't seen in a while or you just started a hobby you used to do as a kid… but, like I said, this, in some way or another, made you feel sad… I feel like this has something to do with some truma or unresolved situation.

as a result of this, you may have considered that you lost your opportunity with that person/hobby, despite the fact that the potential was always there… however, nothing is lost. it's never too late to resume a friendship/relationship or make that hobby your current job.

if in your case it is someone in particular who hasn't seen each other for a long time and got back together… I feel that this person was your friend, but then you realized that this person has changed and he/she let you down somehow.

⸻

𝓟𝓲𝓵𝓮 𝟑

you're not having a good time lately. you're feeling lonely, isolated and lost. you don't know how to continue with your life and which way to go. you're in a difficult situation where you are taking everything in an extremist way and you cannot make a balance.

for some of you, I feel that all this arises from a disappointment regarding your friendships and for others regarding your future with your studies/work. for the second option, if you go to university, I feel like you left a career and want to start a new one. I feel like you're not getting much support from your parents and that makes you very upset. I think they are comparing you a lot with someone in particular and you don't like that at all.

even though you feel like you're stuck, everything has a solution. it's your future after all and you can do whatever you want with your life. you have to learn to have more self-confidence and pursue your dreams.

⁎₊✧˚♡⁎₊✧˚♡⁎₊✧˚♡⁎₊✧˚♡⁎₊✧˚♡⁎₊✧˚♡⁎₊✧˚♡⁎₊✧˚♡⁎₊✧˚

‧͙⁺˚･༓☾　𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑜 𝑚𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔! 　☽��･˚⁺‧͙

#pick a card #pick a pile #pick a card reading #pick a pile reading #tarot #tarot reading #tarot community #pick a pac #pick a pac reading #free tarot reading

460 notes · View notes

anon-sect · 6 months

Text

PART ONE

Collab with @jkob85

Mike was in a pickle. He had placed bets on his fantasy football score card that didn't go well. To make matters worse, he had bet a substantial amount of money on his score card. It was so much that it would take some time to pay it all in full. He saw his phone ring. The caller ID read the name of the guy he lost to. He decided not to answer the phone, especially since he couldn't pay the man his money. Unfortunately, this particular mam was not known to be the nicest of guys. He had a reputation of being known as a total jerk, but if he ignored him, maybe he might forget about the bet.

After a full couple of days of ignoring his calls, Mike had a visitor at his apartment door. He opened it, to see Drake standing there. "I had to show up in person since you don't answer phone calls or texts." He said to Mike as he pushed his way into Mike's apartment.

"I don't have the money to pay off the bet, Drake." Mike followed behind him into his own apartment. He knew that Drake was a jerk, but to force his own way into his place was a bit much. "I will let you know when I have it. So you can leave now." He demanded. He watched as Drake went to sit on his couch and put his feet on his table like he owned the place.

"I don't really care for excuses. I just want my money, okay. And now, not years from now." Drake folded his arms while looking at Mike. He was here just for that, and nothing else. "Like I said, you get it when I have it. Otherwise, get out of my place." Drake saw Mike demand. Mike then thought of a solution that could benefit him and Mike. "Okay, I will waive you bet and leave on one condition." He told him.

Mike was curious about what this new condition could be. If he could get out of paying the bet and get the jerk out of his apartment, he had to know what it was. "What are your terms then?" He asked. Mike saw a sadistic grin on Drake's face. "Place a bet on this coming weekend game. The collateral you put down on the bet is yourself instead of money since you can't pay off the previous bet. If the team you pick wins, you are off the hook and owe me nothing. But if that team loses, I own you. Your choice, or pay me my current bet you owe." He didn't like the other option as much as he didn't like the first one. But he also knew how crazy Drake could get when you owe him. He nodded to the new option. Since both knew who were playing this coming weekend, he picked a team for the win. Seeing that Drake was satisfied, he saw him go back to his front door. "I will collect next time if you lose again." Drake told him and walked out. Mike really hoped the team he chose would win.

The weekend came, and Mike watched the game closely. The team he chose had a great lead in the first quarter but lost the leading score in the second quarter. The first half of the game ended with them down by a couple of points. For the last two quarters, it was a close game that ended in a tie, resulting in going into overtime. But Mike hung his head in disappointment when the opposing team scored the next point to win the game. He had lost another bet to Drake. His phone had a text alert. It was from Drake, and it said that he was coming to collect later on today. The only positive was that it wasn't a money bet.

It was several hours later, Mike saw Drake at his apartment door. He was almost tempted not to open it, but that might make Drake bust down the door. He let him in to his apartment. He noticed that he was holding a strange device.

"You want the good news or the bad news?" Drake asked a confused looking Mike as he saw him noticed the TF device in his hands.

Mike didn't know what kind of game Drake was playing at the moment, but he did wanted to know what exactly was going on. "Good news first then." He replied to a smirk on Drake's face. "You don't have to pay me a single penny on the previous bet." He got a reply back as the strange device in Drake's hand was now pointing at him. A beam of light shined on his body from it. "Bad news is that you are mine to do with as I please for as long as I want." Drake told him. He saw him remove his shoes to see his bare feet. He wondered why he wasn't wearing any socks.

Suddenly, Mike felt strange. His apartment seems to become larger. Even Drake was getting taller than he already was. "I came to collect you. You will be going home with me, just not in the traditional way. I came here with no socks, but I am sure leaving with a special pair of socks. You." He heard him laugh as whatever was happening to him continued. He then realized that he was shrinking. His skin was starting to change, and it became almost cotton like. Drake's device was turning him into a pair of socks. Before he knew it, he had fallen to the floor as he lost all motor control over his entire body. He was on the floor facing upwards as his whole world view was giant size. His vision became blurry and then no sight afterwards. He found himself limp and blind on the floor, fearing what would happen next. He could hear Drake's maniacal laugh above him.

Drake watch as a normal human being was now a pair of socks on the floor for his size 13 feet. He picked them up to examine them. They were super soft and look supportive. He put them on his feet and they actually felt good. He put his shoes back on and walked out the door. Before he left, he made sure to put the lock the door since the previous owner would not be returning any time soon.

Mike may have been blind, but he could tell what was happening via his other senses. He felt Drake's feet enter his body, which he realized was split in two pieces. The slightly strong foot odor from his feet was foul. He could taste Drake's feet, and it wasn't something he would have wanted to do. He felt the pressure of Drake stepping on him. The part that really made him beg for mercy was when he was shoved into Drake's shoes. It smelled worse than his feet. He was trapped and surrounded by foul stench. As the walking continued, he faintly heard a door close. He quickly realized it was his apartment door, and Drake was leaving it. He didn't know exactly where he was headed next, but he was trapped around the feet of Drake for who knows how long.

Drake rather enjoyed the power trip he was feeling. He had never worn a guy on his feet before. It really felt like normal socks with just a little more comfort to them. Since he had some errands to run before heading back home, he decided he would break in his new pair of socks. The thought also crossed his mind that Mike could be useful in other ways than as a pair of socks as he drove to his next place he had to be. Till he got home, he would just think of his socks as just socks and not a person being forced to comfort his feet, even though the latter thought did put a smirk on his face.

Mike's mind was going crazy. He couldn't get used to the odor. One part of the odor was inside his sock bodies, and the other part was outside his sock bodies. No matter what, he was surrounded by it and trapped inside it. The constant walking on him also didn't help. He was being treated like a common object by Drake. He felt so embarrassed even though no one but Drake knew about the pair of living socks on his feet. It was just the sense of powerlessness that drove him crazy. He couldn't move any of the body, not even squirm. He was completely at the mercy of Drake with no one to come rescue him.

A few hours later, Drake finally got home. His feet felt so good the entire time he wore Mike. Once in his bedroom, he decided that he would mark Mike as his property in a special way. He got undressed and was just in his underwear. He pulled them down and got on the bed. He grabbed one of the socks, and placed it over his dick. He thought about the entire time if doing his errands and how he was using another guy as his socks. He thought about how Mike was trapped in his shoes totally against his will, surrounded by his foot odor. He got so hard, it didn't take long for him to ejaculate inside the unwilling sock. He jerked his seed into it, hoping Mike could taste it. He enjoyed it so much that he did the same thing to the other sock in the pair.

Mike thought that Drake couldn't torment him any worse till he was forced to taste his cum, not just once, but twice. He was really marking him as his property. He felt disgust for the guy, but it was powerless to do anything to stop him. He decided that if the opportunity to escape or over power should arise, he would do so. He may be trapped as a pair of socks, but his mind would not subcome to be submissive.

#inanimate transformation #shrinkage #foot domination #sock transformation

116 notes · View notes

lets-try-some-writing · 9 months

Note

I just finished reading your “Optimus as Unicron’s Sparkling AU” (IT WAS ONE OF THE BEST PEICES OF WRITING I HAVE EVER READ) and there was something I was left wondering about. What if Optimus joined the Decepticons in his exile instead of the AutoBots. However you want to do it is fine, whether that be because of Unicron’s constant urges, or the Prime just feeling so betrayed. Again it’s up to you entirely. But really you writing is astonishing, and absolutely amazing. Thanks!

Thank you so much for the praise!! My dear requester you have literally made my day with this (after I dug through my pile of requests to find your lovely idea). I love this whole concept, thank you very much. I wish I could draw better so that I could illustrate these scenes.

Previous part here. Part most relevant to the request here.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

The Autobots wallowed after they chose to send their Prime away, but left alone to heal and to think, Optimus's thoughts wandered. As he hid in an old garage, trying to compose himself and come to terms with all that had come to pass, he started to reminisce. He thought back on his life and all that had led up to his current situation, and as he did, he found his opinions shifting.

Over the first week, he remained firm in his belief that what he did was right. He struck his maker down, for if he hadn't, there would have been nothing left of his foster Sire's efforts. He could not condemn the one who raised him to continue on without a legacy. That was a faith he kept close to himself, but his thoughts regarding his mortal life began to be questioned. He fought for the Autobots to stop tyranny and to ensure that Primus's creations remained free. Megatron wished for freedom too, but his actions were monstrous, terrible by any moral definition. But then again, what was Optimus if not the creation of monstrosity?

By the end of the second week, Optimus began to doubt, not even bothering to move from his hiding place as he thought. At first he was plagued by guilt for even questioning, but then as he continued his contemplation, pieces he never considered began to fall into place. When he was Orion Pax, he was middle caste and was not shown the darker sides of society. He was foolish in his actions and his words, going on to provoke Megatronus by stealing the spotlight the Kaoni warrior deserved and fought so hard to obtain. He was willing to accept that he was wrong in that regard. But when he ascended to once again become a Prime, was he really wrong to fight back? Megatron killed mecha, he stripped them of their choice by tearing the council down without a care for those caught up in the backlash.

But then again, when was peace really ever an option? Mecha still would have suffered if things had been done slowly as he had hoped so long ago. There would have been pain all the same, it just would have lasted longer and been more drawn out. Fighting back against Megatron's revolution turned rebellion only brought greater suffering than if he had just allowed his former brother in arms to win. Not only that, but was Megatron really that wrong in his ideals? Yes they were more perverted from time and bitterness, however he still fought for freedom did he not? If Optimus had been there to steer him in the right direction, he could have appeased his maker by ensuring change was a constant while also assuring that his foster Sire's children didn't wipe themselves out in civil war.

By week three he came to a startling conclusion amidst his wallowing. He had failed in both his directives by trying so hard to maintain mortal morality. He was a creation of Unicron, his function was chaos and due to the kindness of his foster Sire, it was his duty to ensure his chaos was directed into something useful. In attempting to be something he wasn't due to his time as Orion Pax, he failed to bring change. The war was horrific, but it was static, nothing of note ever shifted. Always death, always battle, but there was no change. And in the never ending death, he was also failing his foster Sire by allowing his creations to drive themselves to extinction, even going so far as to encourage it by driving the war on and refusing to yield.

His Autobots didn't want him anymore, they feared him and all that he was. Even his oldest friend and his sparkling wished him to vanish. Optimus could not grant them that, he was eternal, destined to walk the stars until they went out and the universe unraveled. However he could fulfill his function and in doing so, finally bring about an end to the war that was driving his foster Sire's children to extinction.

When at last Optimus stirred, he did not reject his maker's touch. He relished in it. The Matrix pulsed in warning but Optimus ignored it for the most part. It was there to keep him on track, he would heed it when required, but his duty was long planned. He had a mission, a goal. He had to end this foolish war, and he was not afraid to wield the power granted to him from his birth to do so.

Thus as Optimus pushed himself up and abandoned the place he had taken shelter in, he found himself wandering. His frame broke apart into what it was in the beginning of times, a mess of energy and corruption balanced only by enough order to keep it contained. Unicron smiled and praised his creation through their bond with every passing moment as Optimus drew more and more upon his maker. In a matter of days, all remnants of the adaptation Optimus performed during the age of Primes faded away to reveal his true colors. A giant even amongst Cybertronian kind, he walked the surface of the earth, all its flora and fauna bowing to the one son of the being which spawned them. The Matrix screamed in concern, flaring wildly to try and reign Optimus back in, and it worked to a degree. Optimus's thoughts shifted, his ideals warping in response to the influx of his maker's power, but never did he become what his maker intended. Primus's touch was still powerful, but more subdued.

His attachments faded somewhat, ending up still present but distant in the ways of immortals gazing down upon their short lived comrades. He cared for his former team, he still loved his dear Autobots, but he knew what was best for them. The foolish children of Primus could not see their faults. The Decepticons were cruel, they were wild, and they were most certainly lost. However the Autobots were no better, their corruption ran deep, so deep in fact that only looking through the sight of one beyond mortality revealed it to him. Optimus had been so wrapped up in his war and maintaining morality that he hadn't seen the indoctrination, the functionalism, and the rampant biases that would most certainly lead to reinstitution of the council should the Autobots win. Changing their path was impossible now, but Optimus had no desire to kill those he held dear. He merely needed to play the side that needed his aid, just as he did with his false siblings during the first age.

They would hate him for it, but did they not hate him already?

With his frame having lost all its Cybertronian adaptations beyond the general form of one, Optimus was left with no ability to use internal commlink communication or any sort of technological advantage to contact Megatron. However Starscream quickly proved useful as soon as the seeker in exile was captured. Starscream shook like a leaf when he was wrenched out of the sky, and thus he complied swiftly when Optimus forced his shattered frame components to rattle in a mimicry of true speech.

Optimus: C̷o̴m̸m̸u̴n̴i̶c̸a̶t̷i̵o̷n̸ ̴m̷u̷s̷t̴ ̵b̷e̷ ̷a̸c̷h̵i̶e̴v̶e̵d̵.̷ ̶C̴o̴n̵t̷a̵c̶t̴ ̷M̸e̷g̶a̸t̴r̷o̸n̴ ̶o̵f̶ ̵K̵a̴o̶n̶.̶ ̶I̴ ̸m̴u̵s̸t̸ ̴s̵p̵e̸a̶k̵ ̶w̷i̴t̴h̴ ̶h̸i̷m̴.̴ ̶

Starscream, terrified for his life and unwilling to risk it: Of course my Lord.

Starscream was dutiful, and within the groon Optimus had communications established. It was of course an understatement to assume that Megatron was shocked. He witnessed Optimus's full might as Unicron woke, so seeing him in such a state once more put him on edge. However against all his expectations, Optimus did not threaten, he did not demand or speak in strange clinical whispers as he had last they met while the Prime was filled with the Unamaker's power. No, instead Optimus merely uttered his decree.

Optimus: M̴y̶ ̴m̵i̸n̶d̸ ̸w̴a̵s̵ ̷c̸l̴o̴u̵d̵e̶d̶ ̶b̵y̵ ̸m̵o̶r̷a̷l̴i̷t̸y̵ ̵t̶h̷a̵t̴ ̷I̷ ̷w̶a̴s̷ ̴n̸o̵t̸ ̵m̸e̷a̸n̶t̷ ̸t̶o̵ ̶c̶o̶m̶p̶r̴e̶h̴e̵n̷d̶.̷ ̴I̴ ̵d̷e̶v̸i̴a̴t̸e̴d̷ ̴f̵r̷o̶m̸ ̷m̸y̶ ̶p̵u̷r̴p̴o̷s̶e̶,̵ ̶a̵n̵d̵ ̴a̴l̵l̷ ̵o̷f̶ ̷P̸r̴i̸m̶u̸s̷'̴s̸ ̸c̷r̸e̴a̵t̵i̷o̶n̴s̸ ̸h̵a̵v̵e̵ ̵s̸u̴f̶f̶e̸r̵e̴d̷ ̵f̷o̷r̵ ̶i̵t̴.̴ ̵

Megatron: What do you want Prime?

Optimus: I̵ ̷w̵i̸s̷h̸ ̸t̸o̶ ̵m̴a̸k̶e̵ ̵t̷h̸i̸n̴g̸s̶ ̶r̸i̸g̷h̷t̴,̶ ̸t̷o̶ ̷e̷n̴d̵ ̵t̴h̶i̸s̶ ̸m̷e̵a̶n̴i̷n̵g̵l̸e̸s̸s̶ ̶s̵t̸a̷t̴i̸c̸ ̷c̵y̷c̶l̷e̶ ̶o̷f̷ ̷d̵e̸a̸t̸h̴ ̷a̸n̸d̷ ̶d̶e̷s̴t̵r̴u̷c̵t̸i̶o̶n̷.̸

Megatron: So you wish to slaughter me and my Decepticons with that newfound power of yours?

Optimus: N̸o̷,̴ ̷t̶h̴a̸t̴ ̶i̸s̸ ̵a̶ ̷w̵o̴r̶t̸h̷l̸e̷s̵s̵ ̶e̸n̸d̶e̸a̸v̴o̵r̸.̴ ̸T̶h̶e̴ ̵A̴u̴t̷o̴b̷o̴t̸s̴ ̴a̷r̷e̵ ̶g̷o̵o̸d̸,̵ ̴b̴u̷t̷ ̴t̷h̵e̷y̴ ̵a̸r̸e̶ ̸m̶i̷s̴g̶u̴i̶d̴e̸d̴ ̸s̶o̶ ̶g̵r̶e̶a̵t̵l̶y̵ ̵t̴h̶a̸t̷ ̶I̵ ̴c̴a̶n̵n̷o̴t̵ ̵f̶i̸x̸ ̶i̵t̷.̴ ̸T̶h̵e̷ ̷D̵e̴c̴e̷p̷t̷i̶c̷o̸n̴s̷ ̴a̷r̷e̸ ̵l̴o̴s̸t̶,̴ ̴b̸u̴t̵ ̵t̵h̷e̵y̶ ̵c̴a̵n̸ ̵b̷e̴ ̶f̶o̷u̵n̴d̶.̶

Megatron: Get to the point.

Optimus: I̶n̷ ̷e̶x̴c̸h̷a̵n̶g̶e̵ ̷f̴o̷r̵ ̶m̸y̷ ̴A̶u̸t̸o̸b̷o̷t̸s̸ ̵b̸e̴i̶n̴g̶ ̸a̷l̶l̸o̵w̸e̵d̶ ̶t̴o̴ ̷l̸i̵v̸e̵,̷ ̴I̷ ̶w̷i̷l̴l̶ ̸j̷o̵i̴n̵ ̸y̷o̵u̴ ̵a̸n̶d̵ ̷f̴i̵g̶h̷t̸ ̷f̴o̷r̵ ̸t̶h̷e̶ ̷f̵r̵e̸e̷d̴o̶m̵ ̷o̵f̵ ̶y̴o̶u̴r̸ ̶k̶i̴n̷.̷

There was a great silence from all present as the words were spoken. Starscream froze up, incapable of processing the Optimus Prime of all mecha was about to jump ship and swap sides. Soundwave very nearly lost his mind the moment the audio from the commlink was relayed to him. Every other present commander had to reboot their audial systems just to be sure they heard right. As for Megatron? He stopped, his optics wide as he listened and waited for the other shoe to drop. When Optimus said nothing else, he rebooted once and then nodded simply.

"I always knew you would make a fine Decepticon"

With no reason to doubt the Prime in his declaration and sensing Unicron's affirmation through the vague connection Megatron held to the chaos god, Optimus was soon allowed on board the nemesis. He was met with raised blades and increadible suspicion due to his prior behavior, however within a few weeks, that hostility all but vanished as Optimus proved his worth. The Decepticons were still wary of him, his field and nature as one of the Unmaker's creations ensured that. He was their opposite, a thing that was similar to them but not the same. Even still, the Vehicons laughed in joy when Optimus joined them on the battlefield as one of their own for the first time, much to the horror of the Autobots there to fight.

Bulkhead: Optimus? What are you doing?!

Optimus: I̶ ̵w̶a̵s̸ ̷l̶a̶x̶ ̷i̴n̷ ̸m̷y̵ ̷d̸u̷t̵i̸e̸s̴.̷ ̸B̵u̶t̷ ̶n̶o̵ ̷l̸o̴n̸g̵e̴r̵.̵ ̶I̷ ̶w̵i̵l̶l̵ ̴e̵n̷s̷u̸r̶e̶ ̷t̷h̶i̴s̶ ̶f̵o̷o̴l̷i̸s̸h̸ ̷w̸a̸r̶ ̶c̴o̵m̸e̸s̶ ̶t̶o̴ ̷a̵n̸ ̵e̴n̸d̶.̴

Arcee: Have you lost your mind!? What does that even mean!? What are you doing with the Decepticons?!

Optimus: D̷o̸ ̴n̷o̵t̸ ̶f̴e̸a̷r̴ ̸l̵i̵t̴t̵l̵e̸ ̵c̴h̴i̵l̵d̵r̷e̴n̷,̶ ̶y̴o̵u̷ ̸b̴e̷l̸o̷n̷g̴ ̵t̴o̸ ̶m̵e̴,̸ ̵a̸n̵d̴ ̷t̴h̶u̷s̷ ̴I̷ ̵w̵i̴l̸l̸ ̵m̶a̴k̶e̶ ̴s̴u̷r̵e̷ ̸t̴o̷ ̸k̵e̶e̶p̷ ̷y̴o̸u̷ ̴a̶l̴i̶v̶e̴ ̸a̸s̴ ̶I̴ ̵s̴e̶t̴ ̴t̵h̵i̵n̶g̶s̵ ̸r̴i̴g̸h̷t̶.̷ ̴

Unicron rejoiced as his son wrecked havoc on the battlefield. The children wept as they watched the recordings of the event. Bumblebee pulled away, blaming himself for his Sire's fall. Ratchet grew more and more guilt ridden, and the rest of the team were not much better off. They had failed and in their hubris they had driven their leader into a darkness they feared he would never emerge from. All the while the Decepticons grew more and more hopeful, all eager to see the war brought to a close even if none were comfortable around the Prime who now bore their emblem with controlled apathy.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #optimus prime #team prime #megatron #starscream #decepticons #the sparkling of unicron au #the matrix of leadership #eldritch abomination #yeeeeah op done lost his marbles just a bit #unicron has never been happier #there is nothing wrong with his kiddo #nope totally normal

82 notes · View notes

callsign-phoenix · 9 months

Text

I wrote this for my 1.5k follower celebration, I hope you like it!

It is a Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x gn!reader blurb, requested by @shanimallina87.

Thank you @footprintsinthesxnd for proofreading!

The prompt requested is: jumping unexpectedly on their back when they’re walking ahead of you.

Warnings: none

There was nothing like spending a day off with your boyfriend Bradley.

While he was extremely serious about his work, Bradley could be very fun away from it, and that showed whenever the two of you planned something nice for an afternoon or weekend.

Bradley loved quiet days spent at home, snuggling while watching tv, reading to each other or attempting to cook, but he loved going out just as much, so you chose between those options whenever you had the chance.

You were absolutely in love with each other and Bradley was happy whenever you were happy, so there was a lot of smiling and laughing in your everyday lives.

It was nice that as a part of the Navy he was often stationed near the sea, where you could go to the beach, surfing, or just to a carnival.

You loved those trips the most because the smile on both your faces were constant.

You definitely liked slow, calm moments of love and comfort, but your favorite thing to do was go to the carnival with your boyfriend.

He was so tall and broad, you could find him in any public place, which was an added bonus for you.

He also bought you any sweet he saw, until you were stuffed to the brim with cotton candy, caramel apples and churros.

You really liked the rides too, no matter how bad they were, and the ferris wheel always involved lots of kissing.

You loved staying at the carnival until the sun went down, enjoying the scenery with the silhouettes of the rides in front of the orange sky.

It was always very romantic and you usually went to the pier if there was one, it was the perfect place to find time to calm down, in the arms of a lover no less.

Bradley was walking ahead of you, with a giant teddy bear in his muscular arms, which he had won for you at a shooting booth, of course.

It wasn’t the first one, far from it, ever since you found your shared love for carnivals he had won something for you in every one of them.

The bear currently nestled in Bradley’s arms was to join the others when you got back home, which already made you smile.

You took a few seconds to slow down and take in your happy moment, watching Bradley and looking around to see the carnival, all the happy people and the setting sun.

When you looked back ahead you saw Bradley slowing down, glancing at you with a cheeky smile on his face.

His Hawaiian shirt was straining against his biceps and his shorts fit snugly in the perfect places, which gave you a thought that you took literally.

Before you could do anything else the words ‘jump his bones’ jokingly flashed through your mind and a mischievous grin appeared on your face as you started running towards him, taking him by surprise as he was looking ahead towards the sunset.

You let out a giggle to prepare him and your heels thumped on the pier before you jumped on his back, squealing slightly as you landed where you had intended to.

Your legs wrapped around Bradley’s waist immediately and your arms wound themselves around his shoulders, and Bradley didn’t even jump.

Instead he too let out a chuckle and wrapped his arms around your thighs to support you, gently holding both you and the giant bear up.

You leaned forward slightly, the smile never leaving your face as you peppered a trace of kisses over his shoulders and neck.

Bradley caressed one of your thighs with his thumb as a reaction and held you closer.

You spent another few seconds in silence before he turned his face to look at you, his side profile as gorgeous as the rest of him.

There was a grin tugging at his lips when he squeezed your thighs in his grip, to show his appreciation for your affection.

“I love you too,” he chuckled, and you kissed his cheeks in gratitude.

tagging: @starkleila @mayhem24-7forever @green-socks @letsfvckingdance @shadeds-library @jewels98 @yespolkadotkitty @whateverbagman @neptunes-curse @sweetheartlizzie07 @top-gun-rooster @iloveprettyboysblog @ateliefloresdaprimavera @imjess-themess @littlebadariell @angstyjellybean @marchingicenotes7 @midget713 @supernaturaldawning @gspenc @adorephina @gigisimsonmars @bespinnn @malindacath @aerangi @kassieesworld @kwanimations @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @marvelandotherfandomimagines @kmsryles343 @mavericksicybabe @kendra-rose @desert-fern @mavrellover91 @allivingstone01 @rhettabbotts @withakindheartx @trikigirl271 @cherrycola27 @bonitanightmxres @ratcatcher2world @glowingtree @wingmanvenus @roosterforme @oliviah-25 @natasharomanoffisbaebby @tipsykeen @teti-menchon0604

(please tell me if you want to be added to the taglist, or use this link)

#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster top gun #top gun rooster

58 notes · View notes

lemonhemlock · 10 months

Note

I don’t know why House Stark makes Targs fanatics foam at the mouth when the Lannisters have been that family’s biggest nightmare throughout their reign, and Aerys was incredibly jealous of Tywin and felt upstaged by him. The Lannisters putting in all the hard work to bring down that cursed dynasty since they set foot on Westerosi soil and their effort doesn’t even get appreciated. And thanks to Cersei, Rhaenyra’s and Daemon’s descendants no longer sat on the Iron Throne (because let’s not forget that Robert is their direct descendant and his paternal grandmother is Rhaelle Targaryen).

i have to say, i haven't paid much mind to targnation-starkdom diplomatic relations in order to make a qualified assessment about this. i was under the impression that targ stans were mostly neutral about the starks as a whole? the only one they really seemed to hate was sansa

and, honestly, a lot of that is due to their inability to identify that daenerys and house stark MAY end up having differing, incompatible objectives, otherwise, yes, they would be absolutely foaming at the mouth. but from what i've observed, they mostly just can't fathom why anyone "decent" could ever possibly align themselves against god empress dany christgaryen, so in their fantasies, dany & the starks mostly end up being friends

the sansa opposition is a direct influence of the show, because, for some reason, d&d decided to pile all the possible stark/north dissatisfaction with daenerys on top of her and make her the odd one out

as for the second part of your post, i, for one always found it pretty cool how the targaryens' (+valyrians') doom was entwined with house lannister in one way or the other, but there's no current evidence that this was some long-form historical plan of theirs passed from generation to generation. they have been opportunistic and sometimes even ruthless in their advancement, but i'd say they settled for the nuclear option only as a last resort. tywin's betrayal of aerys came after long years of deranged behaviour and when he was more-or-less losing the war anyway, whereas cersei endured a lot at robert's hands before she decided to hurry his death along. her motives were entirely personal, not ideological i.e. some parasocial historical beef with daemyra :))

also, since i've already started ranting, i wish we could nuance the discussion of robert's death a little bit, because people are a little too eager to point the regicide finger at cersei, IMO. yes, she told lancel to spike robert's wine, but lancel didn't hold the king down and waterboard him with alcohol against his will. even if robert didn't know it was strongwine, he knew it was WINE and he kept drinking it while intentionally and purposelessly placing himself in a dangerous situation. he surely must have felt it was heady, yet he kept drinking it and did nothing to modify his behaviour - basically the equivalent of a medieval DYI. robert was fully in charge of his decisions and his bodily integrity and he chose to do the stupid thing anyway. he wasn't murdered. he did this to himself.

#there's no way in hell a seasoned drinker like robert didn't realise that the wine had a higher level of alcohol than normal #you don't blame the bartender for selling you the liquor that makes you commit an accident later on #ask #idk what modern crime cersei and lancel could be charged with but it ain't murder #lareinechevaliers #cersei lannister #robert baratheon #house stark #house lannister #anti daenerys targaryen #anti house targaryen

62 notes · View notes

alexiswritingstuff · 2 years

Text

Anything to make you happy.

(GUYS I KNOW I’VE BEEN GONE FOR SO LONG, I’M SORRY. MY SCHEDULE KEEPS CHANGING BUT I AM GIVING YOU FUEL FOR NOW. I HOPE YOU ENJOY.)

Pairing: Glenn Rhee x gn! reader.

Request: Him getting you comic books on a run, a cute small lil drabble.

AN: I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it. I honestly couldn’t describe how much I like Glenn as a character. He’s so comforting :((

Please keep the requests for him coming in!! I would love to write more for this guy!

Warnings: Nothing too bad. There are general descriptions of an apocalypse and the consequences of one. Little mentions of death (not Glenn or the reader.)

This also might be very long as I like to add in moments between other characters as well as the main one it's centred around, so... Yeah, get yourself comfortable.

An apocalypse is something people can prepare for depending on the amount of time they have. They can get food supplies, weapons to protect themselves, extra clothes if needed.

But the one thing people don’t think about in that moment... is entertainment.

I mean, sure, if the world was ending right in front of your eyes, having something to do when you were bored wouldn’t really be something that would be on your mind. Except...

What happens when that time does come?

Your group had finally secured a place to stay after moving around for weeks on end. You went from house to house, neighbourhood to neighbourhood, and even in a literal circle because of the events of the farm.

But now you had something.

You had a home.

The only downside, however... was that the place was in fact a prison. Meaning that you had to live whatever life you had left inside a prison cell.

At least in this world, it was optional.

You currently found yourself residing in the cell that you chose. You were sitting on the lower part of one of those bunk beds, with your back leaning into the cool stone wall that the bed was up against.

The answer to the previous question of ‘what happens when the time of boredom comes’ in your case, was reading.

Well, it wasn’t like you just pulled out a full on novel and started following these characters on an emotionally descriptive journey that never left a thought unknown.

They were comic books.

The last contact you have with your previous interests before this whole zombie invasion thing.

You flick onto the next page, wide eyes concentrated and eager as they scan over the action taking place across the smooth paper. An edition of a Batman series you used to follow growing up.

It may have been the same scenario over and over again. You know, some form of evil occurs or someone turns bad, makes a racket, and may even take someone to get Batman’s attention.

But every single time... he gets there.

The moment there is that feeling of success from the evil doers, or that sense of surrender from the hostage taken to rile people up, he appears and fights until things are safe again.

He barely gives up, and even when he does, it just shows you that he’s human. He’s just-

“Y/n, hey,”

When the sound actually caught your ears, you began to blink rapidly. The action scene that was previously playing through your head began to fade away until your focus now landed on a figure that stood in the doorway. Your doorway.

Glenn smiles for a second, waiting for the book in your hand to lower before he continues on, “Uh... Daryl is planning to go on a run in like five minutes? And-- And I’m going to go with him.” the man explains with a few nods of his head as if trying to convince himself of what he was saying.

Now because of an introduction like that, you were expecting some sort of implication, or a reason as to why he was telling you this...

However, nothing else was said.

After staring at the man for at least five more seconds, your eyes narrow, “... Why are you telling me this?” Glenn blinks for a moment. Probably replaying the last few minutes in his head before his eyebrows raise, “Oh, I, uh... Sorry, would you.... Do you want to join us?”

“That’s what I was going to... ask.”

You suppress a smile, giving the guy a few nods of your head in attempts to ease him a little, “Um, I kind of said that I would help Rick with the farming today already... I mean, I can get someone else to do it, I’m pretty sure Carl would--”

“No, no, no, that’s fine! That’s fine!” Glenn suddenly insists with his hands held out in front of him for further emphasis, “That’s-- That’s okay, um...”

“I’ll see you later then, huh?” the guy continues while you watch in amusement, finally letting a smile take over your lips when he looks back one more time, “I hope you enjoy your... Wait, is that-- Is that a Batman comic book?”

Glenn’s entire body twisted in a matter of seconds after the words left his lips, and before you could even properly answer, he was sat down on the bed beside you, taking the book right out of your hands.

“Uh... Yeah, it is,” you confirm regardless of your confused state, just watching as Glenn flipped the book round so that the cover was visible in front of him. “Whoa, it’s in great condition,” he then points out before turning to you with narrowed eyes, “I didn’t know you liked comic books.”

“What?” you question almost instantly while you lean back a little, making Glenn feign fear as he gave them back, “I don’t know! It just-- I mean, no one else here likes comics, apart from Carl.”

“Besides, I’ve never... actually seen you read one... Ever. Not even back at the camp.” he adds on, and you let your fingers lightly graze back and forth across the book spine, “That’s mostly because I’m scared of ruining it.”

“It’s the last connection I have with my previous life.”

You know, whenever the topic of the world before the apocalypse came up, barely any of you had anything to say. It was mostly because it would end up with people having an existential crisis, but what else could you do about it?

There was a sudden sigh that passes through your lips after a moment. Your eyes flickered over the book in your grasp, it now being Glenn’s turn to watch, “It is my last one though,” you start up once again and turn to look at the guy beside you.

“Gotta make it count, right?”

The guy in question held no response. His eyes were practically glued to the comic book you held to the point that you thought he was going to make it float in the air or something.

“Glenn?” you question with a mild tilt of your head, becoming a little concerned at the lack of movement, but that at least mildly faded when his expression changed.

It was this sort of smug look that spread across his features. Like, he had this thought inside his head that he knew would gain praise if he said it... But he never did. “Shame.”

Without anything else, the man abruptly began to move.

He ducks his head a little and quickly pulls himself towards the edge of your bed before getting his body upright, all the while you just stared in utter confusion yet again, “What... Uh, Glenn?” you call out to gain at least a little bit of insight...

But he just walks out of your cell.

“See ya.”

~~~

The sun was right in the middle of the sky.

It was strong, every beam from that star spreading warmth across anything that the rays touched.

Especially your back.

You were doing what you previously said, which was helping Rick with the farming. The man himself had duty over the seeds, while you were the one doing the actual heavy work.

The tip of the garden hoe in your hands was placed against the dirt about a meter away from your feet. You took a moment, making sure that the tool was in the right position, letting it dig slightly in, before pulling it towards yourself.

Thus creating a small, shallow trench.

Once happy with your previous work, you let yourself move to the side, allowing Rick to do his part of the job.

Which he indeed did.

The man picked up one of those little pouches of seeds that the other guys managed to grab on a run, and began to sprinkle the little things throughout the newly dug line at an even distance, “Now,”

“I may not have experience when it comes to gardening, but,” Rick began with that usual gruff voice of his and leans back when he’d fully emptied out the small pouch, “I think within the next few weeks we will have some vegetables.”

“Or a new decoration for the yard,” he then adds on with less confidence, and you let out a mild scoff in response.

The two of you share a look, grins appearing on both pairs of lips, before you move back to the trench, using the smooth side of the hoe to reposition the dirt.

You let the tool in your hands drag down the new line of soil on the side, which in return covered up the seeds. And once at the end, “Or...” you dug the head of the hoe into the ground right beside it. “You could just look at the packet...”

“If you’re not too sure, that is.”

Your right arm was placed on top of the garden tool’s handle, the weight of your tired body now leaning onto it, while you wiped your sweaty forehead with the back of your hand.

It was now his turn to scoff.

The man shook his head, giving you a look of fake annoyance which ultimately failed as a smile curled at his lips yet again, “Yeah,”

“I guess you’re right.”

Before either of you could say anything else, there was a certain thing that you spotted beyond Rick’s shoulder.

It could barely be seen, considering the distance between both you and the oncoming thing. But it could be heard.

A motorbike.

Your face lit up in an instant. Your once tired and slightly nagging self fading away all at once as the sudden want to run surged through your veins.

And the moment Rick had turned back in your direction after looking at the bike himself, your eyes were on his, begging for permission to succumb to your feeling, but also apologising as it would leave him to do the work by himself.

“Go,” was all he said with a mild tilt of his head, and your feet moved before your brain did.

You did manage to get a “thank you” out to Rick when you ran past him, however, since you weren’t focused in that moment, you had no idea if he had actually heard.

Your legs were quick, one foot moving right after the other, while your eyes stuck on the transport coming closer and closer to its final destination.

However, it was far enough that you could make a quick pit stop at the barrel of water just on the outside of the farm area. There was a need to get the sweat and dirt off your warm skin anyway.

You shoved your hands in the cool liquid, swishing them round for about a second and even splashing some on your neck. But then you were on the move once again, wiping your hands on your trousers to get rid of the excess water.

It took you a moment to get to the first gate as you were kind of in the middle of the field, but thankfully someone was already there giving you a head start.

“Let’s go, Carl!” you yell out as the kid began to slide the huge gate open, trying to give him some sort of praise while also trying to distract the walkers from the incoming delivery.

Once the opening was now enterable, both you and Carl were quick to run through. “Okay, okay-- I’ll get the ropes, you get the gate,” you instruct, patting the kid on the shoulder before carrying out your mission when he showed an understanding.

Your feet skidded against the gravel underneath you in a matter of seconds when you got to the second gate, not even giving yourself a chance to take a proper breath as you hastily grab at the ropes without a moment to spare.

It was a new system. A reinforcement added after the whole Woodbury thing to ensure a safer entrance and exit.

It wasn’t much, but it was as good as it was going to get.

“Go, go, go!” Carl calls to you when he got the gate unlocked, and as soon as he started to pull it to the side, you had begun moving yourself.

The rope in your hands was yanked down in such a way that had your body practically floating as you used your weight to pull at it. And soon enough, after about a minute, the new doors began to open.

Your teeth were gritted, your arms were growing tired and the pungent smell of rotten flesh became practically the only thing in the air. But that wasn’t going to make you lose your focus.

Because as soon as those red doors hit against the lines of wooden spikes behind it with a whine that echoed through the visceral growls from rotten bodies, the bike made its way through, “All right, Carl! Move it back, move it back!”

With one last pull to the ropes, that felt like they had cut off your circulation, the set of blood covered doors closed right as the walkers had finally found out that it was an entrance.

You let out a huff of air, giving your now extremely tired arms a shake while Carl made sure that the official gate of the prison was completely secure.

“Good job,” was all that you said, giving him a gentle pat on the shoulder, which in return earned you one of his small smiles, probably more grateful of the fact that you didn’t call him a kid.

And with that, you were off once more.

The motorbike had stopped outside the first gate that you opened, and as soon as your eyes caught onto the figures that appeared with it, a smile returned to your lips.

They made it back.

A feeling of pure relief was passing through your veins when you watched Glenn hop off the back of the bike. He was unharmed and looked the exact same as he did this morning... with the additon of walker blood, “D’you guys have fun?”

But he was alive.

The guy smiled when he saw you, that light energy he always carried when in a good mood just radiating off of him, which is something that everyone who knew Glenn enjoyed, regardless of if they admitted it or not.

“Hey,” he breathes out when you were finally close enough, letting one of his hands raise up to your opposite shoulder once your body had concluded its movements next to him.

“Was it successful? Did you get good stuff?” you question, looking between the two boys while mirroring Glenn’s position, and Daryl slightly snorts before twisting round to take one of the backpacks attached to his bike, “Well...”

“Considering that this guy right here almost got himself taken out just to grab something,” he starts up through a voice that turned into a grunt halfway through when he pulled himself back into his previous position, “I would hope so.”

Sorry... What?

“Hey! You said you weren’t going to tell anyone!” Glenn points out after huffing out a breath, removing his hand from your shoulder to snatch the backpack from Daryl while you could only stare. “Oops.”

Your eyebrows were raised, lips parted with many sets of words aching to pass off the tip of your tongue until you finally decided. “Wha... You what?”

Glenn sighs when he saw Daryl’s amused expression. He gave him a playful yet meaningful glare, but then he steps towards you, letting his hand reside itself on your back once close enough before giving you a push as a signal to move.

This man better explain himself.

Back in your cell, as weird as that sounds, the pair of you sat on the old, ragged bunk bed. Both yours and Glenn’s legs hung over the edge of the tattered mattress which had sunk from the weight of two bodies after so long of nothing.

The man beside you was talking. Finally letting that story of his spurt from his lips, in a very dramatised manner.

“No, there was literally nothing! We didn’t see anything or hear those... those weird zombie noises-- I mean, Daryl didn’t even sense it or whatever.” Glenn ensures with frantic hands. Reliving the moment, “It just... All I did was reach for something.”

“That’s it... I looked at it and then went, ‘oh wow, you know? This-- This is exactly what I’m looking for’ and then BOOM! Walker.”

Even though this man was in fact talking about a near-death experience, there was a tinge of amusement that appeared in your chest. The frantic movements, the stumble of his words, the expression he held on his face.

He knew how to tell a story.

“Well, I’m glad Daryl was there then.” you comment before slightly turning your head, shielding the smile that begged to appear on your lips.

“What-- I mean, yeah... I guess,”

“But I could have got out myself.” Glenn points out, mildly offended at the lack of faith his best friend seemed to have in him, but you simply raised an eyebrow in his direction, “Could have? Meaning... that Daryl did save you.”

After going to speak, the man paused. His parted lips maintaining their position before they came to a close, while Glenn’s eyes averted from your own once you had faced him like before.

“Well... Again, yeah...” he began reluctantly before sighing, “But look, I was in an awkward position, okay?”

“I had the lower hand, I admit, however, it was literally grabbing at me from the other side of a shelf. I got jump scared!” Glenn exclaims, his voice raising in pitch, especially when your head jokingly shook, “I mean, I have played many horror games in my time-- Many, but nothing-- Nothing! Could’ve prepared me for that.”

The certainty in both his voice and his expression had your head shaking once again. It really was maddening to hear someone explain an experience like that in such an entertaining way.

... However, that feeling of amusement seemed to fade by the time your eyes were back on Glenn.

There was a new emotion that took over his face. It was unreadable at first; his gaze aimed towards a wall, lips closed, shoulders slightly sunk.

A memory.

“What are you thinking about?”

The question seemed to take a minute to process in Glenn’s mind. He remained as he was for about another second before he slightly leans back, a quiet exhale seeping between his lips.

“Uh,” he began through a sigh after closing his eyes with a shake of his head, “Nothing... Sorry, It’s nothing, it’s just... It was a weird moment.”

“Yeah, well, that’s understandable.” you point out before the cell could fill with silence again, “I mean, getting attacked by those things isn’t supposed to be fun, is it?” you then add, the continuation thankfully gaining a slight smile in response, “No.”

“No, no-- I know. I know... but.” Glenn insists, clasping his fist in his other hand, “It just made me think about all the times that things like that happened to other people, you know? And... How they weren’t lucky.”

“Or how some didn’t even have the chance to react, or--”

Those dark eyes had finally fallen to yours again, the expression on your face making him realise that he may have started to ramble.

He put his hands up all of a sudden, another sigh of air passing out his mouth when his palms reach up to his face, “Sorry! Sorry-- Oh, man, I didn’t mean to ruin the mood.”

“Hey, no,” you say quickly, placing a gentle hand on the top of his thigh before you could even think, “Glenn, listen, It’s fine! It’s a big thing to process... You’re doing great.”

Glenn kept his hands to his head, clearly still feeling the guilt regardless of what you said, but nonetheless the words prompted him to at least turn his face in your direction.

“Did you get what you were looking for, at least?” you question simply once his eyes met your own. It was an attempt to distract him, change the subject, so he could move on from self-pity...

However, you seemed to have created something much different.

Glenn sort of stared at you for a second. He blinked once... then again... and again, “Oh...”

Suddenly, his eyebrows raised, realisation stricking in those dark brown eyes before they began darting around the room like he was trying to find an invisible fly, “Oh-- Oh, the thing!”

“The thing-- Oh, hold on!”

There was not a single chance to get a word in yourself, as before you could even open your mouth to speak, his body had sprung up from the stiff mattress and hurled through the cell door.

“Gle-- Glenn?” you called when your eyes had caught up with your mind, but by the time you poked your head out of the cell for an answer, he had disappeared behind the curtain that hung in front of his own.

“Glenn?” you attempted again. Confusion was stretching across every feature on your face in a matter of seconds, and it wasn’t leaving anytime soon, as within the next second, the man himself reappears with a bag in his hands. “What is it?”

Inevitably, you were left without an answer. In fact, the only response you got was a grin forming on Glenn’s lips, and then he began to, gently, push you back into the cell.

At this point, you couldn’t even be bothered to question the man as he sat you back on the bottom bunk.

He retook his spot next to you with an eagerness that left your eyebrows furrowing, watching him unzip the pack as soon as it was in front of him for whatever mystery lay within.

And the next thing you knew, literally after blinking once, his hands were held in your direction, palms balancing an item that took a second for your brain to process.

However, even when it did, Glenn suddenly put a hand on top of the first thing and pushed it which lead to multiple other items spreading out underneath until it looked like a fan.

Comic books.

“Some are for me, so don’t go stealing all of them,” Glenn chimes in while the cogs in your brain finally turned the right amount, and after staring at the books like you just saw Jesus, your eyes went up to meet his. “Holy shit.”

“Holy shit, man! No way!” Within seconds, the books were in your hands. You flicked through them one by one, staring at each cover in absolute awe at the condition they were in. “They look great!”

“Man,” Your head shook, many emotions flooding through your head as you looked back at Glenn, who looked very chuffed with himself, might I add. “You almost died for these?”

“Hey, I mean, it was worth it, wasn’t it?! Like I said, these weren’t just for you.”

“And anyway, people would usually just say thank you, instead of taking a personal dig at the giver,” he then adds on in defence, even placing a hand over his heart as if you hurt him there.

A huff of air filtered out from your lips as you tried not to smile. But after looking at him for another second, however, it seemed to have failed.

With a mild shake of your head, you place the books, so that they sat in a pile to your side, before your arms decided to reach out towards Glenn.

A movement that had him reciprocating within seconds.

Your head landed on his shoulder when your arms were finally around each other. Even though there was no one to see it, that smile never had a want to leave their place on your lips.

“All right,” you say after a sigh, repositioning your head so that it was in the crook of his neck, “I will say thank you for risking your life for such incredible art...” Glenn’s body shook you as he tried not to laugh, “Just don’t do it again.”

“You’re welcome.”

You pull yourself out of the hug after the echo of his voice, “Seriously,” Your eyebrows were raised, each hand placed on each of his shoulders as you looked right into his eyes, “It’s like when I stayed with my grandparents.”

“If you showed even a smidge of happiness when you ate something in that house, the next thing you knew, there was like a hundred packets of it in the cupboard and the fridge.”

“Oh my god, I know, right?” Glenn beamed when a memory of his own struck his mind, and now the two of you were sat laughing in remembrance of the past.

Even the little moments were things people didn’t expect to miss.

“For real though, Glenn. Next time either take me with you, or don’t even try,” you began once the amusement had managed to die down, your eyebrows raising once again to make sure he got the message.

And he did. That sweet smile of his reappeared just for you, with the addition of little nods of his head.

“Okay.”

~~~~~

Seriously, I hope you guys enjoyed this.

I’m watching the walking dead... Again. I’m on like season 5 now and I can’t stop looking at Glenn.

ANYWAY, please send in more requests if you want them. There seems to be a lack of Male reader stuff when it comes to twd fics, so feel free to send me ideas if you want that changed, or just some more gender neutral fics!

Thank you for reading!- Alex :)

#glenn rhee #glenn the walking dead #glenn rhee the walking dead #Glenn Rhee Fanfic #glenn rhee x reader #glenn rhee x gender neutral reader #gn reader #The Walking Dead #the walking dead x reader #daryl dixon #rick grimes #carl grimes

296 notes · View notes

emerald-onion · 10 months

Text

Some characters in SCP Foundation: The X-File that I couldn't fit in my earlier works

Epic: Cross's best friend and also the Foundation's janitor.

Epic was also experimented on by his father when he was young (trauma bonding is the best bonding). When the Foundation recused him, they gave him two options: to forget everything or work with them. Epic chose the second one on the condition that he would neither be their Doctor or Agent as both of those positions are associated with some of his bad memories.

The Foundation agreed, hence him being a janitor.

Dust and Horror: The two broke college kids who pick up Killer by the side of the road and decide to adopt him. They think Nightmare is just some dude Killer is pining intensely after (which he isn't. Their relationship is strictly platonic) and gets arrested by being in the wrong place at the wrong time and are totally down with breaking him out of jail.

Half of Horror's face got disfigured when he was you due to a fire. It was at the hospital that he met Dust, whose parents are heavily abusive. Dust planned to take his brother and got the hell out of that forsaken house once he turned 18, but a strike from his father caused his brother's death by accident and changed his plan. Horror helps Dust kill his parents and cover up their death, which is also a reason why both of them are so negligent about the laws.

Papyrus: Dr. Sans's younger brother. Currently studying at college. His biggest dream is to work at the Foundation like his brother and Dr. XGaster, who actually saved them from an SCP when they were young and was the one teaching them everything they know about the abnormalities.

Sans hasn't disclosed Dr. XGaster's true death to Papyrus yet, only saying that he died in an accident. He doesn't know how to tell him that the man both of them used to respect and admire so much has done all of these horrible things.

And yes! All four of them are now open for asks!

#undertale #utmv #utmv au #undertale multiverse #undertale multiverse au #scp foundation #scp foundation: the x-file #epic sans #cross sans #xtale sans #dust sans #murder sans #horror sans #killer sans #undertale something new #nightmare sans #papyrus #xgaster

33 notes · View notes

thebookreader12345 · 2 years

Text

Career Decisions

Pairing: Kevin Atwater x reader

Summary: After Voight gives Kevin an unfair ultimatum about his career, and pressures Y/n into going against her morals, Y/n wonders if the Intelligence Unit is the right place for her

Requested: No

Warnings: mentions of racism, violence, and guns

Word Count: 1,621 Words

Note: The events mentioned in this fic are from the end of season 7 and beginning of season 8 of Chicago PD

"Hey, Kev," I greet my boyfriend as he entered my apartment. "You're late. I thought you just had to finish up some paperwork at the district?"

"I did. But I also had to have a conversation with Voight about all that stuff going on with the blue wall," Kevin spoke.

I frowned. "I thought all of that was over? I thought all of that stuff with you and Doyle was in the past?"

"It's not. In fact, it's only gotten worse. A lot of police officers heard that I wanted to go after Doyle, and now they're coming for me. For my job. They've done some terrible things, Y/n. They showed up to my house one night and parked up and down the street. The following night they jumped me when I got out of my car and beat me up. One of the officers planted dope in my car and then had some other patrol guys pull me over to try and find it. They even broke into my house and planted a bug," Kevin explained.

"Kevin!" I gasp. "Why didn't you tell me any of this? I mean, when I asked about the bruises, you told me you got them from falling off a ladder when you were doing construction at your house."

"I didn't want you to worry, and I definitely didn't want you involved in all of this. I talked with Voight tonight to see what I should do about Nolan, and he said I had two options. One, I get an official complaint put on my record, which means I can never be promoted to detective nor leave Intelligence. Or two, I lose my job," Kevin told me.

"What? That's ridiculous," I comment. "Those options are shit! You didn't even do anything wrong. Doyle was a racist son of a bitch who got himself killed for exactly that. That's the truth about what happened. You have every right to expose him for that."

"I know," Kevin confirmed. "And I didn't like those two options either, so I chose a third one. One I was happy with. I confronted Nolan and told him I'd come after him if he came after me again or anyone in the unit. I told him I'd expose everything he did to me, from the intimidation to the drugs."

"You're so brave, Kev. I'm proud of you," I praise and give him a big hug. "Now, I left your plate of dinner in the microwave. After you eat, want to do something to get your mind off of all of this?"

"Spend some time with my girl? I'm always down for that," Kevin responded and kissed the top of my head. "Want to watch that movie I've been telling you about?"

"I would love too," I answer.

..................................................

The few cases following Kevin and Voight's talk were difficult to get through, to say the least. The tension between the two of them was so thick it was hard to get work down. And the constant arguing didn't help. What I didn't think though, was that Voight would put all of the anger he had about the current situation towards the job.

"L/n, he's getting away. Take the shot," Voight ordered over the radio. I was positioned as a sniper on the roof of a building nearby while the rest of the team was on the ground, blending in at the meeting spot where Adam had set up a drug deal.

"Sarge, he's not armed," I notify my boss. "And we don't even know if he has any product on him."

"Did you not hear me? Take the shot," Voight repeated.

"Voight, I don't think I feel comfortable taki-"

"Take the shot, L/n! Now!" Voight demanded. I hesitated for a second, letting myself lose sight of the target. A moment later though, I re-aimed my scope before firing off one shot that hit our offender right in the leg. On the ground, I learned our offender was indeed unarmed, however, he did have product on him. Back at the district, I was sitting at my desk finishing up some paperwork from our previous case when Voight exited his office and leaned against the doorframe. "L/n, I need to speak to you for a moment. Come to my office."

"Boss, if you've got something to say to me, you might as well say it right here in front of everyone," I declare without looking up.

"All right. What the hell was that back there?" Voight implored. "I gave you the order to take the shot."

"And I did. Surgeons at Med are pulling a bullet out of our guy as we speak," I remind him.

"That man was a dealer who has killed almost a dozen teenagers because of his bad dope. If I tell you to take the shot, I don't want him down a leg. I want him on the brink on death," Voight announced.

"Yeah? Well I wasn't comfortable with taking that shot," I argue and set my pen down, finally glancing up to meet my boss' eyes. "He was unarmed, and he wasn't violent when we were doing our meet. You were asking me to go against everything I've ever been taught in the academy and on patrol. You were asking me to go against my morals, Sarge. What I believe to be right."

"You knew what you signed up for when you joined my unit. You knew how I ran things around here. If you didn't like how I ran things, you shouldn't have joined this unit in the first place," Voight stated.

"Maybe I shouldn't have," I retort. "You're not being a just cop, Voight. You're not even being a good boss. I mean, what kind of person orders one of their officers to do something their not comfortable with? More importantly, what kind of boss tells their officer that he either has to get an official complaint put on his record, meaning he can never get a promotion, or he has to quit. What it sounds like is that you're not standing next to Kevin when he needs you. What it sounds like is that you're taking the other side. You did wrong by Kevin, and now you're doing wrong by me. I don't think this unit is the right place for me anymore, Sarge."

"Y/n," Adam warned.

"No, Ruzek. Let her say her piece. Keep going, L/n," Voight urged. "If you're not in my unit, where are you gonna go? No one wants a cowardly officer in their unit, especially a disobeying one at that."

"I've actually gotten three offers from three different units in the past month," I announce. "I can call up any of them right now and have myself another job."

"Great. Then do it. I expect your transfer papers on my desk tomorrow," Voight spoke before disappearing into his office, slamming the door behind him.

"Y/n, what did you just do?" Jay asked.

"Wasn't it obvious? I just quit," I disclose and get up from my seat, swinging my jacket onto my shoulders. "We should all go to Molly's tonight and celebrate. One last hurrah, you know?"

"So you're just gonna leave us? What the hell, Y/n?" Hailey muttered and pushed past Jay to exit the bullpen.

"I'll go after her, talk some sense into her," Jay said and chased after his partner. I didn't blame Hailey for being upset. Afterall, her and Kim were two of my best friends. Kim got up from her desk next and pulled me in for a hug, squeezing me softly.

"I'm gonna miss you up here," Kim voiced. "Seriously. Who am I supposed to make fun of Adam and Kev with?"

"Hey!" Adam exclaimed. "The two of us are right here!"

"Don't worry, Kim. You're welcome over anytime," I assure her. "That goes for you too, Adam. And Jay and Hailey as well."

"And me," Kevin added and pulled me in for a side hug.

"You already have a key," I point out. "But yeah, you too. Well, I should get going since I technically don't work in this unit. I'll see you guys later. And I'll be by tomorrow to pack up my stuff."

"Y/n! Wait up!" Kevin called out and followed after me, stopping me at the platform past the first set of stairs. "Did you only quit because of what happened between me and Voight? I don't want you to leave if that's the only reason."

"Kev, I quit because this job is ruining me," I confess. "Sure, I also considered what happened between the two of you, but it was mainly because I felt like I wasn't myself when I was here. I don't want to be in a unit that turns me into a version of myself that I don't like. I'm uh, I'm really gonna miss working with you everyday. And I'm definitely gonna miss everyone else. They're my second family."

"I'm proud of you, you know," Kevin told me. "For following your heart. For doing what you think is best for yourself. I'm gonna miss you like hell up here, but I know that you're gonna do great things elsewhere."

"Thanks," I mumble and lean up to give him a quick kiss. "So, Molly's later. Don't forget. And tell Hailey and Jay for me, would ya?"

Kevin nodded. "Sure thing. Now, you know Platt is gonna go on a rampage when you tell her you quit, right?"

"Oh yeah," I confirm. "Trudy Platt will be pissed off, but I'm sure she'll understand. She always does. Speaking of her, I should go talk to her now. I'll see you later, Kev."

________________________

Taglist:

@prettypyschoinpink @securityfriendly-jay @scarletsoldierrr @lorenakaspersen @virtualreader @carnationworld @caitsymichelle13 @ncostin2001 @evangeline91 @just-arather-veryconfused-being @generalfarmmuffinagle @kaitlyn-marie-a @shywritermoon @jbbarnes212 @multifandom-loser @wanniiieeee @sesamepancakes @pinkbay-love

#one chicago #one chicago x reader #one chicago imagine #one chicago imagines #chicago pd #chicago pd x reader #chicago pd imagines #chicago pd imagine #kevin atwater #kevin atwater x reader #kevin atwater imagine #kevin atwater imagines #x reader #imagine #imagines

262 notes · View notes

drdiabolical · 6 months

Text

The Minimum Effort Principle

The following is a fic excerpt from my Google Drive, a crossover between BNHA and Naruto in which Kakashi was reincarnated in the BNHA verse but chose not to pursue heroics. Fate has other plans.

Status: Normal. Flow: Sufficient. Could be better, but they didn’t pay him enough to be better.

He peaked one tired eye over his pink ‘New’ 3DS XL - pink because it was the only one in mint condition at the second-hand store, unlike the black and blue edition which probably had been chucked around in the bottom of a middle schooler’s bag - and he contemplated doing his job.

He idly pressed ‘b’, subconsciously seeking out the satisfaction of the click. A moment passed in which he continued to stare at the wires, the flow of electricity he could feel, before he’d realised what he’d done and frantically scanned the bottom screen.

No! - he’d selected a dialogue option. A bad one. Angry red crosses pulsated around the digital lady he’d just been introduced to, clearly offended by whatever he’d chosen to say. Ugh. He knew better than to let his attention stray from otome games, a little bit of missed dialogue and he had no clue what was going on anymore.

With a sigh, he looked to the warehouse ceiling as though it were the heavens. Today wasn’t shaping up to be a good day.

Last week an enterprising hero had the brilliant idea to pull up the water pipes near his building as part of some half-cocked plan to blast a villain with the outpour and augment it using his quirk - something or other to do with steam. Six days passed and Kakashi still had to knock on his neighbour's door each morning to fill up a water barrel at the behest of their begrudging politeness.

Except this morning, he’d been called in early and his neighbours were asleep - what with him getting ready at three am. In short: no bath, no coffee, not even a splash of water on his face to wake him up.

After rushing out the house in yesterday’s clothes and yesterday’s stink, a bird shat on his head. Good luck, whatever, he took it in stride and did his best to wash the mess in the train station bathroom.

Then a villain hijacked the front cart of his train, rendering his early start pointless. He ended up tucked into the last cart wrinkling his nose at the smoker who’d decided to sit as close as humanely possible in an otherwise empty compartment. Fortunately, the day-old stink became a boon and urged the man to move away once it finally overpowered the cigarette stench. Of course, he gave Kakashi a dirty look, as though he wasn’t the rude one for trapping him in the corner.

Finally, Kakashi had arrived at work to find out his boss hadn’t expected him early. The rescheduling was an automated system error. He’d also made a snide comment about Kakashi’s presentation, but that wasn’t anything out of the ordinary even if it did grate a little more when in combination with the absolute clusterfuck of his morning commute.

Villains and heroes. Kakashi didn’t care for allegiances and lawful abidance at this point - he’d favour whichever party decided to stop dealing him collateral first.

Slowly, he lowered his head and stared dejectedly at the wires. Might as well do his job.

Crackling only he could hear sounded as he extended a lazy finger towards a current only he could sense. Static electricity fizzed as his nail grazed the rubber coating. Output ticked up on the gauge.

His job was a simple one. Unlike the big hitters on the basement level, he couldn’t generate electricity for the power grid. What he could do was influence existing electrical currents. Acutely deadly when focused just so, unbeknownst to his superiors.

They thought him a lazy untalented slacker who’d don the title ‘NEET’ if it weren’t for the government schemes in place for quirks like his. It wasn't an entirely incorrect statement.

Having lived one childhood playing shuriken roulette in the trenches singing quiet nursery rhymes beneath jets of flames and the rumbling of earth, he stumbled into peacetime and modernity like a stubby-legged fish out of water. Five years went by, and he learned how to let himself breathe audibly, walk normally, and take up the space a safe childhood allowed.

No village held his loyalty. He floated along the tides of the Japanese foster care system and experienced life as it happened without bloodied obligations cosigned by warmongers. Age five brought a threat to his carefree lifestyle, but one life taught him how to neutralise threats once identified, and he decided to keep the deadly facets of his quirk to himself.

According to public records, Kakashi government-assigned-surname Sato was in possession of the quirk “Current Control” which allowed him to manipulate the strength of electric currents to a minor degree.

Oh, how wrong they were, and how happy Kakashi was to reinforce the misconception.

Nihilism, he found, suited him well. Duty would not rob him of his life a second time over.

It was with this conviction, or lack thereof, he meandered to his department manager’s office and arrived twenty minutes late to see the irate face of the CEO.

Okay. Admittedly, not his typical summons. Alarm bells did not ring in his head, however, as his contract made him exceedingly difficult to fire unless he continually missed his shifts or did something particularly egregious. Plus, a simple firing wouldn’t require the presence of the CEO.

“Look at the clock,” the CEO clipped and jabbed a ringed finger at the digital clock on his manager’s desk.

Kakashi looked at the clock.

“What time is it?” The CEO asked.

“Seven Twenty-One,” Kakashi replied.

“What time was your presence requested in this office?”

“Seven oh-One.”

“Ah, good, you have it down to the exact minute. That should make this easy for you, then. How many minutes ago, therefore, were you supposed to be here?”

“Twenty.”

“Twenty minutes. Exactly twenty! So why weren’t you here twenty minutes ago?”

“I saw a mouse running around near the mains and I thought ‘oh no, what if he gets electrocuted and dies a horribly painful death’ so I saved it and fed it some of my sandwich in the break room before setting it free in accounting.”

Dumbfounded silence descended upon the office. Kakashi could read every mortified thought crossing his manager’s face and had to bite his cheek to maintain his stoic facade.

“… I. I do not care,” the CEO said and swiftly turned towards the door. “Follow me.”

Kakashi got the impression the CEO wasn’t going to be forthcoming if he asked after an explanation, so he gave his slowly perishing red-faced manager a shrug and did as he was told.

Sustaining his lackadaisical posture while keeping up with the impressive speeds he was led by was not an easy task but one he excelled at nonetheless because he immensely enjoyed irritating others by simply existing.

Otome games, dating sims, and trolling. The Kakashi Sato trifecta; principles to live by.

He gave a few limp waves to the real workers in the basement as they made their way through the heat. Sweat dripped from their brows as they poured their essence into generating electricity for the entirety of Tokyo. None returned his greeting except one woman on break propped up against a generator with an energy drink, whose exhaustion barred her from reacting to the sight of the CEO storming past and the company’s token disadvantaged orphan tagging along.

When they began to descend down a narrow ladder into a part of the building left undescribed on the floor plan (some old habits die hard, and knowing the quickest exit routes of any building he spent substantial time in was a useful skill for anyone to have in a world besieged by super-powered villains), old instincts pricked the back of his neck and his hair stood on end.

This was really weird. Weirder than calling the CEO himself down to talk him into resigning, his original hypothesis. This was more reminiscent of walking haplessly ignorant into an obvious trap. Which was weird because in what world would that happen?

Probably one in which rich CEOs worked with the villains sitting in their secret basements for monetary gain.

Because the three individuals sat on a couch in a low light sub-level room with a TV displaying an obscured face had to be villains. For Kami’s sake, one notable individual was a cloud of mist billowing out of a tuxedo.

The CEO’s demeanour switched up completely and he shot a grin at Kakashi. “Here he is, one of our prized electricians! He came to our company on a government-supported employment programme for specialised quirks. He’s one of our best.”

Oh.

“Most importantly, he won’t be missed - I know you didn’t directly ask after loose ends, but I used my initiative.”

He wasn’t being fired for incompetence. He was being sold off for false competence, because of his incompetence. Kakashi hadn’t anticipated this outcome when he first discovered he could do the bare minimum and keep his job.

The obscured man on the screen hummed amusedly. “Are you still processing, Mr Sato? You’re mighty quiet for what must be a confusing situation for you.”

He was fucked. There were no two ways about it. Escape and at the very least he’d be out of a job, if not hunted. Go with the flow as he had done in life so far, and who knows what terrible schemes he may fall into with these villain. If he even lived to find out.

Kakashi sighed, beleaguered. “You’re forcing my hand here. All I wanted was to get lost on the road of life, and here you are throwing in a crossroads.”

Place a man who controls electricity into an empty barren field, and he’s beholden to the whims of the weather. Place him in the heart of the entire city’s electrical supply, and his limits are boundless.

“Remember, you brought this on yourself.”

#kakashi hatake #bnha #naruto #bnha x naruto #excerpt #MWME

18 notes · View notes

gonnaupdatethisrandomly · 1 year

Text

Mick's interview with Motorsport Italy

Schumacher: "Privilege to be part of Mercedes, I feel at home

Article Link

After ending his relationship with Haas and the Ferrari Driver Academy, Mick Schumacher has chosen a different path, settling at Mercedes as a backup and simulator driver. According to the German, this will be an opportunity to learn from a winning team, but with the goal of returning to Formula 1 soon. After two years in the top series, the grid for the 2023 season will not see the name of Mick Schumacher, who was left without a seat after Haas' decision not to renew his contract in favor of the arrival of Nico H. It was clearly a difficult decision to accept, especially since the young German felt he had made revealing progress in his second season, despite a few crashes early in the championship when the car seemed to be more competitive. After also severing ties with the FDA, the Ferrari academy to which he was linked from 2019, Schumacher chose to take a completely different path, settling at Mercedes as a third driver.

For Schumacher, this will be an opportunity to confront a different environment and a top team that has been at the top of Formula 1 for years, while also learning from a champion like Lewis Hamilton. What's more, the German will also get to try out the Silver Star manufacturer's simulator, something that was missing at Haas, which sporadically relied on the Prancing Horse's facilities in Maranello.

Clearly, the intention is to return as quickly as possible to Formula 1, as happened with Nyck De Vries, which is why he is not currently considering taking part in any other series. Nevertheless, Schumacher will still keep himself in training, taking part in a few kart races throughout the year.

How does he reconcile the role of simulator driver with the track? - "Well, I think in the first place, because I have already driven last year's car, which is a new generation, that means that the approach I will have in the simulator will be very similar to what the drivers will have on the track. So, in order to have a direct comparison, I will be able to first of all talk about how the tires work, how the car behaves and how it should behave. And then, as a result, we will be able to modify and adapt the simulator quite quickly. And hopefully, with that in mind, we will be able to provide the team with reliable feedback, as well as a number of options that will hopefully work well on the track as well."

How does one prepare mentally for not racing this year? - "I will probably continue to have a very similar approach, let's say. I'll approach the weekend thinking like I'm going to race, to keep myself trained, but also to be ready, probably because it's a very different year. I will also try to understand what I can learn from this experience. And also to be as helpful as possible to the team, partly because I already have experience in terms of driving, but also because of the mindset with which I know how to approach a weekend. So yes, I will maintain the same approach."

How important is this season for your career? - "It is definitely a privilege to be part of Mercedes. But more importantly, it's also a place where I've always felt at home. So maybe it's not the step I wanted to take in general terms, but I think in many ways it's another way to improve my driving and prove myself as a driver. I hope I can help the team, but I'm sure with everything the team has done in the past, but also with all the experience they have, I'll be able to use it for myself to grow as a driver."

Did you drive a Formula 3 car during the winter break? - "Yes, correct. I drove the old F3 car, but I plan to drive a lot, or as much as possible, this year, in different categories and with different cars. And yes, I think probably for this season I've decided that I want to be as fit as possible, which I feel I've achieved so far and I plan to improve again until the start of the season. So yes, as far as action on the track, I'm still very active and I plan to stay that way."

Alex Albon talked about the benefits of not racing on the track. Where do you think you can improve? - "I will definitely take a similar approach as Alex [Albon]. But beyond that, it's also an opportunity for me to have, instead of one teammate, two teammates to watch, so I can see what they are doing. Maybe I don't have a direct comparison because not just behind the wheel, but I know how I would approach it, and this way now I can see in the live telemetry what they are doing and how they approach it. Same thing if it's an oversteering car, what they're doing with the various adjustments, what they're doing in terms of driving styles. Basically I can learn from that and hopefully add something to my baggage and be ready when I come back."

Do you have to have special skills? - "It always depends on the car, right? Whatever the car needs, that's what the driver needs to improve and adapt. So basically, I feel that, especially at the end of the year, I had all the skills I needed to drive the car to its limit. I still don't know how it is this year, because obviously we haven't driven it yet, but at some point… I'm sure there will be new skills needed, but that remains to be seen."

How might this role get you back a seat in F1? - "Obviously there is no guarantee, but I am in a comfortable position where I feel I can learn, I can make the most of this year, even if I don't drive. I'm sure that with the results I've achieved in the junior categories but also in F1, there will be opportunities. During the winter some people have already explained that there is interest."

Can Toto Wolff help you in managing your career? - "Toto definitely has a lot of experience, not only with young people, but also in general. So, of course, it's nice to have the opportunity to work with him now. Of course, I can only benefit from his experience and I hope to take the right steps with his help.

Are you trying to find a seat elsewhere besides his role as a test driver? "Not at the moment. It is not in my plans at the moment. Of course, the idea at the moment is to participate in all Formula 1 races, which, of course, involves a busy year. On the other hand, I plan to do some kart racing here and there, which is probably closer to Formula 1 than anything else."

#mick schumacher #mercedes #toto wolff #mercedes amg f1 #mentions #alex albon #lewis hamilton #f3 #karting

60 notes · View notes

tanniesjeom · 2 years

Text

when the camellia blooms | pjm

park jimin x kim! reader | 1 | 2

sypnosis: diagnosed with the hanahaki disease, you had only two options - accept a deathly fate, or never love again.

genre: au, angst, fluff, humor, friends to lovers? maybe.

warnings: many talks of death and dying, namjoon is the sweetest brother omg, unrequited love, swearing, pining, longing, fictional added terms and effects of the hanahaki disease, really sad reader, really sad characters, and lots of angst.

word count: (read author's note)

reminder: this is a sequel. please read part one here; however, this also could serve as a stand-alone, but I would advise you read the first part as well for the full experience.

a/n: i was mauling for a long long long time over whether i should do three parts at most or just keep this one really lengthy, and since i was afraid of losing track if i chose to cut it in parts again, i just decided to make this one quite a bit long. sorry!

"let me try to love you back to life."

"Is that what you think?"

You remember the long pause before your response, a deafening silence amidst the growing tense and suffocating air that evening as you spoke.

You had known then that Jimin regretted what he said the moment he did, but it was too late. He’s already said it, and he’s hurt you.

Jimin looks at you with ache as you stare accordingly at the blank wall, noticing the way your eyes have begun to well up in tears as the familiar feeling of tightness succumbs your throat, light feathers of pink flowers forcefully being swallowed down, "Do you think that I don't remember? That I simply don't care? That I'm just on the fence playing peek-a-boo with death on my door?"

Focusing on you with a heart contrite, Jimin places his bottom lip in between his teeth, eyes meshed together amongst sorrow as he swallows in shame, feeling completely guilty at his preceding words.

"y/n I-"

You then laugh ironically, halting him to a stop.

"Forgive me, Jimin."

Your throat is furthermore burning by each passing second as you direct your gaze at the cause of your painful love, "Forgive me if I prefer to want to spend my last days in peace with the acceptance of my crushing fate. Forgive me for not wanting to die on my death bed sulking and cursing the universe and God and myself and whatever I can for this unfair hanafuckinghaki sickness. Forgive me-"

You uttered every word that night with a sense of despise, a sense of spite, each one a striking arrow shot directly at Jimin's heart.

"-if I choose to pretend to be happy and to be okay for my brother and for your sake." You spit out, last words purposely said with more effect.

Taking a few steps closer towards him, you point your finger accusingly against his chest as your tears willingly fall, lips slightly quivering as your anger all the more increases the moment you two lock eyes.

Your breath is caught at the back of your throat as you look up, finding yourself standing in the very front of Jimin's presence.

You swallow harshly, height difference being of no use as your red eyes focusedly trained on his same ones tower over him, both pairs seemingy battling for agony, "But don't you stand there and accuse me of being indifferent- fucking indifferent of all fucking things towards Sung's death. She was my friend before yours, and losing her hurt just as much as anything else."

You remember crying out, not finding an interest on holding in neither your sobs nor your coughs any longer as you did so right at his face, further recalling how you felt not even an ounce of guilt whatsoever as you purposefully reminded him of your current illness in hopes of making him feel worse.

“y/n please...” Jimin barely utters out, almost visibly fading from the way you raise your voice further in his attempts of cutting you off.

"Don't. Don’t you dare accuse me of ever forgetting that night, because as far as I remember, I was the one who kept inside the pain of losing someone close. I was the one who held you when you cried, consoling you to an unbearable extent that I forgot to console myself." Still looking at him in the eyes, you speak out words of regret as you proceed to cough lightly, the pain inside you endlessly growing that you insisted on passing it to someone else.

One word after another, you could remember physically witnessing the pain in Jimin's eyes.

The way his eyebrows were furrowed together and the glistening streaks that ran along his red cheeks were an evident proof of your success in wounding him, but you didn't care. You told yourself you didn't care. You lied to yourself in saying you didn’t care.

No. You didn't care.

For once, you could still sense that rushing feeling of wanting to lessen the burden of falling in love with Jimin. For once, you wanted to make him feel the pain you've kept inside you for the past two years. For once- for once you wanted to be the cause of his pain, not the other way around.

But that once lasted only as is, just once.

The moment you speak those words against him, your heart begins to ache all the more, the dreaded feeling of guilt and shame and love and pain all united together in rising above your limit as you abruptly collapse onto his arms, growing weak and coughing brutally as the camellias say hello to its desired lover.

You eyes begin to desperately search his as you cling onto him, head proceedingly buried against his chest all the while sobbing uncontrollably, apologies escaping past your visibly whimpering lips, “I-I'm sorry, Chim. I didnt- I don't blame you, I'm so sorry-"

You remember seeing Jimin, just seconds ago having been distraught and practically falling apart from your direct words, somehow manage to gather himself as he stands his ground, still and determined on holding you securely.

His arms are wrapped around you in a protective yet delicate manner, eyes trained worriedly on your fragile state all the while patting your back, tenderly comforting you, “Shh- shh. It’s okay, y/n. Just breathe. Focus on your breathing, that’s right.”

Your breathing has gone erratic, lifting your head a tad bit in order to look at him as you reminisce that night, when you were the one holding him as he cried. "I'm so sorry, Chim."

You remember the first few of your countless apologies which Jimin nevertheminds, holding no other concern than that of which is your state of well-being.

"It's okay, okay? We're okay. Now c'mon, walk with me to the sofa. You can do that right? On three. One, two three..”

Minutes feel like hours as you recall the way Jimin assisted you for a time on end, treating you as though you were a rare delicacy with his manner of tenderness, softness, soft whispers against your ear and soft touches along your spine as he helps you find your amity once more.

Unaware that he is just that — your amity, your armistice.

Sat on the sofa, you continue on controlling your breathing as you inhale in and exhale out, Jimin's voice supple and light by the side of your earlobe as words of encouragement slip past his lips, still slightly red and swollen from his previous cries.

You could practically feel his breath against your ear with the sheer distance between the two of you, the noticeable intimacy of both your positions making you shudder and shut your eyes in an attempt of preserving in place another series of newly blooming flowers.

Standing up abruptly, you look at anywhere but Jimin as you scan your surroundings, all before making a clear statement.

Hesitantly, you whisper, "I think I should go."

Jimin's eyes haltingly falters, confusion capitulating his entire expression before attempting to reach out to you, "So soon? I think you should stay y/n-"

"Why?" You intervene motionlessly.

Caught aback with the benevolence and lack of sentiment in your voice, Jimin unrequitedly stutters as he responds, "Because y-your condition is still not well and I-"

"My brother is a doctor, Chim. I'll ask him to stay with me."

"-I just think it'll be better for you to stay here for a while and rest-"

"Better for me?" You begin, once more keeping his words short, "Or better for you?"

You remember Jimin's widened eyes, clearly not expecting you to say what you did.

"I.." Jimin thinks before continuing, hands grazing yours just as he speaks, "I just want you here. I need you here."

At his words, you remember recalling that exact phrase spoken to you the night Sung died, just when he caught himself falling apart and firstly reached out to you.

You remember the way he stared at you with a sense of longing, a sense of yearning, deeply wanting to convey an emotion you don't- you refuse to understand.

Because you recognizes the love held not only on his eyes, but on his touch, on his lips,

making you want to kiss him, hold him, touch him.

God, you just want to love him.

“Jimin..” Your voice feels light against his face, whispers eluding past your lips as your breath leaves a wisp along Jimin’s plump cheeks, stroking the slightly pink and flushed skin from the sadness it’s undergone not too long ago.

His eyes beam longingly at you, conveying messages that seem foreign to your understanding as your heart palpitates unevenly against his grasp. But it was enough to block your mind, it was enough to drive you wild, it was enough for you to completely lose all sense and thought-process, your brain not reciprocating anything other than what the heart is yearning for.

Him.

And lastly, you remember not being able to hold yourself back as you bring to life the buried words you have kept underground for the longest time.

Your eyes trained directly at his averts down to his lips, the camellias no more blooming as it succumbs to desire, craving no more than to offer him the love you have saved in secret for the past twenty four months, "I love you, Jimin."

Lowly pronounced words as you gaze at him, breath still and steadily fanning the smile slowly forming on his lips.

"I love you too, y/n. You're my best friend."

You remember your conflict, the feeling of pure loss and distraught overtaking you as you remain still. There you were, being loved by him completely, yet it is a love that seemingly leaves you feeling incomplete. Feeling unwhole and broken, feeling void and sunken.

You remember hearing your heart physically crack as you perceive his words, your sight lingering on his own, mockingly filled with a kind of love that you didn't want.

A love that you, quite literally, didn't need.

As soon as you hear what he’s chosen to disclose, you crack an unwilling fictitious smile on your lips just seconds before a hand covers it, your body limpingly maneuvering against Jimin’s hold as you feel your throat contract once more, catching his undivided attention.

Eyebrows furrowed, Jimin calls out in confusion, “y/-”

You remember the endless coughs that had suddenly broke out of you, the worst of what is offered from the Hanahaki being at present time the moment his lips offer a chaffing smile, his concern and sincerity being your death unbeknownst to him.

Coughing vigorously, you push Jimin aside as the overwhelming feeling of sorness and torment leads you to spurt out tears by the corners of your eyes, pushing you to whimper out cryingly. Your back is turned from the origin of your agony as he calls out your name, a voice so quiet yet loud against your hearing, emotionally wounding you as you cry out in pain.

"-y/n..?"

Because you remember a one petal.

And then two, then three,

and you remember blood.

Not wanting to let him see you in such a state that shall most definitely force him to fully understand the meaning of your supposed ‘love’ for him, you run out of his home, opening the door and not bothering to shut it close as you hurryingly exit out.

You ignore all of his calls and pleas as you run

and you run

and you cough, thanking the heavens silently as you locate a bus stopped after passing a few blocks.

“y/n wait! Please!-”

You step inside the transportation with no intention of looking back, forcing yourself to cancel out the calls of Jimin's voice, muffled from the reaches of the outside bus doors. A voice that's calling you. A voice that you most definitely would run to if given the opportunity, a chance that excludes coughing and hurting and crying

-and dying.

Ignoring the whispers and talks of the three other passengers inside the vehicle, you avert you tearful sight from and to the driver's concerned gaze as you send a small forced smile his way, meekly stating,

"I don't have any cash on me, but I'm dying in 30 days. You'll let me ride, won't you sir?"

You remember that eventful day, exactly five days ago, one hundred and twenty hours since you had avoided any association with Jimin.

He's contacted you endlessly, knocked on your door several times and even stayed outside your apartment overnight during one weekend, and each time you had luckily spent it over at your brother's. The times he went there though, you were gone and so was Namjoon, leaving him calling out to your brother’s empty studio apartment.

Five days without fits of vicious coughing, yet five days without him.

Is that the sacrifice you have to make to be healthy?

Then, would that be the sacrifice you'd have to make to live?

"Jimin called me."

"AH- Kamchakya!" Your thoughts are finally cut off as you jump at the sound of both your brother's voice and the slam of the door. Stumbling backwards, you barely get the chance to hold your balance as your hand clutches your clothed chest, visibly startled at your brother's sudden presence.

Namjoon had entered your apartment nonchalantly as he shut the door close behind him with no more than a small smack, yet his strength effects the opposite of what is intended.

Eyes widened, you attempt to catch your loss of breath before bending down completely, hands now placed on both knees, "Joon what the hell?! You couldn't have knocked?" Turning aside, you conquest onto throwing the first thing you could find at the genius which he opposingly catches without a beat, throwing the tablecloth right back at you easily as he takes small steps forward, mumbling a small apology afore repeating his previous words, "Sorry. Jimin called me. For the tenth time in five days, may I add."

Rolling your eyes at his bluntness, you contrastingly fail to catch what you once threw as you walk a couple steps back, grabbing the now dirty item and attempting to hide the way your chest tightened by the mere mention of Jimin's name.

"Jimin called you. Congratulations. Would you like an award, big foot?" You joke accordingly.

Now stood up in the kitchen, Namjoon leads on to making himself at home through the means of providing himself something to eat, attempting to hide a small smile dragging its way onto his face out of gladness in finding that his little sister is not letting some pathetic disease affect her overall personality.

"Big foot? That's a new one." Reaching for the bread and peanut-butter, he calmly makes himself a sandwich, as that is the only food he can prepare without failure, all the while strategically conversing in a serious talk with you, "But don't play dumb with me, y/n. You know Jimin and I aren't on good terms right now. Since..." Namjoon trails off, wanting to obviously avoid the topic of your illness.

You sigh, chest heaving as this doesn't go unnoticed by you, of course. Yet not wanting to go down that path in the early morning either, you choose to passively ignore the way he quickly averted his eyes away from you and let him continue.

Clearing his throat surreptitiously, Namjoon proceeds to act indifferent towards the newly formed tension, "-anyway, he and I aren't okay yet but he's still called me for the tenth time, and I finally answered. You're telling me you aren't even a tiny bit curious on what Jimin and I spoke about?"

You've now sat yourself on the kitchen counter, careful not to hit your head on the overtops as you habitually clean up the mess your older brother had habitually started on creating, "I'm not curious, Joonie, because I don't need to ask."

"Mhm, is that so?" Namjoon turns around to look at you, his head somewhat tilted sideways as he proceeds to happily munch away his sloppy and disgusting-looking meal, "You already know what he said then?"

Neatly putting away all the ingredients of which your brother has taken out, you begin to shift in your spot as you look down at your now wobbling feet which you noticed have too begun to unconsciously shift and play with one-another.

You respond hesitantly, letting out another sigh, "Probably asking how I'm doing? Telling you to say sorry to me for him? A bunch of sappy stuff, I bet. He didn't even do anything wrong."

Smiling every so slightly, Namjoon nods his head meekly as he makes his way to the fridge in order to grab some water, throwing his sandwich in the trash bin in the process, "Yeah.." he pauses before chuckling softly, "-that's our Jimin.. Holy shit that sandwich was fucking disgusting by the way. Aish-" He curses before pouring some of the cool liquid on a glass and desperately chugging it down, tears forming around his eyes as he scoffs in distaste.

Confused and surprised, you check to see the bread if its begun to form any mold, which you find none.

"Huh, I wonder why. The bread is good." You say just before stepping off of the counter carefully, "-can't believe you managed to fuck up a sandwich, Joon. You really do suck at cooking, don't you? Well I guess, food in general." You addingly joke, which Namjoon, in contrast, takes complete and total offense to.

Yet just as he is about to bark back at you with a Nobel Prize winning poetic insult, you unintentionally proceed, therefore cutting him off.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure to leave you the recipes of your favorites before I leave, okay?"

Smiling at him innocently, you find no flaw in your choice of words, making your brother's heart ache without warning as you look up at him with a tilted head.

"I know how much you love my cooking anyway, no matter how many times you claim that you don't." You laugh lightheartedly, "I might forget though, since I forget everything- but hey, Jimin cooks a little bit too, so just go to him whenever you miss my cooking, yeah? I know you guys fight a lot but please try not to once I'm g- mph!"

Pausing, your voice is unexpectedly muffled as your lips come in sudden contact with your brother's shoulder, completely quieting you down.

Taking a moment to fully comprehend such an unforeseen situation, it wins a small while for you to come to notice that he has completely submerged yourself in a tight embrace, both arms wrapped around your waist as his chin is placed right on top of your head.

You didn't know how to react.

It is without a doubt that you and Namjoon are close, don't get this wrong. And furthermore are there the endless comforting shoulder rubs and thoughtful words of advice from time to time, but a hug? A hug is usually where the two of you draw the line, both finding an unspoken mutual perspective on personal space.

So to find yourself in his position, with both your hands up in the air by the side of his waists as you remain frozen from the abrupt fright, you remain still, the only thought being in your head is how the last time that the two of you practically hugged this long was back from your parents' passing.

That being thirteen years ago.

Namjoon, on the other hand, does not give a flying fuck as he feels nothing but yearn for you. Your previous words has caused something inside of him to trigger and suddenly feel a certain lack of your warmth and existence, which he hates.

Don't worry, I'll make sure to leave you the recipes of your favorites before I leave, okay?

That's exactly what you had just said.

-please try not to once I'm gone.

You would have added.

His mind is in disarray, his medicinal IQ of 148 fading into an 8 as his thoughts are gathered in shambles, trying so desperately to rid of the now forming vision of a future without your not-so-bad-but-not-good-either cooking, a future without your Namjoon please get a liscense nagging, a future without your unbearable teasing, a future without-

a future without you.

How could he wake up to a future that's missing his little sister?

Namjoon is an orphan now. You both have been for thirteen years. The orphaned doctor, he would sometimes call himself.

And thirteen years ago, this orphaned doctor swore as he looked upon his parents' opened casket for the last time that he will never abandon his sister. Thirteen years ago, this orphaned doctor cried as he smiled against the clear plastic on his dead mother's pale box, swearing under oath that he could never let an accident take his sister away too. Thirteen years ago, this orphaned doctor choked back tears as his hands leave prints against the plastic of his father's case, promising to keep the strength he trusts his dad would have asked of him to endure. Thirteen years ago, this orphaned doctor painfully smiled as he kneeled down and looked at you, your black gloves of mourning beginning to dampen as stains become visible from your attempts of wiping away your brother’s tears.

Thirteen years ago, Namjoon mentally vowed in his deceased father and mother's name to always prioritize you first, determined in a future of being his little sister’s hero as he lastly placed a bouquet of soft pink camellia flowers on top of his parents' shared grave, squeezing your smaller hand intertwined with his.

Thirteen years ago, he was only thirteen, yet he had been the father and the mother and the brother his eight-year old sister needed.

Namjoon didn’t realize when he started crying.

At this point, the both of you are now on the floor, the age difference having been confusing as you are the one cradling you older brother tenderly.

Your once frozen hands are now soft and delicately wrapped around his back, rubbing in circular motions as you mouth words of comfort against his ear. Dampness could be felt on your shoulder down to your chest as your brother maneuvers while sobbing silently, head now seemingly permanent on the base of your neck.

Does being sick always come with scenes like this? You think to yourself.

"Shh, Joon. C'mon it's okay. Shh, it's alright," You coo softly, your own tears subsiding as you don't care of much other than your brother's current distress, "Joonie, c'mon. Seeing you like this is breaking my heart."

Okay scratch that, your tears aren't subsiding, they're sliding.

"Joonie..." You whisper softly yet desperately, wanting nothing more than to console your brother ever so leniently, "-please stop crying."

Suddenly, you feel Namjoon halt as he abruptly pushes away from you at an arms length, hands holding both sides of your shoulder as his reddened eyes direct yours before making the suggestion,

"Get the surgery."

Truly, that was not the right time to bring up the surgery, of this Namjoon is certain.

And to be honest, he doesn't even have a clue whether there is a right time to bring up the surgery. But he's become overwhelmed and desperate, wanting nothing more than to guarantee your life be saved. So although the timing doesn't match, he allows the situation to happen and chooses to not take back his previous words, instead facing whatever you decide to let on. Fate shall take its course.

Caught aback, you look at your brother bewilderedly, "What?"

"Get the surgery, y/n." He sniffingly repeats, nose still red and mouth still dry from his previous and still cooling breakdown.

"What are you talking about, Joon?” You smile slightly, eyebrows knitted and confused. “What surgery?"

"y/n," Namjoon begins, voice short and desperate, "I told you about this, didn't I? I was training for medicine a few years ago, yeah? I was an intern volunteering. My superior's patient had the disease, th- the Hanahaki disease, right?" Namjoon speaks relentlessly as he becomes breathless, looking slightly crazy as he rambles over a particular memory which you have no recollection of discussing with him.

"His name was Jung Hoseok, one of the first ten Hanahaki surgery recipients. He survived, y/n. The surgery was a complete success. He's alive even to now and I also still have his contact saved in my phone. Look-"

"Wait wait wait," You shake your head, hands coming to stop his phone-reaching hands all the while trying to process the vast information suddenly provided, "-the Hanahaki surgery? The surgery you did a Science project on that I helped you with during your senior high school year? F-flower Chowder? The Flower Power?" You finish, grinning at the newly found memory yet just moments before frowning entirely,

"Joon, you're telling me to get the Flower Power?"

Namjoon inhales a short intake of breath as he looks down and shuts his eyes, dreading the soon-to-be-happening conversation, "I know this seems crazy but-"

"Yeah no shit, it's crazy."

"Just hear me out oka-"

"This is really bat-shit off the walls crazy, Kim Namjoon!"

"-it's medicine, y/n. It's not really crazy-"

"medicine. my. ass."

"-it's been successful each time it was performed, and-"

"Joon just stop it!"

"-it's the only way to save your damn life!"

With wide eyes you blankingly stare at him, scoffing in disbelief at his sudden raise of voice, "Save my life? Then what? I go to live like a fucking robot for all eternity? Lose all my emotions and live as some kind of cyborg? We aren't in a fucking sci-fi movie, Joon!"

Processing your words, Namjoon does understand your point; but he's become helpless, the helplessness making him reckless, the recklessness making him desperate, and the desperation leaving no room for understanding your point, "A robot is still alive, y/n."

All in all, a reckless mess.

"A robot is still al- what?! Joon, are you hearing yourself?" You speak incredulously.

No, truth to be told, Namjoon is not hearing himself.

"I don't know what you think this, but I am not about to turn into some kind of sim with no feelings. Both you and I know that I would rather die as I live than live as I exist to be nothing more than just that, existing." You speak threateningly, "Don't you ever make me go through that, Joon. Not even as a last resort and not even when I'm not awake anymore to defend my point."

Holding up your right pinky finger, you raise your eyebrows, staring at him expectantly, "Promise me."

Namjoon glances down at your raised finger, jaw clenched and gaze hesitant. Yet just as he proceeds to reach forward in order to seal the deal, he speaks one last time, defeated, "And what if it is the last resort, y/n?"

You look at him, eyes downcast as you begin to subconsciously lower your hand as he continues, "What if you're moments away from leaving me? What do I do? Do I just let you die? Do you really expect me to just let you die even wh- when there's an option to take where you can live?" Namjoon is breathless as he speaks, voice desperate in convincing you.

Sighing, you lower your head slightly, "Joon, I already told you that I'm okay. I'm ready. I've accepted it-"

"But I haven't." Namjoon cuts you off, his words serving a stab at your heart.

"I haven't accepted it. I won't accept it." He takes hold of both your hands, lowering his height so that the two of you are on same eye level afore smiling sadly, "I've lost both our parents, y/n. I've accepted that. I've lived with that. But you can't ask me to accept losing you either because I don't think I'll be able to keep myself sane without you around. I need you, y/n. You're my sister, my anchor, God, you're my lifeline. You've kept me going for these past thirteen years, and I love you. I love you so so so so much, nae yeodongsaeng." He finishes, your heart crumbling at the sight of his flooding eyes.

"And I'm sorry if this is somewhat unfair to you, but please." Namjoons cries out, voice barely above a whisper as he sheds diring tears, "-please choose to try. Choose to try to live.

-If not for you, please do it for me."

"Fuck you Namjoon." You curse mutteringly, voice low and steady as you stand in front of Jimin's door for the past ten minutes.

You twist and turn like a little child as you curse mentally, feeling dread throughout your entire physicality and not at all wanting to continue with your plan. Nonetheless, you remind yourself of your brother's desperation and of your reasons for doing this.

For your brother, you cheer on.

"Okay. Okay! I can do this." You jump up and down, feet bouncing lightly against the hard ground, repeating the same phrase over and over again, "I can do this."

Turning to knock, your mind then suddenly flushes with dread as you subconsciously retreat back to your car, hands waving frantically around, "I can't do this."

"y/n?"

You freeze.

Fuck.

Hands still amidst the air, you stay still, unbelieving of the situation.

"y/n? What are you- is that you? Am I seeing shit right now?" He mumbles the last words to himself, which he silently thanks goes unbeknownst to you as you stay frozen, feet glued onto the ground and heart beating out of your chest at the familiar sound of his voice.

Hesitating, you muster up the determination to slowly turn around.

Your throat tightens once more all the while your heart contrastingly does backflips as you physically see him for the first time since five days and-or one hundred and twenty hours and-or a very painful long time for someone who's in love with someone.

"Hey, Chim." You meekly call out, trying to hide the anxiety creeping in within you.

Jimin, still processing your presence after countless failure of trying to see you, steps forward lightly, eyebrows furrowed as he evidently attempts to figure out the right words to say, "Hey."

"Hey." You wince as you attempt a grin.

Jimin's lips form a tight smile, "Hey."

Shit, this is so awkward.

The thought enters the both of your minds as a seemingly unprecedented tumbleweed passes by.

Clearing your throat, you notice the way Jimin looks down at his fiddling thumbs and curious little pinkies as you speak out once more, trying to ease the visible tension, "So are you going to invite me in or what?" You laugh breathily, chest heaving up and down in desperation of holding in those God-awful petals.

Jimin looks up at you with wide eyes, breathing a sigh of relief as he nods his head repeatedly, "Right- right! Yeah come in. This is your home too, you know." He speaks as he holds out his keys and turn to unlock his door, not noticing the way you've weakened among with the just fallen petal that silently wisped past your lips.

This is your home too, you know.

It's insane how such light words could make a person feel so lost and contracted.

Seven simple words that were spoken without a thought have you in a dazed mentality, hand tighteningly gripping your clothed heart before faking a positive expression as he turns around to face you.

"You can head inside first." Jimin shows that beautiful smile, moving aside as he lays his hand out in the direction of his now opened abode.

You only nod in return as you waste no time in entering, mumbling a small 'thanks chim' as you pass by.

He then follows soon after, set and determined on making you feel at home as he steps forward.

Yet a sight goes inevitable as your head spins around a moment barely passing as you enter his home, catching the vision of Jimin accidentally stepping on the camellia flower, the fragment that symbolizes your unrequited love, your pain, which lay on the timid ground, cracking it in half.

It seems the universe really is telling you something.

You ponder to yourself as you gaze wanderingly, the now torn petal not leaving your sight.

Smiling ironically, the formidable occurence somehow boosts your acceptance of the situation at hand as you make your way to the sofa, speaking aloud even more so formidable words, "We need to talk, Jimin."

Just moments before sitting down, Jimin remains still, eyes glazing at you directly for a second before gathering himself and proceeding to act indifferent, "Of course."

Jimin. He thinks.

Not chim, Jimin.

"Jimin I-"

"No please-" Jimin cuts you off as you begin to speak, "Please let me say first what I've been keeping inside for this past week of being avoided by you."

You didn't know whether you were supposed to take offense or not, yet nonetheless you decide

"-just wanted to let you know that I'm getting surgery."

I can't believe she's calling me Ji- "What?"

You smile empathetically, "I'm getting surgery, Jimin."

part 3, maybe?

taglist: @itsdingdong @honeyd99 @010op10 @chubsjmin @outropjmm @nynhope

199 notes · View notes