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botboots · 8 months

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Hey! I'm probably SOOO late to transformers fanfics and one shots but I've come with this prompt,( I hope you like it enough to write it!) could you write Ratchet x injured reader, g/n or female. Injured shoulder, and maybe trying to hide it from him? Also in Tfp? If all this isnt too much to ask? Thank you for considering! Have a good day/ night

a/n: heehee this one was fun. the dialogue is kinda splotchy because theres a lot going on in my brain rn but!! hope you like it <3 also reader is cybertronian bc there are NOT enough cybertronian!reader fics out there and theyre very fun to write tbh. hope thats okay!!

ALSO! guidelines have been updated so before anyone submits a new req please read it! and please please request mirage/rotb fics oh my god im obsessed with it ROTB WAS SO GOOD </33

warnings: very minor injuries, pining <3 word count: 1059 (GN, cybertronian!reader) continued under the cut

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The purple and green swirl of the ground-bridge closed behind you as you followed your team back into base, the lingering energy buzzing under your plating.

Glancing at Bumblebee, a small twinge of pity struck you as he made his way over to the medical bay. The scout had taken a few nasty punches from Breakdown and clearly wasn’t feeling too hot; dents littering his armor.

“We showed ‘em, huh?” your focus was snatched when Bulkhead caught you off guard with his usual celebratory elbow-bump, sending you stumbling a little from the force. A sharp pain ran up your arm to your shoulder and you winced.

“Yea- totally.” sending the wrecker a strained smile, you gave him a half-hearted push back. He tilted his head, about to open his mouth to ask you something when Miko booked it over to the two of you, questions spilling out of her mouth at a mile a minute. All of them were something gore or violence related, asking Bulkhead if he got any pictures of some “hardcore massacre-ing”. The girl's interests were a little concerning, but endearing. Nonetheless, you took the opportunity to slink away and avoid any more attention. Angling your helm, your face scrunched up at the sight - and feeling - of the wound on your shoulder.

Too focused on the fight in front of you, a stray Vehicon had been able to sneak up behind you and catch you by surprise. Fortunately for you, Vehicons were mass trained for quantity over quality and didn’t have the best shots. The blast grazed your shoulder, tearing between some of your paneling to the barely exposed wires. It hurt like a bitch at first, but adrenaline buried it enough that it wouldn’t distract you - plus it was small enough that none of your team noticed. Now that you were back at base, though, the piercing sting prodded at your processor incessantly. You did want to go and see Ratchet about it - always finding some kind of excuse to be around the mech - but he was dealing with Bumblebee right now, and you didn’t want to add to his plate. Not like it was anything life-threatening, anyway. You could just try and patch it up yourself - you’ve spent enough time with Ratchet to pick up a few things yourself.

You stole a glance at said medic, who you only just noticed was looking right at you. Immediately you realized from the questioning look on his face, raised brow and all, he had probably caught both your reaction to Bulkhead bumping into you and the grimace you had made at your shoulder. Optimistic, you shook your head at him, giving the mech a meager thumbs-up and a “I'm-actually-totally-fine” smile. He gave you a hard stare, and your spark sank when he motioned you over with a flick of his digits. You begrudgingly made your way over to the medical bay. As you neared, Ratchet had already cleared Bumblebee and was shooing him out. The scout passed you, and your attention was focused on Ratchet waiting with a cocked helm and his ever-present RBF. Standing awkwardly under his gaze, almost scrutinizing, you huffed. Without a word, the red and white medic picked up his scanner, turning it on with a loud click and running the green laser over your frame.

“Really, doc - I’m fine. It’s nothing.” you tried, and failed, as he kept the device lingering at your shoulder. With a deadpan look covering his faceplate, he put the scanner down and placed his servos over your shoulder plating. You grit your denta to keep a pained hiss from leaving you, wincing when he felt around the frayed wiring.

“Nothing, huh?” you pouted at his scoff, his metal brows knitted together as he examined the shot that had barely missed doing any serious damage. “Sit.” he ordered, gesturing to the medical berth while he moved to grab some tools from a nearby counter. Embarrassment was settling in your chassis, but you did as you were told.

It technically didn’t take long to patch you up, but the old mech made it seem like eons to you with the way he was muttering about “some of the team having egos too big for their own good.” It only made the burn of embarrassment grow, and you ducked your head when he gave you a pointed look. Ratchet was nothing if not thorough in ensuring you knew when he disapproved of something.

Soon enough he finished up, giving the patched wound a once-over.

“Anything else you’re not telling me?” he questioned, the familiar lilt of sarcasm back in his tone. That at least steadied your nerves a little.

“No, sir.” you mocked, raising one of your servos in a half-assed salute.

He scowled, crossing his arms, “I’ll have Optimus enforce mandatory health checks every time you come back to base.”

Frantically shaking your helm, you raised both servos defensively, “Okay, okay!” you sputtered, “Won’t happen again.” His optics narrowed, giving you a hard stare, and you released a heavy sigh. “Promise.”

Ratchet debated it for a moment, still having half a mind to just assign the checks anyway, but as you kept your optics trained on his, the mech’s will buckled and he huffed a quick, “Good.”

You both were staring at each other for just a moment too long before Ratchet gave a quick cough. “Come back if the pain flares up again.” he waved you off as he made his way back to his usual spot at the terminal. You blinked, watching him walk off with a slightly heated face. Awkward. Hopping off the medical berth, you were careful not to irritate your shoulder and mess it up more than it already was. As you walked past Bumblebee he whirred to grab your attention. You paused, turning your head to him with a raised metal brow.

The scout chirped at you teasingly from where he sat, nodding his head way too obviously towards you and then Ratchet, who was already burying himself back in his work. Your optics widened, immediately narrowing into an offended glare as you jabbed a digit towards him.

“Don't. Even.” you grumbled, folding your arms and walking briskly away from Bumblebee’s poorly stifled, chittering laugh that echoed behind you. Your previous pity for the mech quickly dissipated as your faceplate burned. Primus.

#transformers #transformers x reader #transformers fanfiction #tf x reader #tfp x reader #transformers prime #transformers ratchet x reader #tfp ratchet x reader #ratcher x reader #transformers fanfic #tfp fanfic

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lunarw0rks · 10 months

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Hurt/Comfort Alphabet | Simon Riley

A/N: I hope this isn't redundant, because I was trying to be realistic based on his past & the way he interacts with other characters. got this template from @thathcwriter

Warning(s): mentions of Ghost's childhood, insecurities, substance abuse, injury, angst | Word Count: 1.6k

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GHOST MASTERLIST ⋆ ⚘ 🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ have a request? | ao3 ver. ❀

A: Alleviate - How do they go about relieving persistent physical pain?

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ Let’s be honest. He self-medicates with alcohol or cigarettes if it’s a persistent enough injury. Either that, or he’ll just find a way to tune it out—something he’s very skilled at by now.

B: Bedridden - How do they behave when they’re sick?

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ Sick, but not “injured”? He wouldn’t even let it show. His voice is deep and raspy enough already (LMAO) so if he had a cold, would anyone even notice?

C: Cling - Whose physical touch is considered most welcome in their minds when they are in need? Is there a specific type of touch they respond well to?

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ Being realistic, Simon probably despises physical touch because of his past. Unless it’s someone he’s known or been serious with for a while, physical touch would be null and void. That being said, playing with his hands, or a kiss on his knuckle would probably make him crumble.

D: Deathbed - How would they react if they realized they may not recover from their injuries?

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ He’s well acquainted with the prospect of not making it home someday, or sustaining an injury too severe to overcome. He would accept it because he thinks that’s what he deserves :(

▹ He’d fight it as much as he could, and wouldn’t want anyone to see him that way. Conversations would be shorter, coarser, and even more depressive than his usual way of engaging with others.

E: Emergency - What is their gut reaction when someone they care about is hurt?

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ He jumps to the worst conclusions if he got wind of something happening to you. Too many of his loved ones/colleagues have ended up dead for him not to.

▹ Remember how he reacted when Soap got shot in the arm? Yeah… multiply that by ten and add some fury to the mix. ▹ Especially if it pertained to his work, he’d think it’s his fault (in the case of Civilian S/O). If you were also a soldier, he’d take a more frustrated/protective route, lecturing you on your “carelessness”.

F: Fight - Are there circumstances under which they would not accept treatment or care? If so, what are they?

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ If it was in the middle of a mission, or minor enough that it felt ridiculous to tend to. If someone on his team/or his S/O was in worse condition, he wouldn’t even let the medic touch him.

G: Ghosts - How has their past shaped the kind of comfort they respond to best?

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ Being mocked and trained to not show vulnerability is his entire being, and he hates himself more for that. He doesn’t want to brood or miss out on things because of his childhood, but the ghost of his father looms heavy on every decision he makes—like a constant, sinister devil on his shoulder.

▹ He’s felt that way so long that he’s grown used to it, and doesn’t know who he is even when he takes the mask off at the end of the day.

H: Home - What things (objects, sensations, or people) remind them they’re safe after a scary situation?

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ His colleagues, if anything. Soap being his ride-or-die, and a S/O that knows every reason for why he’s so walled up. If he has a picture of that person tucked away in his wallet, or an object they gave them (bracelet, card, etc.) he’d keep it in his desk drawer for safekeeping.

I: Isolation - How do they soothe themselves when no one is around to soothe them?

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ Just like the response on “A” —he self-medicates with substances, or boxing in the training room until his fists are raw.

J: Joy - When was the first time they were truly happy after going through something terrible?

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ For many years, he wasn’t “happy” at all, didn’t even know what that felt like. There were moments where he was distracted enough to not be thinking about his past experiences, but not permanent ignorance.

▹ Seeing his S/O after an injury that forced him on medical leave would be the only exception. He hates being away from work, but the silver lining is getting to be home with that person for (X) amount of recovery time.

K: Kindness - Do they believe they deserve the comfort they receive? Why or why not?

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ Hell no. Simon doesn’t for a minute think he deserves comfort, even though deep down he’s craved it for so long. Even if the person he’s with told him a thousand times, he would never believe it. He accepts it as more of a service to his S/O, rather than to soothe himself.

L: Levity - What or who helps them take their mind off of the circumstances?

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ 90% of it is his work because when you’re being shot at, you’re only thinking about not getting shot. The other 10% would be working out, drinking, etc… Not exactly taking his mind off things completely, but enough to do it temporarily.

M: Music - Is there a song that comforts them? Why is it comforting to them?

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ He only listens to music to fill his ears when he’s stressed, or doing paperwork. For comfort? Nothing he listens to would give that to him, let’s be real.

N: Nostalgia - What things that comforted them as a kid still work today? Does anyone know that?

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ Much like his adolescent years, his comfort is everyone else’s silence. He doesn’t like being fussed over or poked at. The concept of “comfort” just isn’t something he knows. With the right person, he might find comfort in them—their quirks, their sense of humor, etc.

O: Overworked - Who or what tells them to stop working and take care of themselves?

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ Price has probably tried, or has to at least once a week.

▹ Something along the lines of: “Get some rest, Simon”—most likely met with a blank stare as he continues working through the night. Simon only rests when he needs to refuel, or something more important happens.

P: Please - Have they ever begged someone to comfort or stay with them? What was that incident like?

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ Before he met his S/O? Never in a million years. After? Probably only when he’s inebriated and needs someone to be with him, just until the problem passes, or you give your attempt at comforting him.

Q: Questions - Are they eager to talk about what or why they’re hurting? Why or why not?

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ No - he’d jump off a cliff before he talks about his past with just anyone. It would take years before he tells someone what happened to him. In the back of his mind, he’s expecting the person to laugh at him, or reveal his insecurities :(

R: Relief - How do they react to the realization that they will soon be fully recovered?

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ He’s practically pacing back and forth until his medical leave is lifted—the medical leave he most likely bickered about placing him on at all.

S: Scared - What would it take for them to admit that they’re scared?

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ If something serious enough happened, or a near-death experience with either himself or you that gives him a wakeup call. One of the hardest things for him to do would be to admit he’s frightened, especially with how much loss he’s already experienced.

T: Time - How long does it take for them to feel better after an ordeal or illness? Do they tend to lie about how soon they feel better?

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ As soon as he’s mobile, he’s back to work (if it was something disabling). If not, he’d push his way through it and keep working. Surely, to his S/O’s disapproval, but he feels like he’s damned to constant punishment.

U: Ugly - What part of their recovery process are they ashamed of, if any?

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ Being reliant on another person physically, if necessary. Injuries come with the job, he knows that, but he would absolutely hate it.

V: Valiant - Has anyone told them they were brave for facing what they did? How would they react if someone did?

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ Let’s be real—most of us want to reassure him and his bravery, as has Price and Soap a million times (although they’re doing it in more of a “that was badass” kinda way). To be able to go through so much, and still be so resilient is almost unsettling. But brave, nonetheless.

▹ He would brush it off and likely change the subject :((

W: Why? - How did they process what happened to them?

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ He never fully processes an injury, including physical pain—especially if it’s a stray bullet or knife wound. Unless it was something especially gruesome, he’s got a high pain tolerance.

X: Xenas - Do they see anyone as an inspiration in their recovery? Does their inspiration know about this?

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ (N/A - I don’t think it fits Simon if I’m being honest).

Y: Yearn - What gesture, person, or thing do they desperately want, but would never actually ask for?

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ This will probably hurt some feelings… He wants his mother, more than anything he wants his mom. He only got so much time with her, and those years were the worst of his childhood. She’s probably the only person he knows he truly wants, but can’t have.

▹ As I mentioned before, if he was serious about someone he was dating, he might want some comfort, but he would almost never explicitly ask for it.

Z: Zero - What is the best way to comfort them without touching them?

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ Words of affirmation would be your best bet.

▹ Physical touch is iffy, and he’d only allow it if he truly trusted the person. If you give the man praise, he’d hide his feelings until he was alone, and would probably think about it for the rest of the week—even if it was just an offhand compliment.

#mw2 #mw2 fanfic #ghost mw2 #simon riley #simon riley headcanons #simon riley angst #call of duty #task force 141

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blueepink07 · 4 months

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Checkmate

Posting this fic here too! But you can also read here.

Summary: Yuno notices a pair of crimson eyes staring at her match of chess with Mahiru. Scared that her older friend might remember the latest event in which she was attacked by the same pair of eyes, she swiftly leads her to Shidou's cell with the excuse that Mahiru needs to take her medications. However, when Yuno comes back, the same prisoner that disrupted their game demands another match with her.

"No fair… You are too good at this, Yuno! You really have to teach me, too!!"

"And… Checkmate!"

"Sure!! Let's put the pieces back together and I will teach you some tricks!~"

"Right! But… Where was the queen placed…?"

"Mahiru…" Yuno couldn't help but laugh, noticing her friend mistaking the queen’s place for the king's.

It's been a while since they stayed like this, relaxed and cheerful, despite the circumstances… Kotoko's attacks prevented Mahiru from moving much, forcing her to spend the days in her cell, without an occupation. Although Yuno was frequently checking on her, she grew worried, noticing that with every passing minute, her mental state was deteriorating, so the requested wheelchair felt like a rescue from this monotonous routine.

Exactly, when the two friends were finishing to set up the table, Yuno spotted a pair of crimson eyes staring in their direction. The same pair started to approach them, the high school girl's heartbeat slowly increasing with each step. She wasn't scared for her… She was worried for Mahiru, who hadn't still felt the presence of the other person. How would she react seeing the prisoner who hurt her just a while ago? What's Kotoko trying to do? She can't beat up anyone during the trial, but what if…

No, Yuno, these are just assumptions! The best thing you can do is to avert Mahiru from noticing the taller prisoner and get her to leave the chess table.

"Mahiru… I think it's the time to get your medications. Let's first go to Shidou and then we will continue, ok?"

"Ah… but I had thought there was still some time left until my next medication…"

"I understand why! We had such a fun time together, so it's only natural. Here, let me help you!"

"No!"

Yuno's flinch didn't get unnoticed by Mahiru, who, with an apologetic smile continued:

"I don't want to be a bother… You spent so much time with me… With this wheelchair I can move by myself… So, really, Yuno, I will be fine…"

"It's still annoying to move with that, isn’t it? You still haven't got used to… This. Don't worry, for me it's not a bother! I have nothing better to do, so let's go!"

Yuno didn't even wait for Mahiru's response, helping her instead to move as fast as possible, directing the wheelchair at an angle from where she wouldn't be able to see Kotoko. Her heartbeat started to slow down as she was approaching Shidou's cell, knocking on the door.

"I think I will retreat for now!! Don't forget about the match!"

"Ah.. Yuno?!"

"Sorry Mahiru… I should go back to see if everything is clear now…"

Yuno felt more confident when she came back, if not she became curious of what Kotoko wanted from them. She wasn't even surprised to see her sitting in Mahiru's place, staring at the chess table.

"Kotoko… Do you want to play chess too? Although I don't think that's why you came, right?"

"Actually, that’s why I'm here. I've noticed that you are quite skilled at it, so I thought it would be good practice."

"She hadn't even hidden the fact that she watched us for a while. But I guess she had no reason to, considering that she now thinks she is Es's partner."

"I'm surprised! I wouldn’t have guessed that you would be the type to play chess for fun!"

"I play once in a while… It’s relaxing actually, it also trains my mind and helps me keep myself more… composed."

How much Yuno would want to throw the chess table to a corner and leave. Keeps her relaxed, huh? What a lie, Kotoko's hesitation tells everything. The way her voice, usually powerful, has been slightly trembling at the last word.

She is after something, that’s for sure… Yuno heard before that the strategy you use when playing chess can tell a lot about one's personality. Is this Kotoko's attempt at trying to learn more about her, while making herself vulnerable? After all, this game of accumulating information can be played by two.

"Okay~"

"I will begin first, if it's alright…"

"Sure, go on!"

Making the first move… Usually the one who begins has a slight advantage. Is Kotoko not that confident about her skills…? However, the first two moves are usually the same regardless of who you play with. As expected, Kotoko moved the pawn that guarded the king. The muscle memory worked in, and Yuno, too, placed her own pawn with two slots.

The objective, in the beginning part of the game, was to make an opening for as many pieces as possible in a short time. Kotoko seemed to know this too as she started to move more pawns to make room for the pieces that were worth more points.

Just a few moves in the game, and Yuno could already tell Kotoko's style of playing. After quickly disposing of the pawns that kept the other pieces in place, the raven haired girl started to consider every move an opportunity to attack. Aggressive, but precise, fearless, no matter the consequences. If Yuno would take into consideration the latest events, she would think that this is how Kotoko usually plays. But… Something feels off. Kotoko analyses before she acts. Her moves right now are too reckless, the difference in points being quite large, Yuno having a considerable advantage.

Has Kotoko figured it out already…? That the way Yuno plays during their match is different from her usual style? The highschool girl likes to trick her opponents at every given chance, while also putting herself in a position that might mislead the opponent, creating a false sense of stability that would cause them to advance in the danger, becoming a victim of her tactics. However, with the possibility of Kotoko wanting to learn more about her, it forced Yuno to take a different approach. Instead of using tricks, she decided to play safe, maybe too calm and boring for her liking. Not attacking much, but having a good defense, while slightly predicting the opponent's moves.

Is Kotoko trying to push Yuno to her limits? Yuno is not a fan of long matches, and considering that Kotoko plays in offense, while she plays in defense, it will take some time until one of them wins.

To succumb to boredom and let Kotoko's strategy actually work, or continue this charade…

It will be easier if she would just stand up and leave… After all, Kotoko is not someone she would like to spend time with and she should really check on Mahiru.

"Hey, Yuno. You seem deep in thought, are you actually paying attention to the game?"

"Hm~? Chess is about strategy, so it would be natural to be deep in thought. Or is this your way of acknowledging that you let me win?"

"Hmph, let you win. What nonsense. I think you are the one who treats me lightly. From what I've seen, from your other matches, you could have already won by now."

Since when did Kotoko start to spy on their games? It's scary how easily she can make herself unnoticed and claim so much information.

"How sweet! An admirer!"

Surprisingly, Kotoko didn't comment about her reply, instead her face turning into a frown.

"Your skills at chess are really impressive, my only objective was to have fun with you."

"... Really? After everything that happened, what made you think that I will forgive or forget. I don't think I have to spell it out for you, why does no one want to sit next to you though."

"Then, why did you accept my request? I know that you aren't afraid of me. Were you scared that I might have hurt Mahiru? Do not think that your action didn't go unnoticed."

Why did Yuno accept the request… To gain information about the prisoner in front of her… Who was now watching her with the same crimson eyes that a few minutes ago, caused her heartbeat to be increased. Would it be a smart move to answer honestly? No, her intentions should be hidden for now. Who knows? Maybe if she will do this more times, she could figure out better what is the deal with Kotoko. And the next time, she would make sure that no one would be injured by her anymore. To predict Kotoko's next moves. Like in chess.

"Hm… I wonder! You are the only one with whom I haven't still played with, so I suppose I was curious about your skills! Especially, since you said that chess is relaxing…"

"Ah… The small competition you had last week. You won, didn't you?"

"Haha… Yes, but I'm wondering if Shidou actually let me win. His skills are truly impressive."

Kotoko's face showed little to no emotion, but Yuno could tell that she didn't believe her lie at all.

"Still, you should have played fair with me. Anyway, I'm done here. Next time, promise me to give me a great match, okay? I want to see more of the real Kashiki Yuno."

"..."

With Kotoko's departure, Yuno was left alone with her thoughts. "Next time… huh?" Her motive is still… unclear. It's not like Kotoko likes her very much, the feeling is mutual, so what does the raven haired woman want to achieve?

"Yunoo!!~"

"Mahiru!"

"See, I've told you that I can manage on my own!"

"Did Kotoko leave, because she noticed Mahiru approaching…? Would she be really so considerate of Mahiru's feelings, or is it pure coincidence?"

"Ah… Are you okay…? You seem spaced out…"

"Oh, yes! No worries! Let's play, shall we? I can't wait to show you some cool moves!"

"And maybe I would not be the first one eliminated, next time, from the competition!"

"That’s the spirit!"

All Yuno's worries about Kotoko's motivations dispersed as soon as the new match started. With a small, soft smile, she began explaining to her friend some of the easier tactics, as Mahiru was pretty much a beginner. Yuno couldn't help, but laugh seeing the eyes that were watching her with anticipation and curiosity. It is the first time, since Mahiru was injured, when her older friend displayed genuine happiness, her beautiful eyes seeming to regain their sparkle that she adored so much.

#milgram #writing #milgram yuno #yuno kashiki #milgram kotoko #kotoko yuzuriha #Chess #because of its white and black slots #always reminded me of Kotoko's black and white thinking #I purposely let Kotoko to start the match because it may correspond to the fact that she believes her justice is good hence the idea #of playing with white #Yuno plays with the black pieces to illustrate Kotoko's perception of the other prisoners #Not sure of how it turned out but I really wanted to write a Kotoko and Yuno interaction and the idea of playing chess together #was very appealing to me!#Also btw the italic text is the character's thoughts!

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messyhairdiaz · 9 months

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Wip Wednesday

Tagged today by @rewritetheending but also lately by @heartbeatdiaz @panbuckley @alyxmastershipper and @clusterbuck and probably other people going back even further than the last few tag games but hey! I have something to share today, and it’s a little bit longer chunk since I haven’t been sharing much stuff. It’s hot off the presses so still v rough and yes I am doing the annoying thing where I don’t say what this is for no apparent reason

When he gets to the site where the pair had apparently decided to set up camp, it isn’t a mystery as to why he’s been called in for a med check on day one.

The man is sitting in the dirt next to a pile of dry tree limbs, and his foot is covered in bright red blood. The dirt around his foot has turned into a burgundy mud where the dry ground has eagerly soaked up the blood spilling from a nasty wound on top of the man’s foot. A wickedly sharp machete lies a couple feet away, its glistening crimson edge giving it away as the culprit.

Eddie kneels next to the man and starts unpacking the necessities from his kit.

“Hi, I’m Eddie. You mind telling me what happened?”

The man grimaces, more out of embarrassment than pain.

“I was using Michelle’s machete to hack up some of this wood into smaller pieces for our fire. I didn’t realize it was that sharp, so it went through the branch and, uh, well, kept going. Guess cutting away from your body is useful advice for more than just using safety scissors in the first grade, huh?”

The guy laughs at his own joke, which is something Eddie would usually find to be a precursor to jackass behavior, something he is unfortunately all too familiar with on this job, but something about the guy’s self-deprecating grin belies that assumption.

The bright blue eyes probably don’t hurt.

Eddie redoubles his attention on the injury.

“You didn’t try to stop the bleeding?” He asks, brow furrowed.

“Ah, no. I could tell it wasn’t bleeding too bad, and there’s not exactly an abundance of gauze or anything clean out here, so I figured better to not get a bunch of dirt in it,” he says, holding up his hands to show his dirt covered palms.

Considering it hasn’t bled an alarming amount, that probably was the best course of action, but he’s not sure he likes the idea of this guy out here free bleeding if he gets hurt again because it worked out this time. But most people wouldn’t even have thought about it before trying to stop the bleeding.

“Do you have medical training?” He asks as he starts flushing the wound with saline. The machete itself still could’ve introduced dirt or particles of the branch it had already passed through, so better safe than sorry. The man doesn’t even wince.

“I do! I’m a firefighter with the LAFD,” he answers proudly. “My name’s Buck, by the way.”

I haven’t been on a lot today so I’m sure I’m tagging people that have already done it but I’m tagging the people mentioned above and @sibylsleaves @fiona-fififi @transboybuckley @gayhoediaz @elvensorceress @mysteriouslyyounggalaxy @transbuck

#my wips

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draconicsparkle · 1 year

Text

Y’know, I get the impression that some people want to see Nagizuru do a heckin violence. Well, I wouldn’t want to disappoint, so here we go! About to commit a heckin violence.

If you are squeamish about bodily injuries, I would highly suggest skipping this one. I don’t want to make someone super uncomfortable.

I won’t keep you waiting much longer. Please enjoy!

Today was better than others, that was for sure. Why was this? Because the staff were focused on something else and paid no attention to him.

That something else was training new members of staff. Mostly security. The higher ups realized that their numbers were getting low due to… frequent fatal accidents. So new faces were here, each one sworn into secrecy of what was contained in the building.

Hajime didn’t have many opinions on this as he collected materials from the lab to restock the fifth floor. It didn’t affect his duties if there were new people. And he was sure that he would never have to train a replacement considering how things were. So he didn’t have to impart his knowledge to anyone. A time and effort saver, for sure.

Continuing to be ignored, Hajime was able to get back to the fifth floor with no issues. And placing his collected items into their proper places was just as simple. Once everything was perfectly placed, he felt satisfied. He could bask in this immaculate organization for longer since he already had what he needed on his cart. So his job well done could last until the evening.

Speaking of his cart, it was about time he took it up. Izuru was surely hungry. He would want his lunch soon.

As usual, he tried his best to make the food flavorful. But it was so hard when little resources were provided. Medical equipment to run tests? Plenty of those. Items for nutrition and comfort? Not so much. It was aggravating.

But putting his aggravations aside, he entered the room of his charge once more. “Good afternoon, sir. I’m here again.”

“So you are,” Izuru replied, staring out the window at the birds flying in the sky. “Have you brought any news regarding the increased amount of voices down below?”

“Oh, that. They replaced the people you… uh… took care of. Lots of training is going on. Let’s hope that these guys have some common sense and rationality. Though I’m not too confident,” Hajime admitted as he began the routine tests, including the sedative syringe.

Izuru didn’t react other than turning to face him. “Yes, I share that conclusion. None will be as adapted to this place as you. You remain the only one who understands their place here.” Izuru smirked. “And that is by my side and at my command. Ready to fulfill any request I make of you.”

Heat spread across his cheeks. He was sure that if he had the thermometer in his mouth, the temperature would have increased exponentially. “I… I shall continue to do my best in that regard.”

“Please do, my dear caretaker.”

He was so very glad that he was well practiced in running the tests, as he was sure he would have made some mistakes after that if he had none. Why was it so hard to calm down after Izuru said things like this? It took until Izuru was done with his food for his heart to return to a normal beating pattern. “You all done? I’ll take your bowls and utensils. Is there anything else you require?”

The white hair shook along with its owner’s head. “None that you can provide. Very well, I shall see you again once you return.”

Hajime nodded, the chain on his neck clinking as he did so. He opened the door with his card, slipping through and beginning to pull his cart through.

But then something occurred that he had not expected.

“Hey! What are you doing here? And how did you get here?”

Unfamiliar gruff voices sounded from behind him. That shouldn’t have been possible. He was the only one who should be up here. So who was speaking? He glanced over his shoulder to get his answer. And there in the hallway, marching towards him at a fast pace, were three men dressed in the security guards outfit.

“This floor is off limits to almost all staff. You shouldn’t be here,” he tried to tell them.

But that seemed to only make the three more mad. “Who do you think you are, giving us orders? Trespassers have no right to demand.”

The faster of the three reached over and grabbed his arm, yanking him away from the cart and still open door. He was then pinned against the wall, surrounded completely.

He struggled, not only to get away but to breath, as the hold he was in restricted his air flow. “You… don’t understand! It’s… dangerous! I’m… hnng…”

His words cut off as the hold got tighter and more painful. “Quiet. Don’t try and lie. It will only land you in more trouble.”

The third laughed. “And really? You’re trying to tell us this floor is dangerous? There’s nothing here! And that experiment we were told about? Just a withered husk of a human now. What chance does that thing have against us three?”

The second cracked his knuckles. “Now, you are going to have a little forced nap. And it will only go downhill from th-”

Suddenly, there were multiple sickening cracks. Each accompanied by agonizing screams of pain by the ones who had been tormenting him. Then the men were thrown across the floor, with the exception of a single poor soul whose destroyed arm was still in the clutches of its breaker.

Hajime sank to the ground now that nothing was holding him up, back sliding against the wall. And he gazed up with a mixture of emotions at the one who intervened.

Izuru. With a smile that would make demons quake in fear.

“You dared to touch what is mine. And you have no fathomable idea of how much I want to shatter every bone in your body one by one. But since Hajime is present, I shall let you off lightly. So here is your one and only warning. Keep your filthy hands off my caretaker. If you even think of trying anything, disasters shall plague your families. So do think more about your decisions from this point forward.” He raised the wrecked arm that he was still holding, staring deep into the eyes of the terrified man. “Understand?”

Choking on sobs, the men could only nod. The sight seemed to please Izuru. “Now get out of my sight. This floor is off limits to all except Hajime. You would do well to remember this.”

He threw the one he was holding towards the elevator, watching as the three hurried as best they could while in immense pain. The elevator dinged as it arrived, the three hobbling on and disappearing behind the closed doors.

Leaving Hajime and Izuru alone once more. Though now, there was quite a bit more tension. Especially when the Ultimate Hope instantly was examining him and in his personal space to do so. “Humanity will never lose their brutish ways. How unfortunate for you. But I suspect that the rules shall be drilled into everyone’s heads now. And if they aren’t, well, I shall teach them.”

Hajime felt his heart practically beating out of his chest. But from what emotion, he wasn’t all too sure. But there was one thought that prevailed above all. “You… saved me.”

Izuru’s ruby eyes met his, smile more of a smirk than predatory now. “I will not allow for my possessions to be broken. There are dire consequences for any who try, as you have witnessed.” The pale hands caressed his cheeks, the same hands that had shattered three grown men’s arms not even five minutes ago. “It does appear that you did not sustain long lasting injuries. That is fortunate. Nothing will prevent you from attending to my needs.” Their foreheads touched, something Izuru did often when they were close like this. “So I expect you to be here on time. Not a second late. Though I know I have nothing to worry about on that. Punctual as you are.”

Redness exploded across his face at the words. Izuru… really knew exactly what to say to get intense reactions out of him. And he was sure he would never get used to it.

Izuru stood back up, pulling the caretaker up along with him. “It seems like those fools were taking a self guided tour of the lighthouse. Too confident in themselves to listen to warnings. And now they will have to be sent away, administered strong drugs to erase their memories of this place. What would it be like, I wonder, to wake up in a hospital with both arms shattered and to not know why?”

The caretaker shuddered at the thought. He knew that the facility could and would take memories away from the staff they felt were not doing their jobs correctly. He had worked hard to make himself indispensable. And he had indeed become irreplaceable. Though not for the reason he initially envisioned. “I hope it never happens to me. The memories being erased, I mean. I don’t know what I would do if I was forced to forget you.”

A thin finger placed itself on his chin, tilting his head up to meet the Ultimate Hope’s gaze. “Oh, you don’t need to fear that, my dear caretaker. After today, none but the foolish shall dare try to take you away from me.”

Hajime felt his heart get the workout of a lifetime with how hard and fast it was beating. “Th-thank you.”

Izuru gazed at him for a few moments before turning back to the still open door. “Now then, I believe it is time for me to rest. The sedatives are quite strong, as you are well aware.”

Hajime had nearly forgotten about that in the chaos. Izuru… had done all that while sedated. What on earth was he capable of off of them? He so desperately wanted to know and witness such a sight.

Hajime straightened his tie and suit, retaining his previous appearance of a professional. The conflict was done and resolved. It was time to continue the work he prided himself on.

Masterpost

#danganronpa #nagito komaeda #hajime hinata #komahina #au #fanfic #drabble #nagizuru au #nagizuru #lighthouse au

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thehackneypony · 4 months

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How's Leaky Cup doing?

i know i kind of fell off the planet haha… the horses are all doing fine!

quick answer:

- leaky cup has not grown an inch, but he is developing into a hunky little man

- yoyo is happily snoozing with her friends in a stress-free field

- chalk is being boarded for training/ leased to my mother. she was out of work for a very hot minute due to bleeding ulcers— but the horse coming out of that recovery had a brand new, relaxed mental state! super proud of her

- bugsy is mostly retired due to arthritis, but enjoys trail rides and lots of carrots— fun fact: two separate dentists have looked at bugsy’s teeth and thought him to be in his mid to late twenties instead of like 18-19yo. not a huge jump and just conjecture, sometimes previous dental care or lack thereof can affect how a horse’s teeth look.

longer answer:

something medically happened to me almost a year ago and caused me a lot of trauma lol, i was emotionally uninvolved with my own life— got a promotion and threw myself into work and away from horses or my friends. yoyo & leaky are boarded with a very nice lady— i get updates and texts on them and their needs so i can still schedule the vet and farrier. chalky and bugsy are being doted on by my mom everyday.

my life is constantly being sorted and re-organized, and in this journey i realized i’d always put everything into caring for animals as an excuse to not take care of myself. thankfully, i have someone in my life that cares and helps me to see where i’m not taking myself into account. it’s really a struggle with my heavy work-load and life responsibilities-in-general to balance all that i want to accomplish for both my career and my own personal interests; to be terribly honest, with both the guilt and exhaustion from falling out of habits and healing, i’m having a really hard time finding motivation to go to the barn. i teach my mom lessons, so i get to see chalky and bugsy every week— but yo-yo and leaky have fallen to the wayside unintentionally, and i’m having a really hard time finding my way back to them.

i’m still a bit lost in the sauce of balancing my own life after everything haha and because of that i’ve been toying with the idea of downsizing just a bit.

yoyo is my forever baby, her and bugsy will happily live out the rest of their years with me. chalky is the horse i usually consider my heart horse— she’s so mare-ish and high maintenance i love her— but she also requires a lot of constant work to burn off her anxious energy and tire out her brain. i wouldn’t trust her sensitive emotions with just anyone, but i also know i can’t commit to working her 6 days a week anymore. if i can find a good lease for her, that would be ideal tbh— she can be veeeery fancy with the right rider, and a really fun trail partner. the hardest one is leaky, who i’m very genuinely considering finding another home for. it was such a great learning experience meeting and working with him— but we never really clicked, and i feel like i’m not the best opportunity for him. through professional training we’ve gauged he’d be a rockstar at cross-country— just an absolute tank on the course. he’s outpaced a selle francis/irish sport-horse cross and proven to be the bravest horse you’ve ever met.

the problem is that he has yet to be started under-saddle, and besides the regular handling of a boarding facility, has mostly been left to his own devices with his boy-band herd out in the field. i’ve never sold a horse before, have no idea where to start— and am unsure if i could even find someone interested in him as he is now. tbh, i think a bigger part of why i haven’t really done much more than just think about this is that i’m also just hesitant to let go. even if we don’t click, i’ve cared for him and watched him grow. he’s still one of my babies, and while it would be a suuuuper helpful financial decision to sell— if feels like closing a big chapter on my life that i thought would never end. it is a constant dilemma that keeps be up at night haha

i really appreciate the Ask <3 i keep forgetting i have tumblr— and by extension this huge community of horse people i’ve come to consider friends— to help me. it’s hard, and i’m still learning to ask for help. i hope everyone has been surviving, thriving— and enjoying their new year!!!

#i apologize for the long response #i appreciate your care #and look forward to hearing back from you guys!

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isnt-it-pretty · 2 years

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Pray to Blades of Grass (Village Keeper!Cyno AU) Notes! Part 1 of 2

Since I didn't write the entire AU, I decided to post my notes about what took place before the one-shot Pray to Blades of Grass (read here!). The notes are point form and below the cut.

See part 2 of the notes here because there was too much for one post.

Both these notes and the fic are a TW for past/referenced suicide attempt + self-harm.

Pray to Blades of Grass

Cyno’s name was nothing but a ghost story among Rtawahist scholars, his genius all but forgotten beyond the label of “mad scholar.” Tighnari never forgot. . Tighnari has spent four years travelling between Gandharva Ville and Aaru Village. He made peace with his loss, happy to have even what little of Cyno remained. Nahida wouldn’t let that stand. (AU where Cyno was never General Mahamatra.)

Cyno was part of the Spantamad darshan (elementalism, the same as Lisa) but decided to change schools to the Rtawahist darshan (illuminationism, and also Haypasia's darshan) due to an interest in understanding the gods. He was student when he and Tighnari met. He was considered a genius within the Sumeru Akademiya for his work in Spantamad and for making brief contact with Irminsul after only a couple years of training. (Even faster than Haypasia).

Tighnari worried about the danger, but he trusted Cyno. By the time everything happened, he and Cyno had already been together for some time.

Cyno, like Haypasia, tended to forget to eat when meditating, which he usually did in a special, mirrored mediation room at the Akademiya. I can't believe that all Rtawahist scholars meditate in the forest, so it would make sense for them to have rooms designated for that.

Tighnari brought him food after one such mediation session where, unknown to him, Cyno successfully contacted Irminsul and Divine Knowledge. I headcanon that what causes the madness in scholars isn't actually the divine knowledge, but rather, they come in contact with the withering within Irminsul.

Tighnari knocked and, when Cyno didn't answer, opened the door to the room. It smelled strongly of Spirit Borneol. The room's mirrors were shattered, and Cyno was collapsed on the ground, covered in blood. He held a shard of the broken mirrors in his hand. Tighnari dropped the food he had brought and tried to staunch the bleeding as he screamed for help.

Cyno was taken away for medical care, and Tighnari was questioned extensively by the Matra. After Cyno woke up, he was officially deemed a mad scholar and exiled to the desert. Tighnari didn't even get to see him again before that happened.

It takes two months for Tighnari to make it to the desert. His grades were slipping, he couldn't eat, had no appetite, and all his passion for his classes was gone. Rumours spread about him and Cyno.

The week that Akademiya students generally went to Port Ormos, Tighnari went to the desert. Getting there sucked, but he eventually arrived in Aaru Village. An older woman asks him if he's lost, and he explains he's looking for somebody. She sends him to Candace.

Candace is polite, if terse, and softens when he tells her he wants to visit his friend. Since the Akademiya views the mad scholars are some sort of contagion, very few people visited them, even friends and family. Tighnari is one of the first. When she points that out, Tighnari snaps that the Akademiya is full of shit and that there has never been a conclusive study to show that a scholar's madness is contagious-- it's propaganda to cover up the Akademiya's failings to protect their students.

When he asks after Cyno specifically, it takes Candace time to realize who Tighnari means. The Matra didn't tell them Cyno's name, and Cyno hadn't spoken since he arrived two months prior. She takes him to visit Cyno, who lives with a family in the village. (I refuse to believe they just let the Village Keepers live in tents around the village, so I have them stay with families who care for them as best they can)

The family he lives with is surprised at the visit but gladly invites them in. They tell Tighnari about what they've noticed, like how getting Cyno to eat is difficult, and he likes to scribble indecipherable symbols over all the paper he can find. Tighnari says he'll help if he can but doesn't know how it will go since he didn't get a chance to talk to Cyno before he was exiled.

Cyno's room is small, with just a straw bed and table, but it's well cared for. Cyno is also well cared for, with his hair brushed and braided-- something Tighnari knows he didn't do since Cyno never had the patience for that.

Cyno looks up when Tighnari enters and, for a moment, stares lifelessly before something like recognition enters his gaze. He smiles and says, "Tighnari," his voice hoarse from lack of use, and Tighnari breaks. Cyno is obviously not living in the same world, but he recognizes Tighnari, which is more than Tighnari expected. He gets Cyno to eat and drink while there, and Cyno leans against him happily.

Tighnari reluctantly has to go but promises he'll be back. He returns to school, finishes his degree, and then leaves for the Avidya Forest with an adamant refusal to work with the Akademiya, partly because of what happened to Cyno.

Every two months, Tighnari takes two to travel and stay in Aaru Village with Cyno. The only reason he doesn't take Cyno back to Gandharva Ville is because he knows Cyno loves the desert.

Tighnari learns the name of everybody in Aaru Village and spends his time there helping treat their ailments in thanks for their care for Cyno. He brings Cyno incense (that he personally can't stand the smell of anymore), honeyed dates, dried mangoes, notebooks and pens, tea, etc., and tells Cyno all about the rain forest even if Cyno isn't lucid.

Part 2 of the notes

#cynonari #genshin impact fanfics #my writing #cyno #tighnari #village keeper cyno

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justapurrcat · 2 years

Text

Tiptoeing Around Your Heart | t.s.h.

Pairing: Tom Holland x fem!ballet dancer!reader

Synopsis: A secret ballet audition brings together a former Billy Elliot and a (possible) future Giselle. What could go wrong?

Word Count: 3.840k

Warnings: English not being my first language, me writing about ballet while not being a dancer, mutual pining but they’re both just idiots.

Tom Holland Masterlist

General Masterlist

A/n: I usually don’t take requests, but I just couldn’t resist this one:

“can you do a fic where tom helps y/n train for her ballet audition”

You could consider this an offspring of Giselle, sweet Giselle and this other cute little jewel both by the lovely @thollandsdarling (I don’t know if this ask was actually addressed to her, honestly, but Mags, if you wanna write it too, I would absolutely love to read your own version of it 💜).

“Remind me again why you asked me to help you out with this”, Tom sighed in fake irritation as he stretched his arms. At first, he had tried to keep up with your exercises, but after seeing all of the crazy bending they involved, he had quickly given up.

After all, he was only supposed to give you a hand, which probably meant holding your waist while you were doing pirouettes and simple things like that, so he had opted for a lighter warm-up.

Fuck, he hadn’t felt that similar to a piece of wood ever since that day he was getting ready to shoot a sequence with Willem Defoe, but in the humiliating tragedy – okay, maybe he was exaggerating a little – he had discovered a silver lining to it. Not doing much meant he could look at you more, and look at you more he did.

The way you moved was nothing short of entrancing, your flexible body conveying both gracefulness and strength, every muscle being perfectly under control, allowing you and your flawless lines to paint an invisible, yet mesmerising art in the air, your limbs shaping themselves like you had no sharp angles whatsoever.

You didn’t even know it, but God, you practically had him wrapped around your finger. And he was going to lose his mind when you would actually start dancing. Just like he did whenever he showed up to your shows. Always in the front row, of course.

Hand on the barre, you leaned back, grinning at him from upside-down when he entered your field of vision. “Because I need to try some steps with a partner”, you told him, not a trace of struggle in your voice, as if you were sipping a cup of tea.

Tom was one of the two people knowing about this audition, the other being your dance teacher who had suggested you’d give it a try. Consequently, that made him the only person you had told. The only person with whom you had shared that information.

Unless it was necessary, you had never been keen on telling people about something important until it was done. Exams, medical visits, auditions… all things that already tended to put a lot of pressure on you. Having the responsibility of people’s expectations weighing on your shoulders would only stress you further.

You hated it, because it could make you sound ungrateful, but even having them cheering for you would cause you to get anxious, the fear of disappointing them clinging to you like an enthusiasm-sucking parasite. So, you preferred to deliver the news after everything was over, negative feelings taken off.

With Tom, though… with Tom it was different. Everything was different.

At the risk of sounding melodramatic, you would’ve entrusted him with your life. Yet there you were, able to tell him everything but the things you were dying to confess.

“Plus, revising a bit of ballet wouldn’t kill you”, you added with a shrug, trying to shake those feelings off of you as you straightened your back in one fluid motion.

Read the room, y/n. Read the fucking ballet room.

You moved away from the barre, going to sit on the floor and Tom pretended to scoff and roll his eyes when you looked at him, earning a little chuckle from you. But in reality, he almost couldn’t tear his gaze from you. His teacher had told him once that a good dancer can be recognized even from the way they walk on stage and bloody hell was your walk fucking amazing. The elegant sway of your hips, the muscles of your back… he was on the verge of drooling like a Saint Bernard.

Tom shook his head, mentally slapping himself and decided it was the moment for a pause. He knelt down, reaching for his backpack to grab his bottle of water, but the damn mirror wasn’t going to give him a break.

He had his back turned to you, and it was the same for you, but he still witnessed every single moment of it. With his throat running dry, he watched you lay down on your back, holding your legs up and then slowly parting them. And you didn’t stop, no, you kept going and going, until they were literally touching the floor.

Holy shit, how could you even open your legs like that? And why the fuck was it so easy for Tom to imagine himself between them, hovering over you to brush his lips over yours, as his hands caressed your inner thighs, teasingly getting closer and closer to your–no. No, no, no, no, no.

He had to think of something else. He needed to.

“First of all, fuck you”, he said without thinking, the words leaving his mouth probably surprising him more than you. But oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound. “Second of all, fuck you.”

You sat up, turning around and locking gazes with his reflection, a silent question shaping itself in your raised eyebrows.

Tom pouted like a baby, letting go of his water – he wasn’t really that thirsty, it was more… metaphorical – and standing up, finally facing you. “I’ve never been able to stretch like that, not even in my Billy Elliot days of glory”, he clarified.

You got up as well, flashing him an amused expression. “Relax, movie-star: you won’t have to do much”, you replied, your light-hearted tone carrying a sweet note of reassurance. “Just watch and tell me if it looks good to you.”

“And what about the couple steps?”, he wondered, tilting his head to the side a bit. To be blatantly honest, that was the part he looked forward to the most. He absolutely adored seeing you dance, you were a literal joy for the eyes. But being your partner, he would’ve had the occasion to hold you close, to be loved by you, even if it was just pretense…

“I just need you to help me with my balance and to move me around a bit”, you explained, barely holding back a dreamy sigh at the image of you, nestled in his strong arms, that flashed through your mind due to your own sentence…

“I’ll do the rest”, you continued, dismissing it immediately. “And if you’re comfortable we can try a couple of lifts. Not complicated stuff, we’re not taking risks.”

Tom nodded along, understanding what you meant with that. It wasn’t that you didn’t think he could be capable of lifting you, because he was, but despite his classical training, he had little to no experience as a porteur, and had things gone wrong, he could’ve injured himself. “Mh. I can do it.”

“Great, come here”, you invited, beckoning him closer and then guiding him towards the centre of the room. “Let’s try this with no music, and while I’m still not sweaty.”

“Charming”, he commented, winking at you, completely ignorant that your heart skipped a beat at that simple action, and you simply smiled and glanced at the ceiling, forcing out a little breathy laugh, no witty comeback coming in your favour.

But now you couldn’t have time for that. Now it was the moment to concentrate. So you cleared your throat and switched to your professional instructor mode, explaining to your partner the steps, the context, the story, the meaning behind each gesture, even the tiniest details of the little fragment you were going to practise. It was only a minute, literally nothing when compared to the full ballet, but it was a dense one – at least for the performer of Giselle –, almost entirely on pointe, and it contained one of your favourite bits, right in the first few seconds.

Tom listened to you religiously, like the most attentive student, the smug spark in his eyes now totally vanished, replaced by a stubborn determination. He wasn’t gonna let you down. When he gave you the green light and a thumbs up, you took a few steps back, getting ready to start, to let Giselle take over.

“Five, six, seven, eight…”

You made your way towards him and he did the same, your right hands reaching out and intertwining with each other, being held against your chests, as you went on point and rested your head on his shoulder, your free arms wrapping around the other’s body in a tender embrace.

With your hand above his heart, Tom’s eyes fluttered shut, and he breathed in your delicate scent of lilies and jasmine, savouring the feeling of completeness your presence in his arms gave him.

However, the ballet told a precise story, and this was nothing but a sweet, wistful moment, a glimpse of calm the two lovers had managed to rip from the unforgiving course of time… and it wasn’t destined to last. For that reason, after an instant Tom unwillingly took a step back, and that was your cue.

You slowly lifted your leg, compensating it by leaning back with your torso, your hand secured in his being the sole support for your balance.

There it was: this, along with the hug, was your favourite part. It wasn’t particularly complicated, but you liked the idea of the joined hands being the centre of it all, like both Giselle and Albrecht were combining their pleas, pouring them in an affectionate touch. There could be so much behind an apparently insignificant thing and it fascinated you beyond words.

Tom didn’t flinch. Not even a little, no matter how violently the fear of messing up was flooding his veins with liquid ice.

When you came back from it, you turned around, still standing on one leg, and he was there to support you, firmly grabbing your waist with one hand, just like you had told him.

There was not much left for him to do, the next steps involving you arching your back and then leaning forward, your raised leg coming to form a perfect continuous line with the one you were supporting yourself on. So, he simply took you in in all your melancholic glory, as your upper body ondulated so effortlessly, reminding him of flowers being caressed by the breeze.

When you stood straight again, on two feet again – even if not for long – Tom’s free hand joined the other around your waist, and he gingerly helped you turn around, handling you with such attention and care that it felt like a soft cuddle.

In the middle of that motion, you switched your supporting leg, and proceeded to bend forward once again, only with a subtle variation to it. Now, your pose resembled the one you would’ve adopted while executing a gran jeté, only it was like you had been frozen in the middle of the jump and rotated in vertical, with Tom holding you up and moving you like you were a little figure spinning inside of a silent music box.

You stood up as he came to a halt, but then immediately leaned forward again, you were trying to reach out, sheltering yourself in another, this time invisible, hug. And then, Tom began walking backwards, and you had no choice but to stand you up and abandon yourself to him, following his lead like it was the most natural thing ever – like the two of you had been carved into existence to dance with each other –, your little tiptoe steps keeping up with his strides until he stopped.

The segment was approaching its conclusion. Still keeping a hand around your waist, Tom mimicked your movement as you raised an arm and slightly arched your back. That transitioned in you repeating the position from before, once again as if you were yearning to hold something that no longer existed if not in your memory.

And so it ended, with Tom definitely pulling you onto your feet and restoring your balance, his chest almost touching your back, his breath tickling the nape of your neck, sending a million little shivers all over your body and causing your skin to tingle with an excitement you found very difficult to contain.

You had been dancing to silence, but now that everything had stopped, it felt like it had been increased tenfold, the soft echoes of your mixed breathings resonating in that empty room like whispers in a sacred place.

It felt… intimate. Nothing had ever felt that intimate.

The two of you had even happened to share a bed several times, often waking up in the most absurd postures – and most of it was Tom’s doing, since you tended to remain quite still while sleeping, while he was more on the chaotic, restless side –, to the point where it could no longer embarrass you.

Yet there you were, doing nothing, but still being shaken to the core by it.

“A-and next you should lift me, so we can end it here”, you told him, attempting to come out of that impasse. You found the courage to look at his reflection in the mirror, only to discover that he was already staring at you, his bewitching signature puppy eyes digging a hole in your heart. You wanted to compliment him, to thank him for his kindness and patience, but not a sound dared to come out of your parted lips.

Little did you know that it was taking Tom everything in his power not to gently hold your chin between his fingers, carefully turn your head and kiss your breath away. His whole being was begging him to give it a try, to take that final step that terrified him so much, to finally open his heart and soul to the enrapturing creature in his arms, leaving her with the choice to tear it to pieces, or to cherish it like the most priceless treasure.

With a puzzling defeated sigh, he let go of you, his hands curiously lingering on your waist a little longer than necessary…

“Did I do things right?”, Tom asked you once you’d turned around. He gulped, looking like a child waiting for his parents to scold him. Sure, he had done his best, but what if he had made mistakes without noticing? What if you had noticed – what the Hell was he thinking, it went without saying, that you had – them? What if he had made a fool of himself? What if he had made you uncomfortable?

You were tempted to cup his face and kiss the tip of his nose, instantly – and quite reluctantly – deciding against it. It would’ve been weird, especially after that awkward… whatever that was. “You were perfect, Tom.”

The loveliest shade of bright pink coated his cheeks and ears. You loved it when it happened. “Oh come on”, he coyly dismissed that, scratching the back of his hair. “You were the one doing everything. I was merely a pivot.”

“An extremely essential and well-versed pivot”, you insisted, and despite your joking tone, you truly meant it: he had been more attentive and considerate at his first try than many of your other partners after dozens of lessons. Without a complaint, he had followed you smoothly, as if you had been rehearsing that segment for months.

But it wasn’t just that: Tom had a natural talent, something a person simply couldn’t learn. He had been away from ballet for so long, all of his filming projects literally changing his life, asking him to train and shape his body differently… and sometimes you found yourself wishing he would’ve continued dancing, instead of pursuing an acting career.

You wished he would’ve stayed.

It was selfish, dreaming of stealing him away from Hollywood – the same way that glamourous world had stolen him from you –, just to be able to hold his hand on a stage, to tell the most wonderful stories through the harmonic synch of your bodies, to live a hundred different lives by his side, changing while remaining the same…

It was selfish, and you hated yourself for it, but it would’ve been so beautiful…

“Shut up”, Tom downplayed your compliment, but a smile still crawled its way to his lips: you seemed satisfied, happy even, and that was all he wished for. “You know, I kinda felt like a thief, watching you for free”, he confessed.

You tapped your chin, pretending to actually consider it. “Well, I’m not opposed to getting paid…”, you told him, nonchalantly raising your hand, palm upwards, but he dramatically pushed it out of the way.

“I said kinda”, he argued, his voice coming out in an outraged gasp, while his free hand flying up to his chest.

You returned the blow, playfully smacking his arm. “Stingy.”

Tom winked at you, showing you his middle finger and you chuckled at the silly way he wiggled his eyebrows.

“No, but jokes aside…”, he spoke after a while – because he had lost himself in the sweet sound of your laugh like a proper idiot –, returning serious. “You were amazing, y/n. I mean it.”

“Thank you”, you murmured softly, heat blooming on your cheeks and spreading across your face, neck and ears. And then you gave him a smile and it felt like a spotlight being directed right into his eyes with no remorse whatsoever.

“Uhm…” Undergoing the titanic effort not to let his jaw drop to the floor, Tom did his best to appear unfazed, neutral, keeping himself together like a pro. But on the inside, he was screaming like a banshee.

“So… this guy who might play the Albrecht dude…”, he mentioned, realising too late what he had done. Being so desperate to fill the silence and change the topic, he had chosen the one he had been trying to ignore ever since you had told him the story of Giselle.

Your partners had always been a taboo in your conversations, with an honourable mention to Mike, who had kissed you in Romeo and Juliet – Harry and Sam had teased him for an entire week after witnessing it happen in the show. Tom despised Mike like few other things…

Not that he had ever actively manifested his annoyance while talking about it, though, of course: it was your job and, sadly, you weren’t together. And even if, by chance or miracle, you had been, he was well aware he wouldn’t have had any right to say something about the situation.

So he would swallow the bitter pill and support you through it all, because that was what friends did, and your happiness and well-being came first for him.

But for some reason, you would never tell him about any of those guys. Every time the two of you talked, you seemed to forget them… and he certainly wasn’t complaining. Because deep down, and he knew it was extremely wrong, but he couldn’t help it: he was jealous.

“He’s…”, Tom trailed off, desperately looking for something, anything to say. “… tall, huh?”

Yeah, sure, go with the height, Tom, he scolded himself, wanting to kick his brain. Great plan, genius.

“You mean Will?”, you wondered, blinking repeatedly, confused by the unexpected question. When he didn’t answer, you took it as a yes. “Uh, yeah, kind of”, you mumbled, feeling incredibly awkward. “He’s like 6ft 5’ or around that. Maybe more.” And now you were just being unsensitive, what the fuck was wrong with you?!

“To be honest, I’m afraid I’ll look like a dwarf next to him”, you added, hoping it would somehow fix the mess caused by what was by no doubt sounding like a bunch of nonsense to his ears.

“Then they shouldn’t hire him”, he muttered dryly.

“Tom!”

“What? I want you to look good on stage”, he justified himself, raising his hands like they were proof of the lack of malice in his thoughts.

And, most importantly, not dancing in the arms of a muscular giant. He bit his tongue not to add that. I can be your muscular not-giant. I can get even more muscular if you want me… okay, now he was getting pathetic.

“And…” He bit the inside of his cheek, cringing at what he was about to ask you. “Do you have to kiss or…?” It might have sounded stupid, but it wasn’t. He was here to offer you his help, right? You could’ve used a hand to rehearse that scene as well…

Several different questions cluttered your mind. Why was he asking about this? Why was he so interested in what you and Will were going to do? Why did he want to know? What did he want to know?

“Uh… no”, you denied, your voice barely louder than a whisper. “No kisses in this production.”

Tom didn’t even bother to mask his disappointment. “Isn’t it a love story?”

“Among other things, yes.”

“But no kiss.”

“She keeps him alive until morning despite him being the reason behind her death…”, you countered, not quite feeling the need for a kissing scene. And not particularly looking forward to sharing it with Will, either. “I think that’s pretty close.”

Tom looked at you in an indecipherable way, his lips pressing themselves into a thin line, his eyes running over your features. “Yeah, I guess…”, he agreed unconvincingly. And there went his chance.

His reaction left you with an uneasy burden on your shoulders and a bitter taste lingering in your mouth. Was this his friendly, kind tentative to drop a subtle hint about the fact that you had been so pathetically alone for so long that even the unusual suggestion of requesting to add a kiss on stage seemed like an ideal solution?

It had to be. You had no other explanation for it.

“I can always ask, though”, you offered weakly.

“Yeah, you should”, Tom confirmed with an energetic nod, the blow that finally knocked you out for good.

You didn’t say anything, head sinking between your shoulders as your defeated gaze dropped to the ground.

And because of that you didn’t see the way his eyes went round, growing twice their size, as he became fully aware of his own statement.

Holy shit, he was literally encouraging you to go and kiss another guy!

“No. You shouldn’t”, he frantically rushed to correct himself, causing your head to snap up just as quickly, that incorregible glimpse of hope always ready to be restored by the tiniest resemblance of a clue…

“It would be unprofessional”, he articulated seriously, praying to all of the Saints he remembered that his reasoning would convince you. That he would convince you. “Like, awfully unprofessional. Beyond words unprofessional”, he stressed out. “If it’s not in this production, you shouldn’t.”

Sure, Tom was talking about work, yet you couldn’t help a feeling of relief flourishing in your chest. “Yeah, you’re right, I shouldn’t.”

“You definitely shouldn’t”, he repeated to further reinforce the concept. But he committed the fatal mistake of letting his guard down, giving your warm smile full access to his vulnerability.

His next words took advantage of that, slipping past his lips before he could process them. Let alone stop them. “Could we kiss, though?”

“What?”

A/n: I know, it sucks, but I had to write it... to whoever requested this, I hope it didn’t disappoint you that much, and thank you for sending the ask! 💜

If you’re interested, here you can find the version of the Giselle pas de deux that I used as reference (the part Tom and y/n rehearsed starts at 2:36 and ends at 3:38). The way I described it doesn’t make it justice, but it’s really worth a watch!

Taglist: @thollandsdarling @hunnybunimdun @namoreno @nocturnalms @vendettaparker @wildxwidow @mn-jun @thisisparadisemylove @belovedholland @blankspaceblankday @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @mrparkerwillseeyounow @indouloureux @hemlockhearts @obsessed-with-a-fictional-man @melodicheauxxo @seolaseoul @peteprker @peetahpahkah @marajillana @yeetzel

(Let me know if you wanna be added or removed, add yourself to my taglist or follow me on my writing side-blog @lia-s-liabrary and turn the notifications on)

#tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x fem!reader #Tom Holland x dancer!reader #tshwritersnet #tom holland angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland imagine #tiptoeing around your heart

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blametheeditor · 7 months

Text

Incident 8786-1

Content Warnings: Cursing. Mentions of death and murder. Mentions of others treated being lesser than and inhumanely. Darker themes and tone.

SCP-8787's file

True best friend's don't care if you're an SCP

______________________________________

Jeremy had been asked a few times why he worked for the foundation.

While it was a little hurtful to be asked by so many people, most of who were senior researchers who took one look at him before blurting it out, he kind of understands it.

He’ll jump at every shadow that seems to move on its own. He’s careful not to get assigned to medical emergencies where the patient is nearly impossible to save. He wrinkles his nose whenever his colleges comment about D-Class personnel like they’re below dirt.

Jeremy is not made to be in a facility where impossible to understand entities exist and are two minutes away from breaking out of containment that could cause numerous casualties within seconds. But that doesn’t mean he can’t help.

If anything, he’s actually the one medical staff who attends to anyone’s anomalic injuries. At least, those that don’t require any surgery, because he never received a degree for such complicated procedures. But he ensures everyone is examined after encountering an anomaly while on site or when field researchers and agents return. And that includes D-Class personnel.

He never understood putting a limit on who got to even see medical after interacting with anomalies. Especially those who interact with them almost daily! Wouldn’t they want to have a report even if there seemed to have been no effect or there was no ‘true’ interaction? Jeremy might just be an examiner, but even he can say that interactions can be purely psychic and therefore should be documented. If not for caring about a human being, then there’s at least more research to put into the file to better understand that specific SCP.

But no, Jeremy had to fight for D-Class to get examined after every encounter. It didn’t stop there, because even researchers weren’t happy about stopping by his office after entering a containment room.

It took him managing to complete five different reports for five different anomalies after examining five separate D-Class for the site to realize it should be a requirement. Again, if now for their health, then to better understand what is being researched.

So he knows every D-Class at the site he works at. He doesn’t like to think about when someone is no longer in his files. Nor does he linger on why certain names seem to replace the others.

It meant getting nasty looks from his other coworkers when their procedures had to be updated. It meant getting yelled at by certain senior researchers for making ‘progress’ with a certain anomaly go even slower than before. It also meant people he thought of as friends decided they weren’t.

But that’s how he met Mike.

The thing about D-Class personnel is that they’re rarely out of their own quarters, and usually only come to the upper floors when certain experiments were needing to be conducted. It wasn’t until Jeremy received orders to examine them after every anomaly exposure were they allowed onto the upper floors much more frequently and freely. Even allowed access to the researcher’s cafeteria if they had to stay in medical for a while.

He learned quickly that most of them were nice as long as you were nice. Which he can understand considering their role when it comes to being D-Class on site. There were only a few that, despite being helped from a trained medical personnel who’s only job was to help, wanted nothing to do with him. Which again, he can understand! But when it came to trying to attack him is when all his sympathy left.

Jeremy can count on one hand the number of times it happened. But the one time a security officer wasn’t in the immediate area to help, another D-Class personnel had come to his aid.

They originally were resting after being exposed to an incredibly odd form of radiation. It was fatal, but not contagious, and therefore was given a cot to be closely monitored. The last time Jeremy checked on them, they had been unresponsive to his question if anything was needed, tucked into a tight ball with their eyes firmly closed.

And yet it was that same person who burst into the examination room the second Jeremy screamed for help after he barely dodged a fist attempting to strike him.

His attacker had been effortlessly shoved aside, unable to try and land another punch before getting kicked out into the hallway, a voice snapping at the nearest researcher who had been walking by to find a security officer.

“You okay?” was called back to Jeremy as the two stood off in the hallway, nether making another move.

“Uh, y-yeah,” was all he could say. “Th-Thank you.”

It was only when a security officer arrived when his savior walked back into the room, looked Jeremy up and down, before walking over to the cot and flopping into it to curl into a ball again.

Jeremy had cancelled the rest of the examinations for the day. Because not only was he going to be much too shaken to get accurate information, but he wasn’t going to force someone who helped him move to the other room.

He did use the rest of his shift to look up the man’s file. Learned his name was Mike. Realized he was one of the original five D-Class personnel Jeremy examined in order to finish the reports for five different anomalies.

Actually, Mike’s name wasn’t permanently taken off the list because Jeremy’s treatment allowed him to be healthy enough to continue working as D-Class instead of being no longer usable.

Jeremy was hoping Mike didn’t help him while in pain from radiation because he technically saved the other and therefore felt obligated. Didn’t bring it up until the man managed to survive an anomaly with a 75% fatality rate and was given a clean bill of health.

“Y-You didn’t have t-t-t-to-” was all he managed to get out before his hair was being ruffled, Jeremy too stunned from his previous curls getting messed up.

“See ya.”

Jeremy saw Mike a few times after that. The man was quiet, and would act like a severe wound didn’t hurt as much as it did, but he was always friendly. Would ask questions about what techniques were being used when stitching or be genuinely curious what medicine was given and why despite having drank said medicine without hesitation only a few seconds before.

Jeremy liked to think they were friends.

It had definitely taken a while, but he was even told about the scars on Mike's head from the very first encounter he had with an anomaly. An encounter that actually had been the reason why the man was a D-Class in the first place. And after that, Jeremy had even earned a nickname he was greeted with. And despite the fact seeing Mike meant he was put into interactions with anomalies fairly constantly, he was always happy to see the name come up on the list for examinations that day.

There were even times when Mike would sit with him when recovery took longer than usual, either in his office or during examinations. Became Jeremy's shadow for a week, even if he was supposed to be resting. His medical supervisors didn't need to know. Not when this particular D-Class personnel was sought after the most considering he survived more exposures than anyone else and could give full detailed reports on the effects.

Mike deserved a break. Especially because again, if Jeremy didn't argue D-Class should be examined as well as interviewed, they wouldn't have the man for such informative research.

And after all of their interactions, it seemed like there wasn’t anything the man would hide.

Yet Jeremy could immediately tell he wasn’t being told everything when Mike walked in with a file labeled SCP-8786. Because for once he didn’t hop onto the examination table when asked. And he knew it wasn’t because the man was hurt, because he managed to do that the time radiation was raging through him. Or the time when his leg was a bit...destroyed.

“How do you f-f-feel?”

“Fine,” Mike shrugged, hands in the pockets of the standard D-Class uniform that always reminded Jeremy of prison uniforms.

Jeremy glanced at the report that was handed over to him and made a worried noise in the back of his throat at reading what could only be described as panicked scrawl when usually he had typed reports for each D-Class examination, or at the very least extremely well printed notes.

Never had he been given one with the large words ‘Location Of Anomaly: Unknown’ before.

“What h-happened?” he asked. Tried to keep himself from panicking. Because not knowing where one is was completely different from a containment breach...right?

For the first time, Mike refused to meet his eyes. “There was a...portal.”

“Y-Y-You can curse.”

Mike finally smirked like normal before he rubbed his head nervously. “There was this goddamn portal, and some asshole said I needed to fucking touch it. So, I did, and then the fucking thing vanished.”

“Did it h-h-hurt t-to touch?”

“No, cold as hell.” Mike glanced around the room before looking at Jeremy. “I trust you, Jerber.”

That immediately had the shorter beaming with pride. “Th-Thank you!”

“Do you trust me?”

Jeremy was nodding his head before he really thought about it. But, he did trust Mike. He kept the other safe from getting punched. He also always made sure Jeremy was never at risk of being near anything that was contagious after each anomaly encounter. There were even times Mike snapped at any or his medical coworkers who attempted to degrade him.

“Y-Yes.”

“I’m the fucking portal.”

...that was not what he was expecting.

“Oh." Jeremy hesitated before looking for any obvious wounds from what sounded almost like a fusion, though he didn't go any closer with how worried Mike looked. "Uh...are y-y-you h-h-hurt?”

Mike seemed to relax completely after that. Nodded his head before reaching toward the pen on the counter.

“No. Don’t feel any goddamn different. But when I push shit-”

The pen was nudged with one finger, and immediately disappeared into thin air. But before Jeremy could complain that was one of his good pens, it reappeared in Mike’s grasp and offered.

“I can take shit in and out of the portal.”

“...a-and you’re s-scared,” Jeremy realized as Mike threw his hands up.

“Yeah! Those bastards throw me at everything!” the man exclaimed. “Now that I’m a fucking monster, they’ll get even worse, and you can’t fucking talk shit with me anymore!”

That was when Jeremy confirmed they were friends. Friends who healed the other from fatal injuries inflicted by anomalies. Friends who didn’t tell the researchers who put your life in danger they became an SCP and instead only tells the other. Who is mostly upset they won’t be able to talk anymore because anomalies don’t need medical examinations when exposed because they are what others are exposed to.

“I-I can still talk to y-y-y-you,” Jeremy began. “Y-You’re still human. A-And because y-you're always exposed, I’ll have to w-w-write reports.”

Mike hummed in thought at that.

“A-And they’ll be n-n-n-nicer. They can’t l-let you get hurt b-b-b-because they want to kn-know everything,” Jeremy continued, unable to help but become more confident because Mike can’t be taken off the list anymore. They can’t throw him at another anomaly without precautions or else completely lose SCP-8786, because it sounded like the portal was altered completely from its previous form.

“And if they learn every goddamn thing?”

“They d-d-d-don't h-have to know everything.”

Mike snorted before he burst out laughing. “Thought you did every-fucking-thing by the goddamn book!”

“I wouldn’t t-t-t-treat D-Class if I-I d-did,” Jeremy huffed.

“Alright Jerber,” Mike grinned. “We’ll fucking tell them. But I see your ass every fucking week.”

"B-B-Because you c-c-c-constantly f-feel cold and d-don't know if it could g-g-get worse.”

Mike offered a fist Jeremy admittedly was confused about until it bumped with his own fist. “Fuck yeah. If you want, I’ll hold you goddamn hostage too.”

“Y-Y-Yeah- what!”

#and the Mike and Jeremy!#alright that's everyone accounted for #and yes Who Even God Fears is meant to be as mysterious as possible #...as mysterious as it can be #but that's it and I like the line up we have!#a confident senior researcher who bit off more than he can chew #a newer recruit who has been claimed #a god who was outwitted to the 10th degree #and two idiots with no plan or safety precautions figuring it out as they go #this is going to be fun #it was a bit of a roller coaster but I hope ya'll enjoyed it so far!#and I will definitely be trying to get SCP AU Chapter 1 out this week #but no promises #FNAF bois #SCP AU #BTE writing #cw #content warning

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midnightpillsnacking · 7 months

Text

[Loulou*di S3V2 L 3-9] Hana-Doll 3rd Season THINK OF ME:ARK Translation

Translation below the cut. Google Drive link | Listen to the album on Spotify

Project Archive: L 3-9

Setsuna: Hey, what did the situation earlier mean? Do you know?

Rui: It’s nothing to concern yourself over.

Setsuna: I’m curious. After all–

Rui: That was just an impulse from the mention of Anthos*.

Setsuna: But…

Rui: Ageha speaks the truth. The flower is not much of an outside threat even during the window when it is at its most potent. Furthermore, internal wounds are barely noticeable when the situation is stable.

Setsuna: Internal…wounds?

Rui: Take care that you head off in the right direction. But that aside, the tea must have scalded you earlier on.

Setsuna: Not at all. Anyway, Mahiro–

Rui: That conversation ends here.

Setsuna: …

Rui: There’s no need for you to mention Yuuki Mahiro the next time you see Ageha.

Setsuna: Is it okay to break my promise with Ageha then?

Rui: Why did you even make such a promise with Ageha in the first place?

Setsuna: Hm? ‘Why’?

Rui: You’re not plotting something with Ageha, are you? As far as I know, you two had no interaction when we were at the training academy.

Setsuna: Are promises something you only make with people you’re close with?

Rui: Considering the risks, the question is why would you make a promise with someone you don’t know and what can you hope to gain from it? It’s beyond my comprehension.

Setsuna: Risk?

Rui: You let slip a job that has yet to be publicly announced. If anybody knew that word of it reached Ageha, you’ll be first one to be suspected by Anthos*. Are you okay being branded a traitor?

Setsuna: A traitor? Will Mahiro doubt me?

Rui: Likely.

Setsuna: I don’t want that.

Rui: That’s why I’m telling you to stop.

Setsuna: Okay, I understand. Thanks.

Rui: No need to thank me.

Setsuna: Huh?

Rui: ?

Setsuna: Just now, you looked just like him. Like Ryoga.

Rui: Kagekawa Ryoga?

Setsuna: Your aura is a little similar to his. When I talk about Mahiro to Ryoga, he makes a face like he’s kind of irritated.

Rui: I… don’t really care about Yuuki Mahiro, or Anthos* for that matter. Besides… (winces)

Setsuna: What’s the matter?

Rui: No, it’s nothing.

Setsuna: Hmm… Then, I’ll be going.

Rui: Setsuna.

Setsuna: I didn’t get burned so I’m okay. Bye-bye.

(Setsuna leaves.)

Rui: (winces in pain) What is this…? I don’t care about Anthos*, yet… why do I…

(Sound of a device being activated.)

Staff Member A: Medical team. What’s the–

Rui: Why was Yashiro Setsuna here?

Staff Member A: …The notification didn’t arrive on time. I apologize for the inconvenience.

Rui: Please answer my question. Why was he here?

Staff Member A: I apologize.

Rui: The application for all personnel to be vacated should have been accepted.

Staff Member A: You’re right.

Rui: Then why?

Staff Member A: I will explain shortly. Please calm down. He sometimes is allowed to be away from the facility as part of his retreat. His cultivation programme is different from the other members.

Rui: In other words, he’s more of a guest than we are.

Staff Member A: We made sure that his schedule wouldn’t allow him a chance to meet you. Apologies.

Rui: He mentioned that he came for maintenance that was scheduled earlier than usual. Does that have something to do with Anthos*’ appearance on Dream Drama Festa?

Staff Member A: Yes, we were doing some adjustments for his condition.

Rui: My understanding is that Dream Drama Festival is traditionally held every year outdoors. Am I correct?

Staff Member A: Yes.

Rui: For the sake of clarity, how about Loulou*di’s offer?

Staff Member A: For the time being, none has been made.

Rui: It would be better to have an understanding with a head start.

Staff Member A: We have not received any information in detail since yesterday.

Rui: Understood, doctor. Thank you.

Staff Member A: Don’t mention it. On another note, has he given you any trouble lately?

Rui: Not particularly.

Staff Member A: Then, has anything happened the past few days that has caused you distress?

Rui: Why do you ask?

Staff Member A: The medical research team has been carefully monitoring your brain waves.

Rui: I think I heard about that being possible through the seed implanted in the body.

Staff Member A: Exactly. Over the past few days, your ERP[1] has been showing waveforms that have not been observed until now.

Rui: That’s…

Staff Member A: ERPs are thought to halve when facing inhibitory stimuli and secondary stimuli. The measurements recorded from the seed are still somewhat of a mystery to unpack, and with the possibility of noise…

Toki: (in the distance) Rui-san?

Rui: Toki-bou.

Toki: Oh, there you are. I thought I heard you talking. What are you doing here? …Who is this?

Rui: A member of the emergency staff from the medical facility.

Toki: Oh. One of those people butting in just because I’ve been complaining that I haven’t been feeling so good lately, right?

Staff Member A: As mentioned, you appear to be doing well.

Toki: But of course. Rui-san and Ageha-san are with me here, after all. Right, Rui-san?

Ageha: Just what are you all gathering here for?

Toki: Ageha-san!

Ageha: I leave for a minute and come back to this… (to the staff member) Hello, thank you for your hard work.

Staff Member A: You look like you’re in high spirits as well.

Ageha: Thank you. It wouldn’t have been possible without such a serene environment.

Staff Member A: About… Yashiro Setsuna’s case–

Ageha: I don’t really understand what’s the point of this meeting, but could we just end the correspondence once and for all? Actually, this is the first time the three of us have seen each other today.

Toki: Exactly. We finally got to get together, so please don’t get in our way.

Ageha: I was just thinking about enjoying some precious time with this modest happy few.

Staff Member A: Heard loud and clear. We hope for nothing less than the best for both your body and mind.

Ageha: Thank you very much. Then, please excuse us.

(Ageha ends the call.)

Ageha: (sighs) Seriously. Those fools from the research facility… How many times must I tell them to stay out of this?

Toki: They don’t even respect Ageha-san’s instructions. They should all just be sacked.

Ageha: You’re being lively as always today.

Toki: Right? It’s ‘cuz I took a nap and rested up a lot!

Ageha: Mm. It’s good that you’re following instructions.

Toki: (giggles)

Ageha: If you’re well enough for it, let’s go have a meal. Go and change.

Toki: Okay!

Ageha: Rui bought some souvenirs this afternoon. The sweet things are what you requested, right?

Toki: You managed to buy them? Yay! …Rui-san?

Ageha: Rui.

Rui: … Sorry, did you say something?

Toki: Ageha-san said you bought souvenirs for me.

Rui: Ah, of course. Cake, pudding and macaroons, right?

Toki: Eh? All of them?

Rui: I wasn’t sure which would be the best choice. I couldn’t pick just one. Do you not want all of them?

Toki: I’ll eat everything! Rui-san, I love you!

Ageha: Toki, before that, go freshen up.

Toki: Got it, I’ll go change my clothes now! (leaves)

Ageha: Let’s head back to the living room.

Rui: Ageha.

Ageha: I don’t need an explanation or excuses. I knew you were sneaking behind my back and talking with the medical research team. For now, just focus on humoring Toki. I’ll take responsibility for–

Rui: Ageha!

Ageha: What’s with that face?

Rui: Right back at you. Why are you looking at me like that?

Ageha: Ah. Unfortunately, I can’t see my own face without a mirror.

Rui: Ageha would never turn around for me. He would move forward even if it meant trampling me. He wouldn’t normally cross paths with me, much less turn my way. Up until now, there wasn’t a single time when those things–

Ageha: You… Do you really want to be stepped on so badly? You truly are a freak. Listen well, Rui. This isn’t reality. It’s the inside of an ephemeral dream.

Rui: Ageha…

Ageha: It won’t be long before we will leave. We have to take up our responsibilities as Loulou*di. But now… in this moment, we’re inside a special dream. Peering from inside an isolated illusion. This is a nice, relaxing dream.

Rui: Stop it.

Ageha: Listening to the sound of the wind, feeling the ebbs and flows of an invisible stream… In the arts, such a serene feeling would be poured into music, written onto a music sheet with the heart still weighing heavy. If I think about all the smiles the sound I create will bring, I believe that even now, I will be able to leave behind my greatest song. There won’t be a second for–

Rui: Ageha!

Ageha: (sighs) Your wish will surely be granted soon. I will disgracefully flail and struggle to breathe, and then finally die. My body will cease as a beautiful corpse, mounted on a magnificent frame, and placed as a grave marker[2]. That’s what you want to see, isn’t it?

Rui: That’s…

Ageha: I will wait for that day. This must have been the path Chihiro sprinted on.

Toki: Ageha-san, Rui-san! Let’s have tea!

Ageha: Let’s go, Rui.

Translator’s Notes:

ERP likely refers to ’Event-related potential’.

Ageha’s word of this album is ‘bohyou (墓標, meaning gravestone)/bouhyou (妄評, meaning unfair criticism)’. Unfortunately I was unable to discern which is which between this drama track and the previous one where he mentions it again in his long monologue in the art museum. I don’t believe the context changes a lot but I thought it was important to highlight this recurring word used.

#hanadoll #louloudi #season3 #thinkofmeark #L 3-9 #snacktranslations

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ask-sad-ghost-piett · 1 year

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Posthumous Admiral's Log - Entry 28

I must say that this Obi-Wan Kenobi fellow is getting on my nerves. I had a terribly unpleasant encounter with him which was entirely unprovoked. You see, I was simply minding my own business, daydreaming about blasting Rebel cruisers, when I saw his blue ghost swooping down towards me. He then proceeded to accuse me of luring Anakin Skywalker down the wrong path and called me a “temptress of the Dark Side”.

Among many wild contentions, he blamed me for encouraging Lord Vader’s murderous tendencies which have – according to Kenobi – gone so far as to alter the physical appearance of his Force spirit. I assume Kenobi was referring to Lord Vader’s inflammatory eye condition. I do not know how I might have caused such a thing, and given that I have no ophthalmological training, I doubt I could make the eye condition any better or worse. (That said, I did with the Imperial Medical Bay on the subject, and they believe it is some form of post-mortem jaundice. They aren’t sure how one could develop such a condition post-mortem, but at any rate, it certainly isn’t my fault.)

I tried to tell Kenobi that I have only ever done my duty to the Empire and that, if anything, Lord Vader is usually the one who demands my presence. I also tried to explain that Lord Vader is an adult. In fact, he’s older than me. As such, he has the right to choose for himself who to affiliate with and what actions to make in life. I doubt I could influence him even if I tried. If I did, I might have been able to save poor Needa from strangulation.

Sadly, none of this convinced Kenobi. He told me to keep away from Anakin. Considering that Lord Vader typically seeks me out rather than the other way around, I told him that was unlikely to happen. Kenobi only shook his head and went off sulking.

Since then, I’ve seen him watching me angrily from a distance. He’s given me quite a shock a few times. It’s a wonder he and Lord Vader don’t get along better saying as they both seem to love brooding and frightening me.

I’ve considered bringing up the matter with Lord Vader, but I think that can wait. I have far too much stress already to worry about an angry Lord Vader on top of everything. Given their history, I doubt Lord Vader will take well to this news about Kenobi. I can’t blame him. If one of my friends pushed me into lava, I doubt I’d ever forgive them either.

Frankly, it’s absurd that such a thing even happened. I’ve had my fair share of rows with various acquaintances, but not once has a fight ever ended in dismemberment and volcanic burns. I can’t imagine any of my colleagues ever doing such a thing, not even Motti (although he did push me into the trash compactor once by accident). I wouldn’t have believed the tale if Lord Vader hadn’t had the scars to show for it in life.

Of course, I doubt Kenobi will listen to any of that. For now, I can only hope he’ll tire of these antics and leave me be. I’m far too tired for this.

- Admiral Piett

Read the full log on AO3.

#posthumous log #admiral piett #star wars parody #obi wan kenobi #vaderkin #pray for piett even in death #firmus piett: unintentional temptress of the dark side #he doesn't even know what the dark side really means #as far as he is concerned there's the empire and then there's pirates

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this-world-of-beautiful-monsters · 2 years

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laid you wide open for hell

Ponds and his batch deal with the fallout from Wolffe's injury.

Title taken from the poem We Remember Your Childhood Well by Carol Ann Duffy.

Prompt: Hurry Up and Wait.

(tw panic attacks, mentioned injuries, family conflict, past dehumanization, very vague references to sexual abuse, )

You can find the whole collection on AO3 here.

It doesn't take too long for Ponds to give up on dignity as he hurries down the halls of the Jedi Temple, constantly making wrong turns and nearly banging into walls. He has to stop and ask passing Jedi for directions, and he knows, he knows none of them would decommission him for such a thing, but the fear still digs at his stomach.

He's only been here once before, when Master Windu had taken them all to see a pack of Jedi cadets who'd wrapped tiny knuckles against their armor and told them how pretty they were in the Force. But Master Windu isn't here to guide him; he's in the Council Chamber, dealing with the fallout from this latest clusterfuck, and it takes Ponds far too long to orient himself and figure out where the healing halls are.

He's been bred to have near-inexhaustible stamina, but he's panting when he finally arrives, throat tight with fear. One of the healers waves him into some kind of antechamber--a waiting room, that's what they call it, right.

There are no waiting rooms on Kamino. On Kamino, you go on to your training, because nobody lets you sit and wait and wonder if your batchmate is going to die. Besides, if they're hurt badly enough that it can't be fixed with a night in the bacta tank, there's probably no use waiting.

But there are clones waiting here now. Rex and Cody sit beside each other--they came in together, of course, their forces are practically interlocked at this point. Bly is projected between them, tense and anxious in glowing blue, biting her nails like she hasn't done since they were kids.

Even Fox is here, although he's standing stiffly against the wall. None of the CGs like the Temple very much, for whatever reason, and the fact that he's here--that Wolffe's here, is another painful reminder of how serious everything is.

"Still under?" Ponds asks, pulling off his helmet.

"Still under," Cody tells his clasped hands. "Wolffe's general is with the rest of his unit right now, I think."

Pond collapses into a chair with a sigh, head in his hands. He's still got dirt on his face from wandering around in the muck of some distant mudball; he hadn't quite found the time to shower before they got back to Coruscant and got hit with this clusterfuck of news.

"Do we know how bad it is?" he asks, staring at the ground. He just knows it's bad, or else the Jedi medics wouldn't need to be involved. They've got skills the clone medics have never seen, not to mention a carefully collected supply of elaborate medical equipment instead of hastily assembled crap clone medics usually have to deal with.

Still, the clone medics are enough; they have to be enough. Until they aren't, and now Wolffe is helpless at the hands of natborns. Ponds pictures him laid out on a white table, still and limp, eyes closed, strapped into place while they-- no, no, don't go there. The Jedi are different, the Jedi are safe.Ponds can't imagine what he'd do if they were anything else.

"They think she fucked up his eye," Rex mumbles. His voice is quiet, half-strained, gaze distant in a way Ponds hasn't seen from him in a while. Not since Rex

She. For a second, Ponds thinks of Asajj Ventress, all vicious swagger and humming red blades, all the bodies she's left in her wake. Had she even bothered to consider Wolffe as she cut him down? Had she enjoyed it, maybe, as she cried out in pain? Was this all some kind of sick game to her? Or did she really think nothing of cutting them down, no more than the generals taking out clankers?

Then the second part of what Rex says hits him, really hits him, and for a second Ponds's lungs don't quite work. His hands tighten on the sides of the chair, fingers white knuckling.

"The eye," he forces out. "They're sure."

"That’s what the clone medic told me." Cody takes a deep, slow breath. "But--the Jedi healers are the best of the best. Good as pulling off miracles as the rest of them."

Bly nods. "If anyone can save it, they can," she says, her voice tinny and distorted over lightyears and a shitty connection. Maybe that's why it sounds like she's trying to convince herself as much as them. Maybe.

"But if they can't fix it?" Fox asks, because of course he does. Like he doesn't know damn well what'll happen.

Ponds takes another slow, rasping breath, then another, willing his lungs not to constrict on him again. It's hard, though, so hard, because there's a closed door and too many terrifying possibilities separating them from their batcher.

If Wolffe loses an eye, it'll take ages before he learns how to fight properly again. Even if the Republic plans on shilling out for a prosthetic, that'll still take time to recover from the installation and learn how to manage, time Wolffe simply doesn't have, not when he could so easily be replaced, and another poor bastard sent to take his place.

Ponds knows full well how lucky they were to get off Kamino with a full batch; hell, more than a full batch if you count Rex and everyone does, even Fox. He knows that it took more than luck, too, that it meant blood and sweat and tears, it meant sacrifice and painful bargains and things they don't talk about until they're all severely drunk.

Sometimes he thinks batches who've lost people are jealous of them. Sometimes he almost feels jealous of

them,

the people who've already experienced that first terrible lost, who haven't spent so much time on a razor's edge waiting for the other boot to drop, and then he hates himself, but he can't stop.

(and he can't breathe).

"They'll fix it," Cody says, firm and determined. "If they don't--well, General Kenobi says that the Order will be able to pay for the prosthetics. Give him time to recover, too."

"And you believed him?" Fox hasn't taken his helmet off yet for whatever reason, but Ponds can still hear him raising an eyebrow.

Cody closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. "I trust my general."

Fox barks a harsh laugh. "Seriously? The Jetiise can barely afford to take care of their own, let alone a few poor saps like us. And even if they could, why would they care?"

"They're not like the Senate, Fox," Bly says, her voice tired with an old argument. "They're not perfect--far from it--but they are better."

"The Senate's a pretty low bar, Butterfly," Fox says, voice sharp. "They probably think they're giving more than enough with the surgery. That's assuming one of them didn't blab to the Kaminoans and the decom over isn't coming through alread--"

"Fox!" Cody chides.

Ponds is shaking, just a little. Okay, maybe more than a little, but he's holding himself so rigid it hurts. Wolffe should be here; Fox doesn't get this snappy if Wolffe's here. Or he does, but it's only at Wolffe, and Wolffe likes to snap back. If Wolffe isn't here, Ponds doesn't know who Fox will become.

Who will Ponds be, without Wolffe? Ponds' earliest memories all have Wolffe somewhere in them, training by his side, laughing with him, battlesigning when it was a struggle to use his words, curled up with Ponds after a bad dream. It's like he can see cracks where Wolffe should be, ready to crack open and form an ugly, sucking hole. Sucking the air from him, the heat.

His batchers are talking now, arguing, their voices getting louder and louder until his heart starts to hurt. Did it always hurt? How badly does Wolffe's head hurt right now? Is he ever going to wake up enough to even feel pain?

Maybe Wolffe's dead. Maybe he's dead and the Jedi just haven't bothered to tell them. Maybe he's alive but they're not going to give him the prosthetic and he will be dead soon enough. Maybe, maybe, maybe, and suddenly all the maybes are strangling his lungs.

Ponds has to get out of here. He just needs a minute, a bit of fresh air. There's got to be fresh air somewhere in this place, right? The Jedi wouldn't live here if there weren't. Fresh air, just a little, and then he'll come back in, and he'll have found the words to make everybody stop yelling.

"Ponds?" someone calls, the voice blurry and distant, but Ponds is already standing up. Trying too, anyway, because then his feet slip and jerk under him and he's crashing to the ground, letting out an umph as wind he doesn't really have gets knocked out of his body.

"Ponds!"

He presses his cheek to the floor, heart hammering as it throbs around a lack of oxygen. No air to breathe, no batcher, no way out. No way to hide from the possibility that maybe the Jedi will let Wolffe die, that Fox was right, that they didn't even care, and then Ponds would have to serve them anyway, die for them and send his brothers to die for them.

It feels like his bones are folding in on themselves, crushing him. Like he's small and curled up in a dark little corner of Kamino again, hiding from everything that wants to hurt him, like hiding ever did any clone any good.

"Breathe." Bodies pressing in around him, arms around him, holding him close. "Breath, Pond'ika." Their voices all sound the same, but it's Cody, he knows it's Cody. Cody is the one they call in for such things, Cody or Wolffe, and Wolffe is...

"Breathe." Three breaths--four, he can hear Bly somewhere in the background--go in and out, in and out. Heartbeats thunder in his ears, steady, relentless. Oxygen humming around him until his lungs seem to open just a little, almost on their own.

They've done this for each other more times than they can count. It's not the first time Ponds has been surrounded by a pile like this, surrounded by bodies breathing for him until he remembers how to do it on his own. He thinks it might be the first time they’ve done it without Wolffe, though.

Still, somehow, they find a way to call him back. They're good like that. They breathe and breathe, until Ponds finds himself breathing along with them, until his body relaxes enough for the air to rush in.

"Breathe, vod." And he does, because they're not Jedi or Senators or world-shaking Force wielders, but they can breathe. They can do that for each other.

Breathe. Just like Wolffe is breathing, still, stubbornly, somewhere beyond these doors. Breathe for him if not for yourself, just breathe.

He's left lying on the floor, still shaking just a little. From the distance he can hear someone talking, Cody smoothing things over with one of the Jedi Healers, maybe. It should be embarrassing that a Jedi saw him like this, but it isn't, because Ponds' batchers are here, and they won't let shame touch him.

"You okay?" someone asks. Rex, yeah, it's Rex, his voice quiet, but sure.

"M fine," Ponds mumbles into somebody's chest.

Fox brushes a gentle hand over Ponds' short hair. "I'm sorry I got bitchy," he murmurs.

"S'okay." He gets it, he does. They all have different ways of coping with the unthinkable.

Boots approach, Cody sinking to his knees at their sides. "He's going to wake up soon," he says. "He's going to pull through. They couldn't save the eye." Ponds squeezes his eyes shut, unable to keep a tear from rolling out. Something wet splashes on the back of his neck and he knows he's not the only one.

"The Jedi will help him," Cody says. "If not...we'll do what we must. Bargain with whoever we have to. We won't let him die."

No, they won't. No matter the awful sacrifices they have to make, they'll keep their Wolffe alive, just as they always have. Ponds know they'll do whatever it takes; knows, too, that won't make it any less frightening. But his batchers are holding him right now, so the idea doesn't give him another panic attack, at least not right now.

Still... "Can we stay here?" he asks. "Can we stay like this, until they call us in?"

"Of course we can," Bly says, her voice nearer than he expected--they must have brought the transmitter closer. Ponds tilts his head towards the sound, savoring it. "We can take as long as we need."

And there, at the heart of a government that doesn't care for them, while a brother teetering on the edge of the unbearable claws his way back towards consciousness, that's exactly what they do. For just a little while, things don't hurt quite as bad as they did before.

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sakura-rpblog · 2 years

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@despairforme answered:

There was more blood than usual tonight. Nnoitra LOVED when things got bloody, as did the crowd. They especially loved it when HIS fights got bloody. He was known for having, on average, pretty short fights, because he always demolished his opponents within the first minute or so. Fighting wasn’t like what you saw in movies, where people could take hit after hit and still keep going. In REAL LIFE, all it took was one proper aimed hit, and the other guy wouldn’t be getting up. This time, the fight had lasted longer than usual, and yeah - that meant more blood. Of course, Nnoitra had walked out victorious, as he always did, but for once, he had received some punches himself.

They had a medic among their staff now. Something they had had to add as a direct result of how dangerous it was to fight Nnoitra. The club’s activities was already borderline-illegal, but at least having a medic on-site made it less questionable. Nnoitra hadn’t received treatment from her before now though.

She was cute. Real feminine, and looked out of place here. With that pink hair and gentle eyes. She didn’t belong, that was for sure. Nnoitra was holding out his hand for her to treat. His knuckles had gotten torn BADLY. It had been a while, and apparently, she thought it best to stitch him up. Pretty futile, Nnoitra thought. He would tear the stitches up tomorrow night anyway. ‘ Not your night? ‘, she asked. Nnoitra arched his brow.

❝ I still won. Ain’t my fault ‘da guy wouldn’t stay down. ❞ Repeated punches was what had torn his knuckles. ❝ Mah, my knuckles are already scarred as hell. ❞ He held up his other hand to show her. Nnoitra’s hands were pale and bony, and also very large. His long fingers were slightly pink right now from the adrenaline still rushing through him. His knuckles, on both hands, were white and pink, scarred far, far beyond ever healing properly. Normally he would use gloves and protective tape to not break his fingers, but of course, tonight he had both ran out of tape AND forgotten his gloves. It was all due to moving out of his apartment. The change in routine was fucking with him. ❝ Been ages since someone stitched me up. Do I need ‘ta take it easy ‘fer a few days now or wha’? ❞ It was a joke, of course. He wasn’t going to ‘ take it easy ‘. /

It wasn’t too long ago when Sakura started working for the fighting ring Nnoitra is in. If she had a choice, she wouldn’t be here. All this time her motivation for studying medicine comes from a place of love and understanding. Fulfilling her dream of having a place with lesser sick people around, a doctor using expertise to care for the dying, even the less-fortunate.

A noble dream, or one laced with so much naivety. Even so, there is so much more she could’ve done with her degree than stitching someone so they are well enough to go on another rampage.

“ Ideally -- yes. I’d recommend taking it easy so the wound heals nicely. I’d admit your injuries weren’t that bad considering you didn’t wear any protection at all, “ a quick glance over Nnoitra’s other hand seeing the markings of varying shapes and sizes enough for her to know he didn’t mean anything he said. Nnoitra is not the only one, the other fighters do, too. And it is while she is in this train of thoughts Sakura is reminded of another fighter, a novice. The fire raging in the fighter’s eyes that night an epitome of a person desperate to win regardless if the wounds she stitched up ( for him ) just a few minutes ago hasn’t even stopped bleeding.

“ Well, that’s how this sport works, right? I guess everyone wants that prize money. I can’t blame them, though -- it is a lot. “

There is bitterness in her mouth after letting the words out. If she thinks about it, she is like that novice fighter, too. Trading her oath to save lives in the best of her abilities in exchange for the hefty pay of becoming a ringside medic.

“ You’re right, it is the first time we meet, “ a small and gentle smile makes its way across her face. There is no need for hostility. Albeit his imposing posture ( and choice of words ), he is still her patient, “ I’m Sakura. And you are Nnoitra, right? “

Everybody knows who he is -- from the executives to the old man closing the gates after every night of fighting. It is not only the difference in his physical appearance commanding other people’s attention to him, “ Even after that, you are still the title holder. I’ve been told you haven’t lost a single fight since starting here, is that true? “

#lets just say she's been keeping an eye out for him #*curious*#thanks for answering! <3 #v modern #despairforme

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purplesurveys · 1 year

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1574

What was the best job you’ve ever had? I don’t think I’ve had that yet.

Would you rather open a used clothing store or an antique store? Used clothing. I’ve actually just started following like ten stores on Instagram that sell pre-loved vintage-y clothes so this question has pretty good timing! I'm not too big a fan of antiques so I don’t imagine growing passionate with such a business.

Do you think you would want to own a gift shop? Eh, I don’t think so either. Have you ever wondered if your friend was an alien? Uhhhhhhh no.

Do you have a troublesome medical condition? Scoliosis, I guess. I’m sure it also gets worse every year since I rarely put in the effort to improve my posture.

What’s your most annoying neighbor’s name? I know none of my neighbors’ names lol but none of them are annoying.

Would you have started a business in high school if your parents had let you? I’m sure they would have allowed me, but I don’t think they would’ve been the type to like chip in at the start the way other kids’ parents probably would have. They’re very supportive, but they are also very “That’s your decision, so don’t drag us into it or expect anything from us.”

What sport would you have joined if your parents had let you? They really liked that I was into table tennis and they still make it a point to brag about it to family and friends lol; it’s just that my barrier from the very beginning was that there was never a lot of opportunity to train. My school didn’t even have a table tennis varsity.

Do you have any tough life decisions to make soon? Yeah, a little bit! I’m starting to make baby steps towards Legitimately Resigning and as a person who really hates change, everything about this is a big deal for me at the moment.

At what time of the day do you usually have the most energy? Usually at like 6 PM once I’m able to clock out of work. I’ve said it before, but these days I’m a completely different person in and out of work in that I’m a lot happier when I’m not absorbed in it.

Do you consider yourself gifted and talented? I mean I wouldn’t call myself an utter bore hahaha. But I’m nothing spectacular either. I can’t play instruments, I can’t dance, draw, cook, ride a bike...there are a lot of things I can’t do that frustrate me everyday lol.

Do you love your enemies? I don’t have any.

Magenta, aqua, or coral? Coral.

Do you like the color orchid? Idek what that looks like.

Would you rather be a wedding photographer or a nature photographer? Wedding! So many stories you can learn from so many people by attending even just one.

Have you ever had an ulcer? No, but my parents scold me on this all the time since I skip meals as a habit.

Do you have a canker sore right now? Fortunately not. I fucking hate those.

Are you interested in health and wellness? I’m the least interested person about these things, lol.

Would you ever be a fitness coach? Nope, I’m not qualified and even knowledgeable at all.

Do you ever question whether something that makes you uncomfortable is a good thing or not? What an interesting question. I guess I do sometimes! Like if I’m uncomfortable in a social situation or dabbling in a new activity I’ve never done before, I do have moments where I take a step back and remind myself that doing This New Thing may actually be helpful for me or something that I might actually enjoy.

When was the last time you spent time with God in nature? Uh, never.

What color is your bike? I don’t know how to ride a bike :( We do have one though, it’s silver and blue; it’s just my parents who take it for rides.

Are you due for a hike? Yes. Not my go-to hobby but I do want to do one sometime.

Do you have too many hangers? We have enough.

Have you ever created a themed scrapbook? Tried, but I’m hopeless with creative endeavors like that.

Pilates or yoga? Don’t care much for either.

How often do you eat dessert? Like 1-2 times a week. We don’t always have sweet options at home.

Do you own a pair of cute workout pants? I don’t.

What’s the trendiest item you own? F&F adidas shoes, I guess. Only 300 pairs.

Have you ever had someone tell you NOT to trust your gut? I don’t think so.

Do you get irritated by people who lack common sense? Yes. Especially if it happens at work.

What’s the best drink you’ve ever had at Starbucks? I’m not very flexible when it comes to Starbucks drinks tbh, I just stick to what I’ve been ordering for the past...6, 7 years lol - caramel macchiato. Every now and then I’ll try the seasonal drinks, but so far nothing has dethroned my fave.

Did you pull an all-nighter last night? Oh no, last night was a depression sleep. Out like a light by 9 PM.

When was the last time you wrote an essay? Around September when we had an internal writing crash course at work and we were given this really fun prompt to work with.

Do you enjoy writing essays? Love essays, love writing them.

Do you enjoy learning? Sure, as long as it’s about a topic I’m interested in or could potentially be interested in.

Do you get irritated by know-it-alls? Who doesn’t?

What is the most dominant color in your closet? Black. I also have lots of pastel hues but they’re all in different colors, haha.

Do you own anything periwinkle? I don’t think so, actually.

Do you know anyone who is colorblind? Nope.

What is your favorite fairytale? I don’t have one.

Do you have any Irish in you? Not at all.

What is your favorite name that starts with a Z? Zoe/Zoey is pretty cute.

Have you ever felt like you were going to throw up while you were at school? At school and work, yeah.

Do you know anyone who thinks they’re good at something but really is not? Yep.

What color are your running shoes? I don’t run.

Do you wear hoodies? Sometimes, when I’m too lazy to dress up but have to head out.

How many pull-over hoodies do you own? Three.

Do you own a princess crown? Don’t think so.

Do you love anyone? Apart from family and friends, no.

What’s your birthstone? Diamond.

Do you have a class ring? Not a thing here.

Were you ever on a dance team? No.

Do you love your hometown? In a way that it will always feel warm and cozy, like home, yeah. But I don’t particularly hold a really strong sense of pride towards it lol.

Where are you itching to travel to? 서울ㄹㄹㄹㄹㄹㄹㄹㄹㄹㄹㄹㄹㄹㄹㄹㄹ

Do you believe that God’s plans for you are better than you could ask, think, or imagine? Nobody makes my plans for me.

Giraffes or squirrels? Giraffes. I imagine I’d be freaked by squirrels if I see them in real life hahaha. I don’t do well with tiny animals that move fast.

Aardvarks or elephants? Elephants, I guess.

Do you own an epi pen? No.

How old were you when you got rid of all your Barbies? I never played with them in the first place.

Would you want your first child to be a girl or a boy? Girl.

Do you think you would have fun being a fitness coach? No, I wouldn’t have a clue what I’m doing.

What sounds like the most fun job to you? A writer.

List five people who are good role models career-wise. Personally not really a big fan of the concept of role models, so I’ve never had any. Very few people actively make it a point to be one, and people who are typically labeled as such usually back off from the title and give disclaimers that they don’t actually try to be role models for others, so I don’t really see the point hahaha.

Have you ever had an art class that you hated? All of them. Love looking at art, hate trying to make artworks.

Were you always one of the smartest kids in your class? I was above average and would sometimes place the highest in exams, but I was nowhere near a constant topnotcher. I excelled in some classes but did absolutely horrible in others.

Do you read for pleasure? Not since I was in high school.

When was the last time you drank hot chocolate? Two Sundays ago.

Are you unique? We all are.

Do you have a headache right now? Nope.

What decade were you born in? 90s.

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careeralley · 1 year

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How to Find Your Next Role In Health

Choices Whether you're stuck for choices, need a change in your life, or want a role, job, or career that can fulfill you, you might want to look into a career in the field of healthcare. The world of healthcare offers an abundance of fulfilling and satisfying roles and opportunities, so your background might not matter - there could be a perfect role for you, and even then, if you're not a fit right now, you could be with some training. Healthcare Careers Now, when most people think of healthcare - they think of doctors. That's right! Doctors have always signified 'health' and 'care' in society, so it is only right that people think of doctors when they think of health. So, when you think of healthcare, you might automatically think you need to be a doctor to get paid in the healthcare industry - not true. Whether you're stuck for choices, need a change in your life, or want a role, job or career that can fulfill you, you might want to look into a career in the field of healthcare. The world of healthcare offers an abundance of fulfilling and satisfying rolesClick To Tweet However, if you do want to train to be a doctor - you need to set aside a large portion of time to train over a large number of years. You'd need to earn a number of higher education diplomas in skilled fields, pass a number of tests, and train as a doctor and that can take up to and over a decade. However, as hard as training as a doctor is - the role is rewarding. It is never too late to train as a doctor, so if it is something that you desperately want to do with your life, consider finding a path to get into it straight away. Nursing Careers Nursing staff help run the world of healthcare. As incredible as doctors are, without the help of nurses and healthcare assistants, they wouldn't be able to do much! Nursing and training as some kind of healthcare assistant will allow you a path into the hands-on side of the healthcare profession. The training will be less intensive than that of a doctor, but it will still take time and dedication. There are usually pretty simple pathways into nursing - through programs and dedicating degrees, so if you want to get involved, you can. How to Become a Nurse: The Exact Roadmap $9.99 Becoming a nurse doesn't have to be so difficult as you will find out from this book. You will learn all the tips and tricks to getting your nursing education toward a high paying job with lots of satisfaction and perks. Buy now on Amazon.com We earn a commission if you click this link and make a purchase at no additional cost to you. 12/04/2022 12:32 am GMT However, there are plenty of other roles available in the world of health that you might consider. These are better if you might not have the time you want to train up - or if you've spent a large part of your life in another career path. These roles are usually involved with the legal side of health, administration, bureaucracy, and of course, finance. If you've got a background in these areas, you might translate well to a relevant field behind the scenes of healthcare. Despite the fact that these behind-the-scenes roles need experience, some of the higher-level opportunities will require training and qualifications. You might need to be a master of health service management if you want to manage a healthcare practice or even run a ward at a hospital. These things need to always be considered before you jump ship. There will always be some aspect of education and learning involved in healthcare simply because everyone involved in it needs to have a basic understanding of healthcare to perform their role! Healthcare Administration However, if you've already got a background in administration, management or finance, you might find it easier to jump into a role helping a medical center balance its books. This might be preferable if you've already gained a diploma as well - considering that you might not want to go back to school and start all over again. Unless of course, you do want to get involved in nursing or becoming a doctor! On Becoming a Doctor $21.99 Buy from Amazon We earn a commission if you click this link and make a purchase at no additional cost to you. 12/04/2022 12:09 am GMT So, if you've got qualifications in an area of business or finance - you are needed in the world of healthcare. Hospitals and practices need administrators to ensure that paperwork and records are managed well, that patients are dealt with and that appointments are made. If your background is in finance, you are welcome as well. A lot of healthcare centers around the bills owed to hospitals by insurance companies, which doctors might not be able to chase up - finance experts and credit experts can find a lot of work in helping doctors chase payment and cash from insurance agents. Of course, you can also get on the ground floor of healthcare with administration work. Administrators are the foundation of healthcare and ensure that a doctor manages their time while ensuring that patients are seen. Administrators are on the front lines of healthcare and this is a role that offers a lot of upwards mobility. So, no matter your background - there are certainly plenty of ways that one could get involved with healthcare. Work At Home Jobs For Nurses: And Other Healthcare Professionals (How to make a million in Nursing) $14.97 $6.72 Buy from Amazon We earn a commission if you click this link and make a purchase at no additional cost to you. 12/04/2022 12:07 am GMT Read the full article

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