#Fire and Safety Management College

[sleepyconfusedpotato]

⚔️ Task Force 141 - NFL AU 🏈

by me (sleepyconfusedpotato) and @alypink ! This AU will include some Original Characters made by us both!

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New Hampshire 141s, a new rising american football team whose players dominantly came from the United Kingdom, is ready to face the NFL season!

As the previous Head Coach, Herschel von Shepherd got fired by the General Manager MacMillan, John Price (who has roots in rugby) got chosen by MacMillan to bring the team to victory. Let us see which players caught Coach Price's eyes!

John Price (HC)

John Price was born in Liverpool, England, but moved to America when he was still very young due to his father being deployed from the military to an American base. Although his father retired a couple of years later, they decided to stay in America. He grew up loving sports as a child but American football always piqued his interest more than any other sports. He played safety in middle and high school, but in his junior year, he had Meniscal tears that prevented him from ever playing again. John was heavily depressed after his injury, one day one of his close friends, Nikolai, who was also one of his fellow teammates on his high school team, told him to cheer him up to go watch the team play or to attend the training camps, John agreed and started assisting to the games and eventually started to think about becoming a head coach. He was recommended by his former high school head coach to take the job as a defensive coordinator for the New Hampshire Wildcats, a college football team. His performance and playbook were impressive, leading the Wildcats to reach a bowl and winning it twice. He proved to be fit and ready for a professional football team in the NFL and was hired as a defensive coordinator by the New Hampshire 141’s, by the HC at that time, Herschel von Shepherd. His first two seasons were disastrous as there was friction between the players and their head coach, most of the players disagreed with Shepherd's decisions and playmaking. To add to that, he seemed to never care about the player's input or needs. Although in those seasons they held a record of 4 wins and 12 losses, the General Manager of the team noticed his defense was the best in the league for both points and yards, and also noticed that a good portion of his defense players were selected on the all-pro team of those two seasons. After the owner and GM fired Shepherd as a Head Coach, John took his place.  In his first seasons with the 141s, he restructured the team and went to playoffs and one NFC championship. As he wanted to improve his team, he started attending college football games, he attended once a college game in which he met the offensive coordinator at the time, Aly, and after the game he met her to ask about some players he was interested in on her actual team, for QB and WR positions, they became acquaintance since that day and kept communication for some time, as she sent some prospects his way. She also requested his help every now and then, making him attend her games and inviting her over to watch the 141s too. After spending time together and sharing the same interests and love for football, they started to date but kept it low as two months later, John hired her as his new offensive coordinator.

#26 Kyle Garrick (WR)

the most responsible and reliable player of the team. Kyle’s dad was an ex-WR and a former head coach out of a college football team. His father is a very hardworking man and disciplines his son like a football player, and with that, comes a great expectation for Kyle since his high school years. Kyle is extremely reliable, responsible, and respected on and off the field. He is HC John Price's favorite due to his work ethic. Kyle believes in having discipline in everything he does to be one of the best. He keeps a picture of his girlfriend, Eleanor Graham (Ladybug) everywhere, especially in his locker room as he says she brings him good luck for catching the hail mary’s from Alex.  Kyle and Alex met in Baylor University, where they played together and won many games, including several bowl games. They became best friends in and out of the football field, supporting each other infinitely. “You've got friends nearby.” On Alex’s quote, “I can throw the ball like ‘fuck it, he’s over there somewhere’ and Kyle would magically appear and catch the ball. He’s always at the right place.”

One day during practice Alex was throwing the ball too far to the left, which headed straight towards her head. On instinct and in an attempt to catch the ball, Kyle collided with Eleanor, which bruised her arms. Instead of being upset like how Kyle would expect her to react, she laughed loudly at him, saying that she chose to sit there. She knew the hazard of studying near a football field. Even though Eleanor said she can take care of her bruises, Kyle insisted on nursing her. (Alex SMILED ear to ear). They both met from time to time. Every practice, Kyle always looks for Eleanor on the side of the field. Eleanor’s laid-back personality often bothers Kyle as she's a damn med school student, but through her, Kyle learns how to slow down and live in the moment. Love bloomed between them and they became a couple midway through freshman year. 

When Kyle was drafted to the NFL to be with Alex for New Hampshire 141s, Eleanor was there with him when he received the call from HC Price. Though Eleanor has to stay in Texas to continue her studies, Eleanor travels to New Hampshire often to visit Kyle.

#31 Alex Keller (QB)

Alex is the quarterback of the 141s, second draft pick and first QB of his university. He is very skilled and hard-working, he is in love with water girl Farah Karim and aspires to be like Tom Brady. He and Kyle Garrick (WR) met in their first year of freshman in University and they played since their first year as the duo of QB and WR (Burrow and Chase vibes) and were drafted together in the NFL draft by the same team. Young duo but very effective especially during the regular season. Alex Keller met Farah Karim in his rookie season during training camp in his first year and has been infatuated with her. Since then, he has tried to score ASAP or reach 4th down so he can sit on the bench and talk with her. Whenever he can, he visits and picks her up from University and helps her out whenever he can in anything she would need.

#70 Simon Riley (TE)

Simon Riley used to be a rugby player in England. He joined the rugby team during his college days and met Price as one of his coaches, who trained and guided him to become one of the most dominant flankers in college rugby. Unfortunately, though he’s always dependable whenever he’s on the field, Simon was often riddled with injuries. His quiet personality didn’t help his case either, bearing the pain in his left leg in silence, until one day, he tore his ACL during an important game which cost the team their winning chances. Simon rested for a whole year to heal his knee. Together with his familial struggle, he contemplated quitting being an athlete. That was until Coach Price offered him a fresh start in the USA. As a flanker is equivalent to the Tight End position in American football, Price told him that he would be perfect for the role. Simon was adamant at first as he was still injured and how he’d be able to completely heal from this devastating injury. But when he said that in America they could find him a good physiotherapist to help him heal his knee, he reluctantly accepted the offer.  Simon got into the draft and was a first-round pick due to how much of a good player he was in rugby. On his first day on the team, he met the other players who got drafted, but the most important and the most fateful meeting was when he got introduced to Charlotte Le Jardin (nickname Jade to simplify her last name), a physiotherapist that Laswell had promised help him to heal his ACL and help him regain his top form. It was a rough road, but with every step he took, Jade was there to help him.  Now, every injury he has he doesn’t stay on the sidelines but goes inside the tent or the stadium so he can be checked by her. Whenever Jade’s out watching the game, he scores more than usual or gets distracted. He often carries the team, especially during the conference championship games. 

#71 Johnny MacTavish (RB)

Johnny MacTavish was born and raised in Scotland. After high school, he was offered an academic and sports scholarship to a prominent university in the USA. He began his football career when he was a freshman at University as a very talented runner, which elevated him as the starter RB on his fifth game. In his senior year he was  awarded the Heisman Trophy winner at college, but due to a shoulder injury, he missed being the top pick at the draft. He was later selected by the New Hampshire 141s and got put in as a starter as soon as he got drafted. He has good chemistry with his team but gets injured by overdoing himself or trying to tackle defensive players on the other team. He is also constantly with Jade for treatment and often misses important playoff games. Johnny is a very talented running back and that is why HC Price can’t get rid of him no matter how he misses practices and meetings and how his personal life affects his performance on the field. He always tries to take his friend Simon Riley to social gatherings and social media, but he completely shuts him down every time. That's different on the field though, as whenever Johnny's going to play a run, Simon will always be there in front of him to push the tacklers away, making way for Johnny to score a first down or a touch down. They're an unstoppable duo together. Johnny is very popular among female fans, making his jersey the one with the most sales every year. His dating story is pretty large and his games are always attended by the women he dates (which constantly changes).

some memes I made 😭

Here's the Hereford 141S' Logo and jersey design! The logo is heavily inspired by the Task Force 141's logo, so it's pretty much just a sporty twist of the logo!

More characters underneath the cut!

#11 Alejandro Vargas (MLB) and #22 Rodolfo Parra (OLB)

(Drawing to be posted!)

Alejandro and Rudy both moved to El Paso, Texas when they started high school at the age of 14 years old. They were avid football (soccer) players during their time in Mexico, but when they started High School they began to play football. Both Alejandro and Rodolfo played as Linebackers, Ale being MLB and Rodolfo being OLB. They did amazing in High School then they both received a scholarship to attend the university in Dallas, Texas. Both of them were later selected to do the NFL Pathway program, for both of them. Being together since their childhood years, high school and university they were a packaged deal and were both selected on the same team, same position on the NFL draft.  Alejandro is especially hyped when playing against Philip Graves, QB of the Dallas Shadows. They have had beef with each other on and off the field since they played against each other for the first time. Ale’s average sack during a game against Dallas is approximately 5 per game, he sometimes is way too harsh while tackling making him get a couple of flags whenever he blitzes and sacks. He’s often scolded by his friend Rudy, but he does not care as long as he can sack Graves.

Kate Laswell (Defensive Coordinator)

(Drawing to be posted!)

was raised in Virginia, USA. Both her parents and brothers loved football and so did she. Since elementary, she watched and never missed a game during weekends, she always had a fascination for the Chicago Bears and their ‘85 team. Her father told her about how that defense, without an extraordinary QB or offense made them win the superbowl and also made them the best defense of all time. After witnessing that season and that Superbowl, she fell in love with how the defense scheme in football works. Unfortunately professional football for women wasn’t an option, so she studied a lot to become a defensive coordinator. She studied day and night, memorizing the plays, analyzing games and creating new playbooks since she was young. She struggled a lot to have an opportunity since it was a male-dominated team. One of her childhood friends made it to the roster to become a defensive coordinator for the Colorado Buffaloes College Football Team, he was a good coach but not “impressive”. She supported him by attending his games but couldn't help but try to talk to him whenever she thought he could do better, often interrupting his play callings during his games to make him change the play, and it always worked. She and his friend attended a College Bowl, and met John Price at that game, the three of them watched the game and she started to tell both of them what adjustment she would do for both teams, and that piqued John’s interests as she was awfully right, he was impressed by how well she read offense’s routes and how she was able to change from a 3-4 or 4-3 to a hybrid defense. He decided to give her a chance and hired her as his new defensive coordinator for the 141’s and established a very good partnership and friendship with her ever since.

Farah Karim (Intern Physical Therapy Student - Watergirl)

(Drawing to be posted!)

Farah Karim is a university medical student who got an internship in his junior year of college to be the water girl and help around the New Hampshire  141s team. She comes from an immigrant family and is the pride and joy of her parents. She struggled so much in her younger years to pursue an education and get into a good college in the USA, she managed to get a scholarship due to her great school performance and was given the chance to work with a professional football team. She met Alex Keller after his rookie season and developed a close friendship with them that later turned into a romantic interest. She is grateful for his help and also supports him during games. Her classmates usually bug her by asking Farah to let them meet Alex or to set them up with him, which she dislikes very much.

(OC) Alyssa Martinez (Offensive Coordinator)

Aly was born in Mexico and moved to the USA thanks to a scholarship she received when she graduated from High School and moved to Texas to attend college. As soon as she graduated from Texas A&M holding a Bachelor of Science in Sport Management, she started working as an offensive coordinator at a local highschool. She then escalated to being an offensive coordinator for the College she attended. Aly managed to take the team to a College Bowl where she met 141s Head Coach John Price and became acquaintances after that game, they kept communication after that game, as Aly asked for suggestions for her playbook and she helped Price on suggesting him prospects for the upcoming draft selection and also players on free agency.  She was later hired by Price as his offensive coordinator and they began to have a low key romantic  relationship. She specializes in West Coast offense, having her team play the Air Coryell scheme. She suggested Price to draft Alex Keller as he was the perfect pocket passer that would fit their offense perfectly. She’s an avid Tom Brady fan.

(OC) Charlotte Le Jardin (Physical Therapist)

Originally from England, Jade was adopted by an American couple and moved with them to the United States at an early age. Her parents, Eli and Gracie, worked at Bravo Stadium, home of the 141s, and Jade became a constant presence on the sidelines. As time went by, the Bravo Stadium became her home. Jade started helping around the sidelines bringing water, towels, medical kits, and even helping out in the blue tent, all the while completing her college in biological science and doctor of physical therapy (DPT), and of course, licensing in Physical Therapy. When she got her license, her experience was already on par with the other physiotherapists since she had been jumping from senior to seniors, learning and practicing all she could. Kate Laswell who has been seeing Jade there since she was a teenager, hired Jade as one of the many physiotherapists for 141s, and with that came a fateful challenge: a newcomer Tight End with a torn ACL from his rugby days, who’s trying to get back to his top form in order to play in the NFL.

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PHEW so there you have it! If you've read it this far, oh my LORD me and Aly love you so much! This is a pretty severe brainrot that we had, so hope you like it!

And let's enjoy the 2024 NFL Season 🏈🏈🏈

Hope you like it! 🥰🥰

[pacificsafety]

https://www.pacificsafety.in

Fire & Safety Engineering Courses in Lucknow : Pacific Safety

The Pacific Institute of Safety and Health, is a India's leading Health and Safety Management Institute situated in the capital of India's state of Uttar Pradesh, and run by the Society of Safety Professionals. It is dedicated to create profession in the field of Health and Safety. We provide Health & Safety Training courses and our aim to developing leaders for the society

[floralcyanide]

#9/#17 from smut list 2 & #11 from smut list 1 with Javi from Twisters, I can no longer unsee pre accident Javi not messing around if he was dating someone especially a fellow chaser in that car they borrowed from uni after noticing during rewatch two Kate mentioned they could barely get him to wear pants back then ykyk 😏

𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫!

(requests are closed for the saturday night sleepover!)

Javi RIvera x Fem!Reader

prompts: 9: car sex, 17: sex while camping, 11: cockwarming after a long day in order to calm down together

a/n: javi was def super horny in college 24/7 you can't change my mind (and probably still is lbr)

For one particular chase, the group decides to make a night out of it and camp after the storm tapers off. The 6 of you camp out in the 4 Runner and the van, as well as a handy tent Jeb had brought, courtesy of his roommate. Kate’s mom had plenty of camping gear that she let all of you use as well, so it was a legitimate setup. Lanterns, a fire, some chairs, and non-perishable food with some sleeping bags and blankets. You and Javi decided to make a pillow fort in the back of the van, Jeb and Kate took the 4 Runner- Addy and Praveen used the tent to sleep in.

This chase was nerve-wracking for sure. A typical EF1 turned into a rowdy EF3 and required the entire team to work together to get back to safety. The group manages to find an area by the lake to camp and attempt to settle down. After a night of going over some data and exchanging ghost stories to ward off the tense vibes, the 6 of you wander over to your respective sleeping areas and crash. Except you and Javi, of course, because Javi doesn’t know how to keep his hands to himself, especially when he’s nervous. 

You sigh and roll over, causing Javi’s hand to retract from your thigh, “Are you okay?”

“No,” Javi mutters, moving to lay on his side and facing you, “Are you?”

“No,” you admit, “I’m still kind of anxious.”

You and Javi don’t have to whisper technically, as the van is parked a little ways from the tent and 4 Runner, so the others likely wouldn’t hear your conversation. But the night was still enough that you felt you had to keep your voices down. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Javi asks, rubbing your arm soothingly.

You shrug, “I can think of something else I’d rather do, honestly.”

“Like what?” 

“Put your hand back on my thigh, and I’ll show you what.”

Javi grins from ear to ear at that. He puts his hand back where it was, his palm flat to your skin with his fingers splayed. Only this time, he quickly moves his hand under your shorts to cup your heat. He slips a finger under your underwear, toying with your clit until you’re squirming and growing wet. Javi tests how wet you’ve become with a curious finger.

“I wanna try something,” Javi says, his lips brushing your ear.

“Hmm? What’s that?”

“Get on top for a little while, but don’t move.”

“What, like, fucking you without moving?” you ask.

“Yeah, it’s more relaxing than you think. Now, come on,” Javi pats his thighs as he lays on his back.

You shrug, pulling down your shorts and underwear and setting them aside as Javi pulls his down his legs. As you hover, Javi teases your entrance and clit with the tip of his length before guiding himself inside you. You sigh in contentment as he fills you up nicely. After some adjusting, you manage to sit on top of Javi, him fully sheathed inside your needy cunt. Javi runs his hands along your thighs as you sit still on top of him, watching you with utter endearment. 

“Feel better yet?” you ask, wanting so badly to move.

“Yep,” Javi pops the ‘p’. After a moment of silence, Javi reads your impatient facial expression, “You want to move, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you groan, “But it feels nice not to at the same time. I like being so full of you like this.”

“Maybe if you stay still long enough, I’ll let you move.”

“Deal.”

A few minutes pass and you’re now biting your lip in order not to swivel your hips. Javi chuckles, his hands on your hips. He lifts you up a little, to which you hiss, and then motions for you to drop back down. You let out a quiet, high-pitched moan, your fingers grasping at Javi’s shirt. He feels himself twitch as he bucks into you, wanting to hear you moan like that again. Adjusting yourself to the feeling of moving again, you start riding Javi slowly so you don’t accidentally scream out in pleasure. He feels you clenching around him, signaling you’re close.

“Gonna cum already? Didn’t know you needed me that bad- ow!”

Javi is interrupted by you flicking him on the nipple through his t-shirt, “Just fuck me, Jav. Save your snarkiness for later.”

Javi snaps his hips into you a little faster, matching your hip’s movements. He presses his thumb to your clit, and you come undone, having to shove your fist in your mouth to keep your moans at bay. Since Javi didn’t finish inside you, you offer to get him off quickly before the two of you decide it’s best to go to sleep.

“Go ahead, but I can tell you right now I’m probably just going to bust in your mouth in five seconds.”

[ltash]

Chicago

SimonGhostRileyxfemalereader 'oneshot' approx 7k words

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Sexual theme, angst

You lived alone in an apartment in a high-rise building in Chicago. The sprawling cityscape, dotted with glimmering lights and towering structures, was both a symbol of your dreams and the weight of your burdens. You worked at a local food chain to make ends meet and pay your college fees, but it was getting harder day by day. Rent increases, rising grocery prices, medical expenses, and college fees all took a toll on you. You were a beautiful girl with long blonde hair and blue eyes, innocent and pure. You never drank and rarely went to nightclubs. Your focus was on your studies and your job, but life was becoming increasingly difficult.

One evening, after pulling an all-nighter to finish an assignment, you arrived at work a few minutes late. The familiar scent of frying oil and the hum of the kitchen greeted you as you rushed through the door, apron in hand.

The manager, Mr. Thompson, a stern man with a graying mustache and a permanent frown, was waiting for you. His arms were crossed, and his eyes were cold. "Andrea," he called, his voice flat.

You felt a lump in your throat as you approached him. "Yes, Mr. Thompson?"

He glanced at his watch pointedly. "You're late."

You swallowed hard, the weight of your exhaustion pressing down on you. "I'm so sorry, sir. I had an assignment, and I—"

"I don't care," he interrupted, his tone icy. "This isn't the first time. You know the rules. You're fired."

"But sir," you pleaded, your voice shaking. "I really need this job. I have college fees, and rent, and—"

"Not my problem," he cut you off again. "You should have thought of that before being late. Clean out your locker and leave."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you stood there, stunned. "Please, Mr. Thompson. Just give me one more chance."

He shook his head, unmoved. "No more chances. You're done here."

The words echoed in your mind as you slowly turned and walked towards the back of the kitchen to gather your things. Your coworkers cast sympathetic glances your way, but no one dared to speak up. You stuffed your uniform into your bag and took one last look around the place that had become a second home to you, despite its harsh realities.

As you stepped out into the chilly evening air, the reality of your situation hit you like a freight train. You were jobless in a city that didn't care, with bills piling up and no safety net to catch you. The city lights, once symbols of hope, now seemed like distant stars in a cold, indifferent sky.

Ghost and his team were in the city to terminate Hassan, who was hiding in a nearby building. As night fell, Ghost left his hotel, blending into the city's shadows. He wore his usual uniform: a black windbreaker jacket and blue jeans. A sniper case hung on his shoulders, discreet but unmistakable to those in the know. He was a British Special Air Service operator, and US General Shepherd had given him the order to terminate his target.

While Soap, Price, and Garrick made their way to the adjacent building where Hassan and AQ soldiers were hiding, Ghost entered your building.

You were sad and depressed after being fired. Tears welled in your eyes as you stood in the elevator, a delicate chiffon floral dress hugging your curves. The day's weight pressed down on you, your mind lost in the swirl of worries about rent, college fees, and your future.

Just then, the elevator door slid open, and another man entered. You kept your gaze on the floor, but out of the corner of your eye, you noticed his skeleton gloves. They were striking and unusual, sending a shiver down your spine. The air felt charged with a strange tension as the doors closed, enclosing the two of you in the small space.

The elevator continued its ascent, each floor ticked off like a countdown to some unknown fate.

His eyes tracked your every small movement, taking in your saddened demeanor. He noticed the tear that you tried to discreetly wipe away, and for a moment, a pang of pity for you registered in his gut. However, he quickly squashed it. He was on a mission, and empathy had no place on the field. Yet, he found himself unable to look away from you, a strange attraction he couldn't quite comprehend.

Ghost let out a sigh, his voice surprisingly soft and calm compared to the usual gravelly tone he used in the field. "Rough day?" he asked, his head slightly tilted, watching you closely.

Your gaze remained fixated on the floor. You didn't have the courage to see who he was. "Yeah," you replied quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. "You could say that."

He nodded, understanding the weight in your tone. "Sometimes it's like that," he said, his voice still gentle. "But you'll get through it."

You swallowed hard, the sincerity in his voice catching you off guard. "Thanks," you managed to say, still not looking up. The elevator continued its ascent, the silence now feeling a bit more bearable with his presence.

The ding of the elevator signaled the arrival at your floor. As the doors slid open, you hesitated for a moment, then finally looked up. The man’s face was partially hidden by a hood and a mask with a skull pattern, his eyes dark and intense but not unkind.

"Take care," he said, giving you a small nod.

You nodded back, stepping out of the elevator. "You too," you replied, your voice a bit stronger now. As the doors closed behind you, you felt a strange sense of reassurance, a small spark of hope ignited by a chance encounter with a stranger.

As the elevator doors slid closed, cutting off his view of you, Ghost was left with a pang of... something he couldn't quite place. He mentally reprimanded himself. What the hell was he doing? He had a job, a mission to complete, and he was getting sidetracked by a civilian's problems.

But as he watched the floors climb on the elevator's display, he couldn't shake off the image of your sad face, the sound of your soft voice. It was like a ghost lingering in his mind, refusing to be ignored.

Ghost took a deep breath, trying to refocus. He had been through countless missions, seen and done things that would haunt most people for a lifetime. He was trained to compartmentalize, to set aside distractions and emotions. Yet, something about this brief encounter stuck with him.

He reached his floor and the elevator doors opened with a soft chime. Ghost stepped out into the dimly lit corridor, his senses immediately sharpening as he focused on the task at hand. He couldn’t afford to let anything else interfere with the mission.

As he moved silently down the hallway, his mind returned to the mission briefing. Hassan was a high-value target, and this operation was crucial. But even as he mentally recited the details, a small part of his mind drifted back to you.

Shaking his head, Ghost pushed those thoughts aside. There was no room for distraction. He approached the window at the end of the corridor, checking his surroundings before positioning himself with the sniper rifle. He could see the adjacent building where Soap, Price, and Garrick were already in position.

"Ghost, are you in place?" Price's voice crackled in his earpiece.

"Affirmative," Ghost replied, his voice back to its usual gravelly tone. "In position and ready."

"Good. Let's get this done," Price said, the determination clear in his voice.

Ghost settled into his role, his eyes scanning the building opposite through the scope. His mission took precedence, but somewhere deep down, he knew he wouldn't forget the brief encounter in the elevator. And perhaps, once this was all over, he would find himself wondering about the girl with the sad eyes and the floral dress.

Ghost focused intently on his target, waiting patiently for the signal to take the shot. His thoughts drifted to the girl in the flowery dress, but he quickly shook them off, refocusing on the task at hand.

The streets below were relatively quiet, considering the late hour. A few cars passed by occasionally, and a group of drunk young adults stumbled down the sidewalk, but other than that, the area was still.

In his earpiece, he heard Price's steady voice. "Soap, you got eyes on Hassan?"

"Affirmative," Soap replied. "He's on the move. Heading to the rendezvous point."

Ghost's eyes followed the movement in the building across from him. Through the scope, he spotted Hassan, surrounded by a few AQ soldiers. The tension in the air was palpable as he steadied his breath, preparing for the shot.

"Ghost, you ready?" Price's voice was calm but urgent.

"Ready," Ghost confirmed, his finger poised on the trigger.

"Take the shot," Price commanded.

In that split second, everything fell into place. Ghost's focus was razor-sharp as he squeezed the trigger. The shot rang out, a silent symphony of precision. Hassan dropped, the mission objective achieved.

"Target down," Ghost reported, his voice devoid of any emotion.

"Good work, Ghost. Soap, Garrick, secure the area," Price instructed.

As his team moved in to secure the building, Ghost allowed himself a brief moment of satisfaction. The mission was successful. But as he packed up his gear and prepared to exfiltrate, the image of the girl in the elevator crept back into his mind.

You sat on your bed, tears streaming down your face. The landlord had given you a week's notice to leave the apartment because you couldn't pay last month's rent due to your tuition fees. On top of that, your job was gone. You saw the street down the window, knowing you would soon join the homeless community. But how could you survive being homeless? A gorgeous girl like you—it was so dangerous.

You thought it was your end, and you gave up. The weight of despair pressed down on you, suffocating and relentless. The idea of ending your life seemed like the only way to escape the overwhelming pain and fear. You decided to go to the roof to perform this deed, hoping for a final release from the relentless pressures and uncertainties.

With slow, heavy steps, you made your way to the elevator, your heart pounding with a mix of dread and resignation. The ride up felt interminable, each floor passing by like a countdown to your final moment.

The elevator doors opened, and you stepped out onto the roof. The night air was cool, and the city lights twinkled below, indifferent to your suffering. You walked to the edge, your breath hitching as you looked down.

As you stood there, contemplating the final step, you heard the faint sound of footsteps behind you.

After terminating Hassan, Ghost stood on the top floor, his eyes scanning the city below from the high-rise building. The mission was complete, but his mind wandered back to the brief encounter in the elevator. Suddenly, the ding of the elevator snapped him back to reality, and he saw you stepping out, tears still fresh on your cheeks. Before he could say anything, you headed towards the staircase.

Concerned, he followed after you, moving quickly but silently. He watched as you went and stood near the wall, then moved to the edge. The intent was clear, and his heart raced as he realized what you were planning to do.

"Oi!" he called after you, his thick British accent echoing in the open space. "The hell are ya doing up there?"

You froze, your heart pounding. "Don't come closer or I'll jump," you warned, your voice trembling with fear and determination.

Ghost's mind raced. He knew he had to act quickly. Utilizing his training and stealth skills, he moved with a silent, practiced precision. In a swift, calculated move, he wrapped his arms around you from behind and pulled you close, away from the edge.

You gasped in surprise, your initial reaction one of fear and resistance. "Let go of me!" you cried, struggling against his strong grip.

"Easy," Ghost murmured, his voice calm and reassuring. "I've got you. You're safe now."

You fought for a moment longer before the reality of your situation set in. The warmth and security of his embrace contrasted sharply with the cold, hard edge of the ledge. Slowly, you stopped struggling, collapsing into his arms as the overwhelming emotions took over.

Ghost held you firmly but gently, keeping you anchored. "It's alright," he said softly. "You're not alone in this. We'll find a way to get through it."

Tears streamed down your face as you clung to him, your sobs wracking your body. The despair that had driven you to the edge began to ebb away, replaced by a fragile glimmer of hope.

Ghost guided you to a safer spot on the roof, never letting go of his protective hold. Once you were both seated, he loosened his grip but stayed close, his presence a steady anchor in your storm of emotions.

"What's your name?" he asked quietly, his eyes full of concern.

"Andrea," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"Andrea, I'm Ghost," he said, his tone gentle. "You're going to be alright. We'll figure this out together."

He brushed a hand gently across your hair, trying to soothe your sobs. "Just breathe, Andrea," he murmured, his voice gravelly, yet strangely comforting. "In and out. In and out."

As your sobs gradually subsided into soft hiccups, Ghost continued to hold you, his hand moving in gentle, comforting circles across your back. He could feel the tension leaving your body, replaced by a weary exhaustion.

He waited, giving you time to collect yourself, before speaking again. "You mind telling me what brought you up here tonight?" he asked quietly.

"My manager fired me from my job because I showed up late. I have been burning the midnight oil finishing my assignment and juggling between job, studies and work. I couldn't pay my rent last month so I have to leave my apartment within a week." You sobbed softly.

Ghost listened quietly as you explained the series of unfortunate events, his expression remaining stoic but his eyes revealing a flicker of understanding.

"That's a lot to deal with all at once," he responded, his voice still calm and steady. "Anyone would feel overwhelmed in your situation."

"I need to go back to my apartment." You said softly.

Ghost nodded, understanding the urgency in your voice. "Alright, I'll take you there," he said. He stood up, then reached out a hand to help you to your feet. "Can you walk?"

"Yes. I can." You looked at him, his eyes held a lot of stories.

As you took his hand and stood up, Ghost noticed the look in your eyes, the curiosity and interest that seemed to say you sensed something deeper about him.

He led you towards the staircase leading back downstairs, his hand still supporting you. "This way," he muttered, his voice gruff but not unkind.

As you both made your way through the dimly lit building, Ghost's mind raced with questions.

"So," he asked, breaking the silence, "you were planning to jump because of your current situation?"

"Yes. I was planning to end this misery once and for all." I nervously tucked a hairstrand as I walked with him towards my apartment.

Ghost's eyes narrowed slightly as he heard your response—he couldn't help but feel a pang of concern.

"You'd really consider ending everything over a shitty job and financial troubles?" he asked, his voice a little gruff.

You slowly opened your apartment door to reveal a spacious apartment, tall windows showing the nightlife down. Grey curtains hanging over them. It was lavish to say the least.

Ghost stepped into your apartment, his eyes scanning the surroundings with a cool, calculated gaze.

He turned to look at you, one eyebrow slightly raised. "Nice place," he commented flatly. "Didn't realize a fired worker could afford this level of comfort."

"I wasn't fired until today." You replied closing the door and leaning against it.

"Right," Ghost responded, still looking around the apartment. He noticed the way you leaned against the door, exhaustion and defeat written all over your expression. "But you said you couldn't pay the rent. You're getting evicted, right?"

"Yeah. Soon. Have to say goodbye to my place. I will be homeless sooner or later. My college fee is quite a lot. Either I pay the fees or rent." You sat on the couch in front of him across the coffee table.

Ghost took a seat in a chair across from you, his eyes fixed on you, studying your every movement.

"So why are you still going to college then? If you can't pay the fees or the rent, seems pointless to keep dragging this on," he asked bluntly.

Ghost looked at you with surprise that flickered across his face for a moment, then his expression returned to its usual stoicism. "Criminal Psycology, huh?" he replied, a hint of curiosity in his voice. "And then you'll join the CIA?"

He paused for a moment. "Yeah, coffee would be nice," he said with a brief nod.

You stood up and went towards the coffee maker. After preparing two cups of coffee. You handed him a mug. Your soft fingers brushing his gloved hand subtly.

As your fingers brushed against his gloved hand, Ghost felt a sudden, unexpected rush of warmth.

He took the mug quietly, careful not to react to the contact, though his dark eyes flicked up to meet yours for a brief moment. "Thanks," he muttered, his voice rough.

"You are welcome." You crossed your legs. The skin of your thighs shining in the light. "What were you doing on the roof, Ghost?" You asked.

Ghost's eyes flicked down towards your exposed thighs for a moment before he quickly diverted his gaze back to your face.

"I was... on a mission." he replied, his voice carefully neutral.

"What mission exactly?" You asked.

Ghost took another sip of his coffee, his eyes fixed on yours, as if trying to gauge how much he could reveal. "Can't really say," he said gruffly. "Classified, you know?"

"It's fine. No need to tell me. Are you in the British military, by the way? Your badge says Taskforce." You swirled the coffee gently.

Ghost was a bit taken aback that you had noticed his badge.

"I'm a part of Task Force 141," he confirmed, his voice still guarded. "British army."

"You made a saluting gesture. Thanks for your service Captain." You giggled.

Ghost couldn't help but let out a huff of surprise at your giggling, and for the first time since meeting you, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"It's Lieutenant, actually," he corrected, his voice still gruff but with a hint of amusement. "And you don't need to salute me, lass."

"Lieutenant! Very impressive. Its not easy to be a part of the best elite force. It takes great courage and bravery." You said as you stood up to put the cup on the counter.

Ghost watched you as you walked to the counter, his gaze lingering on the curves of your body as you moved.

He quickly looked away and took another sip of his coffee, trying to ignore the thoughts that were beginning to swirl in his mind. "Don't need no praises, love," he grunted. "Just doing my job."

"So, your mask is part of your job? Isn't it?" You stood near the window and looked at him smiling.

Ghost tensed slightly when you mentioned his mask.

"You're full of questions, aren't ya?" he retorted gruffly, setting the coffee mug down on the table forcefully. "And yeah. The mask is part of the job. Keeps my identity hidden."

You smiled shyly. "How stupid I am that I don't even know the real name of my saviour." You leaned against the glass window.

Ghost's eyes darted up to meet yours, his expression unreadable. He felt a strange mix of annoyance and something else he couldn't quite place.

"Don't need to know my name," he grumbled, shifting in his seat. "Saving you doesn't mean you get to know my life story."

You were so embarrassed. "It's ok." You looked away.

Ghost saw the look of embarrassment on your face and instantly regretted his harsh tone. He often forgot how his bluntness could come off as rude.

He got up from the chair and walked over to where you stood. "Hey," he said, his voice soft. "Look at me."

You went to the kitchen and filled yourself a glass of water. Tears were welled up in your eyes. Sitting on the kitchen counter, you started drinking water.

He followed you into the kitchen, noticing the tears welling up in your eyes. It was unlike anything he'd seen before.

He moved towards you, his footsteps quiet against the kitchen tiles. "Hey," he said again, gentler this time. "You alright?"

"Yeah. I am fine. I have always been fine. Never drank, never partied, and never had relationships. I have always been on my own. Fine as hell." You blurted out.

Ghost leaned against the counter opposite you, his dark eyes studying you silently.

"You don't sound fine," he responded, his tone still gruff but not unkind. "Sounds like you're tired of being strong and of being alone."

"Doesn't even matter." You choked on your emotions. You looked at him before you threw your head back, closing your eyes in defeat as you placed your hands on the counter beside you. Your legs slightly parted. You looked absolutely ravishing.

For a moment, Ghost's gaze travelled down towards your legs, parted slightly on the counter, the dress riding higher up your thighs.

"It does matter," he replied gruffly, his voice lower than usual. He clenched his jaw, trying to push down the unexpected attraction he was feeling. "Don't say it doesn't."

You closed your eyes, letting the remaining tears fall. "Some people are broken, and I am one of them. Always in war with myself." You whispered.

Ghost listened to your words, feeling a pang in his chest. He knew that feeling all too well, the constant internal battle with oneself.

He took a step closer to you, his voice quieter than before. "You're not broken," he said, his gaze fixed on your face. "You're just battle-worn."

"I am looking for my blood on people's hands. Those who hurt me were my own. That is why I live here, all alone." I looked at him with my wet eyes.

He slowly reached out and laid a hand gently on your knee, his touch surprisingly tender. "Who hurt you?" he asked, his voice gruff but with a hint of protective anger.

"My own parents, my siblings, nobody is here for me. I am on my own. Left to rott in this city of souls." You whispered.

He moved closer to you, his body suddenly too close to yours. He could almost feel the heat radiating off your skin and smell the faint scent of your perfume. "You're not alone," he said firmly, his voice low. "Not anymore."

He removed his hand from your knee and slowly moved it up your leg, his touch light but electrifying. The feel of your skin under his fingertips was almost intoxicating, awakening feelings he thought he had buried deep down.

His hand reached your inner thigh, the heat from your body seeping through the thin material of your dress, making him want to touch more of you, claim more of you.

He was standing between your legs. You shuddered on his touch. A gasp escaped your lips.

Ghost smirked slightly at the gasp that escaped your lips, the sound sending a jolt straight to his groin. He moved even closer to you, his hips pressing against your inner thighs as he leaned in, his mouth hovering just above your ear.

"You like that, luv?" he murmured, his voice low and gravelly.

"What are you doing?" Your shuddering voice barely a whisper.

He chuckled lowly, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine. He moved his hand higher, his fingers tracing circles on the sensitive skin of your thigh.

"What does it look like I'm doin?" he asked huskily, his other hand coming up to cup your chin, tilting your face towards his.

You fell on the counter leaning against your elbows, your eyes dazy, you take shallow breaths looking at him.

He lifted his hand to your face, his fingers tracing the contour of your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. "You look perfect like this," he murmured, his voice rougher than ever.

He could sense your inexperience, yet it only made him more attracted to you. You were untouched, pure, and he wanted to be the one to take you, claim you, make you his.

He moved his hand from your cheek to your hair, his fingers threading through your locks, holding your head still as he leaned in even closer. "You're a bloody angel," he whispered against your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

He lowered his mouth to your neck, his lips gently trailing kisses along your skin, his teeth nipping at your pulse point. His hand moved down to your hip, his touch firm and possessive.

He pulled you close, your sensitive spot though a thin fabric away rubbing on the rough fabric of his jeans. You fell completely on the counter, your hips rocked gently, and a scream escaped your lips. Your hands clutched the counter hard.

"Bloody hell," he muttered, his voice hoarse with lust. He moved his head to the side, his lips finding the sweet spot on your neck, his mouth leaving a trail of hot kisses on your skin.

He placed his lips on yours, taking them in a passionate kiss. His hand tugged at the front of your dress as he pulled the front strap gently, losing it. He took off his gloves. His hands glided your outer thighs as he gently peeled off your panties. Down and up smoothly gliding from your legs.

He broke the kiss reluctantly, his breath ragged as he pulled his mouth away from yours. "Beautiful," he murmured, his eyes roaming over your body, the dress now loosened at the front.

His hands now moved higher to the soft mounds of your breasts teasing and pinching your nipples, his touch more possessive than ever. He lifted you gently, his strength clear, and set you down on the counter, positioning himself between your legs.

He leaned in, his mouth near your ear. "I want to fuck you right here, right now," he growled, his voice like a hot, primal rumble.

He brought his hand to your chin, lifting it up to make you look at him. His intense gaze locked with yours, his eyes dark and hungry. "Say yes," he commanded, his voice a low, gruff murmur. "Say you want me as much as I want you."

"Yes, Sir!" Your voice trembled.

"Good girl," he purred, his voice low and filled with desire. He ran his hands up your sides, rubbing the buds of your nipples, the dress gathering around your hips as he explored every inch of your body.

His hand moved lower, his fingers slipping between your legs, touching you intimately. He felt the heat and dampness between your legs, causing him to draw in a sharp breath. "Fuuuuck," he groaned, his eyes closing briefly.

As Ghost removed the mask, his face was unveiled for the first time to you. Sharp, harsh lines defined his features, a scar running down one side of his face, but somehow, that only added to his rugged attractiveness.

His eyes, a dark stormy grey, met yours, the intensity and raw desire in them clear and unapologetic.

A whimper escaped your lips as you saw him. He pulled your hair back, tilting your head back. His finger rubbing gentle circles around your clit.

He continued to touch you, his fingers circling and rubbing, all the while watching your reactions, a smirk playing on his lips. "You like that, don't you?"

His other hand, still holding your hair, tugged gently, tilting your head backwards even further. He leaned in, his mouth just above yours, his breath hot against your lips. "Answer me," he ordered, his voice a low, guttural rumble.

"Yes!" Your voice broken in desperation.

He captured your lips in a deep, hungry kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, tasting you thoroughly. His hand in your hair tightened, pulling your head back more.

His fingers pushed deep inside you, eliciting a small gasp from your lips.

Your body arched, you let out a throaty scream as you arched your back. Your pussy clenched against his fingers.

The sound of your scream, the feel of you clenching around his fingers, was enough to drive Ghost even further over the edge. He growled, his eyes locked on your face, his breath ragged.

"Ahhh! Fuck." Your moan echoed. His fingers stretched you as he continued moving them in and out.

It drove him wild. He upped his pace, his fingers moving into your pussy faster, deeper, making you moan even louder. The sounds you were making were driving him insane.

"You feel so good," he rasped, his voice thick with desire. "I could do this all bloody night."

His lips moved over your neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses. He nipped at your skin, his teeth scraping against your sensitive flesh.

At the same time, his fingers continued their relentless pace in your cunt, his touch becoming rougher, more demanding. He felt your body responding to him, your breath coming in ragged gasps, your muscles clenching and trembling.

"Such a needy little cunt for me." He whispered.

His words, rough and guttural, sent a shockwave through you. His hand in your hair tightened once more, and he tugged your head back, exposing your neck to him.

"You like it when I talk like that, huh?" he whispered against your ear, his voice a low, primal growl. "You like being my little needy...thing?"

He felt your body shudder and convulse, your pussy clenching as you came undone under his touch. His eyes, dark and intense, watched your face as you rode out your climax, his lips curled into a satisfied smirk.

His fingers continued to move within you for a few moments more, prolonging your pleasure before he slowly withdrew them. He leaned in, his face inches from yours, his breath hot against your skin. "Bloody hell," he murmured, "you're bloody perfect."

His eyes widened slightly as he saw the sight of your blood on his fingers. He brought his hand closer to his face, looking at the crimson staining his skin.

His eyes darkened, his expression unreadable, as he looked up at you. "You're a virgin," he stated quietly, his voice a mix of surprise and something else.

You nodded slowly.

He leaned in, his hands on either side of you, trapping you against the counter. "And you want me to be your first?" he asked, his voice soft yet intense.

You nodded again.

He studied your face, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt.

He leaned in closer, his mouth hovering just above your ear, his breath hot and ragged. "You have no idea what you're asking of me," he whispered, his voice guttural. "I'm not a gentle man."

"It's ok." You whispered.

His eyes darkened at your words, the raw desire in them nearly blazing.

"No, it's not," he replied, his voice a low, guttural rumble. "You're untouched, pure. I'm anything but."

His hands moved to your hips, his grip tight, almost possessive. "You deserve someone gentle, someone who can be tender with you," he continued, his voice gruff yet tinged with reluctance.

"I don't need anyone but you." You whispered

"Don't say that," he said, his voice ragged, almost pleading. "You don't know what you're saying. I'm not the hero in a fairytale, and I'm definitely not the type you take home to Mom."

You slowly sat, "I don't have a mom to take you to her, and I don't care what you do. You already touched me, and I am already so far there is no going back."

Ghost's eyes narrowed as he watched you, his expression a mixture of frustration and resignation.

He closed his eyes, his head tilting back as if in defeat. "Damned woman," he muttered, his voice a low, guttural grumble.

"Let me love you." You whispered.

Something flickered in his eyes at your words. Raw, painful vulnerability mixed with something he wouldn't, or couldn't, let himself be loved.

"I don't know how," he muttered, his voice a ragged whisper. He looked at you, a mixture of self-pity and longing in his eyes. "I don't know how to let myself be loved. I don't even know if I deserve it."

"Beating yourself up for taking lives, you were compulsive to do things as a soldier. Its not your fault. Its not easy what you do. It changes you, it makes you a sadist but I saw you beyond that mask when you saved me from committing suicide. This mask doesn't define who you really are. You are just hiding behind it. Hiding from your true self. Ghost."

His eyes widened as you voiced his innermost thoughts, his mind reeling from the raw truth of your words. No one had ever seen him the way you did, had ever come close to understanding the turmoil and guilt that haunted him.

He swallowed hard, his usual aloof and stoic demeanour falling away, replaced by a vulnerability he couldn't hide.

"How can you see me? How can you see through all of this?" he murmured, gesturing to the mask and his military uniform.

"It takes a broken soul to understand another. Though I don't do what you do but I am broken in ways I can't be put back together now." I whispered cupping his face.

He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes as if savouring the feeling of your fingers against his skin.

"You're not broken," he said, his voice a ragged whisper. "You're just dented, like me. But you've survived. And that's more than a lot of people can say."

"You deserve to be loved like every other human. Don't keep running like that. You can keep running, but you can't hide from your true self. I know your true self may be buried somewhere in you. I will just have to take it out." I whispered.

He opened his eyes, the raw vulnerability in them almost too much to bear.

He looked away, his jaw clenching as he tried to suppress the maelstrom of emotions swirling within him.

"You don't know what you're getting into," he warned, his voice a gruff whisper. "If you really knew who I was, the things I've done..."

"If you cannot come to terms with what you do, just leave it or accept the truth. Not many can do what you can. It takes nerves of steel, but someone has to do it and that someone is you. Don't beat yourself cus it's your duty to your country. You are not a war criminal just protecting your country."

He let out a derisive laugh, the sound bitter and humorless.

"Duty," he repeated, the word as foreign on his tongue as a confession. "That's all it is. I don't even know what I'm fighting for anymore. It's just kill or be killed, day in, day out."

You slipped down the counter and wore your dress again.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice laced with tension.

"We are done. We cant be together." You said raising your hands in surrender.

His face darkened, a mixture of anger and hurt flaring in his eyes. "Why not?" he demanded, his voice taking on a hard, stubborn edge.

"Cus you cant understand a word I am trying to say." You tried to explain.

His jaw clenched tight, his fist fisting at his side.

"Maybe it's you who doesn't understand," he snapped. "You think you can just waltz in here, talk about love and acceptance, and change me? You don't know the first thing about me. About what I've been through."

"What do you even want from me? Just my body?" You yelled.

He closed the distance between you, his body towering over you, his presence menacing and intense.

"Is that what you think of me?" he asked, his voice a low, dangerous murmur. "That I only want your body?"

"I want to give you my soul, but you are not accepting." You took a step back.

"I know what I am saying. I cant bicker anymore. I dont have the energy."

His eyes softened slightly at your words, the hardness in his expression giving way to a hint of gentleness.

But the stubborn, closed-off part of him refused to let go. "You're just going to give up?" he asked, his voice a frustrated grumble.

"Yes. Just like you dont wanna be loved." You spat.

His jaw clenched tight at your words, his eyes narrowing.

"You don't know what you're talking about," he said, his voice harsh and defensive. "It's not that I don't want to be loved. I just..."

He trailed off, his words catching in his throat. He looked away, refusing to meet your gaze.

"Cat got your tongue now?" You jabbed.

He scowled at your jab, his eyes flashing with irritation.

"Shut up, woman," he snapped, his voice gruff and irritable. "You're asking too much of me. You're asking me to open up, to let you in, when I've spent my entire life keeping people out."

"Why did you come here then?" You snapped back.

His expression darkened as if your question had hit a raw nerve.

"I didn't come here for this," he muttered, his voice a low, guttural murmur. "I came here because... because…"

He trailed off, struggling to find the words, his usual icy demeanor faltering slightly.

Because.....?

"Cus I can't stay away from you."

He muttered the words, as if the admission was wrenched from him against his will.

You nearly lunged at him, wrapping your legs and arms arms around him and crashing your lips onto his.

For a moment, he was frozen in surprise, your sudden display of affection catching him off guard.

But then something primal, something primal and possessive, flared within him. He wrapped his arms around you, hauling you closer to him, his mouth claiming yours in a fierce, almost desperate kiss.

He put you on your bed. Tearing your dress apart, he took off his shirt and jacket.

"I need you please. I can't let you go." You pleaded.

"Just take me, rock me, throw me around, have your way. Anything just to be close to you. " Tears welled up in your eyes.

"This won't be soft or gentle," he warned, his voice a ragged whisper. "I'll take what I want, and I won't stop until I'm done."

"Do it." You pleaded.

Part 2 link.

[huntinglove]

Imagine your yandere F/O...

💚 Giving you plushies with hidden cameras or microphones in them. They know exactly what to get you, since they've been playing close attention to your tastes. Your favorite animal, with your favorite colors, it sits right on your nightstand, where your F/O can watch and/or hear you clear as day!

🍓 Tracking your location whenever you're away from one another. Maybe they snuck a tag into your backpack, or maybe they managed to add a secret app to your phone, but either way they'll be keeping an eye on your every move. They'll always make sure to look out for your safety, especially when you're by yourself!

💚 Silently ruining the lives of any people who cross you. To your F/O, rudeness and cruelty are simply unacceptable and must be dealt with right away. Maybe they'll end up expelled from their college, maybe they'll get fired, maybe they'll "slip" while walking down the stairs... There's infinite possibilities, but rest assured, your F/O is more than happy to take the trash out for you!

🍓 Taking the time to learn all about your interests. They pay attention to everything you say and they'll make sure to look into it so you'll have plenty of things to talk about when the time comes! They have your favorite song memorized, they know many quites from your favorite movies and shows, and they even know what your favorite fanfics are!

💚 Keeping notes about your routine, information and behaviors. Your allergies, phobias, all your favorite things, everything you hate, any medication you need to take, they have it all written down and memorized. Your F/O loves every single detail about you and they want to make sure they'll be able to care for you correctly!

🍓 Finding ways to insert themselves into your routine. Maybe they'll get a job on your favorite restaurant or store, sometimes they'll sit beside you on the bus or train, maybe they'll bump into you on the street and help you pick up anything you might have dropped... Your F/O is very flexible, especially when it comes to getting your attention!

💚 They'll always find a way to be closer to you, whether you know it or not. Your F/O's love for you is unconditional and limitless, they'll always be right by your side, through thick and thin, ready to smother you in their adoration and obsession!

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮

Hiii!

Okay 51 new sentences for 📚:

---

See, when Ravi dropped out of college, his parents had been scared for him. Convinced he was throwing his life away to become a city employee. Like it was a dirty word. His father, one of the owners in a large property management company, had felt the need to take matters into his own hands. I won’t stop you from following what your heart says is right, Ravi, he’d said. But I also will not leave you without a safety net. He’d always thought his safety net was exorbitantly rich parents, but apparently not. Apparently, he needed properties. To begin building his own generational wealth. His father, therefore, put the ownership of two apartment complexes in Ravi’s name. One in Montebello and one in La Cienega Heights. 

The latter building was smaller. Only six units, one of which Ravi lived in. It was close to work. Easy to manage. And yes, a good asset to his name. The Montebello property - much larger - and the one across the street his father was pushing him to buy? A way bigger chore. One that Ravi was finding difficult to manage. 

“No,” Ravi shook his head. “No, I wasn’t just going to sell it.”

“That’s not what I heard,” Anil said, doing an excellent impression of sincere curiosity. 

“I was going to talk to you,” Ravi promised his father. “About taking it back or selling it. Investing the money properly. Letting the funds accrue.”

His father looked crestfallen.

“You did this behind your father’s back?” His mother asked. 

“No, no.” Ravi said again. “I haven’t done anything.”

“Well you talked to Shin.” Anil dropped another colossal bomb. 

“You talked to an agent at a rival brokerage to your brother’s?” His mother gasped, like Anil accused Ravi of stabbing him.

“I talked to my friend, who is familiar with the area and prices.” Ravi clarified. “It was one lunch.”

And how word of that got to Anil, Ravi did not know. 

“You don’t sell a gift, Ravi,” his father chastized. 

“It’s not…” Ravi sighed. “Look, I’m keeping the La Cienaga place. Montebello is too much for me, right now.”

“Too much for you to manage? Free real estate?” His father retorted.

“Pops, between all the shifts I’m working, and the drive out that way more than once a week, it’s been a lot,” Ravi tried to appeal to him. “I need down time. Time to decompress. I don’t do well if I-”

Anil scoffed. “So this is an autism thing, then.”

---

30 for 🦮:

---

“Are you sure?” Bobby asks.

“Yeah,” Buck nods. “Trainer says it’s my choice.”

Bobby smiles giddily. “Well, good. I love dogs.”

Buck grins. He misses Bobby. He visits sometimes, but it’s different from being here everyday. It’s different when it feels like he’s visiting out of some strange guilt.

“Also, I made everyone wait up there so they don’t overwhelm her,” Bobby says. Buck looks up. Sure enough, Hen, Chim, Eddie, and someone Buck has never seen before are standing at the rails of the mezzanine, looking down. “But we can bring coffee and lunch and everything down here so you don’t have to use the stairs.”

Buck gives the team a small wave before answering Bobby. 

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Buck says. “I can do stairs. It’s good to get practice in.”

He doesn’t want any more accommodation than he already has by bringing a dog in with him. He’s fine. He’s capable. 

“Okay,” Bobby nods. “Well, then up we go.”

Buck walks towards the fire station stairs as if he isn’t at all daunted. Not just to be climbing them, but to be climbing them with a dog. He’s definitely nervous. And he’s definitely going to feel a little wiped afterwards. Bobby walks ahead of him, and then Buck focuses on climbing each step the way he’s worked on in physical therapy. Foot first, then prosthetic.

[girldragongizzard]

Chapter 6: Holes

Getting back into my apartment is actually not all that hard, since it has a big hole in it.

The silly part to me is that I have to take the stairs down to the ground floor, open the front door to the building, and then go outside just to see it. And then, in order to get the altitude to fly to it, I have to treat one of the streets as a runway and do a couple of loops when I clear the lowest buildings. I want to be able to slowly glide in to land in the hole, with as much control as possible, so I want to start higher than it.

Still easy enough, just tedious.

The traffic is light enough today that I can do this. I might have to try climbing during rush hour.

And there’s tape and a sheet of plastic across the hole, but I don’t care about that.

I do note that the businesses that are directly below my apartment are closed for the day, with that sidewalk cordoned off for safety. But my coffee shop is still open.

I do really want people to know that this is all Whitman’s fault.

But tearing through the plastic and yellow tape to enter my apartment does give me a tiny little taste of what it must have felt like for Whitman to crash through a brick fucking wall.

I want to argue with the physics of that feat, but I can breathe fire, and we’re both physically dragons. There are things at work here that were not taught about in high school or college science classes. Or any classes at all, I imagine. None that I took.

My skeletal structure alone is something that biologists will want to study intently at some point. If I let them.

My apartment is even more of a wreck than it was when I left it. The landlord and anybody else that they let in had apparently cleared a pathway to the hole by just shoving debris to the side, piling it on my belongings without any care. They didn’t touch or ransack anything else, but this obvious disregard for a bunch of things I was probably going to have to discard anyway still feels like as much of a violation of my space as the damage done by Whitman.

I hate it.

And I spend a few seconds hating it some more before I crawl to the bathroom.

I’ll spare you a description of what I have to do in the bathroom to use the toilet, though. It’s undignified and you’re probably imagining it just fine anyway.

Suffice it to say, while I can fit in there, I can never get a full view of myself in the mirror. I have to use dark shop windows on the street for that, and I’m pretty eager to get a selfie somehow, or get somebody to do a whole set of boudoir photos of me. That would be both funny and really cool to look at. Especially if my boudoir is my living room in its current state.

Anyway, despite all the damage, I’m starting to feel a lot more relaxed now that I’m in my own place. And while I’m still on the toilet, I find myself singing and practicing noises again.

I even keep it up when I go to eat the rest of what’s in my fridge.

One of the really cool things about my new anatomy is that I can breathe and make noises while my mouth and throat are full of a quarter pound of deli ham.

I’ve found I literally can’t eat as often as a human does. Because of how my hunger and digestion works, I have to gorge myself every couple of days if I’m active, it seems. But, I very clearly eat more than a typical person, and that worries me. I can’t exactly afford it.

Also, what does it mean in terms of my future development as a dragon?

If I manage to keep eating this much, is it because my body just needs this many calories to do what it does? Or am I growing?

And thinking about that then raises the question of what my expected lifespan is now, if I don’t get eaten by someone like Whitman.

I just really don’t know. There’s no precedent for any of this, and no experts. Just a bunch of myths that seem reasonably accurate so far because they describe such a broad swath of possibilities that you could make the case that a white tailed hare is a kind of dragon if you wanted to.

And on that note, once I’m done eating, I crawl over to the hole in my apartment and lie down there with my foreclaws and snout poking out into the outer world to rest and start digesting my food. And I fall quiet for a bit.

I actually kind of like this, and wonder if I could convince the landlords to let me keep it. I’m not really serious about the thought, because I still agree with Rhoda that I should move somewhere more secure and less potentially harmful to any neighbors I might have. I like living downtown, and this hole in the wall apartment would be perfect for me now. But if I’m going to be occasionally attracting challengers like yesterday, it’s just not safe or practical.

I do wonder, though, when I move how am I going to move all of my stuff?

Besides Rhoda, Chapman, and the baristas of my coffee shop, I don’t really have a group of friends who I could call on to help me move. And, on my SSI, I can’t afford a moving company.

I could try to crowdfund a few hundred dollars for a move, but then I’ve got to be careful it doesn’t go over the $2,000 limit for SSI qualification. But if I move into a care, at least I won’t need rent and utilities, and all I’ll need to worry about is food, phone, and… healthcare?

Who am I going to go to for healthcare?

A vet, probably. Shit. That’s not covered by Medicare.

This line of thought is just full of so many depressing realizations and –

Hey! There’s another dragon!

There’s another dragon flying across the bay, and it’s not Whitman!

Before I can stop myself, I’m rumbling. The rubble and dust on either side of me vibrates, and particles dance right off the edge of the hole in the wall and fall to the sidewalk below.

I lift my head to track their flight path, and feel this sneeze-like urge to squawk and rattle at them. It’s so hard to hold it back, and I might be revising some of my thoughts on instincts. But, dammit, I’m holding it in.

Since midday yesterday, my life has just been this non-stop sequence of mini-disasters, and I don’t need another one right now. Couldn’t that dragon just fuck off? I need them to go away so fast. They need to get out of my eyesight. It’s way too early in the morning for this shit.

Maybe if I go down to the coffee shop and hang out there I won’t need to see this kind of thing.

Fuck ‘em.

“rrrrrRRRRRRAWOWAAAK!!! NOKNOKNOKNOKNOK!!!!”

Shit.

And here comes another –

“GRAAAAK NOKNOKNOK!!!”

And I’m relieved just like I’d sneezed.

A cry comes back that sounds so canned, so much like a famous scream, I decide to name that dragon Wilhelm.

But they keep flying, and even seem to veer away from me. My movement focused eyesight does a great job of catching that subtly. And honestly, it’s critical when doing things like flying right into a wooded park, like I did yesterday.

I feel myself relaxing, but then I see some people on the street pointing up at me. My head twitches to put them in the center of my sight.

They wave cheerfully.

Cool.

I feel kind of proud, so I let myself puff up my chest. It’s not as impressive as it would be if I had feathers to fluff or a dewlap to inflate as well, but I don’t really care.

My emotions are just so strong today, and now that I’ve fought off two dragons, or scared them away, it’s hard not to feel possessive of my space and confident that I can keep it just fine. I’m still telling myself I eventually need to move. But I’m no longer ruminating on how or when to do it.

So I find myself sitting here for some time before I consider doing something else. I don’t really know how much time passes.

I watch some birds fly by. Some crows. A bunch of seagulls. And the seagulls look like something I might be able to catch and eat.

And then there’s a knock at my door.

At first, I’m startled and think of the police. But then I remember that I left Rhoda’s apartment without mentioning where I was going or leaving a note. Because, mostly, I didn’t have a good way of doing either without waking her up.

But after I get myself to the door to answer it, I remember that it’s locked and I look forlornly at the lock switch on the knob.

I can manage the deadbolt, but I can’t manage that little thing.

I make the classic ringtone noise loudly enough I think it can be heard through the door, then wander back to the hole. That should let her know that I’m in here, at least. And confuse anybody else that it might be. And if the door remains locked, maybe she’ll figure out how I got in.

I hear the doorknob rattle just a little, and then nothing.

I’m hopeful.

In the meantime, I don’t see any other dragons flying about, and I’m thinking I might be ready to visit the rest of my territory, such as it is.

And before too long, Rhoda walks out to the empty parking space just below my apartment and waves up at me.

I do a short chirp of the ring tone, and launch myself from the hole, gliding out to land in the parking lot across the street, landing in a row between the cars. It’s pretty easy to turn and walk toward Rhoda from there.

“Has anyone told you that you’re loud as fuck, Meg?” Rhoda asks once we’re in reasonable earshot of each other.

I lift my head and give her the smuggest cat smile.

I can’t help it, I’m feeling proud of how loud I am today. It’s saved me from another fight, the way I’m seeing it at the moment. Please don’t tell me otherwise.

“I don’t suppose you’ve read or heard the news yet,” she says.

I turn my head.

“Well, you and that other one definitely are not the only dragons that are out now,” she reports. “It’s a worldwide phenomenon, and most people are taking it in stride. The anchors I listened to were reporting it like it’s the latest step forward in civil rights or something, or a fashion trend. But, oh, there are some people who are just mad as hell about it!”

I grunt and stomp a foot.

“Let’s go get coffee and I’ll fill you in,” she suggests, so we do that.

It’s the Kims behind the counter today. Or Kim and Kimberly. And they’re delighted to see me, if a bit grumpy about the sudden construction site next door. Then, as Rhoda is placing our orders and insisting on paying for them, Kim thinks to ask if it was my apartment that exploded.

I look at Rhoda.

Rhoda explains, “We were cleaning up Meg’s apartment when –”

“Oh!” Kim exclaims, looking at me. “Your name is Meg now? Cool! I love it!”

I cat smile, full of giddy feelings at recognition, and Rhoda smiles up at me, too.

Then she continues, “We were tiding up and Meg was telling me about meeting Chapman, when another dragon attacked and broke right through that brick wall to challenge Meg. It was a whole mess.”

“People’ve been saying that,” Kimberly says.

“Yeah, but they didn’t say it was her apartment,” Kim looks back and points at me with her thumb.

Kimberly shrugs, “I just kinda figured.”

Kim turns back to Rhoda, brow furrowed, and asks, “You weren’t hurt, were you?”

“Ha!” Rhoda barks a laugh. “I’m going to need some extra heavy counseling from the police visit later that night, but no. No, I’m fine.”

“Ugh! I wish cops would just fuck off forever,” Kimberly huffs, and then takes the order slip from Kim and turns to start making drinks.

I was just going to go for a big cup of drip, but Rhoda has ordered me another mocha.

“It sucks you’re going to have to move,” Kim says to me. “Or, is the landlord going to give you a temporary lodging while they fix your place? Aren’t they legally required to?” She squints back to Kimberly.

“This is all new territory,” Rhoda says. Then she turns to me and says, “I’m sorry. I’m going to say what I think is the truth.”

I bow my head in acknowledgement. But I don’t really want to. I’m trying to think of ways I can stay in my apartment, even and including fully draconic methods for making sure it’s known I’m not leaving. But, I know I’m going to have to.

Rhoda turns to the Kims and explains, “If a dragon can break through a brick wall like that, and fights like that are at all likely, none of them can be staying in buildings with humans. It’s just not going to work out well for anyone. Even if the management agree to keep Meg in the building, she’s going to want a place that’s more secure. Like a cave. For her own sake.”

I bow my head again.

“Oh, that sucks. But I guess that makes sense,” Kim says.

“It’s hard,” Rhoda says. “The news says that statistically there could be anywhere from fifty to a hundred dragons in our own city alone. And I can’t believe there are that many suitable caves in the county. Though, I wouldn’t know.”

Eyes wide, both Kims say, “That’s a lot!”

“Jinx!” Kimberly says.

“Eh,” Kim responds. Then repeats, “That’s a lot.”

“Just zero point one percent of the human population, if that,” Rhoda says. “But, yes. A lot. Dragons take up a lot of space.” She glances at me. “Even if they can fit in a one bedroom apartment without scratching the walls too badly.”

I make a knocking sound as quietly as I can.

Eventually, Kimblerly finished our drinks and takes them both to my favorite table, which is up front near the counter. And we continue our conversation, mostly with me listening and slurping up my drink. And Rhoda fills us all in on what she’s been learning.

And I’m thinking I wish Chapman would show up, because sie is probably just swimming in all of this, and would love to hypeshare about it. Sie’d probably grill Rhoda for what she heard, too. And we’d all end up even more well informed.

But Rhoda is on it as anyone can be, and it turns out that there’s still just not that much known about what’s going on.

People are wondering, though. They may not be all that surprised by the appearance of a dragon, or the discovery that a loved one is a dragon. But everyone is wondering what’s going on. Including other dragons. There were a couple that were using AAC like me that got interviewed, and they expressed their confusion as well.

And, of course, there are some people who are up in arms about it all, too. About the same people you’d expect of any big social change, or emergence of a minority group. White supremacists, mostly, really. Terfs, Evangelicals, conservative Catholics, Militia groups, Trumpists, Fundamentalists. There’s a really strong religious contingent, and mostly Christian in nature, who are objecting to the presence of identifiable dragons in the world. And some are citing it as a sign of the end times or something. I expect there are other religions that have sects and denominations that are raising concerns or preparing to be militant about it, but being in the U.S. and English speaking, we’re not hearing much about it yet.

With the looming election, it makes my blood run colder than it already is. And I remember I’m also trans.

My life was already complicated and in danger because of my disabilities. But now I’m the new hot target for political debate, and I haven’t exactly been able to lie low locally in the past day. And my shape, size, and territorial instincts aren’t going to make it easy, either.

I have a moment wondering if, since people seem to recognize the dragons they’ve known since before the change, how this will all play with intersectional oppression. But I’m not really sure of my own ability to assess that, besides to conclude it will be complicated. I know that, in my case, I didn’t have a lot of resources before, with not much to lose, but not much to draw upon, either. And, also, I’ve traded in a couple of disabilities for a whole new one.

And thinking of that, I realize there are a few things I want to say to the Kims, so I nudge Rhoda with my nose and then point my snout at her purse.

She understands and pushes her phone across the table to me, after opening up the AAC app for me.

I hold up my claw and flex it, and then proceed to knuckle out a few simple sentences.

“My name Meghan the Dragon,” I say. “Meg OK. Cute. She and her.”

Both the Kims smile in response to that, and Kimberly says, “Well, you’re cute!”

“I see two dragons,” I continue. “I name: Whitman, Wilhelm. Whitman ass. Wilhelm smart.”

Rhoda chuckles, and says, “Oh, so that one that attacked was Whitman?”

“Yes.”

“And I haven’t seen Wilhelm yet?”

“If smart. Won’t.”

“Ah,” she says. “Is that why you were making so much noise this morning?”

“Yes.”

“Speaking of noises,” Kimberly says, “I hear you can imitate the door chime.”

I hold up a crooked claw in the best sign for one moment I can make, then knuckle out, “How fifty dragons eat?”

Everyone stares at me. I hear the rest of the cafe go silent.

“How hundred?” I ask. “What cost? What eat?”

Then I see some fortuitous movement outside the window and let my head track the flight of a seagull passing by, then look back at the Kims and tilt my head.

“Oh, shit,” Kim says.

In agreement, I make the door chime sound.

“Don’t do that during business hours, please. Or at all.”

[scientia-rex]

Had a little meltdown today (ongoing) bc my anger about an MA knowingly exposing us all the COVID all week without wearing a mask has now turned into me getting told I might get fired because I posted “patient safety concerns” on Facebook.

I didn’t name her, I didn’t say my COVID exposure was through work, even, but when she word vomited on my post about how much I am not enjoying waiting to find out whether my birthday trip to Las Vegas will be a dead loss, I did point out that she put patients at risk.

I feel like that was a relatively benign response to her jeopardizing the lives of hundreds of people, and threatening to fire me is a tad fucking ridiculous, but this has not stopped me from having a meltdown on the level of the time I moved to college and in my first week managed to hit a brand new Ford F150 on a frantic run to the drugstore for tampons and spent the next three days in a self-inflicted hell about it.

I am also deeply, bitterly angry that the clinic has not responded to massively spiking COVID levels by going back to requiring masking from staff and patients.

People are going to die. If you don’t want me airing dirty laundry, stop shitting your pants.

[profounddefendorcrusade-blog]

A Second Long Rant About The Koffin Trio

Note: I decided to write about these three again (mostly about the genocide route) because I didn't cover everything I wanted to in my previous take, and you guys seemed to like it (I'm glad you enjoyed it as well, @beethovenus!), so here we go. If you haven't already, please read my previous ts!us post, since this is an addition to that.

Let's just say that the writers really outdid themselves when it comes to the genocide route, especially in regards to Harry and Larry. Never before did a video game leave me feeling so emotionally broken. The battle between the Boogiemen and Chara proves that comedic relief characters CAN and SHOULD be put in serious situations. It gives them much-needed depth.

At the beginning, Harry and Larry didn't take Chara seriously and only managed to make it out of the encounter alive because Crossbones/Sans intervened (which just goes to show how reckless both of them are) they're like annoying but loveable little kids i swear

It's this trait of theirs that led them to their downfall later on. I guess you could say that their appearance was meant to 'lighten the mood' of the otherwise dark genocide route, but it only made things worse for them in the long run. I remember reading a comment on YouTube once, and it mentioned how the Boogiemen resemble horror movie characters who die first due to their carelessness. And aside from the fact that they were not the first monsters to get killed by Chara, I agree 100%

Neither one of them believed that a human was even in the Underground, let alone a serious threat... that is, until they tried picking on Chara ↓

...which obviously didn't end well ↓

When they realized that they really WERE in danger, both visibly began to panic; neither one of them even tried to pretend to be fearless ↓

I've got to say that I love the contradictory traits the Boogiemen share: fearless but fearful, fun-loving but seeking safety, reckless but cautious.

Imo, as much as they like to goof off, they want someplace to come back to even more. Koffin-K is the one who makes the keep a place where they feel like they belong; a place that gives them comfort. KK's presence is what reassures them that they're taken care of. He's the one who makes Koffin Keep home.

In the present moment, Harry and Larry can afford to act goofy and careless because they're convinced that, no matter what happens, Koffin will always be there to save them, provide for them, and keep them safe in general.

There's a difference between who Harry & Larry were before and after they got hired (they seemed to have become more mischevious, more open to goofing off, and even more ambitious and confident).

I find it interesting that both of them were anxious/sceptical about working for Koffin when he first met them:

The two weren't attached to Koffin-K at all at the time. They didn't become loyal right off the bat; It took them (a short) time to warm up to him. And now that they are attached, I'm pretty confident that they're never leaving his side

The thing about Harry is that he used to rely on this one low-wage job and probably thought: "If I take the risk and come to regret becoming this weird guy's lackey, or if he fires me, I might never be able to come back to my safe job again and I'll be left with nothing. I'm not even qualified for anything other than menial chores!" yeah I headcanon that both him and Larry dropped out of high school at like 16 and never went to college in the first place I'm also really curious if Harry used to be attached to his previous boss (who he never mentioned) like he is to Koffin-K now, but I doubt it since he DID accept Koffin's job offer the very next day.

And Larry didn't want to risk anything either, even though he pretty much had nothing to lose. Even if he used to have a job as a janitor (if this is the case, I imagine his thought process was the exact same as Harry's), he still lacked a home. It's depressing to think about how Larry apparently wanted to continue his poor-quality life because he didn't believe anything different or better was out there. Or, he had no idea what having a better life even felt like. Maybe he thought he'd be WORSE OFF as Koffin-K's employee and/or that he'd fire him at some point. I just made myself sad, I love these guys a lot and empathize so much I feel like both of them believe they're not good enough and it hurts

Anyway, back to the genocide route.

After they're rescued, Flowey says:

Already setting up the fact that they'll either be an easy and/or optional battle. Nice.

Then we see Harry and Larry straight up putting themselves in danger to please Koffin-K:

Like, guys, I'm sure he would have understood if you hadn't obeyed his order this time. but they CAN'T let him down; they refuse After all, a mass murderer was on the loose

And once again, we're given a choice whether or not to fight them:

And finally, if we follow them... we get to this scene.

Oh god. THIS scene. Where do I even start?

Alright, time for some retrospect.

So, the two dummies have no way to escape and are forced to fight (with their very last conversation being AN UNRESOLVED ARGUMENT), Larry is ruthlessly pushed off the cliff (is this why it's called the ruthless route? Because if so, it fits perfectly), Harry screams his name and falls to his knees, completely dejected, and doesn't even attempt to run or fight, waiting to join Larry in death.

This moment hurts. This text especially. "Quick on his feet" but not quick enough; Larry's name is no longer next to his

No matter how much they annoy each other, the care is clear as day. That's another reason why I think of them as brothers. Harry is pretty fearful, right? And yet he'd rather turn to dust than live a life without Larry.

Sometimes I wonder how the scene would have played out if Harry had been given given the choice to either flee, stay and fight, or let us finish him off.

Ok, the third option would remain unchangeable, and the second would definitely result in his death whether or not he put up a fight, but the first one...

**ANGST WARNING**

Koffin-K would find Harry in his and Larry's house, curled up on their (now only his) bunk bed, sobbing uncontrollably and blaming himself over and over again. Then he'd hold him and they'd cry together. Koffin would regret not being more transparent with his care for his henchmen, and now that he was only left with one, he'd swear to be the best boss and father he could be.

It would take a while, but eventually Harry would stop crying himself to sleep every night, he'd go back to his mischievous self, he'd pull pranks and laugh and have fun because that's what Larry would have wanted.

Koffin and Harry's relationship would strengthen over time (sooner rather than later) and they'd become a true family. But every day, for the rest of his life, Koffin-K would wish that he had told Larry how much he loved him before he died. Harry would wish that, too.

But there was no way to turn back the clock, and the only thing they could do was hope that, wherever Larry was, he'd somehow know.

...he did.

I don't even want to image what would have happend if the roles had been reversed. Let's just say that Larry would have been absolutely shattered if Harry had gotten pushed off a cliff/died first. Based on his reaction if you beat Harry up during their fight in the neutral route, I don't even think he'd ever be able to move on from the pain of losing his brother best friend (or it would be SUPER hard).

Speaking of these scenes, Harry's first reaction was to get furious, Larry's was to burst into tears. What they have in common though was that they showed care for each other sigh... image limit strikes again

Larry also picked up on the purity of Chara's soul (or lack thereof) and it triggered Chara

It reminds me of how Ceroba picked up on the number of monsters Clover had killed

Long story short, I love how both Harry and Larry have their own quirks and personality. They're not just interesting as a duo, but separately, too. It's sometimes hard to remind yourself how, just because two people are a team, that doesn't mean they don't/can't exist as individuals.

I'm really curious to see Koffin-K's reaction to these two's deaths. REALLY REALLY curious.

I think that he'd completely break down (before that he'd be in denial) upon realizing that his idiots are actually gone forever and were killed by someone Koffin thought would make a good servant. Still, for some reason, I doubt he would become so enraged that he could avenge them by killing Chara.

Regardless of his reaction, he'd definitely miss them a lot.

When everyone was gone, Harry and Larry were the first on his mind i feel like they're his biggest headache but also the two monsters he loves most, in his own unique way

Random thoughts as a bonus bc why not:

I swear, it seemed like they wanted to say "You're talking to THE COUNT'S lackeys!" and "You ain't the dad of us to tell us what to do!" Also, Harry looks scared/nervous/unsure/ af. These guys really are both cowardly and impulsive

Istg, they act like (man)children with Koffin being their strict but goofy dad mom who makes them do chores when they'd rather laze around (I know it's part of their job and everything but the way they talk about their duties gives me this vibe)

...yeah, just KK acting like an annoyed dad, nothing new to see here

Remember how, in the last post I wrote, I said that Harry and Larry are materialistic (for a good reason)? Yeah, they're so materialistic that they'd even "betray" their boss for some cash (unrelated, but I love this game's humor)

These two have a dog's loyalty, but even their house looks like a doghouse (or maybe it's just tiny compared to the keep). Speaking of the keep...

Interesting that, whoever wrote on this wiki, didn't include the other workers almost like it's just the three of them that are a family while the others are just there for the easy money

[beanghostprincess]

Sabosan Modern AU in which Luffy hosts a party in his house because Ace and Sabo are both out for the night and he thinks it's a great opportunity to turn it into fun (because he hates having the place to himself. It's boring and lonely). It's just the usual six people (East Blue crew + Vivi) but they always have so much fun anyway. So the thing is- They're drunk. Wasted. And they don't even get in trouble anyway, they're just playing silly games in the safety of their home and there's nothing wrong with that, surprisingly. It's impressive how they manage to get in more trouble when they're sober. However, Sanji is going through a rough time. He's been quiet all night and everyone knows something's wrong with him because he has been in a mood for the past week, but he's Sanji, so, he won't talk. Something something, Zoro and Sanji fight like usual but this time Sanji is drunk and honest and everything hurts, so he ends up genuinely feeling like shit and going upstairs to ignore everyone because he can't handle all of that right now. Nobody follows him because again, they're all drunk and they don't even know what to do with that and it'd be surprising if they even noticed the fight because, again, drunk and playing games. And since Sanji has always been and always will be in a romantic teenage coming-of-age movie ever since WCI happened, Sabo just casually, randomly, comes back home because of inexplicable reasons (the reason being he fought with Koala in their college dorm for setting on fire one of their books while saying the educational system is a scam and she kicked him out for the night). So the guy sees all this party they have and just goes "I'm too tired for this. Just don't break anything and God, please, don't go into Ace's room" / Usopp: Wait, why? / Sabo: You don't wanna know.

So Sabo goes upstairs to his room, hoping to get some sleep or work done (work being planning his next riot, not studying. Imagine Sabo studying, pffft) but instead, he finds a blond sitting on his bedroom floor on the verge of a panic attack, drunk, crying and begging Sabo not to kick him out because he doesn't want to go back home. Sabo has no idea why the hell he's saying that because he doesn't want to kick them out, especially Sanji, now that he's saying all of these incoherent things about being afraid to go back home. Sabo recognizes what's going on because he has gone through this himself and they also have to deal with Ace's panic attacks a lot. So he helps Sanji calm down and ends up reassuring him that no, he's not going back home tonight. He can stay all he wants. And Sanji keeps crying and whispering things and names Sabo only knows because of magazines and the news ("Vinsmoke Ichiji, next in line to preside the executive table at Germa Enterprises!" / "Commonly known as a heartbreaker, Vinsmoke Niji was recently seen on a date with one of Charlotte Linlin's daughters!" / "Accused of problematic commentaries, Vinsmoke Yonji addresses the discourse by saying, and I quote 'Who the fuck cares?'"). So, alright, Sabo is not fond of the Vinsmoke family and at first he wasn't fond of Sanji either for the same reason, but he's different from them and he has known ever since two years ago the guy came over with lots, and lots of food only because Luffy wasn't eating properly. But Sabo now knows the rich family isn't just full of shit socially but also inside, and seeing Sanji so anxious and weak about it makes his blood boil. Now is not the time to get angry, though, so he just stays by his side and waits for him to calm down, offering him a shoulder to cry on. The guy is drunk and having the breakdown of his life and the only thing Sabo can do right now is be there for him, even if he wishes he could just go over to their ridiculously huge house and burn it down. The things Sanji talks about aren't pretty. They make him want to throw up.

Sanji ends up falling asleep and Sabo takes him to his bed so he doesn't sleep, well, on the floor. Sabo goes downstairs instead. Besides, he has to clean up the mess the others made anyway.

So Sanji wakes up in a random bed, recognizing the room, and wanting to die from the hangover he's having right now. But he remembers everything, sadly, and he wants to die from embarrassment because he just vented to his friend's brother like it's nothing. They get along, but not that much to do shit like this. He wants to try and sneak out of their house before anybody notices, but of course, Sabo does. It seems the guy has a power for these things. But Sabo is extremely nice, actually, and it isn't that awkward in the end. They're alone because the others got up earlier to go home and Luffy went with them too to spend the rest of the day with Zoro (wow, who could've guessed). Sanji doesn't want to go home but he needs to get the fuck out of here because he feels like he's intruding, especially since Sabo has made breakfast (normal, regular breakfast. Nothing too special but it's way more than what he expected from these siblings). He has to finish eating and then he'll go home! But then Sabo offers him a shower and- Okay. He'll go home after having breakfast and showering! But then Sabo tells him to, please, stay, and be my guest, it's a bit boring here on my own and I want an excuse not to study. And how can Sanji say no to the guy who has helped him so much? So he stays. And one thing leads to another and it's already nighttime because they actually have a lot of things in common and they have fun together- But Sanji needs to go home. Now. Because if the news finds out about him being away for this long it's gonna be a problem and his brothers will be twice as annoying.

Sabo finally lets him go but- But there's something in his eyes when he does. He's worried sick. He's so concerned for him that it's aching inside of Sanji's heart too. Sanji wants to stay the same way Sabo wants him to not go. Almost begs him to. But he can't. But Sanji knows, then, that if he ever needs somebody to talk to, Sabo isn't that far from home anyway.

[nailsofvecna]

The diminutive sophons - and their mavros cousins - are without doubt the most intellectually gifted peoples in the galaxy. Possessing an irresistible compulsion to learn and a reckless disregard for lab safety, they excel in pushing the boundaries of science and engineering, never tiring in their search for a deeper understanding of the universe.

It goes without saying that all sophon endeavours entail some level of risk. It's unavoidable, really. For example, when you're exploring the cosmos trying to unravel the mysteries of life, there's always a risk that some warmongering jerks will try to shoot you up. Luckily, sophons are experts at managing unpredictable variables. And, if things do get ugly, they've always got something clever in their pockets!

The mavros, meanwhile, have an altogether more destructive outlook. As a rule, mavros have no interest in politics, economics, art or peace - only in designing, building and firing the biggest possible guns. When the great, interstellar empires came knocking at their homeworld, they offered no resistance, gladly handing over the boring work of ruling the planet and gleefully dispersing themselves throughout the workshops, foundries and mercenary companies of the galaxy.

Isyander's Academy counts many sophons among its ranks; their powerful minds and innate curiousity make them ideal for dust-enhancement. Asaroenni Dzulmaran was recruited straight out of college: a prodigy of nuclear physics, she is currently working on terrifying new ways of making things explode. Mavros, on the other hand, rarely have the patience for Isyander's teachings. Krak Bleis is an exception; his accidental exposure to enormous quantities of dust means that his mind works so fast that only the most complex puzzles can interest him now.

[honey-beann]

I'd Burn Every Soul I Knew (If I Thought the Fire Was Warming You)

rk boys (Nines, Connor, Sixty) x Reader

Chapter "Four" - Being a Kamski

Word Count: 2,310

Note: This chapter takes place both previously to all other chapters as well as immediately after the events of chapter "three".

Growing up with a brother like Elijah had been... interesting to say the least.

He was only two years older than you, but always seemed infinitely more intelligent, and had this certain charisma to him that you had simply never managed to match or emulate.

Not that you'd ever really wanted to.

No, growing up you'd needed to worry about far more serious issues, such as enduring medical emergency after medical emergency just for a chance at the simple kind of life you desired so greatly.

And surprisingly enough, Elijah had been there every step of the way.

If you told those who knew him presently about the boy (and even man) he had once been, they would scarcely believe you, but truthfully, he had never been anything but kind and understanding toward you for nearly your entire life.

Something about you, his "baby" sister, seemed to soften his usually logically driven and unemotional heart, and with each developing medical dilemma, he was always trying to make things easier for you. In fact, he had even spent several of his formative years yearning to become a doctor so he could help find out how to make that insufferable pain that seemed to constantly exist within your eyes go away.

But who could blame him?

You had grown up so lively, so adventurous, and so very much the opposite of your brother, that you had all but dragged him out of his comfort zone simply by virtue of existing at his side.

You were his other half, and he yours, and until you were around nine, you had done almost everything possible together.

But then the sickness started.

Some strange form of anemia at first, something your doctors had believed to be curable and simple, except it had just never gone away.

Some days, things were perfect, exactly as they once were, but on others, you were bedridden or passing out on the playground of your elementary school as your friends rushed to try and find your brother and get him to help.

And this constant struggle with your health, the seemingly endless back and forth of it all took its toll on your body rather quickly.

Soon enough, you were informed that it just might not ever truly end.

Sure, treatment existed, and it would make living easier, but it seemed that stressors, be it emotional or physical, played a critical role in the severity of your symptoms, and there was little that could be done about any of that.

So, you adapted.

Your entire family did.

And your entire life changed because of this.

Most of the time, you were trapped inside, not allowed to experience every day stress the way that others did at the order of your parents, and not allowed to risk your safety by doing those activities you had once found so much joy in participating in.

And all you'd had left was Elijah.

You saw him every single day, and even when you knew he was busy, when middle school became high school and grades became real and important things, he never ceased to spend as much time as possible at your side, both within and without the hospital room you found yourself occupying with increasing frequency as you grew older.

But what you had failed to realize, was how frustrated and angry your brother had become with the social and medical world around you, how upset he was with the ways that they had failed to make you better and keep you safe.

And thus came the obsession with more, the obsession with better.

The obsession with androids.

He had never told you much about his new fascination, nor his determination to make the world a better and more accepting place for you, not until after he had gone to college and you had gotten slightly better after moving away from your parents and living on your own.

The new environment, paired with the emotional control you had developed throughout the years, seemed to do you well, and until your early twenties, you had very few dangerous medical emergencies (though notably, whenever you had, Elijah, even with his increasing fame and popularity, was always at your side when you woke up at the Detroit Medical Center).

But when your parents died, things had taken a far more drastic turn for the worst.

You hadn't anticipated it, nobody had, it had been an accident after all, but even so, your heart hurt, and your body suffered the consequences.

Hospitalization after hospitalization followed, until it seemed that only the importance associated with your last name was keeping you alive.

Elijah was all that you'd had left at that point, your sole living family member, and the only person around to help take care of you, except you both knew that he was far too busy, and far too antsy to remain with you for long enough to help you get better.

So what did he do?

He built you not one, not two, but three care taking androids to watch over you for him.

One was built to emotionally soothe you, the other to physically protect you, and the final one to keep you happy, entertained, and comfortable.

They had differing assigned priorities and tasks, and it seemed, differing personalities as well, though you always wondered if this had been done intentionally, or if it was a result of their designated duties.

Connor, Sixty, and Nines became your everything at that point, in lieu of Elijah's once almost permanent seeming presence.

And after a year or two, everything had gotten so much better.

Sure, your androids acted strange from time to time, their once so artificial seeming emotions and reactions slowly but surely becoming more realistic and personal... but who were you to complain? It was nice to spend time with them, and even more so as they began to seem so much more human.

Of course, you missed Elijah, who seemed to have far less time for you now that he knew you were medically stable and had the androids to keep him updated, but there was a happiness to your life that you had not felt since the freedom of childhood.

You felt alive again.

That is, until the unthinkable happened.

Elijah disappeared.

And your health had crumbled at the news.

Two FBI agents had arrived at your apartment door, eyes downcast as they told you the news about the CyberLife CEO.

About your brother.

The only family that you'd had left.

Except they weren't telling you to make sure that you found out before the media did.

Rather, they were telling you because they didn't want the media to know at all, and they needed someone to make things seem okay.

And who better than his sister to attend events in the great Elijah Kamski's stead?

You were a Kamski, weren't you?

"I'm sorry, did you say Kamski? As in, Elijah Kamski, CyberLife founder and CEO?"

The woman sitting at the front desk in front of you asked, causing you to nod numbly in response, that question you had asked yourself so many times after your visit from the FBI repeating itself rapidly within your mind.

You were a Kamski, weren't you?

With all of the gravitas that the name carried now, you weren't so sure anymore.

Sure, you had been born a Kamski, before the name held weight, but that version of your surname felt eons away from the one people heard you say now.

When people asked if you were a Kamski, they weren't ever asking if that was your last name, because of course it was, they didn't think you were lying about that part.

You're a Kamski?

Was never about what your last name was.

It was about what your last name meant.

It meant vast intelligence, even vaster wealth, and a sort of solitude known only to those smart and rich enough to want and buy it.

And you didn't feel that you quite matched up to what your last name meant anymore.

So, were you even a Kamski at all, in any of the ways that mattered?

You weren't the Kamski, after all, had no desire to be.

But here you were, his unwilling and unfitting substitute.

You opened your mouth to speak, still feeling numb, and suddenly infinitely more tired than you'd been just seconds prior.

Perhaps it had been unwise to consider all of the things that haunted you so, but when you heard the question of your relationship to your brother, the memories had come flooding back all on their own.

They were never welcomed, they were just too strong for you to force out, so much like the very nature of your illness in general.

So much like Elijah in their perseverance.

"That's right."

You said politely, forcing a smile upon slightly trembling lips as the woman's eyes widened at your reply.

You clarified.

"I'm just his sister, no one you have to worry about rolling out the red carpet for, I promise."

You joked gently, praying for once that someone might just let this go so you wouldn't have to endure the pain of your memories for at least the remainder of your evening.

It would do you no good to think of Elijah, not after all that had happened,

Not after all that you did not understand.

The woman nodded tightly, offering a far more nervous and forced sounding laugh as she frantically typed something into her computer before standing up rather suddenly.

"Well in any case Miss Kamski, I am terribly sorry for the wait, had I known it was you I never would have requested your billing information, nor would our technicians have requested your presence in person. I'll make sure it doesn't happen again."

You opened your mouth to correct her, to let her know that it was quite alright, that you even preferred it this way, but then the receptionist interrupted unintentionally,

"If you'd like, I can lead you straight to the room your android recently underwent repairs in. I believe the other rk800 model is there with him still."

At that, all thoughts regarding the way that people treated you, or the way that they thought of you based entirely upon your last name alone exited your mind.

You smiled as politely as you could manage, and nodded,

"That would be highly appreciated, thank you very much for the kind offer."

And with that, the three of you were off, the familiar and warm hand at the base of your back just about the only thing keeping you moving as you were walked in the direction of a large elevator that opened up to reveal an entire panel of buttons.

You watched as the receptionist scanned a card of hers and pressed a button before glancing toward you with a smile, her eyes briefly falling to the severe lack of space between you and Sixty before she looked away nervously, perhaps concerned about offending you by appearing judgemental or overly curious.

It took effort to not tell her how little you'd learned to care about the persistent stares of others when it came to the company you kept.

After what felt like ages of waiting, and what was perhaps the longest elevator ride of your entire life, the three of you finally stepped out into an almost hospital like wing located a great many floors above where you had once been, and from there, the woman led you to a room, one that was notably far quieter than the rest on this floor.

The sounds of technicians tinkering with machinery was loud here, though no more so than the bottom floor, and it filled you with some ignorance fueled dread to know that all operations has ceased in regards to Nines, at least as far as you could tell.

There would be no going back from whatever you saw on the other side of this door, no taking away any pain that the sight of him might cause.

You turned to Sixty nervously as the woman moved to push said door open, and he offered you a brief and reassuring nod, his hand still steady against your back as it applied the slightest of pressures, urging you to move forward behind your guide as she began holding the door open for you and your companion.

You thanked her quietly as you passed, the sudden absence of Sixty's hand going almost entirely unnoticed as you took in the sight before you.

There, upon something that resembled a metal table far more than a bed, was Nines, his chest open and his thirium pump exposed, as Connor sat in a chair located to the side of the bed, clearly having been asked to make himself as little of an obstacle to maneuver around as possible.

As soon as you entered and came into view, both android's looked immediately toward you, unwavering with their stares, though they were notably different.

One appeared to be of concern, as typical of Connor.

But the other seemed almost like disbelief, and seeing Nines wear such an expression baffled you so.

How strange it was, to exist within a world where he had not anticipated something.

How fitting, though, that said something would be you.

Slowly, cautiously, you took a step forward, allowing the woman and Sixty to fall behind you as you approached Nines' bedside, your eyes searching his even as you hung back a bit, as if afraid he might somehow move away if you got too close.

"Hi."

You breathed out softly, watching as the android looked between you, Sixty, and Connor over and over again before finally, he settled on you once more, though the words he spoke next were for anyone but.

"What is she doing here?"

masterlist

AO3

[amoxicillin-tangent]

how to leave a cult & stay out (long post)

i know this isn't my usual brand, but i felt the need to make this post given the fact that my poetry journey started as an exploration of emotions after i left the cult i was in. i know a lot of my followers initially followed me for that content, and i wanted to write this in case anyone needs it.

some background: the cult i left was a small evangelical patriarchal cult with a commune-type living situation. i am afab, with little to no family support and no college experience. i live in the US. i have no experience with anything outside this situation, and thus, my advice will not be universal. however, i've left and stayed out of my cult for nearly a year, and i wanted to share what i learned. i remember wishing i'd had a post or a book or anything to help me know what to expect, so here's what i've gathered so far!

tws: religious abuse discussion and addiction/nicotine mentions

leaving (logistics)

work

my ability to logistically and financially separate from my cult stemmed largely from the fact that i had work outside the commune & their sphere. my first attempt to leave was thwarted simply by the fact that, at that time, i worked with other 4 cult members and had no ability to seek outside employment without raising suspicion.

however, i was able to gain permission to seek external employment under the premise that i would be able to tithe more, and that i felt this was "the direction i was being led in." i am aware that this is not the case for every cult. in fact, after i left, it essentially stopped being the case for mine either. however, if at all possible, gaining external employment is key.

if you cannot seek external employment, save every single penny you can [in cash if they check your bank statements], and submit job applications a couple weeks or so before you leave. do not be afraid to quit a job that the members have some access to in order to be in a safer situation, because that mentality will keep you tied there for longer. a script for asking your manager not to penalize you for a sudden exit would look something like this (presuming the managers were not also members or leaders of the cult):

"hello X,

i am experiencing some unforeseen circumstances and leaving a dangerous [complicated, difficult, etc.] situation. my last day will be [day before you plan on leaving the cult]. i understand that this is not a full two-weeks-notice, but due to this circumstance, i am asking for understanding. please keep this confidential, as it would threaten my safety if others knew about this."

if you don't trust your management not to blab, ask for answers from other members, or even just accidentally let something slip, it is acceptable to quit the day you leave. it's better to have a rough patch on your resume than to spend the rest of your life in a cult, and in all honesty, it doesn't really matter much anyways. a gap in your resume can easily be explained away as time spent caring for a family member or staying safe in the current pandemic, and quitting under "unfavorable circumstances" still bodes significantly better than being fired. this is, of course, all worst case scenario. most managers will be understanding.

having another job lined up immediately after leaving will also prevent a great deal of problems with this. job interviews can be completed virtually from a coffee shop you know they wouldn't visit, or the house of a safe friend or family member. in the middle of this post is a list of excuses you could use to step out for a job interview, and if that's not possible: while you're PIMO [physically in, mentally out, a term for still being present in the cult but having the desire and plan to leave] you can schedule your job interviews in advance for the days/weeks after your planned date of leaving the cult.

social life

let me start with this: your friends from before are your greatest asset. they do not hate you. they will believe you. chances are higher than not that they saw the warning signs before you ever did. i can guarantee you a vast majority of them have been waiting for a phone call from you since the day you joined saying that you planned on leaving.

if your family was not abusive, toxic, manipulative, or connected in any way to your cult, they can also be an asset. however, tread carefully with this. you don't want to hop out of the fire and into the frying pan, so to speak. moving out of a commune and back into an abusive parent's house can cause more trauma in the long run.

if there is any sphere where you can connect with people that your cult does not have access to, utilize it. i found friends online, at work, and through mutual friends of people i had met before i joined the cult. even if you work with other cult members, if there are any non-members in your workplace, you can still make an effort to befriend them. if questioned by your cult, you're just trying to convert them.

being friends with someone doesn't mean you have to confess every detail of your plan to leave. you don't even have to mention your plans. friends can be a safety net even if they don't know what you're going through. choose carefully who to trust, but don't shut everyone out either.

housing

if you live with your cult, finding housing is an immediate priority.

the biggest mistake i ever made was my refusal to couch surf for fear of being kicked out or "becoming a burden."

your friends aren't nearly as troubled by you as your cult would have you believe. in fact, to this day, if a member of the cult i left were to come to my door asking for refuge, i would open my home to them without a question. your friends would rather see you on their couch or in their spare bedroom for a month than ever watch you go back to the place you left.

the first time i ever left my cult, i went back because i feared i was burdening the friend i was staying with. it wasn't until she called me sobbing that i finally realized that i wasn't the burden; my absence was the burden. taking up space is not a crime. no matter how much the cult tells you otherwise.

if you can't immediately find an apartment due to credit issues, age, income thresholds, etc, extended stay hotels are an option if you have no friends to stay with. the price ends up being equivalent to the cost of room & bills at an apartment anyways. this is a temporary option, during which you can take the following (vaguely unethical but often necessary) measures to hopefully secure a more permanent situation:

find a friend who's good at photoshop and invent some pay statements. [if possible, try to make them from scratch based off an existing pay stub of yours. landlords, especially of large apartment complex chains, recognize the common templates.]

you might have better luck getting approved [and/or getting away with forged paystubs] at a smaller apartment complex, specifically the ones you can't find on google. you may have to drive around and physically look for these complexes.

look up second-chance apartments

apply for any and all government aid you may be eligible for

work overtime or a second job to make your pay stubs appear greater. this is a temporary measure only; stressful, but worthwhile in the long run.

look on roommate-finding websites! a lot of people won't require credit checks, formalities, etc. a horrible roommate is still generally less of a pain in the ass than, oh, i don't know, 12 horrible roommates who are watching your every move and reporting back to the people in charge.

look for subleasing situations on websites like Craigslist as a last resort. take precautions, don't meet anyone alone, etc.

https://www.apartments.com/ ^here's the website i used to find my apartment before i left. it has a lot of good filters. delete your browsing history afterwards.

if you don't live with your cult, the moment you separate, you should file and enforce a restraining order if you feel even the slightest bit comfortable doing so and consider changing apartments within your unit, moving houses if feasible, etc. invest in an alarm system, a vicious-looking animal, a deadbolt, all the security measures you would take if you were being stalked. which brings us to our next point.

privacy

if they're monitoring your bank accounts, open another one in secret if possible or keep as much money as you can on a Pay-pal card, Visa card, etc. funnel as much money as you can into these accounts without arousing suspicion. the moment you leave, immediately cancel any account they may have access to and withdraw all money from it.

keep any incriminating items in your bra and/or undergarments. at all times. this includes vital documents [social security card, birth certificate, etc.], cash that you're hoarding without their knowledge [gross but necessary, keep it in a ziploc and sanitize it with a lysol wipe], etc.

have all mail that would reveal your escape plans sent to non-member friends or a P.O. box.

the day you leave, inform HR at work that your presence in the building should not be disclosed to anyone. change shifts if you can, park your vehicle elsewhere and uber from close parking lots to your building, or take steps to make your vehicle unrecognizable (remove telltale stickers, add new stickers with topics you have no interest in, add new rearview mirror hangy thingies, even remove seat or steering wheel covers if you have to. they might remember your license plate, but at very least your car wouldn't be initially recognizable.

if they have access to your location, do not turn this off until the moment you leave. when you do, do so quickly and on every possible platform. this should coincide with password changes for any account that can be used to trace you (email, Google location history, maps, apple/icloud, Find my IPhone, Life360, Airtags, bank accounts [use cash until the account is cancelled if they know about it], vehicle GPS)

if you have an IPhone, you will automatically be alerted if an unfamiliar Airtag is following your location. If you have an Android device, download "Airguard" or a similar app which will serve the same purpose. at very least, this will give you peace of mind.

a burner phone is an absolute necessity. you can find them at walmart and the combined cost of the phone and prepaid card is usually less than $100 [USD].

clear your browser history. change contact names of all non-member contacts to the name of someone you're in the cult with and delete the texts. people hardly ever check phone numbers if the contact name isn't suspicious to begin with. add parentheses beside contact names with [deceptive] information about who they are.

example: i had a non-member friend saved as "Karen (Boss at Amazon)" in my phone. that way if i got a call, i could play it off as a work call and step away.

packing/preparing to leave

lie and tell them you're organizing things. this is a GREAT excuse to have everything you own in pre-packed storage bins. under the bed is a good location to keep things. the less you act like you're trying to hide what you're doing, the better.

keep clothes on hangers for easy access. when you're packing to leave [presuming you can do so in secret], just grab them off the hangers and shove them into trash bags. don't worry about neat. just find a place to put shit and haul ass.

it's okay to steal shit but don't steal anything valuable at all or anything terribly noticeable. the last thing you want is them having evidence for legal recourse against you.

if there's food, take food. i lived off a tupperware full of chicken salad i stole from the cult for a solid 4 days. bring medicine with you regardless of whether or not you "have a good immune system". even if you don't think you'll need it, you'll need it, i promise.

it's better to leave everything and get out with your freedom than take all you own and get caught. that being said, if you have a feasible way of taking everything, do that. the last thing you want is to be so financially fucked that you feel like your only hope is to go back to them. [it is NOT.]

if you need to relay information to a non-member contact in a safe and private manner while with people, have them call you and pretend to be a business. for example, i had my secret debit card mailed to a friend, and i had her call me pretending to be the bank and read me off the number so i could put it in my apple pay. this could also work as far as pretending to talk to your boss or coworker [i.e. "Yes, I can take that shift starting at 10am" = "Yes, I will meet you at X location at 10am", etc.]

playing it off/excuses to be gone for apartment hunting or other leaving-related matters

doctors' appointments

[a minor medical issue or procedure can be a really good way to get out repeatedly if your cult allows access to medical care. i only know this because i had a real, diagnosed ovarian cyst but i proceeded to make up several appointments for it that were actually apartment complex visits, so.]

illness

[make this season-appropriate and believable. flu in winter and spring and late fall only. don't do COVID unless you can realistically forge a rapid test and trust that they won't make you prove it with a PCR. i don't advocate lying in any other circumstance, but once again, this is not an ethics class. cults play dirty, so can we.

promotion at work/added responsibility

[only works for so long before they try to make you quit the job, but it can make a good excuse in the interim]

car troubles

[visits "to the mechanic"=time out of the house. "car overheated/flat tire/locked out of my car/lost my keys"=good excuse for being late to events/being gone longer than expected]

ill family member

can give you two or three days to "be out of town" if needed, and/or time to go "see them in the hospital" or "care for them" over the course of a few weeks, especially for a chronic issue or an injury that would render them unable to walk and thus in need of consistent care.

[no, this will not bring a curse on your family or "manifest itself," that's magical thinking. if you argue about this in my notes on a post meant for cult escapees who are already struggling with religious trauma i'm reporting you <3]

leaving

pretending to be "late" to a church service is a good tactic if the services aren't held in the same area as where you're living. i told them i was running late from work and in reality i was at the commune house away from the service throwing all my shit in my car.

the second time, they had already caught onto that trick and started driving me to services directly so i wouldn't have a chance to leave. if this is the case for you, 3am is generally a great time to leave. usually night owls go to bed around 2am and early risers get up around 6am, so 3am leaves you with 3 hours to gtfo and an hour of buffer in case anyone stayed up late.

i was living in a room with four other women, so i had to be very, very skilled as far as not waking anyone goes. think critically about your roommates' sleep habits if this is the case for you in your cult. i made sure to walk closer to the bed of the heavy sleeper.

walk barefoot if taking the "middle of the night escape" approach. even if it's cold. if there's snow, you may have to keep your shoes by the front door/window you're escaping from if you're having to make several trips back and forth. wear non-slip socks if you must wear socks. if the socks get wet, take them off. a great way to attract attention is by leaving footprints everywhere, or by busting your ass and getting caught because a lamp broke.

a great excuse for being up late to leave is that you're feeling sick to your stomach and need to be close to the bathroom. fake a v*miting episode if you have to.

don't leave letters. don't send goodbye texts. leave some stuff behind if you can, especially blankets and the like to make it look less empty in your living space. my cult didn't even realize i was gone until 12 hours after i left because they thought i'd just gone to work. that's 12 hours of time where i wasn't being looked for, which made me a whole lot harder to find.

block EVERYONE. as soon as you possibly can. once you're out of the direct cult location, pull off into a safe place where you won't be immediately found and block anyone who is directly there or who could be persuaded into attempting to contact you on their behalf.

after leaving

try not to be alone, if you can help it. now's not the time for self-work. if you know loneliness might trigger the desire to go back, don't get lonely. hang out with friends all the time, go to clubs [responsibly and safely], take extra shifts at work if you can. try to hang out with your coworkers, i think like 80% of my friends back then were people i worked with. they might not be the best friends you ever had, but this isn't about making forever connections. it's about not going insane from loneliness.

online friends are also great! i had/have quite a few who helped me immensely in the months after i left. if you're the kind of person to stay up late when none of your other friends irl are awake, online friends with opposite time schedules are *chefs kiss* lovely. join discord servers for your interests if you aren't sure where to start with, but some discord servers can be toxic asf so don't be afraid to abandon a groupchat if it's too much.

don't pick up habits if you can help it. one habit turns into a million, especially when you're this vulnerable. i smoked a single cigarette as an act of rebellion and two years later my nicotine addiction can be directly traced back to me self-medicating my anxiety.

that being said. and i am toeing the line heavily between realistic and ethical here. but. if i had to choose between staying in the cult or having a nicotine addiction, i'd choose the addiction. i can break an addiction without having to change my account and routing number, soooo. yeah. take that as you will.

post-cult agoraphobia is real. don't feel guilty if it's hard to leave the house at first. grocery delivery is an option. grocery pickup is an option. uber eats is a thing that exists. you'll find your safe places & start to feel less threatened, over time.

idk if this will help anyone else, but i personally benefitted greatly from making a comprehensive list of shit they told me not to do and doing it anyways. please do not endanger yourself in this process, but. fuck it! i dyed my hair purple. i did a shitty job, but it made me happy. i kissed an embarrassing number of people. i came out as a lesbian. i adopted a cat. i wrote a book. i found myself through losing the pieces of the cult until the pieces of me filed in and took their place.

if you can help it, try to avoid the physical location or even the city the cult is located in for awhile. i understand the morbid urge to keep visiting but don't, if you can help it.

nostalgia is a BITCH and a LIAR. that cult leader was not your replacement mother, she is a bitch. the other cult members are not your brothers and sisters, they are traumatized brainwashed individuals. don't try to save them, either. if they reach out to you for help that's one thing but now's not the time to be a martyr.

most importantly: breathe. i used to physically look at a clock and talk myself through every minute on the very bad nights. just "one more minute. i can survive one more minute." it's fun to watch it grow to two minutes, then five, then an hour, and eventually you realize you're not counting your survival in increments anymore, and then one day you realize you're thriving. but be nice to yourself in the interim. it's been two years for me and i just now don't feel like i'm drowning anymore.

please reach out if you need more advice/someone to talk to. you don't have to do this alone. i believe in you and you're gonna get out and stay out.

you will survive this. i promise.

[oldlibrariesbookishgirls]

India and Independence- Part 1

Tomorrow, 15th of August, is when India celebrates her 77th Independence day and I'd like to rant on everything that should be brought in spotlight. Here we go:

Religion and its role in today's India: I expect we all know what's the current state of religion is in India. It has became no more than a political tool to gain votes. Nothing more. People kill, torture, rape, exploit in the name of religion. The united front this country once presented in the face of the colonisers has long been collapsed. People of different faith find themselves questioning their safety and rights in our country. Have we all forgotten? That in the struggle of independence, we didn't see eachother as hindu, muslims or Sikh, we were just Indians. That during the Jallian wala bagh shootings, the Britishers didn't discriminate between Hindus and muslims, they open fired at all. So why today we point fingers at eachother? Why does extremist parties still thrive in this country who spread religious hatred and entice communal violence? They put on a facade that 'blah blah religion is under threat' and naively everyone agrees. The higher ups plays with the religious beliefs so that they can remain in that position of power. We must remind ourselves this independence day that as long as we foster religious hate, we are never going to develop.

Deep rooted patriarchy and it's cruel effects on the women of this country: Oh I can never run out of words when speaking on this topic. Whether you're a man who has been told since childhood that "boys don't cry" or a woman who has experienced all the atrocities committed by people around you just because you're a woman. We all have experienced the toxic effects of Patriarchy in our daily lives. The mindset that men are superior, more logical, more capable, owner of the house, women are emotional, weak, should stay at home, lower their voices while talking to men, each and every one of this point mixes the poison of Patriarchy deeper into the rivers of this country. It is so deeply engraved that people don't even bat an eyelash when a husband treats his wife like shit. Domestic abuse is common in India. Violence against women is justified. "Husbands have a right to beat their wives", I heard this from the mouth of my own grandmother 2 days ago. This country got independence 77 years ago, but women don't have any in this country. From the second we step out of their homes, men eye us lecherously, we step into our workplace, the manager gives us a creepy smile, we go to schools and colleges, the principal teaches us "don't dress provocatively." Where are the morals? Rape has became so common that we don't understand how horrific it is. And how do the rapists get punished? Bilkis bano's rapists were bailed out and were felicitated with garlands and bouquets as if they did some great thing for the country. THEY GANG RAPED HER. Nirbhaya's case (Delhi 2012), changed nothing! The convicts were hanged yes, but what did the government do to lessen the chances of another nirbhaya? What did they do to protect the women of our country? Nothing. Prajjwal Revanna, a renowned politician, whose rally our honourable pm😍 himself attended, had raped women and had recorded sex tapes of him doing the act. What was the action taken against him? Nothing. The recent news that cut deeply through the medical community, The kolkata doctor's horrific rape and brutal murder. She had completed her 36 HOUR shift and had dinner with her juniors at 2 am. Then went to rest in the seminar hall. What are they doing to bring justice? Nothing, just false assurances. All this country does is sits back and wait for another Bilkis bano, another nirbhaya, another female doctor. When is this going to change?

I wanted to delve even deeper into the issues but the post is getting too long. So, wait for part 2 ig?

[cheeeerie]

I hate summer I wanna go back to school SO BAD.

Ninjago College AU.

COLE!

He’s a Performing Arts Major with a Geology Minor :)

He doesn’t have many classes with the others, but he has had a couple classes with Nya since their minors have some overlap

Roommates with Jay, suitemates with Zane and Kai

Constantly getting in trouble for breaking quiet hours because he keeps listening to abba at 3 am

His dad is a dance professor. Cole tries desperately not to take any of his dad’s classes but he had to for his major eventually, he spends the entire time pretending he doesn’t know his dad while Lou is like “EVERYONE LOOK HOW TALENTED MY SON IS!”

Gets the most out of his meal plan. He’s in the dining hall three times a day.

Part time barista. Pretty good one too, but he keeps sleeping late and getting fired

KAI!

Sports Management Major with a Primary Education Minor

He has to take a lot of business classes for his major and he HATES all his business major classmates

He has classes with Lloyd, since his minor is Lloyd’s major

Roommates with Zane, suitemates with Cole and Jay

Every time there’s a health and safety check he sends Zane to the door to stall while he hurriedly hides all his lighters and candles. Never gets in trouble with the RA because Zane is great at stalling.

Takes FOREVER in the shower, Jay is always pounding on the door cause he has to pee. Kai repays him by banging on the walls when Jay and Cole are being way to loud in the middle of the night.

He coaches kids karate part time, plus whatever odd jobs he can find, since he’s paying for all of this himself

JAY!

Electrical Engineering Major, Digital Arts Minor

Has classes with Nya cause they’re both in engineering, plus he shares a minor with Pixal so they have a ton of class overlap.

Roommates with Cole, Suitemates with Zane and Kai

Cole and Jay have their beds bunked so Cole has room to dance and Jay has room for his gaming set-up. Jay streams, and very often Cole will just be practicing choreography in the background.

He doesn’t have a job, but he still has all the best stuff cause his parents send frequent care packages. They make sure to include goodies for everyone else too, though :)

Gets in trouble for having contraband CONSTANTLY. Do you know how many times this man has almost burned the entire dorm hall down in an electrical fire??? At least four times. Plus he’s always loudly playing video games during quiet hours.

lives on instant noodles, which he makes in his hot pot, which he is definitely not supposed to have

ZANE!

Computer Science Major with a Philosophy Minor

Has classes with Jay and Pixal because of the computer stuff, plus some classes with Lloyd because their minors have a lot of overlap.

Roommates with Kai, suitemates with Jay and Cole.

He has a lot of cooking supplies that he isn’t supposed to have, but he’s very careful so he doesn’t get caught.

Makes THE BEST dorm food, has the gang over for dinner pretty frequently.

Makes dean’s list basically every semester, man writes a hell of a paper

Sleeps like a rock, so Jay and Cole being loud all the time doesn’t bother him. He doesn’t even notice Kai banging on the walls and telling them to shut up.

He and Kai don’t bunk their beds, they each have their own side of the room. Zane’s side is very organized and well decorated. Kai’s side is a trash fire. Zane doesn’t touch the trash fire he just gently nudges is to Kai’s side of the room.

Whenever Kai stays the night somewhere else Zane washes Kai’s sheets. That is the only time Kai’s sheets get washed.

He has an on-campus job in the library

LLOYD!

Secondary Education Major with a double Minor in Psychology (because he’s traumatized) and theology (because his grandpa is god)

He’s actually still 17, he graduated early because he hated high school and wanted to be with his friends who are all older than him

He lives off campus in an apartment with his dad and step-dad, but the commute isn’t far and he stays the night at Kai and Zane’s dorm a lot

He has a lot of classes with Kai since they’re both in education, plus his theology minor and Zane’s philosophy minor have a lot of overlap so they have classes together too

He’s such an over achiever, he’s in the library studying day and night

He wanted to get a job but his dad said no because he already works too hard in school

He’s group baby. He once convinced the gang to take him with them to a party but they all just ended up baby sitting him the whole time. They ran a full investigation on every drink he was handed and stood behind him like body guards every time someone talked to him

NYA!

Mechanical Engineering Major, Coastal Environmental Science Minor

Roommates with Pixal, I haven’t decided if they have suitemates/who it would be

Her and Pixal’s room is decorated PERFECTLY.

She has a lot of classes with Jay, plus some with Cole because of their minors are both natural sciences. Her and Pixal have a ton of classes together because they have the same major

She has a pet fish in her dorm named Nyad :) Kai thinks that name is stupid

“You can’t name your pet after yourself” “I didn’t name her after myself I named her after Nyad” “who you’re named after” “…listen here you little shit—”

The boys stay the night at Nya and Pixal’s all the time, sometimes even all five of them at once, but they never get in trouble. Nya thinks it’s because she’s so sneaky.

It’s actually because Pixal writes most of the RA’s papers.

Nya is on the school’s swim team, but she hates it. She’d quit if she could, but she’s there on a swim scholarship and she can’t afford to pay for school herself.

PIXAL!

Mechanical Engineering Major, Digital Arts Minor

Nya’s roommate

She’s constantly making things to make everyone’s lives just a little easier

She’s like the princess of the tech/engineering department, every professor wants her as a TA soooo bad, both because of who her father is AND because she’s insanely talented

She’s surprisingly artistic. Well, it’s a surprise to her, no one else is surprised, they just expect her to be good at everything at this point. Makes some very pretty things in the design classes she has to take for digital arts

She doesn’t need the money (her father is seriously filthy rich) but she works at a mechanic shop part time for fun. Whatever money she makes she uses to buy things for the rest of the gang

President’s list

Fuck I accidentally hit the poll button and it won’t let me get rid of it ummm uhhh

[unperceivable-future]

Narcissus [Pilot]

Hawks/Keigo Takami x Reader

Content warning: My own take on the Hanahaki Disease. English is not my best language. Foul language. Angst. May not feel like a Reader-insert considering that Reader has a given quirk and other parameters (except appearance) [I'll be updating the list as I go]

Synopsis: In a world where humans have further evolved into having redundant traits, you are simply trying to survive life while assisting the Winged Hero.

Note: This story concept smacked me on the head when I was having a sad girl moment.

0 1...

===============

"Don't forget your meeting with the chairwoman at 2 PM." You remind Hawks as you hand him a stack of papers for him to go through and sign.

"Yeah, yeah. Of course." Your boss grumbles as he goes through a casefile.

In a world where humans have further evolved into gaining superhuman abilities, meta abilities as they have first been coined, comes in a rather redundant trait.

You personally think that quirks are an interesting evolutionary trait. They vary and therefore cannot be pinpointed to selective pressures in nature. It is not akin to peppered moths darkening due to the soot that comes with the Industrial Revolution, quirks were random and have no basis.

So did the abilities of humans coughing up petals after petals when they feel strongly for another person.

You have worked with Hawks three months since he started his hero agency. Fresh out of college and simply through nepotism, maybe a little bit of genetic luck. Your quirk and your family ties were what links you to the Wing Hero.

"I'd appreciate it if you actually read through the reports since, you know, Madame Witch herself would like to know how your last mission went. In full detail." You add in annoyance.

You watched him start as a new hero, a new agency and simply a company you joined through the recommendations by your mother. A mysterious boy that came out of nowhere much like you did if anybody were to take tabs.

"When have I actually not?" Hawks retorts, he looks up to you with such a charmingly playful smile.

"Would you actually like me to list that out for you?" You huff out. It took a while for your relationship with your boss to stabilise.

You joined Hawks' hero agency a few months after the agency itself started. Hawks was anal at first, absolutely all over the place after just firing his fifth assistant in the three-month period his company was set up. He grilled you, put you through so many tasks with mind numbing filings and organising paperwork as his previous assitants simply could not keep up. He was intimidating and a bit pissy, already forecasted for you to fail and to be tossed away but you managed. In fact, you exceeded his expectations, having been able to be a step behind him and sometimes a step before.

When you hit your second month in the company, he actually became a bit nicer and more relaxed. Perhaps it is the fact that you were able to clean up the administrative mess that was caused by the start-up of his business plus the fact that you're coping quite well under the pressure of his ever growing popularity and high demands. And that you memorised his personal likes and dislikes.

And now four years later, your dynamic with your boss is much like you being the nagging mother, constantly reminding him of the mundane tasks of hero work while also picking up after him.

"What does next week look like?" He asks, still reading through whatever casefile the Hero Public Safety Commission handed him some time ago.

"No meetings but your new sidekicks are joining in so you're---"

"Training them, yeah, got it." He sighs, snapping the folder shut and shoots you a tired smile.

It is admirable how Hawks can withstand the pressure of being the number 3 hero despite his young age. He breaks records of being the youngest and fastest while looking so cool and effortless that spectators are under the assumption that he is an under challenged prodigy.

But he is not. He is simply human running on constant adrenaline and stress.

"I'll go grab you some coffee. You might wanna look alive for when the chairwoman shows up." You offer, turning your heels and making your way out of his office.

"Have I mentioned that you're such an angel?" He calls out and you can hear the grin in his voice.

"Many times." You retort like clockwork.

He always tries to make himself look like he has got his shit together despite his age. And honestly? That's definitely why a lot of the people in this country cough up sunflowers when they think of him.