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poojaallentics · 3 months ago

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ABAP on Cloud vs. On-Premise: What Every Developer Needs to Know

Let’s be honest—change is hard. If you’ve spent years mastering classic ABAP, the idea of rewriting your playbook for the cloud might feel like learning to walk all over again. I get it. I’ve been there. But here’s the truth: ABAP on Cloud isn’t just a new framework; it’s a mindset shift. And whether you’re a seasoned developer or just starting out, understanding the differences between cloud and on-premise ABAP is no longer optional. Let’s break it down, minus the jargon.

The Big Picture: Why Cloud Changes Everything

Imagine you’re building a house. On-premise ABAP is like owning the land—you can dig, customize, and tweak every brick. But in the cloud, you’re renting a sleek, pre-furnished apartment. You can’t knock down walls, but you get security, maintenance, and a killer view. SAP’s cloud model is that apartment: it’s managed, standardized, and ready to scale.

Why does this matter? Businesses today want agility. They don’t want to wait months for upgrades or worry about servers crashing during Black Friday sales. Cloud ABAP delivers that—but only if developers adapt.

Cloud vs. On-Premise: The Nitty-Gritty

1. Freedom vs. Guardrails

On-Premise: You’re the master of your domain. Need to tweak a standard SAP table? Go for it. Write custom SQL queries? No problem.

Cloud: SAP locks the core code. You can’t modify it—at all. Instead, you build extensions alongside SAP’s software (think of it as adding a balcony to that apartment).

Why the change? SAP’s cloud systems auto-update. If everyone customized the core, upgrades would break everything. The “Clean Core” rule keeps things stable.

2. Tools of the Trade

On-Premise: You’re cozy with SAP GUI, transaction codes like SE38, and maybe even debugging in SE80. It’s familiar, like your favorite coffee mug.

Cloud: Say hello to ABAP Development Tools (ADT) in Eclipse. It’s sleeker, integrates with Git, and forces you into DevOps practices. No more “Save” buttons—everything’s version-controlled.

Feeling overwhelmed? I was too. But after a week in ADT, I started appreciating features like real-time syntax checks and seamless deployment to SAP BTP. It’s like swapping a flip phone for a smartphone.

3. The API Dilemma

On-Premise: Need to pull data? Write a SQL query or use any RFC-enabled function module. The world’s your oyster.

Cloud: Only SAP-approved APIs are allowed. Want to access a table? Better check the whitelist first.

The frustration is real. I once spent hours debugging a cloud app, only to realize I’d used a blacklisted API. Lesson learned: Cloud ABAP is like a strict teacher—it keeps you from cutting corners.

Training: Your Bridge to the Cloud

Let’s not sugarcoat it—transitioning to cloud ABAP isn’t a weekend project. Here’s where to focus:

1. Unlearn to Relearn

Forget direct database updates. Instead, practice:

ABAP RAP (RESTful Application Programming Model): It’s the backbone of cloud development. Start with simple use cases, like building a read-only app.

Side-by-Side Extensibility: Learn to extend SAP S/4HANA Cloud using SAP BTP. Think of it as building Lego blocks next to SAP’s core.

2. Embrace DevOps

Gone are the days of manually transporting code. Cloud ABAP demands:

Git Basics: Commit, push, and branch like a pro.

CI/CD Pipelines: Automate testing and deployment. (Yes, even ABAPers need DevOps now.).

A Reality Check

Transitioning to the cloud isn’t all rainbows. You’ll hit walls. For example:

Debugging in the Cloud: It’s harder. You can’t always “jump into” the code.

Performance Tuning: Without direct DB access, you’ll rely on SAP’s optimized APIs.

But here’s the upside: Cloud ABAP forces you to write cleaner, modular code. And once you’re over the learning curve, you’ll wonder how you ever tolerated managing transports and system patches.

Your First Step

Don’t dive into a full migration yet. Instead:

Play in the Sandbox: SAP offers a free ABAP Cloud trial. Build a small app—maybe a to-do list or a report.

Join the Community: The SAP Community is full of developers navigating the same challenges. Ask questions. Share fails.

Celebrate Small Wins: Got your first RAP service working? That’s a win.

Final Thoughts

ABAP on Cloud isn’t about replacing what you know—it’s about evolving. Yes, the guardrails feel tight at first. But once you stop fighting them, you’ll realize they’re there to help you build faster, safer, and smarter.

So, take a deep breath. Grab that free trial. And remember: Every ABAP developer who mastered the cloud started exactly where you are now.

For more Contact us: +918408878222 Email id : [email protected] Visit : www.bestonlinecareer.com

#SAP #ABAP #ABAPCloud #CloudTraining #HANA

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helpinghanikan · 2 years ago

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Gently, Please

Konig x reader

Sum: Konig has been hit with a particular bio-weapon. It only has one cure: You

Since the beginning of your time here König has always been someone who was just there. At first he was just another operator in the corner of the room. Then he became the one operator that nodded at you when you addressed the room. Then he became the man named König. Then he was the man who you looked for when stopping by the mess. Eventually he became the man who smiled by crinkling his eyes behind a snipers hood. Who had a nice chuckle to your jokes, asked how you were doing and actually meant it.

Tonight, however, he was the only thing between you and death.

You’ve stayed less than a foot away from him since landing. One of three desk jockeys let into the to download and scrap together what you could.

“Floor two is clear.” Came a voice through König’s mike.

“Floor one is clear.” Came another.

You and König were headed for the fourth floor. Where the labs and your goal was to be located.

“Do not get ahead of me.” König reminded you. “Stay close, do as I say, understood?”

Where was the man who never spoke up at meetings? Who visibly blushed even while wearing a sniper’s hood? That man was left behind when König entered the field. He didn’t need to be worried about the people around him out here. After all; killing people didn’t count as a social interaction.

“Yes, Sir.” You said, holding your Glock 22 towards the floor.

You had taken the time and training to something of a master with American Police’s favorite side arm. It wasn’t going to do nearly as much damage as the rifles and guns carried around by the operators. Hell, even an unarmed operator could cause more damage than your weapon. But it was the thought that counts.

“Good girl,” König replies. The elevator doors opening before either of your could fully register what he had just said. “Forward.”

The guards and scientists on floor were prepared to die for their research. Women in armor and women in lab coats pulled weapons with the same amount of passion. They all died the same; with a single shot from the best non-sniper in the world.

The lab you searched for was in the very center of the floor. Surrounded by glass windows with only one entrance from a long hallway. Cameras followed you the entire time. König gave you barely a glance when you got annoyed and started picking them off.

“In here,” You said, reaching the lab door.

König enters first. Sweeping the room and finding only one lab worker hiding in the corner. She had raised her hands but met the same fate as the others when she went for a knife on the counter. A pool of red started to cover the floor as König called it clear.

“Floor four is clear.” He said into the mike.

You had already started on the data. A cheap laptop bought for the specific purpose of holding everything sat on the counter. A wire connecting it to a wall sized computer bank. One of five that would be copied and stolen today.

It was as everything started to download that König made a pausing comment.

“These guards, the lab, they’re all women.” He said, looking down to the last one to get a bullet.

“A little sexist to only expect men to fight.” You say, not thinking too deeply about the comment.

“No,” König steps up next to you. Demanding your full attention. “There are only women here. That doesn’t happen. There’s usually some women, but not only women.”

He turns away to speak into his mike. Asking the rest of the squad if they had come across any men while sweeping the area. You didn’t have to be close to know what the answer was going to be.

At the same time you got curious enough to look at some of the stuff downloading: It was all the usual things; guns, ammo, materials, and a nice little list of people who needed to be taken care off. The list of projects currently being tested before use in the field was what your higher ups would be interested in.

One of those was hidden under an SS file. The only one you opened due to it’s testing addressing being the same building your were currently standing in.

Just skimming through the drug’s contents, it’s symptoms, and the resulting reports forced you to call König over to take a look. Point at the specific part stating “only use of hormonal release through orgasm could flush Siren Song from the body. A partner would be needed to keep the affected individual from going into cardiac arrest and create the proper hormones.”

“Sex bomb,” König says bluntly. “That’s why there is no women.”

“This thing needs to go faster.” You said, as if the computer would get the hint and hurry up.

Meanwhile, one floor down, a lab coat managed to slip past the gun fire. A single individual who ignored a shoulder wound to reach the smaller lab.

The firing got closer as she worked. Death calling her name that she tried to ignore but simply couldn’t. She focusing on her task. The last thing she would remember is allowing the release from the main lab. After that red would cover the screen and an alarm would go off in the fourth floor.

The steam that starts to come from the ceilings is light pink. It smells sweet but hearty, like unfrosted cake still warm from the oven. You take a deep breathe in out of habit, sighing at the smell.

“Leave, we need to go.” König declares, hitting his mike. “Gas leak on floor four. We need an immediate evac.”

“No, we need to lock down.” You correct. “This entire level needs to be locked down before any of it gets out.”

It’s amazing that your fingers didn’t break from slamming through the lab controls. Taking longer, so much longer, than is needed to finally get the lab to lock down. Heavy metal sliding down over the single door. It wouldn’t be surprising to find out that the windows were already bullet proof. A red light overhead makes itself known. Blinkingly lightly as if it didn’t want to make too much of a scene while doing it’s job.

“König, what’s happening on your floor?” Asked Captain Price through your mikes.

“Bio-weapon has been released on this floor. It’s a-.” He looks over at you with a pause. Looking to you as if asking what he’s supposed to describe it as. “-pheromone based kind.”

“The lab is staying in lockdown until the weapon dies off. Should be a few hours.” You add. “we have another problem, though.”

“Is your target corrupted? Can your data still be saved?” Laswell asks. There wasn’t a chance that Laswell would let this mission happen without her. Not when three of her best techs were in the field.

“Yes, the data is safe and downloaded. But that’s not our problem. The weapon is; König is already affected by it.” You say, looking at your protector with apology in your eyes.

There’s a pause on the other end. Likely Captain Price talking to Laswell on a private channel before he asks; “What’s happening? What is the weapon?”

König turns his back towards you. He does the one thing no operator should ever do by setting his weapon down on a counter in the corner of the room. He leans against the counter, as if you wouldn’t notice the heavy breathing.

“You need to leave.” König States, but you ignore him.

“It’s called Siren Song, Captain. You know that legendary sex bomb? Yeah, I found it. It only effects males but we can’t let it out of the lab. I’ve already engaged the lab to start filtering. But it’s gonna take some time, I’ll keep König alive during it.” You explain to Captain Price. Any other time you would have been more formal, but it’s easier to be blunt and quick about explanations.

“You need to go…” König whimpers.

“It’s your choice.” Laswell says. “But no one will say anything if you need to take drastic measures to defend yourself. Especially not König.”

“Copy that watcher. Keep our mikes quiet for a minute.” Was the last thing you said before turning to König.

“I’m sorry,” You said, taking off your vest and weapons.

He doesn’t say anything as you approach from behind. In those few steps a million questions are going through your head. The confidence you momentarily had replaced with a question mark. How do you even start something like this? Will he be able to stop before seriously injuring you? Does he even want you?

All these questions are stopped as König whips around to face you. His hands stay on the table, gripping it so hard it’s amazing there weren’t dents.

“Go…” He says again, head tilted down to avoid eye-contact.

“König, if you die I’m not going to have anyone translate shit for me.” You say as if humor could help the situation. “I get that I’m not what you want but if you wanna live-.”

You’re interrupted by a barking laugh from König. As if he is incredulous at the thought you aren’t what he wants. It’s the first time he makes eye-contact with you.

“I want you, König” You whisper, stepping closer as his hands grip tighter. “Do you really want me?”

He nods his head, incapable of words anymore.

You go to your knees. Reaching towards his pants that are, thankfully, easier to undo than a harness.

“Then let me have you.” You said, managing to pull his pants and briefs down almost past his backside.

You aren’t the only one to wonder what Mr. König was packing under there. At six foot ten he was bound to be larger than average. You didn’t have a tape measurer on hand, but you had to guess maybe six to seven inches. Thick enough that your mouth watered and felt heavy in your hand.

Control is a ticking clock while you start to stroke. The table is most certainly going to have fingerprints in it. Especially when you stick out a tongue, swirling over his uncut head. The only warning he gets before the tip is taken into your mouth.

“Scheiße!” König screams into the air.

He lets go of the table. That strong grip now grabbing the back of your head. It’s everything you can do not to completely gag on his cock when he pulls you forward. Pushing passed your lips and into the warmth of your mouth.

He’s dreamed about your mouth since the first time you’ve met. Watch your lips move with every word. Trying not to stare when you apply your lip-balm or stick. He had wanted to know what it would be like to streak that lipstick you sometimes wore. What it looked like when he would kiss it messy, how he could make you blush from those kisses.

You weren’t a blushing woman, now. Your eyes are screwed shut, hands digging into thick thighs, and breathing through your nose as that was the only thing you could do.

The salty taste of König’s coming ejaculation wills you to open your eyes. Looking up to your tower of a man. His torso is bent forward, as if the entire experience is too much for him to handle. Although his eyes are closed his eyelashes are prominent against his cheeks. He looks almost innocent if he weren’t currently fucking your face.

He calls out your name, your real name, when he cums. Pulling your face in to cum down your throat with no chance of you being able to escape. He continue to say your name; whispering it as if he really was your man.

He lets you go, and the weight of sitting up straight on your knees comes down heavy. The ground is there when you fall backwards gasping for a stronger source of oxygen.

Although his cock is flaccid there’s no calming König’s heart.

“I just need a second.” You say, standing while trying to get your boots off.

It’s a little bit like a game. You trying to stay away long enough to get your boots, pants, and panties off while König walked towards you. His steps are slow, but his eyes are focused.

He follows as you make it around the counters. Although you are down for it there is a certain level of fear. This is normal when a man big as König has a target on you. Especially when his steps are quicker, and you don’t have time to say anything else before your pressed face first onto the counter.

He’s still flaccid when he presses against you. This does nothing to stop him from grinding against your backside. Laying over your back like a heavy blanket. He nuzzles against your neck while his hands start to work. Had he not been wearing the mask he would have been able to give you the kisses he’s been holding back for so long.

Instead of leaving marks with his mouth, he can only leave them with his hands. Squeezing your bare thighs, encouraging you to spread them further and further. He didn’t let go until he got one of your legs up and onto the counter. Spreading you open wider than anyone would ever be allowed to.

“Beautiful, I need you…” He whispers into your cheek.

You don’t what to say back. Not able to think of anything to say when his fingers find your slit. His gloves are harsh against the sensitive skin. It makes you hiss and whine.

“König,” You pleaded, looking back the best you could. “The gloves. Please, take them off.”

His bare fingers are hot, practically boiling. With the removal of his glove, giving into your final request, he has used all of his control. Now he only knew the need that the weapon caused. The need to take, to own, and to fuck the beauty in front of him. Had it been anyone else he might have had more control, but he was already a bit intoxicated by you. The weapon taking advantage of this as he slides two fingers deep within your pussy.

At first it feels like a punch. The spread and pumping of his fingers inside of you were a bit past rough. It was experimental; testing the boundaries of what you found painful and pleasurable and wanting to dance that line.

His thumb against your clit was his first right move. The jolt and squeak you give in reaction brings a hidden smile to König.

“Beautiful, Beautiful girl…” He whispers into your neck, thumb slowly rolling circles over your clit.

His flaccid cock continues to grind against you. He continues to finger and slide through your pussy. Desperate to have something inside of you when his cock couldn’t be.

Warmth grows in your stomach. It almost compares to the feeling of König’s hands against your bare skin. It’s probably for the best that König kept most of his gear on, otherwise you might have gotten heat stroke from the contact alone.

The pleasure builds from your stomach. It travels and owns your chest, swirling over your nipples and teasing them through your shirt that is suddenly far too constricting.

Your feet scramble for some sort of purchase on the smooth ground. The pleasure, the heat, the everything is becoming too much. Your orgasm coils and builds in your pelvis until it escapes out your moan in an extended moan.

König moans just as loudly. His teeth lining the side of your neck. Desperate to mark you but unable too with the thin line of fabric keeping him from his goal.

“Fuck me,” You whisper, sagging against the counter.

“Yes,” König almost snarls, pushing himself up from it’s presence over your back.

You’re only cold for a few seconds. In that time gentle pressure from the tip of König’s cock touches between your lips. Sliding back and forth once, twice, before finding your entrance and starting the firm push forward.

In another world, another time, König would have wanted to go gently. He would want to slide in slow through your slick lips. He wants you to feel every inch and remember the stretch that came with it. He wants you to sigh when he is flush and ask him to move when you are good and ready. Not a second more.

König doesn’t get that. Instead he penetrates you with a solid, quick, thrusts that jolts you both. Your gasp comes out almost like a shout. Reaching out for the side of the counter and grabbing hold.

The thrusts are quick and rapid. With no rhyme or reason to them. Only the pursuit of a second orgasm that isn’t coming fast enough.

He practically collapse onto your back. Sliding an arm under your chin with the other going across your neck. Holding you in a gentle headlock that keeps him grounded as he starts to pound harder, faster, and more directed than before.

He cums after a few more, sloppy, thrusts. Staying inside of you deeply as he pumps inside of your pussy. Moaning in a language you didn’t speak really well. Muffled by the hood and the ringing in your ears from being kept in a headlock for longer than you should’ve been.

“I love you, Beautiful,” König whispers.

There are plenty of things you can blame for what you said next. It was the post-orgasm feeling. It was the thick, delicious pounding taking place. Or maybe it was just the drug having the tiniest effect on women after all.

None of those reasons mattered. Because when you said; “I love you, too.” You really meant it in that moment.

#reader insert #call of duty #konig cod #konig mw2 #konig x y/n #Konig x reader #I've played call of duty #It's not accurate to call of duty

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studiojeon · 4 years ago

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troubled outsiders | intro - jjk

| summary | - how you two end up pining for each other.

warnings: none :)

content: idol!jungkook x student!oc, friends to lovers (because it’s THE superior trope okurrrt), jungkook is quiet and shy but a social butterfly when needed (and when it comes to oc but you’re not supposed to know that yet), oc is both a badass and a socially akward queen, she has TWO friends and only because one is dating the other (like... same), the Lee Charyeong is her bestie, oc works at bighit and feels like everyone either fears her or hates her, author nim is a crackhead and has no plot planned for this series whatsoever (doesn’t know if she’ll keep this up, we’ll see).

words: 1.93 k

His presence was overwhelming, to say the least. Even if he were surrounded by six hundred other equally handsome men, somehow, to you (and the majority of the female population, at that point) he was as captivating and magnetic as they come. Jeon Jungkook didn't pay no mind to no one, but sure as hell everyone became hyper aware of his existence and essence in time. And that didn’t exclude you.

Yet, as nonchalant and indifferent as the man could be perceived, in reality he was more considerate and friendly than the aura he exuded. You knew this because working in the same company had to teach a thing or two about the people who literally carried said company and the whole industry at some point, still you barely knew four or three people, including your assistant and Jungkook, whom you had met once.

The opportunity of working at the company had come to you out of the blue, quite literally, you were attempting to send one of your assignments in when an email appeared in your notifications during your sailor moon study break.

HYBE Entertainment

We’re glad to inform you that you’re being recruited for the position of Logistics Manager in one of our sub companies, BIGHIT Entertainment. We’ve thoroughly looked through the CV you’ve submitted and are very interested in your capabilities and what you can contribute to our organization. One of our other managers will gladly meet you on a day you can both agree on. Make sure to answer this email to get more details about your interview.

“Nani!? THE FUCK?” sure as hell that your eyes and cognitive functions were deceiving you (ADHD) you went over the text a little over three times in a row before the message settled in your mind. This was sus.

Before even considering a reply you made a quick call. “Fucking Lee Chaeryeong” you spat on your end of the line. “You did this, didn’t you?”.

Her silence was more than enough to have you cursing her under your breath. “I don’t know what exactly you’re talking about but it most likely was me. Does it have to do with a sex toy in particular?”

“No” you denied almost monotonously, guessing the pile of boxes in the corner of your room with her names on them was what she referred to. “Does anything come to mind if i mention BIGHIT FUCKING ENTERTAINMENT?”

It was her. All those conversations during the summer about how badly you wanted to work in the entertainment business as marketing staff of some sort had their effect on your friend, who, despite all your excuses and denials, knew you better than you and your mom combined did, and because of this, was sure as hell you were not making a move towards that goal whatsoever. So, being the boss bitch she was, she took matters into her own hands, was what she explained.

You concluded that was the reason you had reached a point in your life where you had more experience than most recently graduated kids in your field, because Chaeryeong had you moving every summer break. You had been the manager of a coffee franchise and convenience store during you junior and senior years, and also figured a way to improve the marketing management strategy of a fucking restaurant while at it. Not to toot your own horn, but you were kind of cool.

Or not. “I hope this job satisfies your workaholic ass for once, I’m running out of ideas”. Chaeryeong spat before hanging up.

Sure as hell it would.

On friday afternoon, you made your way to the HYBE INSIGHT building and introduced yourself to your recruiters who promised to give you a call at some point. “It went fine” you told Chaeryeong once you were in your car. And it was the truth, however you weren’t so sure if they would actually hire you at some point since well, you were a girl in a male dominated industry and, in your opinion, there were always better people than you. “Wanna go grab coffee?”

“I want to. But, I have practice today. I’m actually on my way there. Please avoid driving through Hongdae today, this shit’s packed.” You sighed and thanked her for the heads up. You missed your friend, badly. You hadn’t seen each other in three weeks, and you didn’t even live so far away from each other (you did, but it had been worse before). You two had very agitated lives to say the least. Chaeryeong was a kpop group member, and well, you were jumping from job to job and getting your phD in Business Management at the same time. It was hard to find moments to spare together during some periods of the year, but you guess the anticipation made your encounters better.

“Talk about anticipation” you slammed your forehead against your desk, taking a breather after such an anxiety packed situation. Short story: you got the job (for some fucking reason). And you had gone through a whole week of expectancy and anguish. Not getting that job would have broken your heart, and ego at the same time.

You guessed the law of attraction tactics Chaeryeong had taught you had sorted their effect and were what led you to your current position in life.

“Miss _____, your presentation’s ready” your work assistant gave you a comforting pat in the back as she took a seat somewhere next to you. You were nervous, shitless. It was your fifth week at the job, and being the proactive woman you were, you had collected lots of data in order to come up with a resources management plan.

It was a Thursday afternoon, and more than a hundred people sat in front of you, waiting for your speech. Including him, who you’d once bumped into accidentally during one of your data recollections runs inside the building.

You hated having the need to impress others yet, hence your anxious behaviour. But this was a decisive moment in regards to your validation in your new job and how you’d continue to be perceived during your work stance (no reason to panic at all)… you needed to get it together.

“I think I just pissed off a bunch of old men right now,” you told your assistant right after you got off stage. “I need a bathroom break”. Linh gave you a reassuring smile, one she always had plastered on her face.

“Take as long as you need to. I’ll give you a call once the rest are done”.

The commute to the bathroom was unnecessarily complicated in your opinion. You had spent a little over a month rushing through the hallways of the building and you swore every single day your spatial orientation got a bit more fucked up. There was no way there wasn’t a single bathroom on the floor you were in, that would just be atrocious. “It’s not completed yet” someone said beside you as you stared at the half empty map the company had projected on a wall next to the elevators. “Where do you need to go?”

Kim Taehyung of all people in the world was talking to your ugly and unworthy ass. Your breath caught in your throat and after staring for at least five seconds your body finally reacted to your orders. “Oh, um… the bathroom. I’ve been looking for it for a good ten minutes” you explained with a nervous laugh.

“Trust me, I get it. I still get lost over here” he smiled gently. “It’s in the hallway in the middle of the next hallway”

You laughed at his very ambiguous explanation. “Thank you” you bowed your head and made your way to said destination.

It was in the hallway to your left, not your right, and it took you a while to figure out that new piece of information. Once you were staring at yourself in the mirror, you realized that you looked considerably tired and exhausted from all the social interaction you had undergone throughout the day. You were used to the side stares and whispering you’d get whenever you entered a room at that point, but some days you just wished you could get a break from them. After all, it wasn’t your fault you didn’t look Korean at all, and that you also didn’t fit the stereotype of a foreigner.

You got that from your mom, both the non Korean features and social fatigue. But that wasn’t even the problem most of the time, it was your friendly and smart nature which she had also passed onto you. Some would consider it a blessing, but to you it was a burden, like a clear glass that shielded you from introducing yourself into other people’s realities. You had few friends and people to trust, but in your everyday life you had to deal with the pressure of standing out too much and that came with a lot of negative energy from others. You sigh as you spray your favorite fragrance on yourself. You could be feeling like shit, but no one will ever catch you slipping.

But that excluded him apparently. You hadn’t noticed that on the other side of the hallway was the men’s bathroom and the realization hit you as you were calmly getting some tea from the vending machine. “Good afternoon” the man greeted you as he made his way out the hallway, but stopped in his tracks right after he noticed you. “_____! Hi” he smiled at you and you wanted to die, suddenly forgetting what you were ordering in the first place.

“H-hi Jungkook” You smiled back, poorly attempting to put your wallet back into your backpack.

“Need help there?” he noticed your agitated state and held your bag for you. He smelled just as heavenly as you had expected, somewhat between big dick energy and flowers. Oh, and he also remained as kind and polite as you remembered him.

Seeming as if he wasn’t planning on continuing his path to wherever he was heading to in the first place, he stood quietly by your side, waiting for you to be done with your deal. “How have you been?” you break the ice for him.

Quickly, you grab your tea and start walking back to the auditorium together, unaware of your surroundings or the suspicions that could arise. “Busy, but very good. How have you been? I saw your presentation earlier… I wish I understood half of what you said but you still sounded amazing”.

And you would never admit it out loud, but you were positive you were blushing (and falling in love too - platonically, of course). “Oh god, you think so? I basically told them they’ve been doing things wrong all along so maybe you’re the only one who’s appreciative of my work” you handed him the second can of iced tea you bought without him noticing. You swear his eyes lit up like stars in the night sky. “Payback for the other day” you smile at him.

The first time you two had crossed paths you didn’t look nearly as glamorous as you did now. In fact, you looked incredibly disturbed and in pain, carrying a huge pile of paperwork in your hands. But as soon as sweet Jungkook noticed your state, he offered you a hand and somehow ended up helping through your multiple data collecting trips that afternoon. It was a nice day.

“Anytime” he took the can in his hands with a shy look on his face. “Unless I’m practicing, you know…” you look down at his feet, with huge black boots engulfing them, and you smile due to their contrast with his personality. “Here, i’ll give you my number so you can call me whenever you need to put all those papers back. Hopefully I’ll be around” he added as he pulled his phone from his back pocket.

Way to get a girl’s number, my god.

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burnedbyshoto · 5 years ago

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peeping tom(mina)

— Mina finds a peephole in her room that looks directly into your room and discovers a sight that slightly rocks her entire life.

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pairing: ashido mina x fem!reader

warning: 18+, smut, voyeur!mina, mutual masturbation, vibrator, dildos, finger fucking, cursing, peephole, lesbianism

word count: 2,815

a/n: sorry its a day late!!!! have some pervy roommate mina rn and some abo shiggy in about a few hours!!!!

kinktober day 11 main kink: voyeurism | kinktober masterlist

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Mina has a dirty secret.

And just thinking about it makes her shy, and she has never been a shy girl.

Since she could fully understand what sex was, she had always been someone who was incredibly sex-positive. Mina was also a full-body worshiper, someone who found everyone’s bodies hot and attractive. It never really surprised anyone when they found this out. She was always the type to point out how that person’s ass looked hot in jeans, or how that shirt made that person’s boobs look full, soft, and luscious. She held back at absolutely nothing, making sure to let everyone know her opinion on how and why she currently found them attractive.

So the ones she would eventually bring to bed were also unsurprised by the enthusiasm she held when she kissed down their bodies, fingers massaging every piece of skin and muscle as she moaned praises. To Mina, bodies were a temple, and when she was visiting, she was going to make sure you knew how fascinating she thought it to be.

Even now, at twenty-two, she never hated pointing out what she thought to be positive about people’s bodies. It was almost second nature.

“Can you please tell me why your legs look hot as fuck in those sweats?!” Mina practically screamed, dramatically fanning herself when you walked into the kitchen.

It was Saturday night, and Mina found herself in her apartment, blinds are drawn open, blankets were strewn around the living room, and hot homemade food sizzling on the stove. You were her roommate, and you’ve been her roommate for about seven months now. Both of you had met in a college class, being paired up multiple times for a few projects in the year had created an unlikely friendship that resulted in a roommate contract because you were moving to Tokyo after graduation, and hey! So was Mina!

You snorted by the stove, flipping the sweet crepes you had been making for the both of you in the pan. Turning your head to look at Mina, you playfully winked at her, posing your body in faux-seductive ways while you dipped your head back.

“What can I say, the sweats of a heartbroken ex always look hotter on a champions fat ass.”

Mina laughed loudly, her hands bringing her sweet rosé to her lips, taking a long, deep drink of the alcoholic beverage. “I can’t believe you keep your exes clothes! I burn all of mine,” Mina states as if the two of you hadn’t already had this conversation a thousand times.

“I don’t think you can talk!” you scoff, spatula in hand, flipping the light sweet into a roll. “You’re the one who goes and buys actual metals for every successive man you fuck! And you have sooo many metals!”

Also, something that had been repeated a million times, and yet never failed to get either one of you two in some laughing flush.

“I do have so many metals,” Mina sighs, the grin on her face bright and proud while you walk over, crepes in hand. Thanking you for the food, Mina waited for you to settle down next to her before resuming the movie the two of you had decided to watch. “I promise, y/n, if you just look a guy in the eye and tell him you like his shoulders and his thighs, you’ll get him in bed in a blink of an eye.”

You hum, taking a chug of the rosé straight from the bottle, releasing it with a small pop that made Mina’s eyes rest on your swollen, wet lips.

“Yeah, no. You see, I’m not really interested in that sort of stuff,” you admit, taking a bite from the crepe as the movie slowly becomes background noise.

“You haven’t dated anyone since high school,” Mina more than points out, tugging at the indeed high school logoed sweatpants. “That was like, four years ago, and you don’t sleep around?! What is it? You waiting for the Prince of some unknown country to come and wed you without you realizing he’s a prince? I mean, you can totally do that, especially with that hot bod of yours, but I know all the princes our age, none of them are even remotely hot!”

Mina watched as your eyes dropped to your food, the smile on your face small, maybe a bit... sad?

“It’s not that,” you shrugged, your eyes moving to lock on Mina. “Mina, I’m gay.”

What?

Processing Data…

Data Processed. Please Continue.

“WHAT?!”

A shit-eating grin spread on your face, and you nodded, taking another gulp of the rosé and shoving more crepe in your mouth.

“YOU’RE TELLING ME YOU ALLOWED ME TO HAVE HETEROSEXUAL SEX WITH YOU IN THE APARTMENT AND DIDN’T TELL ME?!” Mina shrieked, suddenly mortified with her actions as her fingers clenched her curly pink hair. “WHAT ABOUT ALL THOSE MEN I TRIED HOOKING YOU UP WITH?! I mean, I know you didn’t fuck any of them, which ended up all fine because I would have cried if Kiri, Denki, or Sero stopped showing up.”

“Mina!” you laughed.

“I can’t believe you allowed me to force men on you; I’m so sorry, sweetie!”

Mina froze when your warm fingers suddenly grabbed onto hers, pulling her cold palms near your chest as your slightly glazed with alcohol eyes took her in.

“Listen, Mina, I’ll say this once, and I’ll repeat this. I didn’t tell you because I don’t care to share my sexuality. Not only that but all those men you introduced me to almost made me wish I was straight! Almost, but they’re a bit too…” Mina watched you trail off, your hammering heart a gentle smooth on her fingers.

“Stupid?” Mina tried, and you laughed as you nodded.

“Yeah, stupid.”

Mina gulped, her head nodding while you finally let go of her hands and sighed.

“Don’t be weird about it, Pinky,” you muse, shoving your shoulder against her. “I won’t hit on ya.”

Mina scoffed, clearly offended, “I think you should, though, my body is hot, and my kisses are just as good.”

It was said in jest, and Mina’s heart fluttered at the way you laughed with her in good spirits. That was normal, right?

Eventually, the contents of the rosé disappeared between the two of you, the movie long done, and the crepes sitting warm and sweet in your stomachs. Mina smiled brightly as she waved at you a simple goodnight as she needed to reorganize her snacks cabinet. Hearing the small click of your room door, Mina slumped against the counter, a weird feeling in her brain at the sudden revelation from you.

It didn’t make you any different in her eyes, she wasn’t a bigot, but there was something different.

Something new.

The cabinet wasn’t fixed up at all, Mina’s attention span forbidding her from reorganizing the cabinet until she turned off the lights and dragged her feet back into her room, conveniently located directly next to yours.

The apartment layout was weird.

Instead of a typical hallway separating the two rooms, it was a single, thin wall.

Now, Mina would categorize herself as many things, but dramatic was never one of them. But the way she had slammed her door in an attempt to clear the muggy storm of her thoughts might have been dramatic of her. Maybe a bit too dramatic.

A loud tear came from the right side of her room, and Mina gasped loudly as the shelf showcasing her plethora of medals for all her sexual conquests tore the wall as it fell off. Stupid heavy bitch! Racing over to the wall, Mina frantically grabbed at the tearing cheap wallpaper, her eyes wide with worry as she tried to fix the shelf to no avail.

“M-Mina, are you okay?” a gasped breath came from the direct another side of the wall.

“It’s all good!” Mina laughed loudly, her heart pounding because she was going to confess what was going on the second you asked again, as you usually do. But the only thing that followed was the roaring of her blood and heart as she stared at the wall.

Weird.

Mina didn’t dwell on it for too long, her hands throwing the medals off the shelf and onto the bed as she picked at the wall. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

She grazed the center of the wall and watched in horror as the wall crumbled at the touch, and she bit her tongue to keep from hysterically sobbing as a hole opened up from your room to hers. All things considered, it wasn’t a big hole, no bigger than the diameter of her pinky, but it was still a hole in the wall.

Despite the crack in the wall, Mina swore or prayed that it wasn’t as bad as it seemed. Pressing to the hole, she peered in and froze immediately.

There weren’t many things in the world that made Mina freeze, but this was one of them. Her eye pressed to the wall saw that you were on the bed. Your sweats dropped around your ankles, shirt bunched above your breasts so that your fingers twisted and pulled at your nipples. The other hand held a vibrator to your clit.

Your face was scrunched up, the low hum of the vibrator suddenly piercing through the small crack in the wall, alerting Mina of a straight fire that erupted between her thighs as she watched you fuck yourself. The arch of your back when you come off the mattress makes her thighs rub together, and how your lips part in what she knows to be the most delicious moan, she’s ever managed to hear.

Mina isn’t sure when you stop masturbating that night, or even more importantly: when her panties became as fucking wet as they are.

She manages to put the shelf back onto the wall, her face absolutely red as she turns off the lights, ashamed to even go to the bathroom despite the discomfort of the slick between her folds. She dreams of having your mouth between her legs that night.

It doesn’t stop there, Mina’s ashamed to admit.

As a matter of fact, she’s probably obsessed.

She definitely didn’t keep her ear to the wall, desperately waiting to hear the low hum of the vibrator through the wall. She definitely didn’t pull the still broken shelf from the wall to peer through that crack to watch as you fucked yourself. She definitely does not, and she means, does not rub her fingers against her clit as she watches you.

But what was she currently doing when she heard the all too familiar consistent humming of one of your plenty of vibrators? She was stumbling off her bed, throwing the shelf off the wall, and using the crack in the wall to stare into your room. Except as she now unashamedly moved her fingers into her swats, fingertips grazing her already humming clit, she froze at the new sight she saw.

Typically, when you masturbated, you would lay along your bed. Your body laid out flat from the side for Mina to see. She never actually saw the slick of your cunt, or the way your pretty cunt would look like as you fucked yourself against a dildo. But today? Oh god, today was different.

You were propped up against the wall, your legs pressed open for Mina to see in all your glory. Your slicked, pretty pussy revealed for her eyes, and your head leaning against the wall as she watched.

Mina moaned as her fingers began to rub her clit, the already fluttering, simmering sensation radiating from her bundle of nerves too tight, too demanding to ignore. She circled her clit as your fingers dipped into your core, and she bit her lower lip at the refined look of elation that wiped over your face.

Your fingers moved in and out of your cunt, and Mina was hooked on the very exact angle your fingers were going in. Her mind wandering as she imagined that it was her in there with you. That it was her holding her fingers to your cunt, and not just fantasizes that drove her insane. Mina gasped as suddenly the dormant warmth in her legs sparked into a growing fire that made her legs shake and had her resting her forehead upon the wall.

Her eyes struggled to open when your feet kicked up off the mattress, toes curled to the balls of your feet as you keened loudly. A whimper left her lips at the way you moaned, the soft, beautiful sounds making Mina sink an impatient hand in her core.

She fucked herself, her eyes fluttering, lips gasping for air as she pressing her warm fingers against her even warmer walls. Mina gasped your name, her eyes trying to focus on that wall, and was absolutely frozen at the sight she saw next.

You were holding a double ended dildo to your cunt, fucking your sopping wet cunt that Mina swore she could hear from her room. The vibrator was still on your clit, and Mina snapped her hips further, stronger into her scissoring fingers. It felt like you were teasing her with the toy as if you knew she was watching in and were teasing and testing her limits. Mina could feel herself shoving that dildo as far up her cunt as she could get it, her hands holding on to your beautiful thighs and bringing you in so that your slick cunts could grind against each other, fuck each other properly. If her brain wasn’t so muddled, she wouldn’t be thinking you were looking at her right now through the peephole, and she wouldn’t be thinking about the million different ways she’d fuck you given the opportunity. She wondered if you had a strap. Would you wear it if her fantasies were to ever come true? Would she?

Mina couldn’t dwell on the secrets she wished to know because suddenly, you let out one of the loudest, most lewd moans Mina had ever heard emitted from your swollen lips. The slick of her heat and the wet of her essence easily letting her fingers glide about her clenching walls with practiced, well-known ease. You gasped, your eyes fluttering to the back of your head as your hand holding the dildo became more frantic, sloppier, before stopping altogether, and although you had reached an orgasm — Mina swore she saw god.

Your orgasmic euphoric face was unlike anything Mina had ever seen.

The flustered, quiet pleasure reeking from every small line in your face, the way your mouth dropped just enough so that your pink tongue was on full display, the way you fought between biting down on your lip or letting yourself moan in your high. But it was the way your eyes crossed that sent Mina’s forehead slamming against her fist on the wall, muting the way Mina felt her walls clench wildly and tightly around her curled, lithe fingers.

She breathed in her descent, her cheeks burning with the same and bliss she always felt after orgasming. It wasn’t fair she came so soon watching you fuck yourself, especially as she knew she typically took so long in bed with men to make cum.

“Do you want to try it out?” your voice slipped into the room, and Mina froze, her blood suddenly turning ice cold. Her eyes snapped back to the dirty peephole to see that you were, in fact, staring into the hole, hand sliding the dildo into your cunt still, still willing and ready to go more round. “It gets a little lonely putting on a show for you night after night, Mina, and for you to never come and collect your prize.”

Mina swallowed, her eyes blinking owlishly at the way you shifted forward, turning so that your ass was in the air, knees, and chest on the mattress.

You knew.

“Come and collect your prize, please.”

“Y-Yes!”

Mina learned two things that night.

One: she especially and equally enjoyed having listless amounts of body worship mantra on her skin. The feeling of wet lips and hot breathes with things she was so used to giving made her cum around your pretty little fingers much more than she’d ever thought possible.

Two: you had known after the first night that she had caught you masturbating. Apparently, Mina was much louder than she thought herself to be, and when whining your name — she doesn’t remember even speaking — you had known and did all you could to finally getting your impulsive roommate to fuck you.

Oh, and I guess there is one more thing too!

Three: Mina had the absolute hots for you and was going to take you out for a proper date, tomorrow.

#mina x reader #mina smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #bbs kinktober 2020

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lsvdw-blog · 4 years ago

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Not a Minute More: Part 2

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!MC

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings; Rating: Mentions of a cyberattack, Angst; Teen+

Premise: MC's perspective on the day that rocks Ethan to his core and threatens to change his life.

Author’s Note: I was going to wait to post this, but I'm loving the flood of content we're getting rn, so I thought I'd hop on too. I cried writing this... I'm so sorry 😭. Part 1 here. I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading 💖

~ Monday, 8:20am ~

"Good morning, Mike!" Serena greets the security guard right inside the door.

"Hey! How are ya? How's that Dr. Ramsey?"

"We're both doing well, thanks! How about you and the family?" She asks as she puts her phone in a cubby and unplugs the Wi-Fi enabler from her laptop.

"It was the wife and I's anniversary this weekend! We went to Martha's vineyard and saw the most beautiful proposal! You and Dr. R gonna get going on that soon? Aly has been talking about going to y'alls wedding since she met ya!" Mike gives a playful wink.

"Oh, congratulations! That's wonderful and send Aly my best wishes. But you'll have to talk to E on that one," she laughs before opening the door to a stairwell that leads to a classified area.

After keying in her pin, the door clicks open. She grabs a static protection lab coat, walks through the entrance, and is met with a plethora of state-of-the-art equipment. Floor-to-ceiling grey switch panels, curved monitors as far as the eye can see, and countless probes, clips, and wires.

She walks over to a few familiar faces. “Good morning! How’s it going?”

“Nice of you to finally join us! Dr. Ramsey keep you this morning?” Isla, one of the engineers, jests.

“I saw your check-in on the monitor — you walked in two minutes before me!”

“Those diagnostic skills at work, I see,” Isla retorts and they both laugh.

Isla had become a fast and faithful friend since Serena joined the project. They bonded quickly over both being minorities in the world of science and supported each other in every work facet. They had lunch together everyday and gradually, their work bond grew into a personal friendship as well. They’ve become so close that Isla now also regularly spends time with the original Edenbrook gang.

“Alright, enough chit chat. Let’s get this show on the road.”

The team nods and responds, “Yes, Doctor.”

~ 12:00pm ~

Serena exits the classified area with some colleagues and they all make their way to retrieve their phones.

"No new patients. Stuck in meetings and doing paperwork. I miss you and wish you were here."

She immediately breaks out into a large grin after reading Ethan's text and hits the dial button.

"Hey, ready for lunch?" Carmen, one of the lead scientists, asks.

Serena nods and moves her phone slightly away from her ear. "Be there in a minute. You guys go ahead."

She waits for a few more rings. He’s probably busy, I’ll call again later. She hangs up and makes her way to the cafeteria.

~ 12:40pm ~

"We did all the necessary prep work this morning to begin testing after lunch. Everything is looking good. We can begin running our tests since everyone is here. Are we all ready to begin?"

"Yes."

The system engineers are sitting at connected computer stations, inputting the required credentials to start. The rest of the team is standing behind them, waiting and nervously watching the screens. After a couple minutes of tense silence with nothing but the clack clack clack of keyboard keys, Vincenzo, one of the lead engineers, speaks up.

"This is weird… we're having some trouble accessing the necessary data. Did someone put up a firewall?"

Everybody looks around at each other, shaking their heads and muttering "no."

"Isla, are you seeing this? Can you get through?"

Isla continues to type, not saying anything. After a few more seconds, she turns to look at Vincenzo with a concerned expression. "I don't recognize some of the items in our system."

Just as she finishes her sentence, everyone's attention is pulled abruptly to a wall monitor on the right as it starts showing nonsensical images and patterns. Two seconds later, an alarm goes off and a red warning light begins flashing within the building. Everyone's eyes go wide as realization dawns on them: they've been compromised and shelter-in-place has been activated.

~ 12:55pm ~

Everyone begins to evacuate the classified lab area, grabbing their phones on the way out, and peering through the one-way windows. They can occasionally hear Mike speaking rapidly into the phone with a 911 dispatcher, when he's not being drowned out by shouts from colleagues.

On the descent to the bunker, the tension is palpable. Individuals clutch onto each other, others try frantically to reach loved ones, and some are in complete disbelief and shock. As they all descend the five flights of the winding staircase to the basement, windows are no longer available, but the ceiling bulbs keep flickering on and off. Each time it happens, everyone stops in their tracks, ducks down on instinct, and picks up the pace when the lights come back on.

~ 1:15pm ~

The entrance to the Harvard labs bunker is protected by a vault door that has a counter system. When the system is in place, the door can be opened once for people to get in. Once it's been closed, it can only be opened when there's one person on either side working together — it's futile with only one person. The only other way it can be opened is by shutting down the counter system from the outside, with the correct override pin, which only a handful of the most trusted team members know.*

As the vault door comes into sight, the wheel on the outside is turned, and the door opens with a whoosh. People slowly start filing in and head towards the back. However, not everyone can stay in the safety of the bunker. In case of an emergency, the project they’re working on must be erased, to protect it from falling into the wrong hands. Certain people have been assigned particular instructions to delete specific portions.

Serena is one of them.

She's walking next to Isla and their arms are looped together. As Isla enters the bunker, Serena lets go of her arm, stopping at the threshold. Isla whips her head around.

"What are you doing?! Get in here!" She reaches for Serena’s arm.

Serena shakes her head. "I'm the only one currently here who knows the medical codes."

Isla's eyes are frantic in realization. "I'll go back with you! I'll be your lookout! You're not going alone!"

"You'll be safe here. This is my responsibility."

Serena reaches behind her neck and unclasps her gold necklace for the first time in 7 years. She grabs Isla's hand and places the jewelry into her palm, closing Isla's fingers around it.

Serena stares at their clasped hands. "In case anything happens," they both flinch at another flickering of lights. "Promise me that you'll get this to E."

Their eyes are locked now, having a silent battle: Isla begging her to stay and Serena finding the strength not to.

"Isla, promise me. Please." Serena squeezes Isla’s hand that much tighter.

Isla realizes that there's no use in fighting Serena. Risking her life to delete the project is part of the job. They all made a commitment and if the roles were reversed, Isla would be the one fighting to go back.

Isla slowly nods. "I promise, Serena. I promise. But do your best to keep yourself safe. Try and stay near the corners, away from any large equipment that could have aftershock effects, and—"

Serena shakes her slightly. "I know, Isla. We did take the same training," she smiles, trying to make a joke to lighten the mood, but Isla just stares gravely at her.

A booming sound rattles the building and Serena knows it's time to go. She gives Isla a quick hug, before pushing her backwards into the bunker. Before Isla has regained her footing, Serena has closed the bunker door with a resounding thud.

~ 1:30pm ~

On the way back to the classified area, Serena takes out her phone. Ethan hasn't returned her earlier call. Her heart is pounding and with trembling hands, she hits the call button on Ethan's contact card for the second time in less than two hours. After a few rings, his voice comes through.

"You've reached Dr. Ethan Ramsey. I apologize for missing your call. Leave a message and I'll get back to you."

Just as she’s about to start speaking, the lights go down for good. "Hey E," she tries her best to keep her voice from shaking. She puts the call on speaker, places the phone out in front of her, and turns the flashlight on. "I don't know when this will hit the news, but we're currently under cyberattack. I don't know from who or what, but they’ve already gotten into our mainframe and power supply. Everyone has sheltered-in-place and is awaiting further instructions." She takes a deep breath as she inches down a corridor.

"Everyone except me, Vincenzo, and Carmen. We’re the only three here right now trained to completely delete the project in the event something like this happened. I'm walking back to the lab as I speak."

Serena rounds a corner and the lab comes into view. Thinking about what she has to say next, silent tears stream down her face.

"Ethan, sweetheart, I need you to know that the last eight months by your side have been the absolute best eight months of my entire life. You are the light of my existence and mean everything to me." She lets out a deep breath. "I wish I could hear your voice right now… I'm really scared. But I made a commitment, so I need to go back in and finish the job. If something happens, know that you are unequivocally the love of my life and the one for me. I know we haven't talked about it yet, but know that I want to spend forever with you as your wife and have you be the father of my children." She sniffs and continues, "you would be a fantastic husband and dad."

She comes to a stop in front of the keypad located right outside the lab and swallows past the lump in her throat. "But if the universe has other plans for me, I'll be waiting for you and I can't wait to spend forever with you in the next life. This isn't how I wanted to tell you, but until next time, whenever that is, I love you so much, Ethan Jonah Ramsey, more than words could ever properly convey."

She ends the phone call with tear-filled eyes, stashes her phone on a nearby workbench, punches in her key, and enters the classified area one more time.

~~~~~~

*Disclaimer: I have no idea if Harvard labs has a bunker and if they do, what kind of door/system they utilize. This is all purely AU!

#ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart #choices open heart #playchoices #ethan ramsey fanfiction #ethan ramsey fic #open heart fanfiction #open heart fic #choices stories you play

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wisteria-lodge · 4 years ago

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exploded bird + lion secondary (badger model)

Good afternoon Wisteria! I was hoping for your input with my sorting. This MAY become a novel, and i apologize ahead of time for that. Hopefully its interesting, if nothing else.

I am having trouble with both my primary and secondary. Ive thought i had it figured out so many times and then i would reanalyze myself and get confused. So i guess ill start with primaries. I can tell you for sure that i am not a snake primary. I just cant love another person quite like that. I grew up in a very snake primary environment and never felt i really fit in. I really appreciate snakes and i understand them, but i dont think i am one. I also very much pride myself on my individuality and dont bond to groups so i believe that may rule out badger. I think ive narrowed it down to exploded bird or really confused lion.

Interesting. So far so good. Let’s hear what you’ve got.

Right now in life, with all the information coming at me, all the data, all of the twists and turns, media bias, conspiracy theories, rabbit holes and objective realities, i cant figure out the truth.

… sounds like an Exploded Bird to me.

I think all theories are worth investigating and rabbit holes are fun. But i hate hypocrisy. And its everywhere.

I mean, everyone hates hypocrisy… but I think Birds find it *unforgivable.*

I cant organize all of this information.

Exploded Bird.

Dude. Whats gonna happen if deep fake becomes the norm?

eh, Photoshop has been the norm for a long time and we do okay. Some fakes have always been better than others, and there have always been fakes.

I feel like the safest thing to do is to fully understand myself. Then i can analyze and understand the world.

I would agree with that.

I would say that hands down i was an exploded bird, but i feel very strongly about things right away. But then i learn about them more and if my feelings were wrong, ok. Whatever.

This is still Bird. It’s not that Birds can’t feel strongly about things right away. They do, they just don’t feel safe TRUSTING those feelings. Instead they do… exactly what you’re describing here. Learn more, and then if it turns out their initial feelings were wrong… that’s fine, actually. The feelings are of secondary importance.

BUT i also WANT black and white. I want right and wrong. Grey, though necessary and true, bugs me.

… there’s a reason why I call young Birds Black-and-White Birds.

Deep down i crave to just understand something as it is. But one persons truth is not anothers. I get that. But it still bothers me in my bones.

That’s a very Bird primary angst. Birds can have this *fantasy* that if only everyone had all the information and thought it though properly, that everyone would come to the same (correct) conclusion. And then have to grapple with the fallout when they realize things don’t work that way. As a Lion… I’ve never had to fight that particular monster.

I can also seem like i make snap decisions based on feelings to others, but i just know what i want. If something sounds good, i want to do it. At that moment. No hesitation… i think im meshing into secondary territory here

I agree. Improvisational secondary, sounds like.

so ill just go with it. So my bedroom walls are lilac purple and my kitchen is BRIGHT yellow, because those colors sounded interesting. At that moment. I tend to jump into a project having no idea what im doing. I just thought it sounded like fun.

Comfortable making decisions on a whim, just jumping in. Very improvisational.

But thats not really a way to problem solve. When i start said project and then run into a problem, usually ill read about it, or ask someone who knows more than me. The “i know a guy” bird kind of applies here. I know how to make connections within my community and i plan for that. I think about who would be useful to know, based on my goals.

You know, this could be Bird. But I’m kind of skewing more Badger because of the emphasis on community and asking for help. And keeping an eye on ‘who is powerful, who is useful to know’ is a pretty common Badger secondary model manifestation.

But i dont think i build tools like a bird. In fact, binge watching videos on how to do something annoys me. Takes all the fun out of it.

I still think you’re an Improvisational secondary - and a Badger secondary model is *more* likely than a Bird secondary model.

I am always honest with people and i like that about me, but its not out of some need to stay true to myself. Its just because i have learned that honesty works the best most of the time.

So not Lion *primary* then. This is all about method. You don’t lie, because you don’t find it to be a very practical problem-solving method. Being very direct does work, so at this point… Lion is more likely than snake.

Now, dont get me wrong, i am an excellent liar. But only if its on the fly.

Hmm. Maybe a Snake who’s in neutral all the time?

This conflicts big time with my primary, however, so i rarely ever do.

Interesting. Lying conflicts with your (hypocrisy hating) Bird primary, so you don’t do it. Instead you are very direct, and that works well for you. You *can* lie (on the fly) but you generally don’t. Neutral Snake? Snake secondary model? Depending on how you define lying, could even be Courtier Badger. (I am ruling out constructed Actor Bird.)

I feel like ive gone all over the place in a highly disorganized way, so i will state that now i am going to give some anecdotal data. One time, as an adult, i was hanging out with a bunch of kids on a hayride. A little boy killed a butterfly. I was outraged. I called him out. I told him that he just took away the only life that creature would ever have and that was cruel.

Very loud Idealist primary.

This somehow turned into a question and answer school session about human biology, mammals and why on earth is water in a cup clear, but when you dive into the ocean, its blue?

Some kind of social secondary… and I know the obvious thing is to say 'trotting out a lot of facts, that’s bird.’ But I’m seeing you defuse a situation by leveraging your immediate community (Q&A session)? Badger.

I like being the person that gets the scary bugs out of the house because i feel brave when i do.

Sounds pretty Lion secondary.

When in an emergency situation i completely disconnect and become a calm, knowledgeable person.

This is actually a pretty common just, human thing. When things get bad enough, your lizard brain takes over, and everything is very calm and dreamlike.

I suddenly magically know what needs to be done and work with my environment.

Improvisational secondary.

Im also very aware of how everyone else is doing in that situation and i have an innate need to make people feel better so im usually the first to lighten the mood. Ill focus on others before myself if im hurt. Im more aware of how they are doing than how i am doing and i will make an effort to help them first.

Ah yes, the 'tend and befriend’ threat response. Very familiar. And yeah, going from this description I’m going to say very social badger.

In video games… skyrim is best here i think. I want to be a sneaky mage thief. But when something attacks me, without thinking i run right up to it and hit it with my fists without armor.

lol lion. (The classic Badger secondary strategy is BUFF ARMOR. I always play tanks.)

But i get really sad if its an animal.Those wolf whimpers get to me every time.

No one likes the wolf whimpers.

Ok. Ok. Ive rambled enough. Thank you for reading! Any input is greatly appreciated! Thank you!

Exploded Bird, easy. And probably a Lion secondary with a very social Badger secondary model that’s working well for you.

#sortinghatchats #bird lion #birdpri #lionsec #badger secondary model #courtier badger #sortme #wisteria sorts #exploded bird

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my-own-oracle · 5 years ago

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Forced to Sleep

@voidfire-studios was the lovely human who sent in this request and I am more then happy to re-uploaded this one!

-Optimus

You recheck your notes, rubbing your strained eyes. In theory, you could calculate the travel times and positions of encounters to help triangulate where the Decepticon ship was located last. In reality, It took about 10 hours to work all the calculations and collect the data, yet you were no closer to discovering anything.

Your body was tired, your head was pounding. But you couldn't give up, no human or cybertronian had believed you could do this. So by the laws of stubbornness, you had to complete this with a rough location for the bots to check.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying your hardest to will the headache to disappear until you complete your task.

"(Y/N), what are you doing awake at this hour?" Optimus had snuck in while you were focused on your work, how the metal titan had managed to do so, you had no earthly idea, but at this point, you didn't question the Leader of the Autobots and his ability to enter a room undetected.

"I'm going to get this for you guys," You gestured to the maps on the table. "When it's done all stop. But having this could be useful." You felt the room shake as Optimus walked over to your spot. Lowering himself to your eye level.

"I commend your dedication, but this war is not more important than your health. You may not be as young as the children, but it can not be good for your human body to neglect your natural need to recharge." Optimus placed a single digit down over your maps, covering all the work you had laid out.

"I am fine." you swatted at his digit, but it did nothing. "I'm going to contribute to this team." Optimus let out a sigh. His other servo reaching out to scoop you up.

"If you want to be a part of this team, I will have to treat you like a soldier." You squirmed as Optimus carried you to the old human barracks in the base. "And as your 'leader' I'm telling you to recharge. Once you have reached adequate rest for your organic frame, you may continue with your work." Optimus deposited you at the barracks door. "It is 4 in the morning now, I do not want to see you until 10 in the morning at the earliest." You turned to try and stare down the bot, but Optimus stood tall looking down at you with a small frustrated smile.

"Fine. Boss bot. You win." you trudged into the room collapsing on the bed you've borrowed whenever you stay the night.

"Rest well, (Y/N)" His voice carried through the thick walls in the base. Moments later, you were asleep.

-Starscream

Your fists were in your hair, a guttural growl tearing through your throat. If it weren't for Starscream working only a few feet away, you knew a scream of curse words would be leaving your lips.

"You miserable worm, will you knock it off? You're breaking my concentration." The seeker's voice broke through your angered thoughts. He was working on a delicate project, and you knew it, but the usual teasing banter isn't hitting home today. You huff, trying to calm down.

"Sorry, sorry." you stood from your work table, your feet carrying you back and forth, pacing its length.

You had been working on this project for days, but it kept failing in the most spectacular of ways. Blowing up, short-circuiting, even electrocuting you a few times. Your mind was close to mental and emotional exhaustion. You knew screamer needed a more successful way to gather energon, and since the ship you two were hiding in was half destroyed, it left you with amply cybertronian tech to play with. You figured your little organic brain full of wondrous ideas could come up with a more reliable way to track the stuff and keep Starscream from having to break into the Nemesis to get fuel. What you didn't think about was the fact you had little to no understanding of the technology and its more delicate nuances.

"By the Allspark, stop stomping around like a sparkling." You turned and glared at the seeker, folding your arms in a defiant stance before pacing again. This time you let our heavy combat boots stomp against the floor of the ship, your steps echoing off the walls. In an instant you were scooped up, Starscream let his digits lightly press into your flessy exterior.

"If it weren't for the fact you bring me the slightest amount of amusement I'd squish you."

"Aww, I love you too, you overgrown pidgin. Now put me down, I have work to do." Rolling his optics Starscream carried you to the room you shared, depositing you not so gently on the table you claimed as your living space.

"Clearly your stressed and delirious, otherwise you'd have more respect when talking to someone who could kill you with a single servo." The smile on Starscream's face gave away his amusement even though his words seamed harsh. "Sleep, I'll come to retrieve you once I think you're capable of understanding your place when in my presence."

"No, I'm going to finish that fragging tracker."

"You will, once you let that pitiful brain of yours rest." He closed the door, locking you inside. You knew it was his own weird way of making sure you stayed and slept. Gosh, when did your life become so strange? You laid down, telling yourself you'd sleep only out of spite. Then when you woke up, you'd finish that stupid tracker showing him and make him eat his words about your 'pitiful brain.' After all, that's what friends do.

-Ratchet

Your eyes snapped open, and you rip your head away from the table. You couldn't sleep, not yet. Adjusting your seat and the work laid around you, you attempt to continue at the point you last remember. You can't recall anything after you let the computer run the second set of calculations. Pulling over the laptop, you see that the system had fallen asleep due to no outside activity, stalling the calculations.

"Kill me," you mumbled into the quite of the base.

"That would be quite inconvenient and hard to explain if your government finds out." You nearly jumped out of your skin, you forgot that Ratchet had been in the room when you started the project. The bot was hunched over his own work station, his optics furrowed despite his lite tone.

"How's it going, doc?" the glare you received wasn't cold, mostly a playful warning on the use of the forbidden nickname. you smiled tiredly at him.

"Not well, there's a reason synthetic energon was considered a lost secret of the ancient-" A yawn escaped you, the noise cutting off Ratchets explanation. When your eyes had opened, you could see Ratchet looking to his medical scanner. His dermas moving as he silently read what was on the screen. Crossing the space between your two workspaces, Ratchet leaned down, scooping you out of the chair.

"Hey, no manhandling." you were brought up to his optics.

"Your body has reached a point of medically being sleep deprived, that with the imbalance of hormones indicates you need to rest." His voice was soft and soothing. Something he never did unless he felt medically inclined to.

"You scanned me." the statement felt less accusatory then you wanted, but it was all your brain could come up with.

"Yes, that was fairly obvious."

"Don’t do that, it's rude."

"Hardly, as CMO it's my job to make sure all members of team prime are in top form. That includes you."

"And wouldn't that mean you have to be in top form, Mr. I-only-sleep-when-someone-drags-my-sorry-aft-to-my-birth?" You almost laughed as you watched the gears turn in Ratchets head. That's right metal man, I ain't going to sleep till you do.

Your thoughts must have played across your face because before you could blink Ratchet began transforming around you.

"Then we'll both take some time to rest." Ratchets voice filled his cab as the doors around you locked closed. You pulled on the door handles, but Ratchet wouldn't open up.

"Let me out, I have work,"

"And so do I, but I know that look. You're not going to rest unless I force you." Warm air began filtering into the cab, and you found it hard to keep your eyes open. Before long you were sprawled out across Ratchet's seats off in a land of dreams.

#optimus prime x reader #starscream x reader #ratchet x reader #transformers #transformers prime #tfp #request #re-uploaded #optimus prime #starscream #ratchet

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shera-dnd · 4 years ago

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IT'S HERE! A whole week late, but I finally finished the last prompt for Rosebird Week. This time it's AU day and I decided to go with an AU no one expected or really wanted.

IT'S MATRIX AU TIME! LET'S GO!

Summer sat in her bed, head pressed back against the metal wall, and eyes closed, just allowing herself to feel the vibrations of the hovercraft as it flew through the complex hive of tunnels beneath the earth. It was strangely peaceful, and it helped ground her in the real world. It also let her listen to the steps of the rest of her crew.

She heard a set of them approaching her room and pausing at the door. It took a moment for her crewmate to actually open it and step in, but when she did Summer didn’t need to open her eyes to know who it was.

Raven quietly closed the door behind her and walked up to Summer’s bed, sitting next to her. Neither of them felt the need to greet each other, both just wanting to enjoy this silent moment, away from the constant barrage of information that was The Matrix.

“Hey, Raven,” Summer eventually spoke. It was a quiet call, a whisper just for her friend, “can I ask you something?”

“You wanna know if I believe it,” Raven answered, fully aware of the doubts that had been plaguing her, “if I think you’re The One.”

Silence returned to the room.

Yes, that had been Summer’s question, a question that had been at the back of her mind since the moment Ozpin called her by that title. It felt like unearned praise, and she couldn’t help but feel the weight of humanity’s survival resting on her shoulders.

“Yes,” she whispered back.

“I don’t,” Raven answered bluntly, “I think this whole chosen one deal is just absolute horseshit.”

That took Summer by surprise. She opened her eyes and turned on her side so she could look at her companion. Raven looked so different in this world, older, more tired, less composed. She liked this version more, it made Raven feel more human, more real.

“Then why do you even follow Ozpin in the first place?”

“Because as full of crap as he is, he’s still doing good work,” she explained, “we’re still saving people.” Raven turned too, meeting summer’s gaze. Her eyes were a dark brown, not the red they were in The Matrix, “we saved you, didn’t we?”

The two shifted ever closer, eyes still locked on each other in the peaceful silence of Summer’s chamber.

“I believe in you, Summer,” Raven added, so close to Summer that she could feel her breath on her lips, “chosen one or not.”

Before they could drift any closer than that, the door to the room was slammed open as Taiyang cheerfully declared, “come on, it’s about time our girl took a trip to the Oracle.”

~~~

That trip had gone as horribly as it possibly could. Lionheart had betrayed them, half their crew was dead, and Ozpin had been captured by the agents. Leaving Summer, Raven, and Qrow, with only two options. Killing Ozpin themselves before the agents could extract the information they wanted from him, or diving in to fight near impossible odds in a suicidal mission to save him.

In the end the choice was obvious.

The metal detectors in the building blared as Summer and Raven stepped in through the front door. One of the guards tiredly stood up and walked up to Summer, asking her to remove all metallic objects. She opened her white long coat and the man’s eyes went wide as he saw the amount of weapons she was packing.

A well placed punch sent the man flying off, and announcing the start of the gunfight. The guards in this room outnumbered, and outgunned them, but tied down as they were to the constraints of the Matrix, they never stood a chance.

Summer leaped from cover to cover, firing at them in mid air as their bullets tore the entire room to shreds. Raven didn’t have any firearms on her, but that didn’t render her harmless in the slightest. She would fly out of cover in the form of a raven, fly through the gunfire, and return to her normal form just in time to slice their throats open with her sword.

Soon enough they were the only ones left standing in the destroyed room.

Raven took the bag they brought in and together they marched into the elevator.

“You still haven’t told me how you do the bird thing,” Summer commented, casually despite the seriousness of the mission they were in.

“The same way you made your eyes silver,” Raven explained as she dropped the bag to the ground and started arming the bomb they had hidden inside, “you override the Matrix through your own self perception. Me and my brother just took it a step further. We change how we perceive ourselves on the fly, and the Matrix changes our form to match it.”

“So you see yourself as a bird, and then the Matrix turns you into a bird?” Summer asked, hitting the emergency break button on the elevator.

“Yeah, like that.”

Summer couldn’t keep herself from snickering as she pushed off the emergency exit on the roof of the elevator, earning herself a confused look from Raven.

“So you and Qrow are bird furries?” Summer asked playfully.

Raven groaned and finished arming the bomb. “Just shut up and focus on the plan.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

~~~

Copious amounts of gunfire, and a catastrophic helicopter ride later, the three of them found themselves in a cramped phone booth down by the subway. Ozpin was bleeding heavily and was far too exhausted to stand on his own, but he still laughed deliriously.

“Do you believe it now, Raven?” He asked between his bouts of laughter.

Raven shook her head and picked up the ringing phone, handing it to Ozpin.

“We can talk about faith all you want once we’re out of here.”

The crazy old man put the phone to his ear and disappeared, his mind returning to his real body. Summer put the phone back in place and gave Raven some space.

“You go next,” she offered.

“Right,” Raven nodded, but there was still something in her mind. Her fists clenched as if she was trying to steel herself for something, “Summer, once we’re out of here, there’s something...there’s something I need to tell you.”

“More reason for us to get going,” she replied, just as the phone began to ring, she gestured towards it with her head and smiled, “come on, wouldn’t want to keep you waiting.”

Raven smiled back and took the phone, she barely had time to put it to her ear before the sound of gunfire rang through their ears. She was gone before the bullet could have hit her, but the phone itself was destroyed, taking Summer’s escape route with it.

“Ms. Moore,” greeted a voice behind her.

Theresa Moore. Summer hated that name. She hated to hear it used like this, because it wasn’t hers, not anymore. And there was only one person who still used it, the man that had interrogated her, the man that had captured Ozpin, the man that now had a gun aimed right for her head.

Agent Ironwood.

“You’ve been creating quite a lot of trouble for us lately,” the agent continued, “I think it’s time we put an end to that.”

Summer dodged the first bullet that came her way, quickly returning fire as she dashed for him. That speed that had felt like a fluke when she fought that other agent now came to her naturally, easily allowing her to dodge his gunfire, until she was up in close quarters with him.

They both put their guns to each other’s heads and pulled their triggers.

Empty.

Agent Ironwood threw the first punch, his fist somehow faster and more terrifying than any bullet could. She parried the blow with more difficulty than she expected, and hit back for no real impact.

Damn it, she had to be faster, stronger. This was the Matrix, the only limits on her body were those her mind imposed on it, she had to forget those limits if she had any chance of surviving this. Each attack he threw her way became ever so slightly easier to avoid, and every one of her strikes came back with just a little more force.

It was a lucky blow, but a good kick managed to crack his sunglasses in half. She could do this, she could actually win this. Maybe Raven was right, she didn’t have to be The One in order to make a difference.

That was until she was put through a wall, and then launched into the train tracks.

“Just surrender, Ms. Moore,” the agent spoke, jumping down to the tracks and pinning her to the ground, “let me put an end to this and it will all be over quick and painless.”

Summer could hear the train approaching, she could hear her own end right at her doorstep. But she couldn’t care about it right now, all she could think was how much she hated this man for using that stupid name.

“My name,” she began, pushing back against the agent until she was standing up again, “is Summer Rose.”

The train ran over both of them and Summer’s conscience scattered into countless white petals. For a moment her mind was gone, left to the whim of whatever program was responsible for controlling the winds of the Matrix, but slowly they began to gather again, the data that formed her body coalescing once again in the form of a woman.

Summer took a long shaky breath. That had been terrifying in so many ways, but it saved her life. In that moment she swore to herself she would never, ever try anything like that again. It was best to leave the shapeshifting to the twins.

Unfortunately she wasn’t given much time to recover, because a certain agent had just stepped off of the train, looking very angry.

She didn’t have it in her to keep fighting this time, so she ran as fast as she could. Dashing through the streets, Summer grabbed the first cell phone she could find and quickly dialled up the Beacon.

“Mr. Wizard, I need a way out!” She yelled into the phone.

“We’ve got your back, Ms. Rose,” Ozpin replied calmly on the other end, “let me guide you through this.”

She ran up and down buildings, out windows and back doors, pushing away people before they could be turned into more agents. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, her mind racing as much as her body as she chased the sound of that ringing phone.

It was right there. She could feel it. She just had to open the door and--

Bang!

~~~

The monitors inside the Beacon blared out a warning as Summer’s brain activity completely ceased.

“No!” Raven screamed as she ran to Summer’s terminal, “no no no no no!”

She climbed onto Summer’s seat, straddling her and holding her face in her hands.

“No! You can’t die too. You can’t!” Raven begged, tears falling onto Summer’s face, “the Oracle promised me! You can’t!”

Summer couldn’t be dead. She couldn’t. Raven refused to believe that.

“She said the woman I love would be The One,” she said, hands shaking, “so you can’t die here!”

Her breath was weak and shaky, her vision blurry from all the tears.

“I believe it, Summer. I believe in you. I believe whatever it takes to keep you alive.”

She didn’t know what else to do. Maybe there really was nothing else to do, but she refused to accept that, refused to sit there and let Summer die. So she did the only thing she could think to do. She closed her eyes and leaned in.

~~~

Summer’s eyes shot open. Instinct told her to suck in a deep breath and refill her lungs, but there was no air around her, there were only codes and programs to simulate it. She stood up, the ground beneath her just textures, sensorial information, and some physics related code. She could see it, the seams on the fabric of the world.

The Matrix.

Bullets were fired her way and she looked at them with almost curiosity. Their code was as clear as day, so easily read, so easily altered. She rewrote a portion of it and the bullets exploded into white rose petals.

Then came that program, Agent Ironwood, shouting as he tried to strike her down. It would have killed her, but she was faster than him now, she was as fast as she needed to be. With one hand she stopped every attack he threw her way, her face showing no sign of focus or exertion, simply the almost amused look of someone who finally got a joke they heard so long ago.

She had already won.

~~~

Her eyes opened once again, this time for good. After what felt like hours in The Matrix her eyes struggled to adjust to the light inside the Beacon, so for a few moments all she knew was that there was a dark shape standing over her, and that her face was somehow wet.

A hiccuping sob above her made clear what had happened while she was gone.

Summer reached for the woman above her, her thumb wiped away those tears, and she smiled.

“Thank you, Raven,” she spoke, as softly as she did in those quiet moments in her chamber, “thank you, for believing in me.”

#rwby #rosebird #rosebird week 2021 #rosebirdweek #summer rose #raven branwen #the matrix #matrix au #fanfic

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slutforbuck · 4 years ago

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Traveling Soldier Part 3 -- Bucky Barnes x Reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

The elevator doors opened, and Natasha and Steve stepped out. “This can’t be the data-point, this technology is ancient.” “Nat, what is that?” Steve pointed to a tall tube against the wall. Natasha looked in the direction Steve was pointing, “I’m not sure, go check it out. I’m going to look over here.” Steve walked over to the cryostasis tube, and yelled. Natasha turned from the desk, computers booting up behind her, “What’s the matter Steve?” Steve was trying to open the door, “My sister Nat. It’s y/n in there. I’ve got to get her out!” Natasha stepped around Steve, and found a release on the side of the tube.

Your eyes open, and you see two people in front of you. “S..Steve? You..You’re dead. We watched you go down with the plane.” Steve smiled as he pulled you from the chamber, “Long story. We can catch up later.” Natasha called you both from the desk, “It’s talking.” Steve supported your weight as you walked over to the desk. “Rogers, Steven. Born, 1918. Romanoff, Natalia. Born, 1984. Rogers, Y/n. Born 1917.” “It’s some kind of recording.” You stepped back from the two and sat against the floor. You heard Zola talking about how HYDRA had infiltrated SHIELD and realized that this must have been the new doctor that Howard had introduced you to right before he froze you. You got to your feet as quickly as possible. Something felt off about that man then, and something felt even worse about him now. As you stood, you heard him say, “Out of time.” You saw Steve and Natasha dive into an opening in the floor, and you threw yourself under the desk just as the building explodes. The three of you run from the building just as a man steps in.

“Steve where is Howard? Why does everything look so different?” Natasha furrowed her brow, “Howard? Surely you don't mean Howard Stark.” Your eyes lit up, “Yes! Where is he?” Natasha looked at Steve, slightly worried, “Y/n, he's been dead since 1991.” Your eyes went wide, “Dead? 1991? What year are we in?? How long have I been frozen?” “It’s 2014. If you went on the ice when Steve “died”, then that would put you at being frozen for nearly seventy years.” Your walk slowed as you tried to take in what you were just told.

You walk up to a house, and Steve knocks on the door. A slender man opens the door, “Hey man.” He looks to Steve questioningly while stepping back to let the three of you in the door. “I’m sorry about this. We need a place to lay low.” Steve nods to the man in thanks as he brushes past. “Everyone we know is trying to kill us,” Natasha looked at the floor as she walked past, arms crossed over her chest. “Not everyone.” Sam offered a small smile to the three of you as you made your way into the house. “So what happened? You..You shouldn’t be here. Not this young still.” Steve looked at you with concern in his bright blue eyes. You sighed, “Steve it’s a long story. I don’t know exactly where to start.” You looked at your hands, not sure how to tell him why you agreed to take the experimental serum in the first place. “The beginning is a good place. What happened?” Steve looked at you sternly. “Well after the plane..with you..I didn’t have anything or anyone. Bucky was gone. You were gone. I had no-one left. Howard had been playing around with new serum formulas, and needed a candidate. I figured I didn't have anything left to lose, so why not volunteer?” Steve’s jaw dropped slightly, and his eyes went wide. He pushed the chair away from him and began to pace, running his fingers through his short blond hair. “Why? You shouldn’t have done that, you could have died!” Steve had a pleading tone in his voice, and was straining to not yell. “What did I have to live for Steve? The man I love and my best friends were dead. Not coming back. Even if something would have happened to me, I was doing the same thing you were. I was helping create something that could be so beneficial. You did what you had to do and so did I.” Steve stopped and slowly turned to you, “What I was doing was different. I was serving my country.” You stood and stalked towards your brother. “I was doing the same as you Steven Grant Rogers. Do not try to parent me. I did what I felt was right.” He glared down at you, and looked into your eyes. He saw the pain you felt, and his jaw began to unclench. He rubbed his eyes, and looked to you again, “Okay so you were injected with the serum. You’re alive obviously so it worked I’m guessing? That doesn’t explain why we found you in a hidden office on an old army base.” It was now your turn to pace, worry beginning to show on your face. You looked to him, then took a deep breath. “HYDRA. They heard that Howard had developed a working serum and they wanted the formula. They wanted EVERYTHING that he had to do with Project Rebirth, including me. Howard felt like freezing me and hiding me down there would help keep me hidden. He was supposed to come back for me when it was safe, I don't know what happened.” You felt your brother’s arms around you, “Get some rest, we’ll talk more in the morning. You’ve at lease got your best friend back. Not so sure about this man you love though.” As he walked away, he shot you a wink. “I’m going to find Nat, I’ll see you in the morning.” You sat down on the bed, wondering what could have happened that Howard didn’t come back for you. He had plenty of time, Natasha said that he didn’t die until 1991, that was almost fifty years after you were frozen. You laid back on the bed, memories coming back, feeling like it was only yesterday that you were standing at Camp Leigh with Peggy and Howard. Your eyes slowly began to close as sleep began to take over your body.

The next morning, you made your way into the kitchen. It was barley light outside, and you enjoyed the moment of peace. Pulling out a chair at the kitchen table, you sank down, sliding your head into your hands. There was so much time you had lost, but you couldn’t decide if you were upset about the time lost or not. There was almost seventy years of time that was just gone, but you were also almost seventy years in the future. You were seeing everything that you and Howard had been working towards. You decided that the time lost was worth it. You had gained, you hoped, a couple of friends, and your brother back. You stood, and lost in thought, floated to the window. You stared out and memories flooded your mind again. “Buck…I love you so much James Barnes. You stay safe, and I will see you when you get home. Promise me that you’ll come back safe.” “I promise, y/n. I love you.” The last words you and Bucky had ever spoken to each other. You wished that the two of you had more time with each other. You stood at the window, remembering all the things you and Bucky had done together, and didn’t notice everyone else come in. It had begun getting light outside, and Sam began cooking breakfast. “Y/n? You okay?” You jumped, startled, and turned towards the voice. “Oh. Good morning Natasha, yes I am fine, thank you.” You offered her a small smile while hugging your arms close to your body. You sat back at the table, still zoned out. You saw the three friends talking, whatever it was seemed important. You only caught the end of the conversation. “I can’t ask you to do this Sam. You got out for a good reason.” “Dude. Captain America needs my help. There’s no better reason to get back in.” You looked to Natasha and whispered, “I’m sorry, what are we doing?” She smiled and filled you in.

“Steve I can help. I was trained.” “No way. Not happening. I don’t care if you are a super soldier or not, you are NOT fighting.” You huffed and sat back waiting for Sam to get back with Agent Sitwell.

“We’re going to get information. Stay here, and don’t do anything stupid.” You rolled your eyes at him and whispered under your breath, “You’re talking all the stupid with you.” He looked back and grinned at you before jogging to catch up with Natasha.

“HYDRA doesn’t like leaks.” You looked to the man in the backseat, he looked nervous and was wringing his hands. Natasha and Steve began talking about how to stop Project Insight, and you heard a thud on the roof. You looked in the backseat and Sitwell was gone. Steve jumped forward and pulled the break handle, which made the man on the roof of the car fly forward into the road. The man jumped back onto the car, shattered the windshield, and yanked the steering wheel from the car. Glass flew towards you, and you threw your hands up to cover your face. “Shit!!” Bullets began flying through the air and you couldn’t tell where they were coming from, but you knew both sides were shooting. Steve breaks the door from the car, and throws you all on the door, sliding you down the street away from the car. Natasha grabbed you and ran, shooting back at the man. She manages to make a hit and shoots the goggles covering his eyes. Они мои. Найти его. (They’re mine. Find him.) Natasha hides a recording behind a car to throw the man off as you two hide. You study the man as he leans down to roll a bomb to where he thinks the two of you are hiding. Something seems familiar about the way he holds himself. You are preparing yourself, knowing you are going to have to fight soon. You watch as Natasha jumps onto the man’s back as the car explodes. He throws her and she runs, warning civilians as she goes. You take off after her, but you feel him grab you by the arm. You see his arm shine out of the corner of your eye, and realize as he is lifting you into the air by your throat that he has an arm of metal. The need to breathe and fight back overtakes your curiosity. You try to kick him, but his hand has too tight of a grip on you. Steve jumps in and attacks that man, knocking you out of the air. You fall to the ground and look up as Steve knocks the man’s mask from his face. “Bucky?” You whispered, shocked to see the man you thought was dead in front of you. You hear confusion in Steve’s voice as he repeats the name, “Bucky?” Bucky looks at the two of you with his eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “Who the hell is Bucky?” Your heart fell as Bucky raised his gun and shot at you and Steve. Sam flies in and kicks Bucky aside. You begin to grapple with him, trying to get the gun away, and you see Natasha raise a grenade launcher. You release Bucky and the gun as you throw yourself to the ground. You look up as the smoke began to clear, and see that he is gone. Agents begin to swarm the four of you, and you are all put to your knees and taken into custody. You and Steve stare at each other while being put into a van. “Steve, it was him. I know those eyes.” “I know it was him y/n. He looked at me like he didn’t even know me.” Sam looked between the two of you. “How’s that even possible? That was seventy years ago.” “Zola.” Steve looked to you, then to his hands. You looked to Sam with tears in your eyes, the pain of losing him coming back all over again. “Bucky’s whole unit was captured in ’43.” Steve heard your voice break and stepped in, “Zola experimented on him. Whatever he did helped Bucky survive the fall. They must have found him and..” Natasha looked at both of you sympathetically, “None of that’s your fault, Steve.” You both look up, “Even when we had nothing, we had Bucky.” You looked at the side of the van sadly. Sam notices a gash in Natasha’s shoulder, “We need to get a doctor here. We don’t put pressure on that wound she's gonna bleed out here in the truck.” You gasp as a guard shocks another, then takes off her helmet. “Ah. That thing was squeezing my brain.” You and Sam look at the woman in confusion and Sam speaks, “Who’s this guy?”

You make it to the facility Agent Hill was leading you to and a doctor met you. “Let me take her.” Maria stepped in front of her, “She’ll want to see him first.” You come to a tall man that was bandaged and had a patch over one eye. Steve whispered, “That’s agent Fury.”

The six of you were going over how to take out the Helicarriers, and Steve began arguing with Agent Fury. “We’re not salvaging anything. We’re not just taking down the carriers Nick, we’re taking down SHIELD.” “SHIELD had nothing to do with it.” “You gave me this mission, this is how it ends. SHIELD's been compromised, you said so yourself. HYDRA grew right under your nose and nobody noticed.” Nick began getting loud, “Why do you think we're meeting in this cave? I noticed.” Louder Steve tried to get his point across, “And how many paid the price before you did?” “Look, I didn't know about Barnes.” Agent Fury’s face slightly softened. “Even if you have, would you have told me? Or would you have compartmentalized that too? SHIELD, HYDRA, it all goes.” “Well, looks like you’re giving the orders now Captain.”

Nick turned to you, “Steve, who is this?” Steve put his arm around your shoulder, “This is my sister, y/n. She worked for Howard Stark back during the war. She was apparently the last candidate for Project Rebirth. Nat and I found her at Camp Leigh with Zola.” Nick turned back to you again, his eye wide with shock. “Wait, wait, wait. I read those notes, Stark said his assistant volunteered, but didn’t say anything about a woman, especially not Captain America’s sister!” You shrugged Steve’s arm off your shoulder, “I had nothing left to lose, I had lost Steve and Bucky. I was devoted to my work, and would do anything I could to help Howard. We both felt like the serum would be very beneficial to the army, especially with men that were like Steve. Brave, ready to serve, but a little weak and scrawny.” You winked at your brother while Nick chuckled. “It is an honor to meet you y/n.”

You sat on the bank of the river, watching Sam and Steve talk. You put your hands in the water and slowly drew patterns with your fingers in the cool water. You knew you had to get your mind straight before you went to the Helicarriers. You knew Bucky would be there, and you had one job. Your job was not to even be close to Buck, no matter how badly you wanted that. Your mission was to switch out the chips. Steve and Sam meet you at the end of the bridge, “Y/n you ready?” You looked up with a smile, “As I’ll ever be.”

“GO! Get that chip in there y/n! I’ll distract him!” You run up to the system and grab the chip you are replacing and throw it across the carrier. Bucky knocks Steve to the ground and rushes at you. You stick the chip in just as Bucky grabs you and pins you against a beam by your throat. “B..Bu..Bucky please..It’s me,” you manage to strangle out a couple of words and Bucky’s steel blue eyes go soft for about half a second, just long enough for you to wrestle out of his grip. He picks you back up and throws you to the edge of the carrier with Steve. As the three of you are still trying to regain your footing, the carrier crashes into a building, causing some of the beams to fall and trap Bucky. Steve lifts them as you pull him from under the rubble. “You know us!” Bucky pins Steve to the ground. “Bucky you’ve known us your whole life.” You are trying to pull Bucky from Steve, “Your name is James Buchanan Barnes. You are a wonderful, good man Buck. Please stop!” Bucky slings you down next to Steve. “SHUT UP!” Frustration and fear is beginning to show itself in Bucky’s angry voice. “I’m not gonna fight you. You’re my friend.” “You’re my mission!” Bucky begins beating Steve’s face. “You’re my mission!!” He grabs you by the shirt and lifts you, about to throw a fist to your face. “Then finish it. We’re with you to the end of the line.” You look him in his eyes, tears welling up, but refusing to break eye contact with the man that you still loved. You knew that underneath this crazed man was your Bucky, and you would die trying to get that man out. Bucky looks at the two of you, an understanding beginning to show on his face. You screamed as the bottom of the carrier fell out and you and Steve fell into the river. You were only mostly still knocked out as you felt yourself being dragged from the river. Rocks were digging in your back, and you were able to barley make out a man sitting next to you. The man touched your cheek, and whispered, “I know I know you. I don’t know exactly who you are, or who I am, but I am starting to feel like you’re important to me. I’m going to figure this out.” You felt his warm hands leave your face, and the rocks and sand crunched beneath his boots as he walked away.

It was cold when you woke up, turning your head you saw Sam sitting to your right, with Steve on his other side. “On your left.” Steve spoke and Sam smiled, glad to see his friend awake. “Is she okay?” Steve sat up nodding in your direction. “She’s fine. She’s been in and out. She keeps talking about Bucky and how she needed to get to him. I don’t know, she may just be dreaming.”

In a small cemetery, there were five people all standing around a freshly dug grave. “So you’ve experienced this sort of thing before?” Steve glanced up from the stone, “You get used to it.” Natasha handed you a file before kissing Steve on the cheek, “Call that nurse.” The three of you watched as she walked away. You glanced at the file and opened it. Bucky’s face frozen in a crystasis chamber stared back at you. The file snapped shut and found its way into Steve’s hands. “Sam, give us just a minute.” Sam nodded, then walked towards the car. “Sam told me you were talking about Bucky in your sleep. What are you not telling me?” Looking up you smiled, “I can’t dream about my best friend?” Sternly Steve looked down at you, expecting a real answer. Sighing you hugged your arms to your chest and looked off into the distance. “Bucky and I were..closer than you two were. We were just beginning to figure out what we were. That night at the Expo, it was almost like a first date. He told me he loved me. Steve I love him. I did then, I do now. I know you're going to object, but I have to find him. He’s lost, confused. He’s the one that pulled us out of the river.” Steve’s voice dropped to a harsh whisper, “You what? How do you know he’s the one?” Touching your cheek you relayed what Bucky had said, “He said that he knew that he knew me. And that he was going to figure out why he felt like I was so important to him. I’ve got to find him Steve. You had Peggy..I have Bucky.” Steve hugged you tightly, “Please don’t get in over your head. Come with me and Sam for just a little while, learn some more, then go.” Smiling you agreed, “Always looking out for me, should be the other way around.” Steve smiled as the two of you walked to the car. “You might be older, but I’m bigger now.”

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky fluff #bucky x you #marvel #captain america #mcu #sebastian stan #winter solider x you #winter soldier #steve rogers #bucky barnes x reader

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timextoxhajima · 5 years ago

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HOSTIS, Chapter I: Primi Foederis, The First Meeting

Member: Lee Hyunjae (tbz)

Genre (by chapter): angst, drama, comedy featuring doctor hyunjae

Category: Short Novel/ Long Series (because i’m expecting to invest quite a lot of effort into this)

A/N: YEET back with another short novel idk how long this one is going to run. i’m already predicting it’s going to be longer than chaebol juyeon because i have alot of ideas waiting to come out in this one, let’s see if i butcher it LOL. this is the first piece of work i’m posting on tumblr that isn’t part of my playlist feels collection because i don’t think i’ll be able to find a track that fits every chapter well like i’ve been doing for my playlist feels collection. any-o-how, hopefully this is gonna go well... and i’ll see you on the other side ;)

“i’ve invested so much time and effort to make sure i will never have to see you again...”

“but i must’ve done something unforgivable in my past life for fate to put us in the same place,”

“...even after a decade.”

the amygdala helps coordinate responses to things in one’s environment, especially those that trigger an emotional response.

this structure plays an important role in anger.

the rapid, minimal, and evaluative processing of the emotional significance of the sensory data is done when the data passes through the amygdala in its travel from the sensory organs along certain neural pathways towards the limbic forebrain.

emotion caused by discrimination of stimulus features, thoughts, or memories however, occurs when its information is relayed from the thalamus to the neocortex.

based on some statistical analysis, some doctors have suggested that the tendency for anger may be genetic.

but that’s not the case for you.

usually, you’d run your thoughts through your head before you spat them out, but the sight of him was enough to make you want to regurgitate your breakfast.

“you have to be shitting me.”

not one pinch of regret shows in your words, and all you could do was stare in utter disbelief at the man standing right opposite you. the department head had a clipboard in his hand as he flipped through it, only pausing when he heard your cold, yet frustrated tone buried in your expression.

“oh,” he releases the sheets of paper in his hand and places the clipboard down on the table he was leaning on. “so you know each other.”

the gleaming sunlight was shining into the room behind the man standing directly opposite you, and the department head was resting his rear against the edge of the desk between the two of you.

the years of hard work finished themselves as certificates and plaques of achievements that hung on the wall behind him, and from the corner of your eye, you could almost see your own enraged facial expression in the reflection off the awards.

“well, that makes things a lot easier for me, but i am still obligated to facilitate a proper introduction -- meeting -- or whatever the two of you want to call it,” the glasses on his nose would’ve fallen off if he didn’t push them back up his nose bridge.

your eyes were darting back and forth between the department head and the last person you’d ever want to see, or even have within your reach. your jaw was locked and your temples were so tight, you could feel a vein slowly exposing itself on your forehead.

“y/n, this is doctor lee hyunjae, and the both of you will be my mentees for the next two weeks.”

i know his fucking name--

“so until those two weeks are up, i wouldn’t expect anything less than the two of you following me around like little puppies,”

puppies? just call us dogs and that’ll already be half the truth.

“and after that, there’ll be a high chance that you’ll both need work on a research project with the research department--”

“‘research department’?” you blurt out rudely, but the department head doesn’t look like he could care less.

“did i say that wrong?” he raises an indifferent brow at you, arms crossed over his chest while he pulls his shoulder blades backwards.

there was no way you would’ve complained about med school being so difficult if you knew this day was coming. the energy required to contain your desire to punch lee hyunjae in the nose and ram your knee into his groin was enough to drain you in that very moment.

you would’ve passed out if you weren’t standing in the department head’s office.

“i agree it’s not like the hospital to put two young doctors to work on a research project, but the work the both of you did in your respective schools were a little difficult for the research department to ignore.”

‘respective schools’...

the silence becomes deafening, and the department head starts to smack his lips awkwardly loudly. “so if you have no further questions for now, i’d like you to fill up some administrative forms for the hospital to finalise, and then i’ll see you in the cafeteria for lunch at twelve,” he pulls out some sheets of paper from the clipboard and hands it to the two of you after slotting them into clear files.

“after lunch, i’ll give you one more tour around the hospital and a more detailed orientation of the north wing where the research department is... and the east wing where the neurology department is, which the two of you would be officially attached to and on document.”

you skim through the documents in the file, and your eyes naturally travel back up to look at your mentor.

“so if there are no further questions, you may go.”

both you and lucifer bow to your mentor, and he waits for the both of you to leave the office before he returns to his huge leather seat.

you let yourself out the door, not bothering to hold it open for your colleague. the grip on the clear file was tightening every second and you don’t realise you were on the verge of crumpling the contents of it. every muscle and feature on your face were compressed in itself, but luckily it doesn’t catch the attention of passing hospital staff and patients walking along the hall way.

the reflection off the frame of the lift tells you that your lips were white from the airtight closure, and you jab the lift button like you hated it.

“just so you know, i’m not fond of the idea of being stuck with you for an indefinite amount of time either.”

“ha,” you scoff, watching him stand a safe distance behind you in the reflection. “i must be so lucky for you to be able to read my expression and distaste... especially with how hard i tried to hide it.”

he snorts behind you, and the air hits the hair of your ponytail.

“you’ve never been able to hide your feelings anyway,”

this piece of--

“so it would be such an honor to even see you try.”

your eye twitches and your lips pucker in rage at the smug tone in his voice. you turn on one heel and raise the file, ready to swing it into his face.

“you--”

he grabs your wrist, waiting for your strength in your forearm to dissipate. you begin to writhe your way out of his grip with pursed lips, and he drops it like it wasn’t attached to you.

you take a step back towards the lift and mindlessly pat down your white coat, glaring at him with eyes you wish had daggers.

“nice to know your temper hasn’t changed.”

“i have a designated type of temper when it comes to you, not because i have anger management issues.”

the lift arrives and the doors open to reveal an empty space, pouring a bucket full of agony and scorn over your head when the realisation of being stuck with lee hyunjae for an indefinite amount of time sinks into your neurons.

just being around lee hyunjae was so difficult to swallow.

if you weren’t in a hospital with patients who had an actual reason to throw up, you would’ve done it in plain sight.

if you knew there were no laws to sentence you to death for murder, you would’ve stabbed him in the eye.

if you weren’t a doctor who took a pledge to only save lives just under a week ago, you would’ve poisoned him with some godforsaken virus mankind has found a way to contain.

you would’ve enjoyed lunch and the tour of the hospital, despite it being your third time wandering around the compound, if it weren’t for the fact that the last person you wanted to see was standing right next to you the entire duration.

becoming a doctor was nothing short of prestige and honour for your family, especially when you’ve come from a long line of neurosurgeons and relatives who would’ve spent more time inhaling the scent of a certain hospital than their own homes.

it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that it was in your blood to follow in everybody else’s footsteps; your parents would’ve probably freaked out and started worrying that you were someone’s secret illegitimate child if you didn’t become one.

“you must be y/n,” the doctor who had white hair and a wrinkly forehead had to be peeled and shoved off the seat by your mentor for him to get up and greet you.

“this is doctor kim, head of research for neurology,” your mentor introduces as doctor kim shakes your hand.

“and you must be lee hyunjae,” he shakes lucifer’s hand.

‘petty’ was a word nobody usually associated you with, but you busked in the little sprinkle of glory and smugness when you see lee hyunjae’s lips twitch in disgust when he shakes the hand that just touched yours.

“if you’re working on research, then you will report to doctor kim--”

“i’ve seen both your reports and research work and they are phenomenal--”

“uh, doctor kim--”

“how did oxford manage to come up with this set of data?” he literally sweeps his bony, wrinkled hands across the table, looking for something you assume he took from lucifer’s application portfolio.

“doctor--”

“and how did harvard even think about this link? it’s so mind-boggling, i must admit i haven’t really wrapped my head around it--”

“doctor kim!”

the sharp call startles you, and everybody else in the office turns to provide the group of you their attention.

“sorry,” your mentor raises his hand and gives a small apologetic bow. “doctor kim,” he gently removes the items the old research doctor has grasped in his hands and places them elsewhere on the table.

you note that though doctor kim does not look a day older than sixty, he must’ve been losing his brain cells and composure from all the research he’s been doing.

“the two of them will be officially placed in the neurology department under me, but do you remember that email you sent to me about wanting them to join your team?”

“of course! what do you treat me as?” the elder man frowns and pulls off his glasses, fists resting on his hips and looking up at your mentor.

the sight lifts your spirits a little, and you momentarily forget that lucifer was standing right next to you.

“uh-- okay, well, all you gotta do is drop me an email about one week prior to whenever you need them, but for these two weeks they are still going to be trainees mentored by me, you follow?”

the elder man squints at him with eyes that scream ‘i’m not an idiot’, and your mentor takes the cue.

“after the two weeks are up, just drop them an email one week prior to when you need them and you can cc them to me. they may be bright lights in the dark but it might not necessarily guide the right people.”

“will you shut your trap--” the elder doctor picks up a thick file and rams it into your mentor’s head. your eyes widen in shock, hand flying up to your mouth to hide your surprise at the sudden attack. lucifer stands by and crosses his arms over his chest, a light smile appearing over his lips.

“with enough honing and experience, they can go a long way,” he drops the file back onto his table. “you didn’t start here with as much potential as these kids do.”

“okay!” your mentor exclaims, turning around and waving the two of you away from the office space. “if that’s all doctor kim, we’re going to take our leave!”

“you better not let those kids think i’m a crazy old man!” he waves the thick file at all of you, and you give him a little wave while your mentor ushers the both of you out of the office space.

a laugh escapes your nostrils, and your mentor looks down at you with a look of embarrassment while the three of you return to the lift lobby.

“are you two close?” lucifer asks, pressing the button on the lift panel.

“he was my mentor when i first came here as a trainee, so he’s been looking after me since then, even after i stopped being his mentee.”

“oh,” you nod. “that’s nice.”

“well, he is getting on with age,” the lift arrives and he pauses while the hospital staff exit. someone in the crowd greets him.

you and lucifer follow him inside, and he presses the button of the floor that connects the north wing to the east wing.

“so it’s only a matter of time before he retires. i don’t want the hospital to be the last place he’s in and i don’t want the last time he was seen... alive... to be him burying his nose in his research papers. he doesn’t have his own family so he’s either alone at home or in the office and working until someone chases him home.”

“hasn’t the hospital or... i don’t know... you, talked to him about retiring?”

the lift doors open, and you notice the pause in the air.

lucifer’s question struck a chord somewhere, and your mentor was showing it.

“both the hospital and i have talked to him about it, but it’s not easy leaving a place you love working in...”

a pause.

“or at least a place you’ve been working it for more than forty years.”

he brings the both of you to the neurology department and returns the two of you to your neighbouring offices after he concludes the orientation and tour.

the scent of the hospital would’ve been nauseating for some people, patients especially. but there was something about the way the place smelled that convinced you becoming a doctor was worth the effort and hard work.

the way the air smelled like medicine and iv disinfectant made you hopeful for patients, the obligation for every surface to be spick and span never failed to satiate your need for hygiene.

you were finally in a place you wanted to be.

the only downfall was that you were going to be stuck with lucifer for how long, you don’t even know.

“so that concludes the tours and orientation. i hope it was adequate and even if it wasn’t, don’t hesitate to drop by my office and ask me anything you deem important enough to ask. otherwise you can just email me,” he slides his hands into his coat pockets.

the two of you bow, ready to admire his back leaving the two of you before you could roll your eyes at each other.

but he doesn’t leave.

“but before i go,” he raises a single pointer in the air, his other hand still in the pocket. “i’d like the both of you to know that the hospital has no space for... a lack of professionalism.”

you bite down on your bottom lip, slightly embarrassed.

lucifer wasn’t going to let this go.

“everybody has their differences, so i hope while the two of you have yours, it won’t affect your work here. the two of you are promising, and doctor kim wasn’t lying when he said the two of you have more potential than me when i first joined the hospital. with enough experience, the both of you could reach heights even i can only dream of.”

“oh, you flatter us,” lucifer provides a humble chuckle and waves it off.

fake ass.

“i give credit where it’s due,” he returns his hand to the pocket. “so don’t prove me wrong.”

he doesn’t wait for either of you to respond before he walks off. the atmosphere hanging between the two of you was so still, so cold, so frozen, you were almost afraid that if you moved first, he was going to burst into some maniacal laughter.

you suck in a deep breath, your eyes fluttering shut as the cold air sours your nose. the inhalation causes a sharp ache in your chest, not that it bothered you.

“if he says that we both have potential, then i guess that puts us on the same pedestal.”

light seeps in through your lids and you watch the other hospital staff walk in and out of the office, his words running into your ear canals and sinking into the flesh of your brain.

your hear lucifer turn around, and the pens in his pockets click against each other upon his movement. your eyes fixate on a clock on the wall opposite you and beyond some smaller cubicles. the red, digital numbers hanging right between the two lifts glaring at you like a demon’s eyes.

you hear the door of his office click and the friction of the rubber on the bottom of the glass door brushes against the carpeted floor.

“you know,”

you sense the stoppage in his movements upon hearing the sudden words leaving your lips.

“i’ve invested so much time and effort to make sure i will never have to see you again...”

a smile of pain and despair pulls the corners of your lips up your cheek, and you turn your head enough to see him in the corner of your eye.

“but i must’ve done something unforgivable in my past life for fate to put us in the same place.”

you turn back and look at the clock, everyone’s movements within your field of vision slowing down.

“...even after a decade.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 2: Antiquum Fabulum

#timetohajima #lee hyunjae #hyunjae #the boyz #the boyz hyunjae #doctor hyunjae #angst #drama #comedy #what #timetohajima hostis

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astringofmadhousefloozies · 4 years ago

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Sardines, or Professor Vargas is an Asshole

Another fic from someone who’s only half-read everything. Told in second person, starring a female Yuu.

Content warnings for coarse language, kidnapping, sexual harassment along the lines of Vargas being similar to Gaston, and being deeply, direly self indulgent.

As always, please let me know if you enjoyed it, I live and breathe for positive feedback.

You do not like Professor Vargas, and the feeling is mutual.

It wasn't like the almost amiable vitriol between you and Schonheit, which, while having its ups and downs, was usually at a level of shooting a few insults at each other in between whatever dorm prefect business had you talking to each other, and parting ways with a hair flip on his part and a rude hand guesture on yours. And hell, the other teachers seemed almost fond of you. Trein appreciated you passion for history, even if annoyed at your preference for layman-oriented literature, and would let you sound off about whatever strange bit of lore you'd recently found out, and even once down and listened very patiently as you tried to explain who Emperor Norton was before he said you needed to leave so he could mark papers. Crewel and you had reached an uneasy truce where he did not call you a puppy, and you did not start going "what happens when these go together" in potions class every time he called you that in protest. (You may be a bitch, but he certainly isn't allowed to imply it, even in the most roundabout of ways.)

But Vargas. Vargas hates your soft belly, your unwillingness to push yourself to the point of exhaustion, and most of all, he really, really hates that you're a girl that won't throw herself at his feet. You were trundling along at a swift walking pace on a broom, a mere few feet off the ground, when he stopped yelling at your classmates to pick on you instead.

"Too weak to do better than that?"

"I'm not magic. That I can do this at all is impressive." You're pointedly looking ahead, not looking at him jogging up beside you.

"You can go higher!"

"Professor," you say with barely contained irritation, "I am a beginner, and would much rather have the basics down before I attempt to turn myself into a fine paté from a hundred feet up."

He snorted. "Ashengrotto goes high; you can too."

"Azul's damn near in tears by the time he comes down because he didn't even have legs before a few years ago. He's not a good example."

Vargas, being a wretched asshole who should not be allowed to teach, instead tipped the end of your broom up. Only the broom shot into the air, you merely went ass-over-teakettle onto the grass, and stayed there because if you got up you would attempt to bite his nose clean off.

"Such poor balance! But I can fix that with some private lessons!" Oh, Christ. "You come by here after dark, I know all about teaching a girl how to ride -”

At that, you kicked him in the shin, and while he started back in pain, you shot up and started walking off the field, vibrating with the strength of your disgust.

"You can't hit a teacher! You'll regret this you stupid-" And you've picked up to a jog, because fuck if you were going to listen to that piece of shit try and pick up one of his own fucking students, what the actual fuck.

~*~*~*~

You relayed this whole mess across the supper table, afterwards, and your host was just as grossed out as you were.

"Keep an eye out next class," Azul said to you. "He holds a grudge."

"First hand knowledge?”

His silence was telling.

"You think I could get an exemption? Or like, permission to do a treadmill when everyone's out on a broom?"

"Who do you think you have to ask about all fitness-related things?" Azul had a faraway look that recalled war films. "It's not going to work.”

"What if I start skipping class?"

He gave you a look that could wither an evergreen. "Don't you dare, or he'll start picking on me again."

You shrugged. "Aight. I got three days to figure out what to do, then. You got any ideas?”

He folded his hands and rested his head upon them. "What would you pay?"

"No."

"Come on."

"What do I even have that you want?"

"I can think of a few things. The wave in your hair, or the gleam off your teeth."

"Because you need more curl to your hair."

"Someone might want to contract me for them."

"No. I got three days, Azul, we don't have to resort to your contracts.”

As it turned out, you did not have three days.

~*~*~*~

The next day's gym class was a motley bunch. Idia couldn't miss any more gym days this month, Lilia was doing his stretches, Floyd was... being Floyd, resulting in everyone who wasn't Rook giving him a wide berth, and Leona appeared to be skipping class and was therefore not present for the upcoming bullshit.

"Sorry I'm late!" Cater jogged in, cheery as sunshine though the clouds, and Idia rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn't strain. "Laps today?"

"Vargas said we're doing Capture the Flag. Dunno how the teams'll go." Lilia was doing something complicated with his hands as he stretched his arms. "Kingscholar's absent, so they'll be uneven. And," he thumbed over at Rook, who was looking into the forest with the coiled intensity of a greyhound waiting for the rabbit to spring, "he's got an advantage, he knows the woods best."

"Yeah, but I've got unlimited data and a GPS." Cater patted his chest with a smile, the outline if his phone visibly through a pocket.

"Can't count on that for everything."

"Alright students!" yelled Vargas, strolling out of the woods with a bruise purpling one cheek. "Capture the Flag today. Use your brooms to navigate the forest, grab the flag, whoever brings it back gets the flag as a prize."

"It's in the forest, hanging from a pole in a clearing, you cannot miss it! All in white, too..." The professor brought up a little screen, showing off a live feed of his flag.

The flag, of course, was you, trussed up with rope and you legs hanging freely, still in last night's sleep shirt. Your voice came out, tinny from the speakers: "I did not consent to this, asshole."

The students were torn between looking at Vargas in shock, looking at the phone in shock, and muttering between themselves.

"Don't forget to have all the fun you want with the flag before you bring it back to me! When else will you get the chance?"

This just had everyone looking at each other with shifty-eyed suspicion.

"Every man for himself! Go get your prize!"

~*~*~*~

Vargas couldn't rig worth a damn. You're twenty feet in the air with just one rope suspending you, tied at the base with a simple knot. Everything hurt from chafing, you were cold, and you couldn't help but worry over what the hell was going to happen, depending on who found you. Vil still hadn't forgiven you for projecting a gorefest of a film across the walls of Pomefiore, so he might leave you to rot or use the situation to put a particularly vicious curse on you. Idia would probably drop dead of exhaustion after reaching you, leaving you both stuck. Floyd, well. As much as you enjoyed his company, it was like hand feeding a pet tiger; eventually he'll decide your hands tastes better, it's just a matter of when. You're running the numbers on most likely scenarios based on who shows up, when some twigs snap by the meadow's edge and you look towards a small "Hi."

Little ears! Little hands! Little all over, and looking up at you with curiousity as his tail swished. Chen'ya? No, no, other Ch- name. "Cheka! Hi, sweetie, honey, baby, can you get me down?" You'd already been here an hour and your hands were nothing but tingles.

"... Okay! Why're you up there?"

"Bad man," you say as he starts to tug at the rope. "You got it?"

He shook his head. "It's hard."

"Can you go get help, honey? Bring them back to get me down?"

He nodded. This was a big boy job, he could do it. "I'll get Uncle Leona."

Please don't, you thought to yourself, but instead said "Okay, please be quick, Cheka."

He started off towards the school, and you could have sworn he vanished before he actually hit the treeline.

~*~*~*~

He was only gone for a few minutes before you realized that you were starting to move. Turns out Cheka, despite being so small, had pulled enough at the rope before he left that the knot was unraveling.

"Oh shi-" is as far as you got before you're in freefall, and you yelped as you hit the ground feet first, wheezing. Fuck. You can barely move to survey the damage, because a certain asshole had put your hands behind your back, and every move made your ankles wail in pain. The only saving grace was that the ground was soft.

At least someone had landed by you, looking you up and down.

"... Hi, Yuu."

"... Hi, Lil."

Lilia pointed up. "You're supposed to be up there."

"Vargas was too busy trying to get upskirts to secure a fucking knot, apparently." You wince as he worked at the ropes. "My feet?"

"On the right way." You gritted your teeth and hissed as he prodded at them. "Both badly sprained, left worse than right. You're not walking out of here."

"Figured." You sat up and held your arms out. "Come on, old man, you're stronger than you look."

He was, but was too small to leverage you correctly.

"Can't you fly?"

"Yes," He said as he tried to balance you on the broom.

"Then carry me.”

"You want me to drop you?"

"Nope."

"Do we just wait for the others?"

As if on cue, you heard distant yelling and what was maybe an explosion.

"Yeah." Lil brightened, and snapped his fingers. "I saw a place, hold on."

Said place was either a nice treehouse or an okay deer blind, wide enough in the floor that you could lay flat out as he surveyed the damage. "This should be a good place."

"What the hell is going on out there?”

"Everyone's looking for you." Lil's settled crosslegged, with an amused smile. "Vargas said you're the prize, so everyone's trying to get here first. Isn't it good I found you? Who knows what they're planning."

You set your arm over your eyes and sighed. "Brave words from someone who's broken into my room more than once."

He shrugged. "You need looking after."

"De-organizing my things isn't looking after, you damned goblin."

He bristled. "I'm not a goblin."

"What is a goblin, Lilia."

"Small little fae who like to cause trouble."

"Exactly."

You couldn't see it, but you could feel the eye-roll.

~*~*~*~

It was five minutes at the most after that before Rook climbed in the door, looking so fresh-faced and joyful to see you it made you want to swat him. "Bonjour, my Trickster! You're living up to your name, hidden away!"

"Salut, Rook." You squinted at him. "You have first aid anything?"

"Hm," He said, prodding at your calf. "I have water, but these need wrapped."

"Give." Lilia took a sip of water before passing it to you. "The uniform denim won't tear easily-”

"Oh, we use this."

"Oh no you do not," You said as you tugged the hem of your sleep shirt from his hand. "No one here gets to see my underwear."

"I don't care about your panties, I care about this," he said as he brushed an ankle, making you jerk back. "It'll get worse if they aren't wrapped. There is fabric to spare.”

You huffed before you told him not to mention it to Vil, and between him and Lilia, you had two wrapped ankles and a dangerously short hemline. At least you'd actually put underwear on before Vargas decided to kidnap you, otherwise this would be a whole other level of distressing.

~*~*~*~

"You have a phone?"

Lilia pulled his from a hidden pocket. "You want to play Sweetie Scrunch?"

"No," You say as you take it from him and start flipping through his contacts. "I'm calling help."

It took him a whole three seconds before he realized who help was. "... Nope, nope, you're not getting Malleus involved, he will eat Vargas alive, we are not causing an international incident."

"Would you rather he find out after? And he knows how to heal." You'd already texted him a brief explanation one handed, the other keeping Lilia away.

"She is not wrong, monsieur... And it would be a delight to see him raise hell."

"See?" You gave Lilia a smile that would be very sweet if it wasn't full of the devil. "C'est bon."

~*~*~*~

Mal hurtled through the window so fast it was a miracle he didn't go clean through the far wall, before he was on top of you, fussing over his precious Child of Man.

"Mal, I am fine, please fix my -"

"Dreadful, simply dreadful." He was already working a prickly green light around your bruises. "And he did that, too?" he growled as he guestured to your ragged hemline."

"No, we did that to wrap my ankles. As much as I'd love to see it, we do not need to turn Vargas into - Mal. Mal. Put your clothing back-" He'd already managed to wrap you up in his green-trimmed uniform coat. "You don't have to do that."

"Yes I do." He already had you cradled in his lap, both arms around you in a vice grip. "You won't heal immediately, I must keep you safe until then.”

Lilia raised an eyebrow at him, but said nothing. You were about to ask, before a dreadful wheezing started up from outside, and familiar pale hands had the bottom of the doorframe in a vice grip. "Help."

"Shit, Idia! Get him in here before he falls!"

~*~*~*~

Idia looked downright grey in your arms as you tried to get him to drink some water. For someone who had the physical fortitude of an overboiled noodle, he'd pushed himself to his limits looking for you, and then some.

"You're okay? Full health?" Idia sounded horribly raspy, and you fussed over his scrapes as you picked half-charred twigs from his hair. He was too tired to protest you holding onto him in much the same manner Malleus was holding onto you.

"Bout three-quarters. Fifty before Mal got here." Idia's eyes flicked to just behind your left ear before he shrank back.

You turned your head around, and Mal gave you his sweetest you're-my-best-friend smile. You looked back at Idia, who was attempting to shrink into something microscopic, and then back at Mal.

"Play nice. He's my friend too."

Mal turned his face as innocent as he could muster. "Whatever do you mean, my friend?"

"You know what I mean."

"I do not." He wasn't looking at your face anymore.

"Yes you do. And he's you're friend too-"

Idia raised one hand tentatively. "We only play Dragon-Kun with each other."

You guestured down at Idia, still looking at Mal, looking anywhere but you. "You love your Dragon-kun. And maybe," you say as you nudge Malleus's cheek, "If you made more friends than me, you wouldn't have to be jealous when I have other friends?"

Mal's pupils were so narrow as to be barely visible when he glanced out of the corner of his eye at you, but he nodded, and mumbled a very quiet apology as Idia faintly relaxed.

"Impressive. I haven't been able to do that in years."

"That's because you're his dad."

"Do you think anyone else will show up, my Trickster? It's getting cramped in here."

You looked around and considered. "I mean, probably."

~*~*~*~

"Sevens?"

"Go fish."

"And that's when they added a dance emote, but it cause a glitch so the top half of your body started to spin around while the bottom half went normally, which would be okay, but if you collide with a wall then you clip about a mile above the ground and die from fall damage, and when they went to fix that -"

There were eight people in the treehouse, and no room for more. Mal had you in his lap in a corner. Idia was gesticulating wildly as he talked about what you were sure was this universe's version of Fallout 76, tucked against you at an angle. Floyd insisted on you using his lap as a footrest while he, Lilia and Cater played card games with an ancient deck Lilia had produced from another pocket. (You were not certain that Floyd's guesture was innocent, since he kept poking at your toes until you said you'd take them away if he didn't stop.) Rook was skipping this round to keep an eye out the window. There was maybe a half foot total of floor showing. Despite the magic fired and fists swung earlier, as soon as everyone had realized that no one was running to your rescue simply to perform their own indignities, everyone had relaxed.

Overall, it was very cozy, and as long as you could keep Idia talking instead of realizing he was crammed in a tiny room with a whole bunch of people, you could stay here quite comfortably for ages. Your ankles were currently only sore, with twinges of more, no one was at each other's throats, and as long as no one else fucked shit up, you could wait out Vargas, go home, and think about how in the hell you can report a teacher at this school for harassment.

"Trouble's coming."

Ah, shit.

Trouble, unfortunately, had figured out where they were due to the cluster of broomsticks at the base of the tree, flew to the window, and started spewing bullshit.

"What are you all doing? You abandoned the game," and here he guestured towards you, "and didn't come back with the prize. None of you would know what to do with a girl if she begged you!"

What a piece of shit, and he couldn't even read a room with eight sets of eyes glaring murder at him. He was still talking, but you weren't paying attention. Instead, you drained the last of the water, wiped your mouth on your arm, and took a deep breath.

"Get his ass."

~*~*~*~

Everyone scattered after that, not ready to deal with the consequences of ganging up on their teacher, even if he thoroughly deserved it. Everything will be dealt with tomorrow, when you can put weight on your legs without your knees buckling. Mal was walking you out of the woods personally in a princess carry, when he stopped in place.

"See, she's down, you didn't have to bug me."

You'd completely forgotten that Cheka had gone to bug Leona for help. "It's been hours."

He ignored that. "Draconia. What would your grandma say?"

"Mal-"

"I would hope she would be proud of my helping a friend." He held his head high, and brushed by Leona without another word.

"Bye!"

"Bye Cheka." You waved back at Cheka before the two lions were out of sight.

~*~*~*~

"Mal, you know you could just take me to my dorm, right?"

"Someone should keep an eye on you until you are fully healed," he said as he pulled out a pair of silk pajamas.

"Which you could do at my dorm, instead of." You guestured to the hangings on his bed. "Here."

"It's far more comfortable here than your dorm."

"I'm not kicking you out of your bed, Mal."

"You're not in a state to argue." He set the pajamas beside you, before turning to face the wall.

"About that."

He did not move a muscle.

"I'm surprised you didn't just heal them outright."

Silence.

"I know perfectly well that you can. So why didn't you?"

He still said nothing.

"Be that way, Malleus. But you know that's not okay." You flung the remains of your shirt at him, managing to catch it on one horn. "If you want me to stay over, just say that instead of conspiring to keep me dependent for an evening."

He turned, pulling the cloth from his horns, before his eyes nearly popped from his head and he hurriedly turned back to the wall. "I... am not used to this."

"Neither am I. We're going to have to have a little talk about boundaries and healthy friendships. You can turn around now."

He did, you patted the side of his bed, and he joined you.

"How do you want to do this, Mal."

"I do not."

"Tough titty, said the kitty."

He raised an eyebrow.

"I know I'm the first real friend you've had. I've been on both ends of that. You know what happens when you cling real fucking hard to your friend, and try to isolate them because you don't wanna share?"

His face was a practiced mask of emotionlessness. "What is that?"

"They suffocate, and draw away because the intensity is way too much. And then no one's happy."

Mal frowned, but said nothing.

"I do want to be your friend. I like you. You're funny, you're deeply sincere, and you're still the same person I knew when I just called you Horned Boy. But I will cut this off if you try to isolate me. I do not want to, but I will have to. If you can't play nice with others, you don't get to play with me at all."

He's so clearly trying to hide his distress and irritation, but he could not help a sigh. "You are not wrong, Child of Man. And..." He looked away. "You won't live forever. Or be here forever, at that."

"I will not. You won't either, but like, you'll outlive me. Eggs in one basket, and all. Another reason to attempt to make more friends."

"Hm." He stretched out beside you, staring at the ceiling. "With who should I start? My reputation precedes me."

"Well," you smiled, "If I've learned one thing, forced proximity does wonders with forcing Idia to like you, and he's already somewhat used to you."

He smiled at the ceiling. "I do like him."

"Me too. You'd like his little brother."

"The creation?”

"Yeah. Look, I'll network for you with other people. And I'll make sure to invite you places."

"A promise?"

"Of course. Now, are you going to take me home, or put up with the rumours of keeping me in your room all night after beating up Vargas to get at me?"

"... Oh dear."

"Yeah."

After a moment, "... I am alright with the rumours."

You snorted. "You could just ask for a sleepover next time. Don't wait for an injury."

"I will ask."

"Make sure Sebek doesn't eat me in the morning."

"I would like to see him try." He gripped your closest hand and squeezed it.

"Me too."

You lay there a few moments, scary lonely dragon boy and strange lonely human kid, hand in hand.

"Do you have any tales from your home you could tell me?"

"Mostly ones you already kind of know."

"I would still like to hear."

Even a dragon wants a bedtime story, it seems.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland fanfiction #twst fic #malleus draconia

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imanativeofswlondondahling · 5 years ago

Text

Becoming A Stark? (12) - Peter Parker x Stark! femReader

Word Count: 4014

Warnings: Mention of needles, swearing

Author Note: Lots of Peter, Tony, and Pepper. All my favorites. Enjoy! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! Next update will be this weekend- after my finals are done hopefully.

Chapter One || Previous Chapter || Master List

Your dad has never seen you do a pump change or a sensor change. Honestly all the supplies live in your room so it’s just easier for you to do it there. But after Peter and him finished in the lab on Friday, Pepper asked Peter if he wanted to stick around for dinner, which then turned into him staying to watch a movie with you, Pepper, and Tony. But in the middle of Labyrinth, which is your favorite movie, your sensor fails. “Goddamn it Wallace.” You mutter looking at your phone screen, displaying the replace sensor now message as Chilly Down plays in the background.

“What’s wrong?” Tony asks you before speaking to FRIDAY. “FRI- pause the movie.” Sarah and all the swamp creatures, if you can call them that stop moving as your dad’s attention is focused on you. “You high? You low? Tell me what’s happening?” He asks.

“Sensor failed. Like five days early too.” You reach under your shirt and pull off the sensor that isn’t doing anything for your now. But your nails trace over where the sensor had been. “But the only good thing is I can scratch the itch that has been driving me bonkers.” You admit.

“So what do you need?” You dad has turned his hyperfocus on, but this isn’t something you can’t handle.

“I just have to grab the stuff to change it. Give me like five minutes and I can change it while we watch the movie.”

“I’ll grab some more drinks for everyone while we do.” Pepper says with a smile. “And maybe make some more popcorn too.”

Walking into your bedroom, you open the drawer that’s filled with all your supplies. You grab the four things you need: the sensor, alcohol wipes, a Skin Tac wipe, and an over patch. Oh shit! Your transmitter was supposed to last through this last sensor, so you’ll have to replace that one too. Picking everything up in your hands you make your way back down towards the living room.

“Got enough stuff kiddo?” Your dad asks as you sit back down.

“You should see what it looks like when I have to do a double site change. So much more trash.” You notice Peter has your old sensor in his hand and is turning it over, looking at it from all the angles.

“Sorry.” He mumbles as he notices you staring at him. “I just found it interesting.”

“It doesn’t bug me. It’s trash now.” You lift it from his hand and snap out the transmitter. “This comes apart, since normally you reuse the transmitter for three months at a time. But that one bit the dust with the sensor failing.” You explain before motioning towards the box with the new one.

“And this whole thing reads your sugars?” You nod.

“That wire there gets inserted under the skin into this tissue or something that my lack of science can’t explain. But it reads your fluids or stuff that’s there and reports that data through the transmitter to my pump and to my phone.”

“Do you feel the wire under your skin?” Peter asks.

“Nope. The most I feel from the whole sensor is if I like lay on it wrong, or if I start reacting to the adhesive. Or if I place it in a spot and a door rips it off. That fucking hurts.” You think back to the last time that a door ripped your sensor off and wince slightly.

“Hold on, go back. You react to the adhesive?” Your dad’s voice is suddenly concerned.

“Well I’m allergic to latex and some other adhesives so every now and then I react to the Dexcom adhesive.” You shrug. “That’s why I use these.” You hold up the over patch and the Skin Tac. “They produce barriers and help it stay on long enough.”

“You’re allergic to your medical device and yet you still wear it?” Your dad voices his concern.

“It’s either that or wake up multiple times a night to check my sugars. I’ll take some hives and blisters over that. I like sleeping.” You say with a shrug. Opening the bag that holds the sensor, you lay out all the things that you need for this sensor change. You wipe down your thigh with the alcohol wipe before taking the transmitter out of the box so you can pair it. While it works on pairing, you take the Skin Tac wipe and wipe down the skin so the adhesive can become tacky. While it’s drying, you break off the safety handle off of the sensor.

“What the fuck kiddo? That needle is like six inches long?” Your dad exclaims, seeing it through the plastic inserter.

“Yeah, it has to be so that it can get deep enough for the sensor to work. But it gets pulled out. I can go in the other room if the needle thing is going to be an issue?” You sometimes forget that other people aren’t as calm around needles as you are after ten years of being a diabetic.

“No it’s fine. Stay where you are. I just thought it was something that you like placed on your skin.”

“But how would the wire get into the tissues?” You ask rhetorically. You pull the papers that are blocking the adhesive and lie it down where you want the sensor to go. You’re not going to say anything to Peter or your dad, because their eyes are already on you, but you actually hate plunging this needle down. Place the sensor in the wrong spot and it hurts badly as it plunges through veins and nerves with no mercy. So instead of showing the fear of hoping you’ve picked a good spot, you take a breath, smile at them and say “Three, two, one,” and slam the needle down. “Motherfucker!” You exclaim as you feel it shoot through a nerve. You pull the needle out and rub at the skin around the sensor. Your dad is by your side in seconds, while Peter jumps up, not sure what is causing you pain, but doesn’t want to be the cause of more pain.

“What can I do, bambina?” Your dad asks. Peter’s arms cross as he watches as one of your eyes scrunches up as you continue to rub the same spot on your thigh. Tony’s arm wraps around you once he knows that he won’t hurt you more.

“Nothing. I picked a shit spot to put it. Hit a nerve.” You explain. You put the transmitter in clicking it in, hearing the double click to be sure. And twist off the end piece of plastic. Lastly you add the overpatch that has roses drawn on it to secure it in place. “I’m good now, I promise.” You look up at your dad, seeing that he doesn’t believe you.

“I hate seeing you in pain.”

“It’s part of diabetes. We deal with a lot of pricks.” You joke, but he doesn’t laugh.

“That doesn’t mean I have to like it.” His arms wrap around you and you’re pulled into a crushing hug. “If I could take all the pain for you, I would.” You lean into your dad’s arms.

“Who’s to say I want you in pain?”

“It’s my job to protect you kiddo. You’ve had enough pain. If I want to shoulder it, I should be allowed to.” You rub over the overpatch making sure it’s holding as he talks.

“Or neither of us could hurt and we could finish the best movie of all time.” You say as you hit the buttons to start the warm up period.

“What’s your number?” You shrug.

“Takes two hours to warm up. Testing kit is in my room.” Tony reaches for the drawer in the table. “Last I looked I was solid 180s. I’m fine.”

“You start feeling shaky or anything-”

“We’ll both be shocked, but yes I’ll let you know.” You look at Peter. “You going to stand for the rest of the night?” Tony’s just glad he didn’t jump onto the walls or worse the ceiling. That would have blown the whole Spider-Man thing. Instead he stays focused on the feeling of having you in his arms as Chilly Down starts to play again. He’s a little surprised that Labyrinth is your favorite movie, but he’ll take learning anything about you that he can. And this is one of those little moments that Pepper was talking about you sharing with him. So as the puppets dance around the screen, Tony’s arm holds you closer. You don’t even look up as you scoot closer and lean against his shoulder.

As she walks back in from the kitchen, Pepper snaps a picture of you and Tony from behind the couch. The sight of you curled into his arms is something that he will want forever, but this moment, she wants to stay in as well. Seeing Tony as a dad- it makes her love him that much more.

After last night, Peter doesn’t expect to be back at the tower so soon, especially after spending two days in the lab last week with Mr. Stark, but they’re finally making progress on the new webbing solution, and Mr. Stark said “why don’t you come over tomorrow to keep working on it Pete?” And Peter wasn’t going to turn down the chance to work with Mr. Stark, or a chance to get to see you more. But what he wasn’t expecting to see when he entered the tower was you dancing around the kitchen as you cleaned it. Peter was used to doing chores, sure, what teenager wasn’t? But he never would have though Tony Stark one to make his kids clean house to earn their keep. Honestly, he would have thought Tony Stark would have had someone, or even a robot, to clean for him. However you didn’t seem that worried about cleaning.

“Hey Y/N.”

“Hey Parker. You’re practically living here these days.” You look stunning, even though you’re just in weekend clothing of a tie-dyed shirt with the Mystery Machine printed on it that says Scooby Doo underneath, a pair of jean shorts, and your hair pulled up into a ponytail with a blue scrunchy.

“Your dad and I are trying to finish up a project.”

“Must be important for you to be giving up a Saturday to get it done.” You laugh as you pour some powder cleaner on the counter top before running a sponge over top it. You’re not on the wrong path. The new webbing solution is pretty important.

“The paparazzi would lose their mind if they knew Y/N Stark spends her Saturdays doing chores like the rest of us peasants.”

“Celebrities, they’re just like us.” You smirk. “Unless you’re planning on grabbing a sponge and joining in, you should probably head on down to the lab.”

“See you later Y/N.” You smile as Peter heads out of the kitchen, letting the music of your playlist take over as you keep cleaning. Focusing on something other than the essay you don’t want to write for your science class is nice. Also it seems like no one has cleaned the kitchen since the fight between your dad and the rogue Avengers. Pulling the burners grates off the stove, you see grease and crumbs that could have been easier to clean had someone wrapped the grease trap with tin foil. So it’s time for some tender loving care and jamming out to Carry On My Wayward Son.

“Hi Mr. Stark.” Peter says, not wanting to surprise Tony as he walks into the lab.

“Morning Pete.” Tony takes a sip of the coffee cup to his right as he looks over the numbers on his tablet. “Did you manage to get any sleep last night? Karen said you went patrolling after you left here.”

“I got some sleep.” Peter nods. “Did you? I feel like your whole family has been up since I left last night?”

“We all slept. I think Y/N might still be in bed. She was when I came down here.”

“No, she’s up, working on her chores.” Tony turns from the numbers cranking in front of him, to look at Peter with confusion marking his face.

“She doesn’t have chores.”

“Well she’s upstairs cleaning the kitchen. I just thought she was working on chores, but I guess I guessed wrong.”

“We have people that we can call in. I don’t know why she’s cleaning… You mean like with a sponge and wipes and such?” Tony asks, trying to clarify and Peter nods his head. “She must have her reasons. But I’m not making her do it.”

“I believe you.” Tony turns from the datapad or- as Peter had started calling it since Tony had started tracking Y/N’s blood sugar on it as well- his Dad-apad,

“How do you feel about working on one of the cars while these numbers crunch? We can’t continue on the aspects to add until they finish crunching.”

“Sure Mr. Stark.”

“You can call me Tony kid.”

“I know Mr. Stark.” Tony rolls his eyes at that.

“FRI, turn on Tony Stark Can Rot.” Peter is confused at the name of the playlist, but the songs that start playing sound somewhat familiar. From what he had seen in his time working in the lab, Tony wasn’t one to name his playlists, but to name one so angrily towards himself seems unlike Tony. But Tony doesn’t seem to think anything of it as he climbs under the side of his Audi and calls out for some tools. Peter hands him the wrench and falls into the habit of working with Tony until Friday calls out a while later.

“Boss, Y/N just asked Miss Potts where the first aid kit is.” Tony goes still.

“Stay here.” He leaves the lab without more than the two words.

It was an injury that only you were capable of. How does someone get hurt cleaning? And a paper cut, if you could call it that, on tin foil nonetheless. You didn’t want to bother your dad when he was busy on a project with Peter. Pepper was the easier option since you just don't know where bandages are kept. “FRIDAY can you ask Pepper where we keep a first aid kit?”

A moment later, Pepper is coming down the stairs with one in hand. “We keep a few all over the house. This is from the upstairs bathroom. What did you do?”

“Paper-ish cut.” You should her, removing the paper towel you’re holding over the cut that is bleeding still. “The tin foil attacked me.” You explain as she looks at the small cut.

“Why are we needing first aid kits? No one should be getting hurt.” Your dad’s voice comes from the doorway to the lab and you roll your eyes. Of course FRIDAY had told him.

“Tattletale.” You mutter as Pepper wraps the bandage around your finger.

“If people are asking for first aid kits, I want to know.” Tony defends himself.

“I cut myself on tin foil. It was stupid. I’m fine.”

“Ok, then do you want to explain what’s with the deep cleaning? Peter literally thought I gave you chores. Which is not something that I would make you do. Plus you know we have people who can be called in to clean right?”

“That such a spoiled right person thing to say, you know that right?” You say with a roll of your eyes.

“Avoiding the question.”

“Actually I’m avoiding a biology paper. So I figured cleaning would be a good avoidance technique.”

“Next time you’re avoiding SI business, can you take a page out of her book?” Pepper asks Tony in a teasing tone.

“I build things. It’s productive in it’s own way.”

“You destroy things. That’s different.” Pepper points out. “What’s your biology paper about?”

“Some life cycle bullshit or something.” You turn back to scrub the counter. “I’ve dealt with enough of it that I don’t want to do it. But my choice is write a paper or build a model and that’s not my go to.” You choose to not explain that it’s literally over the one lifecycle of yours that doesn’t work.

“You have a choice to build something and you went against that? Pep, we need to get her tested to make sure she’s my kid.”

“Tony, she literally acts and looks like you. I don’t need to test her DNA to know she’s yours.”

“Is everything ok? Someone dying?” Peter’s voice comes.

“No one’s dying. Just my dad overreacting.” You say. “He could have gone back to the lab ages ago.”

“Why don’t you come with?” Tony suggests and both you and Peter look at him in surprise. However only you voice your surprise. Peter is trying to figure out how to hide Spider-Man if you come down to the lab.

“Why?”

“Because there’s plenty of stuff down there to make a- if I say so myself- bitchin’ science project.”

“But I can also just stay up here and write a paper after I avoid it for a few more hours?”

“Which project is it?” Peter asks, trying to figure out who you have for your science this year.

“Never said I was doing the project.”

“No one ever chooses to do the paper when they have the option to do a project instead.”

“There’s always the chance to be the first.”

“But you’ll score higher with a project. At least there’s the chance to anyway, depending on who your teacher is.”

“Shah.”

“Mr. or Mrs.?” Peter asks.

“Why does that make a difference?”

“Because they grade completely differently.” Peter explains. “Mrs does great experiments but is a harsher grader.”

“Well, I have Mr. Shah so what does that mean?”

“It means you better get started on your project. He hates papers.” Peter says with a tight smile.

“Ugh. But writing a paper all about me was going to be a sinch.” Three pairs of eyes fall on you in confusion. “Endocrine system. Explaining how pretending to be one sucks. It was going to be a great paper.”

“Isn’t there a company that’s in the process of trying to make a closed loop system?” Peter asks, which makes you nod hesitantly. “Why not make a project showing the differences between a closed loop system and what you’re currently doing? Explain why a closed loop system would be so much better.”

“Sorry, maybe I’m the only one lost here-” Pepper starts to ask.

“You’re not.” Tony interrupts.

“-But what’s a closed loop system?” Pepper continues.

“It's a system where basically Wallace and Queenie would basically be able to talk to each other. So if I started rising too high Queenie would be able to give me more insulin. Or vice versa, if I go too low, Wallace would tell Queenie and she would stop giving me insulin. It would hopefully prevent me from going too low or too high as often. Or going low enough that I’d need a glucagon again.”

“How far out are they from that being made?” Tony asks.

“Few years at least. The couple companies that are doing this haven’t even made it to human testing yet.”

“I want-” Pepper interrupts him, already knowing where he’s going.

“Tony, no. SI is not-” Tony cuts her off.

“Why not?” Pepper doesn’t have an answer ready and he plows ahead. “It’s for her. And millions of others. I don’t want to see her in the medbay ever again. Not because I had to stab her with a needle due to her sugars being so low she could die. So why can’t we add this to things we’re working on?”

“Well for one thing, we don’t have the technology to do anything diabetes related.”

“Dad, you’re jumping into something you know nothing about.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time. Wallace and Queenie, what are their companies' names?”

“Why are you going to buy them out?”

“I’m going to see about working with them.”

“Dexcom and Tandem.” You knew there was no stopping him once he was in this mindset. SI was going to be joining the insulin supply game. Especially since Pepper didn’t seem to be trying to stop him either. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes I do!” Tony’s voice explodes from him. “Iron Man can do a lot of things. But I can’t keep your blood sugar stable. I can’t keep it from dropping too low or rising too high. I can’t do anything but watch when you’re shaking from not enough sugar or look like you’re going to fall asleep during the day after you’ve been up all night from your sugars keeping you awake all hours of the night. I can’t take away the pain when your sensor hits a nerve and I can’t take away all the times you have to plunge a needle into your skin to draw blood sample after blood sample. I can’t stop any of that. But this? Science related stuff. This is something I can do for you. I can put the best technology on the market. I can help make sure that your devices are the best possible things so that you have the least amount of pain possible. That’s what I can do for you since I can’t do anything else for you.” As his voice rips out of him, voicing all the things he’s never felt like he could say to you, you inch closer to him. You’ve only had him in your life for a few months now, but you know what you’ve been told is true. Tony loves you a lot. He takes a breath, trying to calm down from his explosion of words. Your arms wrap around him, breathing in the smell you’ve started to associate with your dad. “Kiddo, I…”

“I love you.” You breathe in the smell of the motor oil from the cars he probably had been working on with Peter, the smell of the cologne that he must only lightly mist on because it only lingers along his shirt, and the smell of what must be an aftershave from the almost minty scent to it.

“I love you too kiddo. So much.” The words are spoken softly, left on a puff of air into your hair. His own arms wrap around you, getting slightly tangled in your pump tubing, but ignoring it as he holds you close. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Better than Iron Man?” You tease.

“So much better than Iron Man.”

Across the kitchen, Pepper and Peter are watching the interaction. Peter can’t help but whisper the question he can no longer hold back. “Y/N has gone low enough to need a glucagon?” Pepper nods slowly. Peter must have been doing some research about your condition.

“It’s only happened once since she moved in. But it scared him. Worse than anything Iron Man related.”

“From what I was reading, that’s supposed to be a, like, last resort type thing.”

“It was a last resort thing. I wasn’t there when he gave it to her. But from what I heard, she was unconscious, having seizures and very low.”

“Could she have died?” Peter doesn’t want to know the answer, but feels like he needs to know.

“If she had been alone, possibly. But she wasn’t. She was with Steve, Clint, and Natasha, who then called Tony.”

“So this was before…” Peter trails off, knowing that Y/N only knows so much about what happened in Germany. Pepper nods.

“She hasn’t seen them since. But I know they would do anything for her again. If Tony would let them near her.” Peter nods, knowing from spending time with Tony and you that Tony would let the world burn if it saved you. You are his child. Which made the feelings Peter has for you harder to manage, because Tony would murder Spider-Man before letting his daughter near the superhero.

Permanent tag list: @wormonastringonastick

Becoming A Stark Tag list: @persephonehemingway @iamaunicorn4704 @furiouspockettoad @daughter-of-stark @eternalharry @huntective-kyeo @riiis-stuff @sunnyoongles @cosmicqueenieb @sovereignparker @bbarnestan @teenwishes08

#peter parker #peter parker fan fic #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fan fiction #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x reader #Tony Stark #tony stark can't be dead if you just don't let yourself believe it #tony stark daughter #tony stark x daughter!reader #tony stark x daughter!you #Pepper Potts #peter parker imagine #imanativeofswlondondahling #becoming a stark?

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mr-entj · 5 years ago

Note

Hello Mr. Entj! I hope you’re well. I have a request, can I please ask about your LinkedIn profile? Please don’t worry I won’t send you a request or share it with anyone. I want to check your experiences and how you wrote about them. I’m truly inspired by you and I feel like you’ve opened my eyes for certain matters and motivated me even though I have been suffering from depression for years now so it’s hard for me to always put my head up and feel hopeful! Thank you for everything :)

I’m well, thank you, and I’m glad to hear you’re finding motivation despite still battling depression. Never stop fighting.

To your question, I don’t publicly post personal identifiable information on Tumblr, but I’ll share how my LinkedIn profile is set up by highlighting the 4 main sections every LinkedIn profile should have and provide concrete examples to help illustrate my point.

LinkedIn 101: Building your profile

1. About

What goes in this section:

A 1-3 paragraph professional summary. Use short and concise sentences with bullet points to highlight your professional background, don’t hit people with an autobiographical length wall of text with personal details.

This section includes: who you are, your work experience, what you’re good at, what you can do for potential employers, and what you’re looking for in your next position if you’re job hunting. Add skills, specialties, areas of expertise, etc.

If job hunting, tailor this section to your target role (the role that you want) and not your current role (the role that you have).

What doesn’t go in this section:

Referring to yourself in a cringey third-person voice (ex: ”Jane is a graphic designer. She has a degree from American University.”). You don’t have multiple personality disorder, and even if you did, tell whichever personality writing your LinkedIn profile not to do this.

Personal details (ex: ”I have 2 kids and a rottweiler named Ben”). I’m sure Ben is adorable, but LinkedIn isn’t the place for that.

Political preferences and views (ex: ”Trump is an asshole!”). This will hurt instead of help your chances of finding a job, not necessarily because people disagree with your political views (they may actually agree with you), but because it shows poor judgment in publicly posting something like that in the first place.

Example:

I am a Junior Partner at McKinsey & Company with 10+ years of experience delivering strategy and operations engagements to Fortune 500 health care and life science clients in the United States and European market. I help executives identify growth opportunities and unlock operational potential through digital innovation.

My passion is in creating systems and innovative processes to deliver high quality and affordable health care services to the vulnerable and underserved populations.

My areas of expertise include:

Digital strategy

Organizational change

Process improvement

Performance improvement

Systems implementation

In my spare time, I sit on the Board of Women in Tech where I champion initiatives to mentor and grow the next generation of female leaders. I graduated from Yale University with a Master of Business Administration and the University of California-Los Angeles with a Bachelor of Science in Business-Economics.

2. Experience

What goes in this section:

All the companies you’ve worked for that are relevant to your current career. Add a few sentences describing the specific teams you’ve worked on and what they do because outsiders wouldn't have any idea.

Your exact titles. Don’t lie or embellish this. Recruiters searching for talent will reach out under the impression you hold the titles you’ve listed because they signal years of experience. It’ll also be reflected in the background check.

If you have less than 2 years of work experience, add:

Internships and university experience. Highlight what projects you worked on, what they accomplished, and what your role was. Be sure to define acronyms before using them.

What doesn’t go in this section:

Resume-style bullet points of your tasks and/or achievements. A LinkedIn profile is not a digital resume, don’t treat it as such. Resumes are submitted to websites and/or recruiters and should be customized for the target role. If you list all your tasks and/or achievements on a LinkedIn profile, you become locked into one type of professional profile and won’t be able to tailor your narrative for specific roles. A resume is a separate document.

Jobs that have no relevance to your target career. Don’t add the summer job at Jane’s Frozen Yogurt Shop if you’re searching for UX designer opportunities in tech unless you actually did UX design work for Jane’s Frozen Yogurt Shop. Only add experience that’s relevant.

Client information. Don’t publicly name clients without permission, ever.

Example:

McKinsey & Company - Junior Partner (January 2019 - Present)

McKinsey & Company is an international management consulting firm with more than fifty offices in twenty-five countries. One of the five largest consulting services in the United States, it specializes in problem solving and program implementation, primarily for corporate clients.

Member of the Digital Innovation team leading health care and life sciences clients in systems implementation and optimization initiatives.

Tumblr - Senior Product Manager (January 2017 - January 2019)

Tumblr is an American microblogging and social networking website founded by David Karp in 2007. As of August 12, 2019, Tumblr hosts over 475 million blogs and has over 500 million monthly visitors.

Member of the UX Product team responsible for building and launching new features on the platform such as chat, video uploads, and interface updates.

3. Education

What goes in this section:

The schools you’ve attended. Add undergraduate and graduate schools only, don’t add community college or high school unless they’re your highest levels of education.

Your degree and major. Self-explanatory.

If you have less than 2 years of work experience, add:

Latin honors (ex: summa cum laude, magna cum laude, cum laude)

Clubs (ex: Sororities, fraternities)

Awards (ex: Dean’s List)

Scholarships (Ex. Fullbright Scholarship, Presidential Scholarship)

What doesn’t go in this section:

GPA. No one cares.

Test scores (ex: SAT, LSAT, GMAT). No one cares.

Certificates from MOOCs. Put them in the Licenses and Certifications section.

4. Skills & Endorsements

What goes in this section:

Your professional skills (ex: Data analysis, project management, financial modeling, graphic design, UX design, research design, SQL, C++, etc.).

Look up people with the role you want and copy their skills as a good start. Skills are one thing used by recruiters to search for candidates.

What doesn’t go in this section:

Your personal skills or hobbies (ex: Cooking, juggling, yo-yo-ing). It’s LinkedIn, not eHarmony.

#linkedin #job hunting #career #careers #work #job #jobs #money #college #university #graduation #interview #CV #resume #faq #resources

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mattzerella-sticks · 4 years ago

Text

Heart Eyes, Motherfucker (ao3 link)

Izuku knows that where Mei goes, trouble follows. And what Mei creates, will ultimately come back to bite him in the ass. Which is why he's wary when she comes to him, seeking help for an assignment. But when she describes her latest creation - a camera that can capture what a person is thinking - he believes there isn't any reason he should be afraid. By helping her with this, there isn't a way for it to blow up in his face.

That is, until the wrong person's photo is taken, exposing something that he would've liked to keep hidden.

Izuku gently sets the camera down, careful not to trigger a hidden mechanism that might, quite literally, blow up in his face. The memory of Mei Hatsune’s last gift is still fresh in his mind, how the tiny, innocent earbuds exploded once he connected his phone to them. It sent him to Recovery Girl’s ward, and then for the remainder of the week Izuku couldn’t hear anything. Wariness lessens the blow from Mei’s frown, her disappointment palpable at how he didn’t immediately accept her camera. She’s gotten ahead of herself. “I’m not saying no,” he starts, choosing his words carefully, “I just want to know what it is before I do anything.”

“It’s a camera,” Mei tells him, “It takes pictures.”

“Is that all?”

“Well, they’re pretty good pictures…” She taps her chin, eyes spinning wildly as she navigates the labyrinthine puzzle of her thoughts. Her expression shifts, a wide grin that almost splits her face in two like the sun breaking through dark grey and shining bright. “They’re actually better pictures than you’d get from an average camera! After the modifications I made to it –“

“Yes, modifications!” Izuku interrupts, jumping into the fray before she shifts the conversation elsewhere. “You admit you’ve played around with it?”

She huffs, a dial shifting inside that changes her mood again. Now, she’s offended. “I don’t play around with tech. I create. I improve. I succeed, Midoriya.”

“Sorry, sorry…” He chuckles, rubbing his head, “That’s not… what I’m trying to ask is – this is an invention of yours, yes? Is there anything it does besides taking pictures?” Izuku thinks, trying to string together a more thoughtful question then ‘will it blow up?’ “Are there any tactical advantages to the camera?”

“Of course!” She says, roughly snatching the camera. Izuku flinches, then sighs in relief seeing how it stayed silent despite her brusque movements. “It’s something I’m working on for a class assignment. They want us to create gear that can help heroes proactively take down villains, to keep casualties and damage to a minimum!”

“And your idea was… a camera?”

“It’s not just a camera,” she scoffs, holding it up and quickly snapping a picture of Izuku. He blinks, blinded by the flashing light. As he rubs his eyes, he hears the mechanical whirr of a photo being produced. “It uses the latest retinal technology combined with my own, copyrighted, software to capture not just a person’s face… but also what they were thinking of at the moment the photo was taken!” She waves the photo, Izuku’s face becoming clearer and clearer as time passes. “They say the eye is the window to a person’s soul, yes? Well now that really is the case!?” She laughs with shameless glee, drawing other students’ attention towards them in the sort-of-crowded cafeteria. Izuku’s face glows a deep red, especially when he catches sight of his photo.

It’s his face, but there’s a marked difference between what he expected and what he sees. Instead of green eyes, Izuku finds two bomb-like pupils have replaced his irises, their fuses short and lit. This makes sense, as he thinks about it. Between the seconds her forefinger pressed on the shutter, Izuku’s only thoughts were ‘don’t explode’, chanted repeatedly.

Mei studies the picture, snorting. “And this is why I want you to have it.”

“Me?”

“Every time I take someone’s picture,” she says, handing him the camera again, “they only show bombs!” She produces an immeasurable number of headshots from her pocket, each person’s eyes like Izuku’s. “I keep telling them that it’s not that kind of equipment, but they don’t trust me. I mean, I get it, but how am I supposed to score the highest marks if my experiments keep producing the same result! How can I learn from the data when it’s all the same!”

Izuku understands her plight, reminded of similar struggles. It’s been forever since he was reminded of his first few days, where no one wanted to spar with him, afraid they might hurt him or encourage Izuku towards injury by using his quirk. Luckily that didn’t last long. If he failed at convincing his classmates at that time, Izuku doubts he would be where he is now. The only way to grow is through constant trial and error, whether human or machine.

“Okay,” he says, “I’ll help.”

Mei claps, thanking him while she speeds off and out of the cafeteria. Izuku watches her along with the remaining students, beads of sweat staining his forehead. His gaze trails from Mei’s exit to the camera in his hands. He studies it more closely than earlier, since he’s certain it won’t combust. Izuki then fiddles with the camera, shaking it, and accidentally takes a selfie that nearly blinds his left eye.

He rubs that blurry eye while the camera prints the next photo, Izuku grabbing it immediately. Waving it around, Izuku uses his right eye to see what his left might express. Mei would be happy if she had stayed, since there’s a small camera that sits in the middle of his iris, and not a bomb. Izuku tucks the photo into his backpack, alongside the camera as he stands. There’s barely anyone in the cafeteria, the stragglers leaving him behind, meaning Izuku has a few minutes to get to class. He races to Aizawa’s room.

The camera remains hidden for the rest of the day. Izuku dare not show the others yet, waiting for a perfect moment he can snag the most amount of people.

Today’s weather helps, rain clouds hanging overhead herded all students indoors. After their final class, Izuku and his friends sped down the path to their dorms in a frenzy. All rushing to beat the rain that would inevitably fall.

Thunder rumbles, announcing what will come. Izuku jumps over the threshold exactly when the first drop hits.

“Well,” Mina pouts, leaning on a nearby wall, slipping off her shoes, “I guess we’re stuck here for the day.” Everyone nods in agreement, going about their usual ritual, trading in shoes for slippers. They begin moving deeper into the dorms, rumbling with plans for how to spend this rainy day.

Izuku hurries to the front of the group, bag tight in his arms. “Actually,” he says, loudly enough he interrupts his friends’ conversations, “since we’re all here, I was wondering if you could help me with something – well… help me help Mei with something –“

“Mei Hatsune?” Iida asks, a sickly pale sheen blanketing his features, “No – no, whatever it is – no.”

“Iida,” Izuku sighs, “You haven’t even heard what it is I have to say!”

“I don’t need to!” And, from how the rest of his friends appear similarly distressed, they don’t either.

He works fast, removing the camera and showing it to them. “It’s nothing too crazy, or dangerous!” he tells them, “She needs pictures of people for a school project.”

“That sounds… almost normal,” Mina says, stepping to the front of the group, joining Izuki. She snatches the camera from his hands, frowning at Mei’s camera. “Too normal for a support class project.”

“Well, there’s more to it than that,” he explains, leaning in close and tapping at the lens. “She modified the camera, so that it takes pictures of what a person’s thinking.” He shows them his picture, with the camera reflected in his iris. “I was thinking about the camera when I hit the capture button, and that’s why it’s in my eye!”

“So, the thoughts are shown in the eyes?” Mina asks. Izuku nods. “Cool…”

Iida clears his throat, drawing the focus back to him. “If that’s all the camera does,” he starts, tone frigid enough Izuku shivers because of it, “why does Mei need you taking the pictures?”

“Oh she… doesn’t have enough time,” Izuku laughs, lying, rubbing the back of his neck. He feels slightly bad, but reasons that if he told them of Mei’s problem, it might make some of the others experience similar issues. “I offered to help because, well – it has been a bit of a lull, hasn’t it?”

“It has,” Mina agrees, looking through the viewfinder at her classmates, “And this is the perfect thing to spice things up!” She crouches low, at eye level with Mineta. “Say cheese!”

“What -”?

She slams her forefinger on the shutter, a loud click washing over the group. Mina impatiently pulls the photo free, waving it around with one hand while the other bars Mineta from advancing. His protests are ignored, Mina waiting for the picture to develop. Once it does, her concentration slips. She laughs, Mineta overpowering his limp arm and dashing past her towards the kitchen, overshooting them. “It works!” she announces, showing the others her photo of the smaller hero.

Izuku steps into view, turning away from the photo in his next breath, cheeks red with shame.

Mineta awkwardly smiles, a friendly thumb raised and peeking above the border. His eyes, however, were obscured by two pairs of large breasts. Izuku stared at one set, nipples pointed directly forward, and lost his nerve. He wasn’t alone, Iida and Momo equally uncomfortable. The others visibly appear awkward, yet don’t look from Mineta’s face.

Tsuyu is the only student unfazed. Her head skews to the left as she squints for a better look. “The quality of the photo, kero, it’s amazing. They look almost lifelike.”

“I think that’s enough,” Uraraka rushes forward, taking the photo of Mineta from Mina. She throws it upwards, steepling her fingers so it will float to the ceiling and stay there. “Why don’t we see what everyone else is thinking?”

“Can we wait a few minutes?” Denki laughs, “At least let us burn that image out of our minds.” Everyone joins save Mineta, who flexes his hands on the bumps atop his head, gaze locked on the floating photo. Izuku drags him away from it, following everyone to the kitchen where they can prepare dinner and play with the camera. He makes a note to retrieve the photo later, and to draft an apology for Mei.

When everyone feels ready, they continue using the camera.

Izuku will admit, he wasn’t sure if he might succeed in helping Mei. His friends, dependable as always, proved Izuku’s doubts were misguided. Even Iida allowed a few pictures of himself, profiles of his brother or Aizawa swimming in his eyes. “We have that test coming up,” he growls, jabbing at their teacher’s face, “It’s a big one, I want to do well!”

“You will do well, like always…” Kyoka holds the camera, glancing around the room for the next victim. There’s already a steady pile in the center of the table they commandeered, and a few more pictures floating above them. Mineta thought of little else, apparently. She nudges Denki, who sits beside her, “I’ve got an idea…” She whispers to him, an evil glint shining in her gaze.

Denki timidly agrees, hesitance a striking feature on his face like the black bolt zigging through his blond hair. He stands, moving a safe distance from everyone else. Izuku watches like the rest of their group, perplexed, until a tiny spark erupts from his palms that soon becomes a storm much like what rages outside their dorm walls. Izuku glances at Kyoka’s excited and expectant face; he understands.

Kyoka hits the shutter, then bowls over from laughter with how Denki dances in place. Izuku grabs the camera from her, helping develop the photo by shaking it. When it finally bleeds onto the small rectangle, Izuku breathes a laugh out his nose. There’s nothing replacing Denki’s eyes save static common on broken television sets. “Weirdly enough,” Shoto says, stationed behind Izuku at one shoulder, Tsuyu next to him, “I think that’s what he looks like without a camera, too.”

They take a few more photos, learning a bit more as they go. Izuku brought his notebook out and took notes halfway into their trials, keeping track of observations to give to Mei. Like how the thoughts importance can affect size, proven with how Kyoka’s whole face was eclipsed by her guitar, and – when asked about her grades – two, tiny ‘F’s floated in Mina’s. There were also bugs the class managed to find, one being that the camera couldn’t pick up on invisible people. Toru, unfortunately, was excluded by the nature of her quirk. They tried including her, asking her to think of her face. Momo theorized that, since Toru can see what she looks like, if she thinks about that then everyone can see what she sees. The camera didn’t recognize Toru and failed to capture her thoughts. It did create thoughts for objects with face-like shapes. An accidental click by Shoto caught part of the stove, and because of the dials, the camera treated it like a face and ascribed two cacti-like stickers on them.

“Who knew science could be so fun!” Denki cheers, showing off the latest photo to the group. Eijiro grins proudly, Crimson Riot’s manly figure posing in his eyes. He was surrounded by stars, another feature they discovered during the process. The camera adds symbols to better express thoughts, giving context to them.

“I’m glad you feel this way,” Iida says, clapping him on the back, “Maybe you can take this energy and apply it elsewhere in your studies!”

“…They’re not as fun.”

Their group starts laughing, except it’s cut short by a slamming door. Everyone’s heads whirl towards the source of the noise. Izuku hears a low, growling string of curses that get louder with each stomp. It’s no surprise when Katsuki rounds the corner, especially since he’s the only one of their class who hadn’t been with them.

He should have, judging by the damp state of his clothes.

“Bakugo, woah,” Eijiro jumps up from his seat, “what happened?”

“Stupid umbrella broke on my way back from the gym,” Katsuki yelled, throwing his smoldering umbrella across the room. “Cheap things… don’t know why my mom insists on buying these if they keep breaking all the time.” He glares at them, dripping onto the floors. “What are you losers doing?”

“Well, we were –“

“Forget it, I don’t care.” Katsuki brushes past them, a trail of water left in his wake. He enters the kitchen, still in view, but completely ignoring them as he roots through the fridge.

“If you don’t care, why ask?” Uraraka mutters, sinking into her seat. She and most of the others return to their own worlds, treating Katsuki with the respect he showed them. A few differ, namely Izuku, Mina, and Eijiro. They continue watching Katsuki move about the kitchen.

Mina holds the camera now, stroking the shutter button. “He’s obviously interested,” she says, “otherwise why would he ask?”

Eijiro sighs, scratching at his temple. “Who knows? A lot of what he does, doesn’t make sense half the time. You should know that by now.”

“If only we knew what he was thinking…” The camera rises instinctively.

Izuku offers a weak chuckle, forcing the camera down with his hand. “Good luck with that. Kacchan will break the camera before you can even take the photo.”

“Then I won’t do it,” she huffs, handing the camera off to Eijiro. “Kirishima here will.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you,” Mina says, “Who else besides you would Dyna-meathead even allow in his personal space long enough to snap it?” Izuku agrees with her, absentmindedly nodding along with her rebuttal. “It’ll be easy. Go up to him, ask for a photo, then take it and bring it back here.”

“But…” Eijiro looks from her to Izuku, “but… what if he breaks the camera?”

Izuku shrugs, “I think it’s safe to say we have enough photos for Mei to use in her project, even if Kacchan ends up breaking it. Besides, that’s a sort of prototype, she’s looking to make a digital one – and I doubt Mei would send me off with that if she didn’t have copies of what was important.”

That, and an encouraging smile that would rival All-Might’s, give Eijiro the courage to try. He winks at both him and Mina, scurrying around the counter that divides the dining area from the kitchen and into Katsuki’s bubble of personal space. Katsuki doesn’t flinch, chewing on a protein bar while Eijiro asks him a question. Katsuki yells at Eijiro, calls him an idiot, but doesn’t deny his request. Eijiro beams, holding the camera up and takes the photo. Thanking him, Eijiro returns to the group with both the camera and developing photo.

“Give me! Give me!” Mina wrangles the photo free from Eijiro’s fingers, bouncing in her seat from the anticipation. The others show muted interest, curiosity piqued once Eijiro succeeded.

“Damn, it’s just a fucking photo you rejects…” Katsuki joins them, leaning on the counter a fair distance away, “If you get all happy over that then I’m scared for what the future of heroes is gonna look like.”

“It’s not a simple photo, Bakugo,” Iida tells him, finger raised as if he were giving a lecture, “it’s a special one from a camera modified by a support student. Apparently, it can take pictures of what people are thinking about.”

“What –“! Katsuki chokes on his protein bar, hacking and disappearing behind the counter. Izuku startles, concerned, about to check on him. Suddenly Mina screams at his side, and Izuku’s attention is diverted.

“I can’t believe it!” Mina cackles, “Ah! AH! Bakugo, Bakugo… you try and act so tough but you’re just a softy on the inside, aren’t you!”

Izuku can’t see the photo with how wildly Mina flails, and he is the only one. Everyone else had their own chance to look at the photo, all varying degrees of shock rippling across their faces. Eijiro appears the most affected, shoulders shaking, a hand clutched tight over his heart as he wobbles on his feet. He might faint on the spot but couldn’t look happier about it. Soon Mina calms enough for Izuku to grab the photo from Mina. He sees what’s on it and is struck into the same stupor.

He cannot see Katsuki’s eyes. They’ve been smothered by two gigantic hearts, cartoonish in their design with how they sparkle and glow. Worse, for Katsuki at least, two faces were nestled at the center of these hearts. On the right eye, Eijiro’s teeth are on full display with a large smile. On Katsuki’s left, Eijiro winks.

Mina knocks her chair to the floor in her haste, uncaring how it topples. She dances, singing, “Bakugo likes Kiri… Bakugo likes Kiri…” After circling the table, she throws herself onto Izuku’s back, “Midoriya, remind me to thank Mei for giving you that camera!”

“Mina, I –“

“Fucking… Deku…”

Time slows. Izuku inches his head to where he heard what sounded like gravel being dragged against asphalt, and where he feels sparks dust his cheeks. Katsuki recovered at some point, protein bar forgotten in embarrassment and anger. These emotions, needing an outlet, latched onto Mina painting the target on Izuku’s chest. He launched himself over the counter towards him like a lion would its prey. And only in the infinitesimal moment before certain death could Izuku notice his utter doom. He certainly can’t react or defend himself. Izuku, with his brief reprieve that grows shorter and shorter, can only muster a single thought.

It’s hard to describe. But if someone were to take a photo of his face, with Mei’s camera, they’d see a skull in both his eyes.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #midoriya izuku #hatsune mei #ashido mina #kirishima eijiro #bakugo katsuki #class 1-a shenanigans #bnha fanfic #kiribaku #kiribaku fanfic

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canarycontessa · 4 years ago

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four writing tips that helped me get out of my own way

- Use a pen for drafts.

Get used to scratching things out, cramming things in the margins, breaking up pages as new tangents form and then zigzagging back to the original WIP. Go out of your way to not only forget making any of it look pretty, but to make it as ugly as possible (while still being readable to you, of course). And don’t even think about typing it yet because that backspace key is just another eraser. Get over the idea of erasing or covering over your mistakes, because there are no real mistakes in the first draft stage.

The more you desensitize yourself to your rough draft legit LOOKING rough, the less you’ll have any self consciousness and/or perfectionism shutting you off from your creative flow. Once you get used to the sloppiness, you stop giving a fuck about appeasing your inner critic/editor (editorial input isn’t needed until several drafts later, after all) and just let the words come at will.

This enables you to have fun with your rough draft and therefore keep coming back to it. You become a kid again, splashing paint all over the walls and not caring that you can’t take anything back. It’s about the journey.

- Deliberately multi-task while writing.

Emphasis on "deliberately". This sounds really counterintuitive, right? Why would I set out to intentionally half-ass something?

It probably doesn't work this way for everybody, but if I sit down to write in complete silence and with nothing else going on, I will get jackshit done. It's too much pressure. Instead, all I can think about is the blank page mocking me, the deafening silence around me and how my entire future happiness is riding on whether I can get anything down. Then I start thinking about what I fake I am, how I’m bring dishonor to my family ... etc, etc. I’ll probably end up closing my document and getting up to do something else. I’ll come to dread the empty page and write less and less as time goes on, all the while beating myself up for it. It’s not pretty.

If, however, I have my notebook in front of me, pen in hand while I watch the news, flip channels, listen to a podcast or Youtube video, have a conversation with two other people, then half my focus is elsewhere. There’s less room for those unhelpful thoughts, the pressure is off me and, best of all, I open myself up to free associate and draw inspiration from what’s around me. My pen is moving. Words are happening. And before I know it, I’ve added 10 more pages to my project.

As far as what your other task should be, it can be practically anything. I’m a cinephile, so I love movies; I’ll have films, video essays, music videos, etc. playing while I write. Sometimes I go to the park, watch people play chess or walk their dogs while listening to music. The best of all for me is boring data entry. Something about having to keep up the pace of my keystrokes while still having a notepad for me to jot down whatever floats up out of the abyss. I’ve had some of my best ideas and especially dialogue while doing data entry.

This really goes back to that first tip and the idea of letting go of your self consciousness. It’s easy to get bogged down in it when you’re taking the rough draft phase too seriously. Plus I find that after a while I’m shunting more of my focus over to my writing as I pick up speed anyway.

- Your downtime is sacred. Respect your downtime.

Momentum can’t last for hours and hours on end. Let yourself wind down, set your notebook/document aside and come back to it later. This can take the form of switching gears by working on a completely different WIP, shifting formats (going from a manuscript to a rap verse or essay or tv pilot script), or just stopping your writing altogether and doing something else. It's not a flaw if you can't keep going that day, esp if you're back again the next day.

This goes well beyond the usual cliche of "be patient with yourself uwu" or “let inspiration guide you”, though there is a little truth to both. This isn’t about patience, or self care, or anything like that. It’s about an inner alchemy that can only take place if you know when to come to a stopping point.

There's this concept called "the boys in the lab" or "the boys in the basement" and it goes like this: you give the boys (your brain, your imagination, subconscious, whatever you want to call it) enough juicy raw material to work with (whatever you've written or outlined that day, notes, dialogue snippets, essay fragments, etc) and then back off. Exit the laboratory. The boys can’t work if you’re still in there nitpicking every little thing and micromanaging them. Get the hell out of their way, and I promise that when you poke your head back in tomorrow, you’ll find all sorts of new things being cooked up in there.

This is where those lightning bolt ideas come from. When something that never occured to you hits you at a traffic stop. When you wake up out of a dead sleep and scramble for a pen and paper so you can jot down something that came to you in a dream. When you get the solution to a problem while you’re in the shower.

That inner alchemy is no joke. And even if you don’t get some grand epiphany, there’s the more mundane but still highly useful phenomenon of viewing your work with “fresh eyes” (especially useful while editing/revising). Your words will run together if you stare at them for too long. Step back when you notice this happening.

- Don’t talk about your projects with others until they’re finished/published.

And even then, learn to be your own cheering section. Cultivate a quiet sense of pride in your own achievements and let your portfolio speak for itself. This applies to so much more in life, but with regards to writing: You can talk an idea to death, if you’re not careful. It happens all the time. Don’t get addicted to the rush of achievement you feel when you talk about what you’re going to do, when you haven’t even done anything yet. Stop putting your self-esteem in other people’s hands by seeking their validation and opinion on everything you do your writing. And as cynical as it sounds, not everyone wants you to prosper and thrive. So with all that in mind, remember:

#writing #flow state #rough drafts #writerblr

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