#and the second is “The Law of Averages” (I’m tired sick and tired of letting it go/The law of every average I know”) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mrsmaybank · 4 years

Text

My Little Sun - Reid x Reader

“Ridiculously perfect.” I held her tighter as she looked up at me and our eyes locked, “I’ve fallen ridiculously in love with you.” “So my evil plan worked then?” She chirped.

CONTENT WARNINGS: AGE GAP, VIOLENCE, KIDNAPPING, PREGNANCY, STALKING, LANGUAGE probably the misuse of a Russian word IF THERES MORE LMK

A/N: Okay, let me be honest rq this idea lowk scared me but the words really just fell out of my brain really easily so, yk fuck it whatever. ANYWAY, if you like, please let me know!

pt 2, pt 3 “I love you Spencer.” The words immediately melted me.

“I know so many things.” She gave me an unapproving look.

“I don’t mean to sound cocky, but I do! Now for once in your life, listen to me.” She nodded her head in concession.

“I’ve just read more, I’ve written more, I’ve discovered and studied more than the average person. I could tell you a little bit about anything with one hundred percent certainty. I could--and want--to tell you the names of all the stars, I could recite verbatim the entirety of Prometheus Bound by Aeschylus or Dostoevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov, which you know, speaking of I will ‘cause I still can’t believe you haven’t read it,” Her smile flattened into a straight line, and I laughed. “Orrr, I could also tell you something simple, like why we get the hiccups.” I shook my head.

“Regardless, I know so many things and I’m rarely taken by surprise because of it. Everything in life is a pattern of change, and as a human, we will always adjust and adapt to whatever situation we are in. For better or worse, we don’t feel the same thing for very long. This is why an addict takes a couple more every time, a sadist hits his second victim harder than the first, they’re searching for the high of the first time, and it will never come.”

She nodded in understanding,

“I know this is true, it’s factual, and yet every time I look at you it feels like the first. You’ve broken the laws of human psychology.”

“First time you saw me was at a gas station Spencer.”

“No. The first time I looked at you after I knew I loved you.”

“Where were we?”

“My car. You were dancing. You looked ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously sexy? You mean?” She smiled.

“Ridiculously perfect.” I held her tighter as she looked up at me and our eyes locked, “I’ve fallen ridiculously in love with you.”

“So my evil plan worked then?” She chirped.

“It did indeed. You’ve become my solnyshko moyo.”

“Tell me that’s Russian dirty talk.” She said with a grin.

“It’s better. It’s a term of endearment you’ve become the epitome of.”

“And what’s that Dr. Reid?” she giggled.

“My little sun. You’ve become my little sun. Following me around and bringing light and warmth.” She snuggled herself impossibly closer into my chest, wrapping one of her legs over mine.

“Except for your feet!” I shrieked at her freezing toes meeting mine.

“They’re not that cold you big baby!” she shouted.

I laughed and kissed her sweetly, “I am not the baby here.” I said.

“Please,” she started until I interrupted her with a kiss, “If you’re not the baby,” I kissed her again, “That implies I’M the baby,” Kiss, “And I’m not a” Kiss.

“Shush baby.” I told her, but like always, she didn’t listen, instead sitting up to straddle me. My appreciation for her beauty was like how a prisoner appreciates freedom, and yet it was miniscule into what I found in her character. It blew my mind that a girl so perfect existed.

“Rarely do great virtue and beauty dwell together. Francesco Petrarch.” I started, my hands making their way onto her hips, “That makes you a rarity.”

“You’re spoiling me with nice words today Spencer.” “You’ve spoiled me. My frontal lobe is spoiled milk.” She laughed, wondering how I was going to manage to make this one romantic.

“That’s the part of the brain responsible for sensibility and logical thinking, and you, little girl, have positively ruined it. You make me stupid.”

“I ruined the genius Dr. Reid with the 187 IQ? Makes sense. I’m like, way smarter.”

“You are. So, so much smarter.”

“I want that in writing.” she poked my chest.

I pulled her down and kissed her forehead to whisper in her ear. “Not a chance.”

She pushed herself away and rolled her eyes at me like a bratty child does her nanny, and I continued, “ You’re smarter, but I’m more educated. I have more doctorates than you have years in university.”

“Whatever…”

I brushed the hair away from her perfect face, “You tired baby?”

She sighed and laid down, splaying herself on my chest, laying on me like I was the duvet. “Very.”

I held her impossibly close, breathing in her scent and counting every time her heart thumped, her bpm said she was relaxed. Oh god, I wanted her like this forever. Relaxed in my arms, where nothing could touch us but each other.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Must you work?” I sent the message to Spencer as I rolled over to his side of the bed in anticipation. I breathed in heavy, liking the way the pillow smelled like his laundry.

“Unfortunately.” he responded. “Think you’ll be home this weekend?”

“It’s not looking like it, little one. I’m sorry.”

I didn’t reply. I was too sad to reply. I knew it’d make him feel guilty, which I didn’t want to do, cause like, his job and saving people and shit is important. But, it still wasn’t fair! At all. There was something very important I had to tell him.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Total darkness, and then way too much light. My head hurt and I couldn’t move. I was handcuffed to a wooden chair. There were chains around my torso and ankles. The room was a medical sort of bright. It smelled like bleach and rotting fruit. The walls were dilapidated, seeming to be made of tiles that were once white, but have turned yellow.

What the FUCK?

“Hello!” I shouted. My voice was so coarse it hurt. Shit. My head pulsed so badly it practically hurt to think, but I still racked my brain.

Where am I?

How’d I get here?

Why am I here?

I woke up again. Fuck, why can’t I think? Why can’t I do anything?

“Hey, y/n.” A woman’s voice. A very stoic, cold, sounding female voice.

I’m not alone. Thank god, oh my god, I’m not alone.

With the little strength I had, I lifted my head to see her. She wasn’t what I thought. She was alright, she wasn’t tied. She did this to me?

She took a sip from her silver flask, “Do you know who I am?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Typical.” She stood up and grabbed me by the hair, “You fucking disgust me.” Like, she said, she threw my hair away like it disgusted her.

She sat back down on the bench in front of the chair I was chained to, “My name is Brook Austen. I was a professor at Georgetown last year. Taught a couple seminars at your school, that little university you go to, the students there were nothing like mine. Not nearly as intelligent, but as expected, Georgetown is much more prestigious, obviously.”

I was confused, and she knew, but did not care.

“You’re not the brightest, y/n. Only slightly above average high school grades, strikingly mediocre academic performance now.”

Where the hell is she going with this?

“And you know it doesn’t surprise me, per say, because every man on this goddamn planet is a piece of fucking shit! But I thought that, maybe, just maybe, Spencer was different.”

She grimaced, “I thought he’d want more than just a pretty face! ‘Cause you might be prettier y/n, but I’m smarter.” Her words were laced with utter hatred.

Her demeanor changed, and it almost started to seem like she was talking to herself. “I'm older. I’m more successful. I’m fucking better.”

She approached me again, grabbing my face so I was looking her in those scarily light green eyes, and she wrapped her hands around my throat. “I’m fucking better then you! Better, better, better!” Every time she said better she shook my neck and gripped tighter so I couldn’t breathe.

“Stop! Please! Please stop!” I shouted, “I’m-I’m pregnant!”

She began to break down, “You’re pregnant?” A maniacal chuckle left her throat, “You’re pregnant?”

“Is it Spencer’s?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Wow.” She laughed once more, “Fucking wow.”

“How could Spencer choose this!? You’re nothing like him. You are a pathetic fucking college student. A fucking daddy issue ridden slut! I’m a celebrated academic, just like him!” Tears began to slip from her eyes, “How could he not choose me?”

This woman is NOT well in the head.

“You--you like Spencer?” I asked.

“You don’t get to ask the fuckin’ questions here.” She pulled a knife out of her pocket and held it to the tip of my chin, “I do. So you’re gonna answer them.” Or, she started manically laughing, “I’ll kill you.” She swallowed, “And your baby.”

I screamed at those words, “No,” I sobbed, “NO!”

I turned my head away so I didn’t have to look at the woman in front of me, there was a timed red dot blinking. A camera.

“Is that-- is that a camera?”

She nodded, “I want Spencer to see you and his child die.”

“He….No! No, please, No!” I choked on a sob and she smiled.

“He doesn’t know.” She paced, “He doesn’t even fucking know!”

She waltzed over to the camera and brought it closer to us, “Hey Spencer.” She began waving, “Hey Penelope. Aaron. Derek. Jennifer. Emily.”

Her demeanor changed once more, into that of a cheerleader of all things, “So, quick recap.” Brook pursed her lips, “Spencer your twenty three year old fucktoy is pregnant. Congrats!”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N was two things I didn’t know she was this morning: In serious danger, and the mother of my expected child. I felt frozen in trepidation.

We all watched in horror as Brook greeted us. All by first name. She knew exactly what she was doing and it freaked me out even more.

“Reid, you need to step out.” Hotch grabbed my shoulder, “Now.”

I was sick with fear and ill with rage. I sat down because I could feel my knees go weak. Hotch started again, “We know who she is. We will find her. Y/N will be alright.” He paused, “So will the baby.”

I replayed the events of the live footage in my head, her screams of pain and terror, her trembles and confusion. I’d failed her. I’d failed her and now I knew I’d also failed our child.

JJ sat down next to me, “Spencer, when did you meet Brook?”

“I uh,” I wiped my face, “A year and four months ago. I did uh, I taught uh, I taught a string of seminars at Georgetown. It was biweekly. Her office was next to mine. We spoke for the first time when she offered me a coffee.”

“What did you say?”

“What do you think I said?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, I said yeah, I fucking like coffee.” I felt instantaneously guilty for cursing, and especially at JJ but I was too frazzled for it to last long enough to apologize.

“I know Spence, I’m sorry. Just keep going.”

“Then, the next week, we got lunch together.”

“Was it, you know, friendly?”

“What are you implying Jennifer?” I snapped.

“No Spence, we just need to know. You know that.”

“It was-- it was just lunch. A very normal colleague to colleague lunch. We talked about the school’s history. And uh, where we grew up. It was small talk.”

“Ok, was this the last time you spoke to her?”

“No. There was one more time. Y/N was there.”

“Tell me about it Spence.” She grabbed my hand,

I breathed out, “It was the next week I taught after lunch. About two hours before my class. I was lesson planning, and Y/N was doing homework on my desk. She came in. She asked if I wanted to go get lunch. She saw y/n and--Fuck.”

“What Spence? What?”

“She asked me who she was, but it was like, she didn’t want y/n to know she was asking. She thought she was…”

“She thought she was what?”

“A student.”

“And what did you tell her?”

“The truth. That she was my girlfriend.”

“Did you see her anywhere else after that?”

“No. She never came by my office again. When I would see her by chance, she would scurry away. It was strange.”

“Think really hard Spence. Did you ever see her again after you stopped teaching at Georgetown.”

I racked my brain, “Yeah. I did. It was two months ago. Three days after I proposed to y/n. She was getting a coffee at this coffee shop by y/n’s school.. I was bringing her some lunch”

“Spencer she's been stalking you. Your proposal was the stressor.”

“But--I’m a profiler. I would’ve noticed.” I stood up with a realization. “What Spence?” JJ asked, standing up as well to look at me.

“She’s been stalking her, not me. She knew I was a part of the BAU, she knew I would’ve noticed.”

“I’ll tell the team.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N2: If this doesn’t totally flop, I’ll write PT 2, that elaborates on the reader’s and Spencer’s relationship. I think through flashbacks from both Y/N and Spencer would be a cool way to explore their relationship and of course the whole reader being kidnapped thing plot could develop. Again, if you enjoyed this pls let me know!!

513 notes · View notes

minniepetals · 4 years

Text

heartbeat

— summary: running away from your master is never easy so you deem yourself this will be the last time if you are fatefully brought back to his hold again. so what happens when you stumble upon seven men who says they won’t bring you back? what happens when they promise you their love and care instead?

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: angst, fluff, hybrid!reader, rich!bts

— word count: 9.7k

— warnings: mentions of abuse, running away from an abusive household, hybrid cruelty, hurt and comfort

— rec music: bts - heartbeat

Soaked and damped, your hair wet with a sweet smell of cherry blossom fragrance as the pretty tiny bubbles surround you. In the room the lights are bright and you feel a little shy as you sit inside the pretty porcelain bathtub while his fingers run through your hair in a gentle manner.

You have never felt this kind of touch before. It's so sweet and gentle and just...kind.

Oh so kind.

You purr when he scratch along your kitten ears and Jimin chuckles lightly as he goes on, cleaning the area around it.

"It's a little torn," he frowns at the sight, fingers careful not to brush around it so that he doesn't inflict more pain. He's sure you've been through enough. He knows you've been through enough. "Does your neck hurt when you move around?" He asks gently, noting at the gash that circles it. You have cuts and bruises almost everywhere and something about that makes his stomach drop while his heart yearns for you.

"It does," you say in a small voice so sweet and careful. He doesn't know why anyone would ever want to hurt such a poor little thing.

"Where else does it hurt?"

Your old bandages were thrown in the trash, left discarded for you to never see and be reminded of the sad memories again. They weren't fixed up in the greatest way but what else could you do? You had no experience with those things, he can tell.

"It's okay, everything else are just scratches," you tell him and Jimin pats you gently on the head.

"You don't have to worry about asking too much, dear one, we're all here to help." You turn yourself slightly to meet his gentle eyes with your own that are painful and yearning for love and care. His heart hurts a bit at the sight so he reaches for your hand through the wet bubbles. "If it hurts, tell us. You won't be bothering anyone."

Your lips form into a small pout, eyes a little confused at his kind gesture. "But...my last master always told me I should never ask for help."

Jimin frowns. "No baby, it won't be like that anymore I promise you."

"It...won't?" You tilt your head just a little because it'll hurt the gash around your neck so he goes to hold your head and allow it to return to its original position. "You won't..bring me back?"

"Oh dear, of course not."

"R-really?" You're almost afraid, too afraid that if you let yourself trust in his kindness, it will backfire on you. What if he's lying? What if he becomes tired of you? What if he comes to find you annoying and brings you back? What will be the consequences then?

You're too afraid to think of the punishments that will happen. You're sure it's something way beyond your own imagination. What if this time when you return, you really won't ever see the light ever again? What if he starves you for weeks? Months? What if he hurts you even more? Or worse, what if he leaves you to...to die?

"This..." you hesitate and he sees the tears already swimming in your eyes. Your fingers hold onto the edge of the bathtub, gripping against it tightly, while your eyes cast away from him and towards the tiles of the bathroom floor. "This isn't the first time."

"No?" You shake your head and had forgotten about the pain on your neck so it hurts you and Jimin lets out a little gasp. "Careful sweetie, you're still in pain."

"I..I-I'm scared." Maybe you shouldn't have told a human this but what difference would it make? He knows anyway just by your tears alone. "I'm so scared."

"We won't bring you back, love," Jimin promises you as he lightly runs his forefinger along your jawline until it reaches your chin. "We won't bring you to the shelter or anywhere you wouldn't want." He carefully allows himself to tilt your head up. Carefully. Because he doesn't want to put you through any more pain. Your skin is soft and wet from the bath, the bubbles covering your shoulders and down so that he cannot see anything else below it but your collarbone peeks out just slightly. It's soft and pink.

Just like those pretty lips of yours. It's glossy. Pink and glossy and looks oh so sweet.

"We'll even keep you safe in here if you want to stay."

You blink for a second. "You'll let me stay?"

"Of course," he hums.

"Even if it means..." your cheeks blush as you bite your lower lip, small figure shrinking for a moment. "Even if it means..forever?"

Jimin smiles and you think it's just a kind gesture he's showing you to show appreciation for the fact that you wish to stay but that his answer would be no. They're always no's. A soft smile before whispering the reluctant reply and you're left to fear for where you will go.

A shelter, a pound.

Either way, you find yourself back in your owner's home and he rewards you with severe punishments. It is never fun but perhaps this is your destiny. If Jimin says no then you will give up. This will be your last run. You won't run away anymore even if it means you will never receive hope and kindness because it lasts for just a little while.

These kind gestures are sweet but the more you have it, the more you understand that it can never last forever. They never do. Because the next thing you know, you're waking up and returning to that dreaded mansion.

"Yes baby."

You stop breathing. You stop breathing.

"Even if it means forever."

You don't know why but those words itself hurts you even more than when the humans that have told you no.

"I'm not..I-I'm not always a good girl," you tell him.

"None of us are," he replies.

"I'm a mess."

He hums. "Me too."

"I'll always be seeking for attention. Loud noises frighten me. I-I get scared very easily. I can be a brat. There are so many things I wish to do and wish to wear. I-I'm not a good person. I'm very selfish."

"Oh baby," he pouts, "are you trying to convince me otherwise? Because it isn't working, you know."

Your brows knit slightly. "It isn't?" Why not? It always worked, so why doesn't it work on him?

"Not one bit," he shakes his head.

"Even so," you look away again, "what about your..friends?"

"Them?" Jimin chuckles. "I'm sure they'd love it if you stayed with us. Taehyungie and Jungkookie really loves little kittens. We've always wanted to get ourselves a hybrid but never got around to it so this must be fate."

"..fate," you whisper.

You think you like this word.

"Mhm. So don't worry about it, okay?"

"But..." you squeeze the bathtub again, hands trembling. "He...he'll come looking for me," you say. "He always does."

He.

Jimin frowns and takes your hands into his. "Baby look at me." You do as he asks and he gives you a determined gaze. "No matter what happens, I promise you we will keep you safe."

"Even if he offers you a ton of money?"

"He's not the only rich resident living on Earth." Ah. You can tell Jimin is rich. After all, this bathroom is anything beyond what you can ever afford. You're sure that even his shirt alone is more expensive than an average human's apartment. "And even if any of us weren't so well off, we still wouldn't fall for such a sick joke. Your life is worth so much more than anything money can offer, baby, value yourself more."

Jimin is so kind you almost forget that this is your first meeting and he doesn't know you so much yet. But he's so willing to keep you safe that it makes you want to cry.

"It's illegal to keep me without owning me," you say.

"Seokjin's a powerful lawyer, baby, he can defend your honor, and Namjoon's a prosecutor who'll go up against your owner if he has to," he tells you otherwise. "We'll fix this, baby, by law or not. He won't ever touch you ever again."

"A-are you sure?" You ask him timidly. "What if you have to face consequences because of me?"

"It doesn't matter."

"You're willing to do this..." you press your lips together, thinking, and then meet his eyes again, "for me..?"

Jimin smiles. "For you." He runs his fingers through your hair again. It's dried a little from the air and by now he's sure you'll end up cold. "Now," he pets your head, "can you tell me your name, kitten?"

No one has really ever asked for your name. Your owner always called you by rude names sometimes you'd even forget you had a name. But you told yourself that if there is anything he can take away from you, it is that he will never be allowed to take your own name.

"..Y/N," you say. "My name is Y/N."

He kisses you gently on your forehead. A sweet, soft kiss.

"I'm Jimin."

Jimin helps to dry you up while Yoongi helps to clean around your cuts and gash and bandage you up.

You sit on the white tiles of the bathroom floor in just a simple piece of Jimin's grey button up shirt. It lays down to your thighs, covering you up well as you face Yoongi with your back in front of Jimin. Your fluffy tail sticks out from the shirt and it's a little too intimate, really, just sitting there in nothing but Jimin's shirt as the two men help clean you up.

But the blowdryer against your soft hair feels so soft it makes your head spin with bubbles and clouds and cherry blossoms you just want to fall asleep right then and there.

Jimin's fingers against your hair feels nice while Yoongi wraps a long bandage from your left wrist to your fingertips. He's already fixed up your neck and tummy, wrapping it with white bandage wraps. He just needs to do your right arm and your legs.

"Did you...fall of a tree?" the older man asks with a small frown.

"I.." you hesitate. "Mhm," you hum to confirm his fears.

Yoongi lays your left hand on your lap gently before moving on to your right side. "That must've hurt."

"It...it did," you admit. "It was scary. I-I fell asleep on the tree because I was scared someone would see me if I slept on the ground and woke up when I began to slip but it was too late to hold on then."

"You can't use your hands for a few days, okay?" Yoongi tells you. "And your legs aren't in the greatest condition either. We'll be taking care of you from now on so you don't have to worry about not being able to do things for yourself for a while." His voice is calm and steady. It's gentle yet demanding. A soft demand, something your master had never used. He's always been harsh and rude but the way Yoongi commands you makes you want to do it all. You don't dread his commands, you welcome it.

"You'll...be taking care of me..?" You ask him timidly.

Jimin presses a small kiss to your head at your question. "Of course, baby." Even though you've told him your name, he still opts to call you baby. You don't mind it, in fact, you like it. It's a pretty nickname and it makes you happy.

But you're still frightened to be happy because you know that happiness doesn't last for long when it comes to you, it never does no matter how much you wish for it.

As if sensing your fear, Yoongi looks you in the eyes and keeps it there as he place a small kiss against your knuckles.

"It's going to be okay, Y/N," he tells you. "Everything will be okay."

You aren't entirely sure yet. "How are you so sure?"

"Because we're here and you're here," he simply says. "Doesn't that already make things a little better?"

Not a little better, a lot better.

When you walk out of the bathroom, the maknae almost melts in sight.

You were pretty when they found you, broken pretty but pretty, and now here you are standing in their home with your body leaned slightly against Jimin for support. His shirt lays prettily against your frame, falling down to your thighs, with a fluffy tail swaying gently from side to side, and ears twitching a little at the sound of their feet padding your way. Jungkook wants to hold you and cuddle you but he knows that will be for another time when you're more comfortable.

There are bandages that hides your skin. One wrapped around your right ear, another around your neck. Two on both your wrists, hands, and fingers. Down your legs. He's sure you also have them hidden beneath Jimin's shirt and that itself makes him tear just slightly.

"How do you feel?" The maknae asks as he walks over carefully. When you don't flinch away and you allow him to run his hand gently against your head, Jungkook grins. "Are you hungry?" At the question, your stomach growls and he gifts you a sad smile. "We made food plenty for you to eat."

"I...um.." You bite your lip, eyes wavering with hesitation.

He reads your mind. "It's okay, you don't have to be afraid," he says and holds a hand out as a offer for you to take.

It's different from your last master. He doesn't hold his hand out, he just grabs you by the collar or hair and drags you about. You never have a choice on whether to go with him or not, he's always dragging you around.

So seeing this is different and it makes your heart confused because you really do want this, whatever it is, to last forever, but you're afraid of it being gone.

While a teardrop falls against your precious cheek, you allow yourself to live in this fantasy and place your hand over his palm.

Jungkook smiles at you. A sweet, sweet smile, and leads you into the kitchen.

"In this house, there are no rules," Seokjin tells you when he puts a bowl of porridge in front of you. Your mouth waters at the sight and smell. "Eat as much as you want, no one will punish you for anything."

You look down at your hands wrapped in bandages and is about to pick up a spoon when someone else takes it instead.

"It's okay to ask for help," Hoseok says with a sweet grin as he scoops up a spoonful of porridge and gently blows on it. "Tomorrow, there'll be more food."

As he hovers the spoon in front of you, you think that this is too good to be true.

"Want to go shopping?"

You blink your eyes at Namjoon's question. It's hard tilting with the gash around your neck so you settle with this instead. "For..what?"

He smiles and dimples appear before his cheeks and your heart almost swoons. It's charming. "For your clothes, of course."

You gasp. "N-no, you shouldn't..- you don't have to."

"But of course we should, Y/N."

You shake your head before wincing at the pain that shoots against your neck and it's their turn to gasp.

"Careful, Y/N, please be careful."

"I'm sorry, I'm okay," you promise Yoongi before turning to Namjoon again. "Y-you don't have to buy me anything," you tell him. "You shouldn't waste your money on someone like me. It's not worth it."

"Oh darling, is this what he's gotten you to think? That you aren't worth anything?" When you don't answer Seokjin's question and your eyes cast to the floor, they know that it must be true.

So Namjoon kneels before you and takes your hands in a gentle manner. He meets your eyes from the floor and sends you a sad smile. "All the things that he's told you are wrong, my love. You are precious as a gemstone, as the most beautiful flower in the universe, as the greatest person to have ever been born. You are worth more than anything in this world."

The sun shines bright from the morning day. It falls past the open curtains, through the glass windows, and touches you in a way you hadn't felt for a long, long time.

It's warm.

Just like Namjoon's hold.

No.

Namjoon's hold is so much more precious. As if you are special, as if you are someone delicate and he doesn't dare to ever break.

"So let us do this for you, hm?" Taehyung says and you look up as he places a few pats on your head.

You feel nice. You feel like you're a good girl and you're being rewarded even though you've done nothing to deserve all this. "O..okay..." You say and they smile. "But I...I-I don't want to go out." You swallow a lump in your throat. Still afraid, still timid. "I don't want to..I don't want to risk anything. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, sweetheart." Taehyung smiles. "We'll go in your stead, me and Namjoon, and we'll get you all the pretty clothes that you deserve."

Namjoon nods as he stands again and when they're about to walk away, you hold the hem of his shirt just slightly but it's enough to make him understand that you still have something to say. "Please don't get too much."

Namjoon chuckles and ruffles your hair. "Don't count on it, baby."

You sneak out of your bedroom wearing a white cotton sweater that Namjoon and Taehyung got you a few days ago. It lays just against your upper thigh feeling oh so soft against your skin.

Tonight you can't sleep again but this is the first time you don't feel like staying in bed and doing nothing to rid of the nightmares. So you walk out, tiptoeing lightly though you don't know why because you're sure no one else is awake. But then again, you don't want to wake anyone up because you're being too loud.

They've already provided enough for you, you can't be ungrateful.

Still, you aren't sure why you're leaving your bedroom. Maybe for a drink of water, to clear your mind. Maybe hoping someone is awake? If they are, what will you do?

You don't know but your ears catch on something.

The light rapid tapping clicks of a keyboard just downstairs where the large living room is. You walk down with slow steps, legs better than it was when you had first met them. The bandages around them, your tummy, your ears, and your hands are all gone. Yoongi has checked on them everyday and was strict on when he'd take them off.

All that's left is the gash around your neck that still needs a little more time to heal.

It feels like a collar at this point but you don't find any ill will towards it. Yoongi wraps it around you after all.

The living room shows a bright light coming from the screen of a laptop and you find Hoseok sitting on the sofa, his brows creased with focus as his eyes run over the tiny letters written on the screen. For a moment he just sits there reading, a hand rubbing his chin, barely blinking just to keep himself from missing anything.

It's a similar scene to your last master but also so different.

Because Hoseok is kind and although his gaze is serious and firm as he's in his work mood, you know that he is gentle and that he will never hurt you in any way. The past few weeks with them have proved it.

You're mesmerized by the way he sits alone that you almost forget it's wrong to yearn for someone like him.

But seeing that he's awake, you definitely don't want to head back to your room now. You don't know what you'll do but you can't head back to that lonely place and you can't disturb Hoseok.

Yet when you take a step forward, something creeks underneath and you hold your breath as Hoseok looks up and over his shoulder to see who it was.

You think he'll grow angry that you've disturbed him but he doesn't. He isn't the same as your previous master. That isn't Hoseok or any of them because instead of shouting at you to return to your room, his face contours into a soft expression and the crease between his brows disappears for a moment.

"What is it, kitten?" His voice is strained from working over hours but it welcomes you in. "Can't sleep?" He asks.

You want to nod your head but your neck hinders it so you're forced to speak up. "Mm-hmm."

He extend a hand out at your soft hum, offering you to come along. You allow yourself to go at his request, feet padding softly against the floor.

He lets you sit next to him on the sofa, snaking his arm around your waist and pulling you in close yet deeming you not close enough so he settles you on his lap instead. You blush a deep rose color and hope that the darkness hides your face but the screen in front of the two of you only illuminates it. He chuckles gently, carefully placing you between his legs as he holds you close and breathes in your sweet scent. Hoseok leans in as if he can't get enough of you, places a kiss on your head, on your cheek, and against the bandages of your neck.

"Keep me company, hm?"

You've never felt so loved before. Not before leaving your master's mansion and accidentally meeting them.

But Jimin said it was fate. Jimin said this isn't accidental.

A serendipity.

You like that word. You like serendipity.

So you allow yourself to lay your head against Hoseok's chest, curling up against him. It's a little difficult with your neck but you do well eventually getting into a comfortable position. He smells nice, they always smell nice, and when he places a hand against your thigh, your tail curls around it subconsciously.

You can sleep now.

It soft and warm and you know you can trust him.

Some nights are better than others.

Some nights you'll wake up or you can't fall asleep at all and you'll stay cooped up in your bedroom, hugging the blanket, hugging the pillow, hiding yourself from the world, and cry silently to yourself. Those nights they can usually tell what has happened the morning after because you'll have bags under your eyes.

"Baby don't be afraid to wake us up if you have to," Jungkook tells you.

"Would you like to sleep with us?" Taehyung offers. "Will that make you feel better? Because it always makes me feel better sleeping with others. I can hug them and they'll hold me so that I won't be afraid of the dark."

They are too kind and you're too afraid of using that kindness to your advantage, still afraid of being happy and then growing disappointed all over again. So you sway your body a little from side to side because you can't hurt your neck and although they look like they want to say something further, they nod and let you make your own decision.

You will come around when you feel a little more comfortable.

Some nights are a little more unbearable and usually you can take it, usually the nightmares aren't that bad. But this time when you tried to sleep, any time you'd close your eyes, the images of your old master will appear to torment you over and over again.

The night is scary, you dread the night. Because unlike night, the morning offers you light. The morning offers you Seokjin's sweet pancakes. It gives you their warmth, their arms that wraps around you, their sweet good morning kisses.

So you try to stay awake through the night, hoping for it to just pass by like any other nights.

But tonight is harder than other nights and you're scared and you don't know if you can wait that long until the morning sun appears.

So you take the covers off your body and walk out, legs trembling as they lead you to the first door that is the closest to you. You knock on it softly. Three soft knocks.

It's dark and it's quiet and you think that perhaps the person behind the door can't hear the knocks because it's too soft but Seokjin is a light sleeper so of course he hears it.

Your ears pick up on his footsteps coming your way and you hold your breath, afraid, as he walks over and opens the door.

"I-I'm so sorry," you quickly apologize before he can say anything. "I just..I couldn't sleep and I know it's rude to wake you up in the middle of the night but I was so scared and the nightmares got a little too overwhelming but if you don't wish to see me then I'll gladly leave—"

"Nonsense," someone else speaks up. Their voice is deep and groggy and when you look up, you find Namjoon stepping up from behind Seokjin.

They've mentioned that they usually sleep together, often times switching it up between members because everyone would like a chance to sleep with one another. Split up in groups of two, two, and three. There's even a grand room with a bed bigger than you can ever imagine, that holds about seven or more people. They've told you that if you ever wanted to join along, you didn't have to be shy but you've always opted with sleeping by yourself.

Tonight you have Seokjin and Namjoon.

"Come here, pretty one," Seokjin says as he puts a hand behind your back and ushers you in. Namjoon closes the door behind you and you're led to their bed and laid right in between the two of them.

They hold you gently, careful not to be too strong and accidentally squish you but right now you'd really like to be squished, to know that they're here and they won't ever let go. But it's a little difficult with your sore neck, where the two of them place soft kisses against, and you think maybe you can ask for the tight holds when your neck heals.

Maybe.

For now, you let Seokjin sing you a soft lullaby to sleep even if it means repeating it a few times. He doesn't stop until he's absolutely sure you're asleep between their hold, where your soft purrs ring through the air and Namjoon goes on the brush away a small tear that escapes the corner of your eyes.

"She doesn't deserve any of this," Seokjin whispers into the night as he strokes your cheek.

"One day she'll be strong enough to tell us who he is," Namjoon is sure, "and when that day comes, we'll get him and finally make her ours."

"Legally or...?"

When the younger man smiles, Seokjin can see it through the moonlight glowing past their windows. He doesn't have to say a thing for Seokjin to understand what he means.

Yeah, that'd be something all of them would like.

For you to finally be theirs.

"W-wait..-" You stop Yoongi before he can collect the first aid kit and he looks up a little confused but urges you to go on. "Why...aren't you bandaging my neck up again?" You ask him, eyes filled with conflicting thoughts.

Yet Yoongi only smiles. "You have no need for it anymore," he states simply. "It's all healed now with just the scar left."

"N-no, I.." Your voice trembles and his brows knit together as he wonders what's going on. Surely you'd like the bandages gone, right? Doesn't it feel uncomfortable? It's been a month since you've had it on. You take the first aid kit and place it back on the table and take his hand into yours. "Please wrap it again," you ask of him. "It..scares me. I don't want to look at the scars imprinted on it because it'll remind me of what he did."

"Oh, baby." If Yoongi can, he'd leave the house right now to beat up the man that had ever dared to call himself a man, treating you in ways too cruel for a human, hurting you, leaving you to starve and thirst. It's all his damn fault, he's made you this way. So afraid of the world, too afraid to trust that easily. Yoongi can only wish for you to smile. He wishes to see it but he doesn't think he's ever seen such a precious thing plastered on your face.

So he sighs as he take the roll of bandage to wrap it over your neck like the routine the both of you has gotten used to. He'll tell the boys about this later but for now, Yoongi places a soft kiss against your neck when he finishes.

"You are loved, Y/N, please never forget that."

"How do you feel? Excited?"

"Mmm.." you trail of at Jimin's question, feet hesitant as you stare at the garage filled of vehicles. "Scared," you whisper and he takes your hand to squeeze it gently.

"It's gonna be alright," the oldest of the group assures with a soft smile.

"It's been a while."

"It has, hasn't it?" Taehyung nods as he thinks about it. You were just a small little kitten that had fallen upon their paths and they decided to take you in without hesitation. "But you're going to do great, I know you will."

Jungkook takes the driver seat of the black minivan while Jimin sits in the passenger seat and Taehyung stays in the back with you.

You haven't been out since they've taken you in and quite honestly, you're a nervous wreck. But you also know that if you want to heal, you'll have to take measures into your own hands. They've taken care of you so well so you have to step up the courage for yourself. You'll be alright, you know you will, with Taehyung next to you to hold your hand steady and the other two who checks on you through the rear mirror every once in a while.

It's just a simple task of grocery shopping. You wear a light pink long sleeved plaid mini a-line shirtdress that falls to your thighs. Taehyung likes seeing you in dresses so most of your clothes are just him spoiling you with pretty dresses.

You don't mind it. Well at first you did but he was always so insistent and told you he wanted to spoil you so you couldn't go up against him, not when he's always so willing to give you everything.

It's different from your last master.

Everything is different.

Even the steps you take as you walk around the supermarket and Taehyung and Jimin holds your hand while Jungkook pushes the cart. Your master never allowed you out to do anything and even if he did, his eyes were always on you to make sure you didn't run away. You can never scream aloud for help, he's threatened you so many times to not do that. And because of his status and money, you were always way too afraid to go against him in person.

But here, walking along the maknae line of your caretakers, Jungkook smiles as he sees the swaying of your tail which indicates that you're alright and he has nothing to worry about.

"Hello, do you know where they sell coffee beans?" The boys have their backs turned away as you stare wondrously at the various meat to your side when someone approaches you. It's a hybrid, a she-wolf, and it shouldn't scare you but it does and suddenly your heart is quickening and you can't get any words out.

Jungkook must have noticed because when he turns around and sees you, he's quick to act. "It should be down there, aisle eight," he points and the wolf smiles as she thanks him.

When she leaves, the three of them turns to you. "You okay?" Taehyung asks with concern as he places a hand on your shoulder.

They make it all better so you let out a soft sigh. "I'm sorry."

He shakes his head. "Don't be, my dear. We're so proud of you." He rewards you with a little kiss against your neck and at this point, the neck kisses has come to symbolize their love and care for you. A sign telling you that they're right here, that they won't go anywhere.

"I think we got everything on the list," Jungkook says a few moments later after wondering around the store. He looks over the paper Seokjin had given him again before shoving the thing behind his jean pocket. "Want to buy anything?" He grins your way. "You can get any snacks you'd like."

They look at you as you think for a moment before saying, "Mochi."

Jimin raises a brow, amused. "Mochi?"

"Does it taste good?" You ask and he chuckles.

"Delicious."

"I want some," you say cutely and they proceed on to the frozen section not long after.

"What flavor would you like?" They all look good but as you look around at the variety, Jimin sees that you're more drawn to the pink ones. "Strawberry it is."

When you walk back out to the parking lot, something drips against your skin.

Then another, and another.

Before the four of you realize it's raining and Jimin has his bag of groceries all in one hand while the other rushes to hold his jacket over your head as you all run towards the minivan.

He's quick to open the door and rush you inside while they head towards the trunk to place the groceries in before safely returning to the safety of the van.

You run your hand against Taehyung's hair to flick away the tiny drops of water that drips from the tip of his hair and he goes on to pat along your dress. "You alright?" The man asks and you nod. "Your bandage got a bit damped," he says, pressing his lips together.

"It's okay," you say and Taehyung smiles as he tucks your hair behind your ears.

"Let's get you home."

When you return, the first thing Hoseok does is pull the four of you aside to dry yourselves with towels and change out of your wet clothes while the hyungs take care of putting away the groceries.

"Did you have fun?" The man asks as you sit on a chair while he wraps a new bandage around your neck. You nod at his question and he smiles.

"Next time we'll go to some place more fun," Jungkook promises with a gentle ruffle of your hair.

"Will it be crowded?" You worry.

"It doesn't have to be," he tells you. "Until you're comfortable, we'll only do the things that doesn't involve too many people, alright?"

When Hoseok is finished with your neck, the five of you return to the kitchen where Jimin helps you open your snack.

"It's cold," you shiver at the feel of the soft yet freezing sensation.

The man chuckles as he picks up a piece for you and offers it to your mouth. You take a bite which make things a little more cold but you're too caught up by how sweet and delicious it is to care. "Wow!"

"Delicious, isn't it?"

"Mhm!" You nod enthusiastically and Jimin smiles fondly as he goes to wipe away the white powder that has made itself around your lips with his clean hand.

"I'm so proud of you, baby."

You frown cutely in confusion at your second bite. "But I haven't done anything."

"But you have, my sweet kitten," he tells you otherwise. "You've gotten more comfortable asking us for things and have decided to go out all on your own. We're all so proud of you."

The soft kiss he rewards you with on your forehead makes your heart flutter.

"I have a present for you."

It's a late night. The stars and moon are present in the sky, the curtains closed to keep any creepy things of the night from scaring you, and the lights are on as the eight of you sit around in the comfort of the living room.

You look at Yoongi with confusion as he pulls out a white box with a pretty pink bow wrapped on top. "We all decided to pitch in," he says. "There's two of each from each of us in here all for you."

"For me?" He nods as you look at the box, curiosity peeking in as you wonder how there's two of each gift from the seven men that sits and awaits for you to open the present. You take the box, sniffing instinctively yet smelling nothing that can ruin the surprise.

They watch you steadily, holding their breaths as you untie the pink bow and let it fall away. When you open the box, something unexpected greets you. There are rolls of soft silk that lays in the box, all in different colors, fourteen altogether. It sits prettily inside in rows, soft in colors, not too bright, not too dull.

You take one in hand, an ivory color, and the silk unrolls upon your fingers. Your eyes widen at what it has to offer, untangling into a long piece of silk that looks so similar to something you have gotten used to wearing.

"Th..this..." You look up at Yoongi who holds a steady gaze. It's calm and soft, just the way that makes your heart ache and flutter at the same time. There are tears swimming at the brim of your waterline before he even explains it.

"They're for your neck," he says gently. "We figured it'd feel much better to wear something that doesn't seem like you still have to heal, because you're already doing so well, something that doesn't look like a burden, something that will make you feel better about yourself instead of looking in the mirror and staring at the bandage wrapped around your neck. We wanted to make you feel pretty because you deserve so much more than what this world has to offer, Y/N. You deserve all good things that doesn't always have to remind you of your previous life because you are beyond whatever he had always told you. You are loved and cherished and there is nothing in this world would we like more than for you to know that you will never be alone. We'll always be here for you, Y/N, so you don't have to be afraid anymore."

It's a scary world.

A world that frightens you more than the sleepless nights you'd still sometimes get.

You aren't used to kindness, you aren't used to others seeing you as an equal. Heck, you were even afraid when that hybrid approached you for directions.

But to be here with the ones that have found you laying helplessly on the dirty ground, the ones that have taken you into their sweet home, cleaned you up, fixed up your wounds, fed you, allowed you to have your own room and bed, the ones that have never stopped showing you that they care. They'll always press a kiss somewhere on your body, remind you that you deserve all nice things, shower you with love and affection, and have never gotten angry at you even when you make a slight mistake.

It's as if the universe has finally allowed you to live well, as if this is destiny and that you're meant to be here with them, loved and cared for.

Sometimes you do wish there was something a little more but you know that you cannot be that selfish. You have them as this and for now, that is all you'll ever care to want.

So you push the box aside and you wrap your arms around Yoongi's neck and he allows you to climb into his lap, nuzzling your nose in the crook of his neck and allow yourself to tear up. "Thank you," you whisper.

"Oh, pretty kitten, you deserve the world."

You shake your head lightly. "I don't care about having the world, I just want you."

He meets the eyes of the others with a soft gaze. "You have us, baby."

"Do you ever want to be ours legally?"

You look between Seokjin and Namjoon who sits across from you from the coffee table and stop eating the half eaten apple slice in your hand.

It's a question you love and hate at the same time. Yes you want to be theirs legally, but that would also mean another thing. You aren't dumb, you know Seokjin and Namjoon can take care of these things because they work for the law, fighting for more rights for hybrids but you know that it won't be easy.

It will never be easy for your case.

"Won't that mean..." you trail off, eyes falling to your lap as you plop the last piece of apple in your mouth and return your hands to your lap. You chew onto the fruit slowly, swallowing thickly before looking back up at them, a little more conflicted. "It will mean having to deal with him," you say in a small voice. "It means..I have to see him...won't I?"

"No, baby," Seokjin shakes his head gently. "I will not allow him to see you if you definitely do not wish for that. He won't be able to hurt you ever again."

You curl up into a little ball, arms wrapped around your knees, head hidden halfway against it. "But he's scary," you say, voice timid with a soft whimper. "He'll think of ways to get me back once he knows I'm still alive and..and..-"

"Hey, hey, hey." Namjoon rushes to your side in a calm voice with arms circling around you. "It's okay, baby, we've got you. I promise you everything's going to be okay."

Seokjin comes to your other side. "Any hybrid mistreated by their owners are protected under the law. He will not be able to get past us, I promise you."

"How're you so sure?" You sniff as you lean in closer to their touches. "He's a powerful man."

"There's one of him and seven of us," Namjoon reminds.

"And two of us who knows the laws more than anyone," Seokjin adds.

"Have a little more faith in your freedom, baby, we've got connections too."

"I'm scared," you confess though in all honesty, you don't really have to because they can already tell. Why wouldn't you feel scared? Petrified? This is dealing with your last owner after all.

A man not worthy of being titled a human and Seokjin and Namjoon just wants the nightmares all gone at the snap of their fingers.

But they know that it will be much more than that, something more difficult.

And seeing you in this distressed state, lips whispering sweet comforts into your ears, they meet each other's eyes and there's a silent vow that they give one another.

A vow that they will fix all of this.

You're worth all of it after all and they will never give up on you.

The nights are long but the days grow longer. Insomniac. Trying to hold onto the last pieces of hope you have left in this life.

Them.

It's scary, not knowing what the outcome will be especially when the boys refuse to tell you how the case is going because all they wish is to protect you. You've told them plenty of times that you can take it, that you're strong and brave enough. But even then, they'll only pat your head and say, "I know, babygirl, but let us take care of everything, alright?"

Maybe they're right, maybe you'll go crawling back to your little hole and deem everything and everyone is scary and mean all over again, but it's even more scary not knowing anything.

Seokjin and Namjoon comes home so late and then locking themselves up in their offices. The rest of the boys hold you through it all, keeping you safe in their arms, whispering sweet comforting words to make you feel a little better.

It helps. You know you'd be in a worse condition if it weren't for them, so you allow their warmths to welcome you in.

It's just scary so you refuse to sleep, knowing the nightmares will tear you down all over again. So you stay in the arms of your sweet boys who cradles you and press kisses to your head, petting you, scratching you lightly on your kitten ears just to evoke soft purring out of you.

"Do you think we'll win?" You ask Jungkook timidly as he runs his hands through your hair with a sweet rose scented shampoo. Your fingers play along with the pink bath bubbles hoping to distract yourself but it doesn't really help. "Do you think I'll ever become yours?"

"Oh, baby," he sighs with a gentle smile curling along his lips, fingers stopping midway to press along your human ears and raise your head up. You're pouting just slightly with big round eyes that he can stare at for days if he could. Jungkook leans in, the tip of his nose touching yours, giving you a sweet eskimo kiss. "You're already ours even without the legality."

"I am?"

"If you want to, that is."

"Of course I do!" You wrap your arms around his neck, only to remember you're still in the bath soaking wet a little too late, and a cute gasp leaves your lips when you wet him. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I-I didn't mean-"

"I know baby," he chuckles, "it's alright."

You place your hands back into the water sheepishly with your cheeks rose pink. "I'm just.." you sigh, "I'm just scared, Kookie, and I'm worried about Namjoon and Jin."

"Namjoon will make sure to throw him into prison, sweetie, and Jin will make sure you are legally ours and that he won't get to you. No matter what tricks he has up his sleeves, he won't get away with this, I promise you. They'll take care of him. The laws have been readjusted to protect the hybrids and their rights. We'll win this, I know it, and it may take a while for everything to heal but Y/N," there is a soft gaze resting on his face as he goes to lightly graze along the skin on your neck.

It doesn't hurt anymore but you still like covering it up and the only times it's out there for them to see is in moments like these. A scar to remind you of what has happened but that you're healing day by day, all because of them.

"No matter how long it will take, my sweet kitten, we will never give up on you, you got that? You've got us for the rest of your life."

You smile at his words. "Is that..a threat?"

Jungkook laughs. "No, baby," he shakes his head then leans in to place a soft kiss upon the scar, "it's a promise."

"Jin!" You jump out of Hoseok's hold and run over to the man that finally emerges from his office. Him and Namjoon are always either at the law firm or stuck in their offices trying to win this case and now here he is, hopefully to take a breather. The man welcomes you in his arms and holds you up, chuckling with you greet him with kisses because you miss him. "You alright?" You ask as he sits the two of you down on the sofa beside Taehyung.

He readjusts your position to something more comfortable and you look up from where he holds you, a thumb reaching up and slotting itself right in between his creased brows.

His tired expression softens and Jin sighs with content, knowing all of this will be worth it in the end. "I'm okay, baby," he assures you.

"But we need your help with something," Namjoon says as he comes in to join the group. His arm crosses against his chest, brows furrowed, a look of discomfort as he closes his eyes for a moment of hesitation as if asking anything from you is too much.

"What is it?"

He lets out a sigh before fluttering his eyes open again and meets your gaze. "Sweetheart...can you tell us what happened?"

Oh.

You knew at some point you'd have to come clean about your past and tell them everything. Of how you were brought into his home, what happened, the details of what happened and not just the gist of everything because they know the gist. You're a hybrid who was unlucky to be bought by some cruel man like many other hybrids out there, therefore starved for days, hurt and beaten.

But that's all they know. And they can only guess what happened.

They don't know how you were hurt, how your neck was in such a condition, what horrible things he's made you do, what hurtful words he's told you, they don't know any of the details.

So are you ready?

Seokjin can feel you trembling so he holds you a little tighter, a little closer, pressing your ears against his chest for you to listen to his heartbeat because he knows it calms you down listening to the beat of their hearts. "Oh baby, it's okay. We're right here. You don't have to say a thing if you don't wish to. You don't have to revisit the past, baby. It's okay." He press kisses on top of your head, rubbing his palm upon your arm and back.

And he's right.

They're right here no matter what happens. Always here to comfort, always here for hugs and kisses or to just be the pillar you need when you want to be held, always here to listen.

They aren't like the master you had before. They listen, they care, speaking in soft gentle tones for you, spoiling you with gifts, allowing you to eat whatever and as much as you want, never scolding you for anything except for when you aren't taking care of yourself, but even then they'd promise they'll be the ones to take of you in your stead, until you learn to care for your own self.

The world is scary. Humans are scary, some more than others, some that just seems scary but aren't, most of them you may never come to trust.

But still, they're here. Right here, holding you, not forcing you to do or say anything against your will.

So you shake your head and lean back just a little, wiping away your tears, holding a hand against your heart and take in a deep shaky breath to steady yourself. "No, it's okay," you say, taking Seokjin's hand and squeezing it gently. You look up at the rest who has on the same worried expressions and can feel your heart fluttering with warmth, wanting to cry again but for a different reason. "It's okay, I trust you all."

The story is long and horrible and has you crawling in fear all over again as you relive your nightmare but they're right here for you. Even as you cry and have a breakdown, them telling you you don't have to go on, but you still go on.

For them, and for yourself.

Not everything is alright but they always make it better.

Weeks later, your ears pick up on the entrance door creaking open and Namjoon and Seokjin walks in, suit jackets draping over their arms with their briefcases just hanging on the tip of their fingers, hair ruffled and messy, tired eyes, looking oh so exhausted. They see you emerging from the kitchen floor and you greet them with a small smile just ready to comfort them into making sure they rest in between all of this mess.

Yet something feels a little different than the past days, and when you see their faces brightening at the sight of you, arms held open, you think you understand what that means.

The tears form along your waterline before you can even think of the thoughts, feet rushing at such a fast speed before you can tame yourself, running straight into their arms with sobs escaping you. And so they hold you there, laughing, hugging you back just as tightly, with sighs that indicates that it's over. It's truly over.

You're theirs now.

"You alright, little one?"

It's in the middle of the night, you're in your room head filled with thoughts as you sit on the floor at the foot of your bed, fluffy white rug underneath you, with a pretty familiar box that falls open in front of you. The rain falls hard outside, dropping against your windows, thunder crashing at one point or another, but you aren't afraid as you were before.

You welcome it, tail swaying gently from side to side. Perhaps it just goes to show how angry your last master is but even then he cannot win at this game called your life. You're sheltered in a home that will never let anything bad fall upon you. Sheltered in their arms.

When you look up, Yoongi walks in as the others follow, their eyes casting to the pretty white box you have out on display, scarfs untangled from their rolls, clashing upon one another.

You are more than alright.

"You've taken your scarf off," he takes note of your naked neck as he settles beside you. "You doing alright?"

He rakes his hand into your hair, scratching upon your scalp lightly. "How can I not?" You purr, consciously leaning in closer to him. "I don't think I'm scared of it anymore," you say, placing a hand against your neck. "But the scarfs hides the ugliness so I'm gonna keep wearing it."

"Sweet kitten," Yoongi sighs as he takes you into his lap. "Nothing about you is ugly, you got that?" He says, chiding gently.

"People will say otherwise," you pout.

They don't say anything but Jimin comes forth, putting the box of scarfs to the side, his hand holding your face. Before you can question what he's doing, he peppers kisses all over your face that has you bursting out with giggles because the sweet sensation feels ticklish.

"S-stop," you squeak but he doesn't relent and Yoongi only holds you still in his arms, refusing you to turn away and escape both their grasps.

"Not unless you say you're pretty," the younger man muse.

"Okay, okay! I..-" He lets you hold him still in front of you, faces just about an inch away. "I.." you stutter, "I'm pretty."

Your cheeks are bright pink under the light of your room from the embarrassment of saying such a thing and Jimin chuckles. "Mmh," he hums, voice dangerously low, "you sure are."

The next thing you know, Jimin's lips falls upon yours and your eyes widen, heart drumming loud and hard against your chest almost to the point of you thinking it'll probably take flight.

Your first kiss.

It isn't a peck, a small one that leaves too quickly for your liking, but even as he feels your surprise and hesitation, he doesn't stop there, not when your own eyes eventually flutters shut, and goes in to actually taste your sweet lips against his pillowy ones.

The world feels like it's stop just to allow this to happen, your head spinning in circles still not believing this is actually happening and not understanding why. But you don't pull away because his lips are so addicting, sweet and soft just as you've imagined them to be.

When he leans away a moment later, your face is flushed and Yoongi can feel the heat radiating off you.

"Ah hyung," Jungkook whines from behind the man that has just kissed you, "I wanted to go first."

Oh.

Jimin chuckles when you avoid his eyes and go to hide your face in the crook of Yoongi's neck, curling into a ball against him. "Hmm...I'm guessing babygirl likes it?"

You never knew Jimin could be such a tease.

"Come on," Namjoon sighs, "we're supposed to take things slow, clarify things first, not just go straight for her lips."

Wait-

"Wait, what?" You lean away from Yoongi's hidden shelter, eyes wide and filled with curiosity as you look towards Namjoon for answers. "What does...what did that kiss mean?"

"Shouldn't you, you know," Taehyung chuckles, "ask the one who kissed you?"

"I..-" You don't know how your body can grow hotter by the second but it does and butterflies are flying everywhere in your tummy, heart drumming frustratingly loud.

"You don't know what it means?" Jimin feigns a pout. He holds the side of your face, kisses you on the head and the temple. "You don't know, my sweet innocent kitten?" He tilts your head just a bit to press a kiss against your neck.

You think you do but no one's ever told you such words before.

"Can you..say it?" You ask meekly as you look up at him, eyes gazing through your lashes. "Can you say the words?"

His face softens at your insecurities and the tears that begins to form without your knowledge. "Oh baby," he breaths, "I love you so much."

"We all do," Hoseok says. He takes your hand as Yoongi holds you a little tighter.

"We love you," Seokjin declares.

A tear falls against your precious cheeks and their heart aches at how much you've had to suffer to finally find happiness, to finally find a home. Jimin catches it before it can drip down from your chin and wipes the trail.

Were you lucky to stumble into their paths?

Months ago you'd probably say so sitting in that bubble bath as Jimin washed you. But now you don't think it was ever a happy accident.

Perhaps Jimin was right when he said this is what one would call a serendipity. Hearts written in the constellations before the universe was even created.

And for that, you know you've found your home.

5K notes · View notes

anotheronechicagobog · 4 years

Text

Connor Rhodes x Reader Motherfucking Done

requested prompt: Hey!😊 Could you write an imagine with Connor Rhodes, like the reader is a doctor, and he is jealous of her friendship with Will? Cute ending maybe. Thank you so much

written by: @anotheronechicagobog

warnings: swearing, pregnancy complications, this is shit, I’ll probably redo it later, but I’m so tired and stressed, oh and Cornelius Rhodes murdered his wife and no one can tell me otherwise

You and Connor returned to the U.S. as fast as you could. Connor more anxious than you, but then again, he had reason to. Two weeks ago you and your husband were at a party thrown by one of his patients at his penthouse. His massive, over the top, Fast and Furious 7 penthouse. It was three stories with a balcony with a pool. You and Connor always felt out of place at these parties, not even Connor had grown up around such extravagant wealth. But you made do, it was part of doctor-patient culture apparently, so you went. You hadn’t been feeling all that well, nauseous and with a skull-splitting headache. Connor had gotten another email from his sister, so you didn’t want to stress him out more than he already was. You and Connor had mostly stuck to the shade of the indoors, but eventually, you both had to go outside. Connor went to socialize with the host while you went to the third floor to the balcony that hung over the pool. There was a bar there, but you weren’t interested in alcohol. You didn’t think you could stomach it, but you hadn’t been able to stomach anything lately. You’d just sat at a table with a large umbrella and ordered a water.

You’d started feeling dizzy, the heat was suddenly beyond unbearable. You started panting and you knew that stressed out or not, you needed to tell Connor what was going on and leave. Something was very, very wrong. You turned in your seat, waving trying to get his attention. You leaned against the railing while still sitting down and he didn’t notice again. So and flimsy, shaking legs you stood up, clutching the railing. Sweat was pouring down your face and neck, it became so much more difficult to breathe, you were about to try yelling his name over the blaring music when, in a matter of seconds, you felt like you were going to faint, your entire body went limp, and you fell unconscious.

When you woke up you were, not only in a hospital, but the one you worked at. Connor, who was clutching your hand and praying in Hebrew noticed you stirring. “Y/N, sweetheart? Oh thank heavens, how are you feeling?”

“Groggy. What happened?”

“You fell off of the balcony at the top on the penthouse, three stories into the pool. Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?”

“It wasn’t bad when we left for the party, for most of the time we were there even. It was just at the end, I tried to wave at you, but looking back on it I probably should have just gotten one of the waiters to get you. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Please don’t be. The, uh, the doctors found out what was wrong though.”

“Really? What? Oh please tell me it’s not cancer, you know I’ve got a family history of that.”

“No, you don’t have cancer. You, uh... You’re pregnant.”

“I’m pregnant? Like with a baby?”

“Yeah, heat just doesn’t agree with some women and pregnancy though, so we need to move.”

“I’m pregnant.”

“Yeah, you are... We’re going to be parents.”

“We’re going to be parents.” The dam finally broke and happy tears flooded your face. Connor joined you seconds after, but his tears were a combination of joy and relief, after all, he did watch you fall three stories into a pool.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You and Will had gone to med school in New York together. You’d been fair acquaintances, but he was a bit too cocky and you were a bit too serious. You both decided to have two specialties, the one you shared was emergency department medicine. You became Facebook friends, but that was about it. Truthfully, you didn’t think you’d see him in person again unless there was a reunion. So you were a bit surprised when you ran into him on your way to your OB appointment. “Y/N? It’s been a while, how are you?”

“I’m doing great. Really, really great, actually. I didn’t know that you came back to Chicago, though. When we were in school you always said you’d never come back.”

“Things changed. Congrats, by the way,” Will gestured to your obviously pregnant belly, “how far along are you? How are the symptoms?”

“Five months. Uh, the symptoms have been really bad. And I’m just on my way to an appointment though so I should get going. But maybe we could get dinner sometime, I’d love for my husband to meet you so that he’ll finally believe all the crazy med school stories I have thanks to you. He works here too, actually.” You weren’t kidding, pregnancy had taken a huge toll on you. You had wretched morning sickness, high blood pressure, gestational diabetes, and a pregnancy-related iron deficiency. It was a quick walk from the entrance to the elevator to the OB ward, so you thought you’d be fine, but you were starting to feel weak and Will noticed. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I need to sit down.” Will whipped around and grabbed a wheelchair for you, helping you to get in. “What’s wrong do I need to call your doctor or husband?”

“Honestly, I already feel better, but would you mind taking me to OB or getting someone else who can? This has just been a difficult pregnancy overall, so feeling faint really isn’t unusual for me.”

“Yeah, I’ll take you, don’t worry.”

“Thanks, I’m just gonna text Connor and let him know, he was going to try to meet me there if he can get away from work for a minute.”

“You don’t happen to mean Connor Rhodes, do you?”

“I do, why?”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You found out why when Connor burst through the doors just after you and Will had entered. He kissed you on your forehead and gave you a once over. “Y/N, are you okay?”

“Connor, I’m okay. I just started feeling weak so Will got me a wheelchair. I think that I was just on my feet too long, well too long while pregnant. I really hate that I can’t do what I used to be able to...”

“I know, but you should have just gotten help at the door, here let’s go talk to Dr. Hajjar. Thanks, Halstead, I’ve got it from here.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Excuse me?”

“Will!”

“You heard me, Rhodes, why didn’t you meet her at the car or entrance? You can’t really think you’re too important to help your pregnant wife.”

“Will that’s not-”

“That’s enough Halstead, you should get back to the ED, where your obnoxious presence is actually required.”

“Okay, that’s more than enough jabs from both of you. Will, thank you for helping me get here after I tried to get here myself when I probably shouldn’t have, Connor, I’m sorry for being so stubborn and I’m glad you had time today to come to another of my appointments which are happening more and more frequently.”

Will and Connor begrudgingly nodded at each other. “Thanks for getting her here safe Halstead.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You decided to hold off on dinner together after seeing how little they got along. Having only realized at that first meeting that the ‘doctor douche’ your husband ranted about so much was your friend from med school. So instead you did what you could to keep the peace whenever you were in the hospital, which was frequent, but their pissing contest was grating on your nerves. It all came to a head the day you went into labour two weeks early. Connor was finishing up a surgery with Dr. Downey so Will was the one in the ED when you were rolled in. “Get Connor, Will.”

“Are you sure Y/N?”

“YES I’M SURE!”

Connor came running into treatment four minutes later and gently kissed you all over your face. “I’m here, Y/N. I love you so much.” Will, who had been holding your hand while you waited for Connor, scoffed.

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME WILLIAM?! I AM SO OVER THIS SHITTING CONTEST YOU HAVE WITH CONNOR. YOU ARE BOTH GROWN-ASS MEN GET OVER YOURSELVES. YOU ARE BOTH GOING TO APOLOGIZE TO EACH OTHER AND HUG RIGHT NOW BECAUSE I AM MOTHERFUCKING DONE!”

“Y/N-”

“WILLIAM SEAMUS HALSTEAD I KNOW THAT YOUR MOTHER TAUGHT YOU BETTER THAN TO INCUR THE WRATH OF A PREGNANT WOMAN!”

“I’m sorry, Will.”

“I’m sorry, Connor.”

“Y/N Y/L/N you are officially my favourite person in the world, I was just about to ring their necks!”

“No problem Maggie.” You gave a weak smile as another contraction hit and Dr. Hajjar looked under the blanket before nodding. “Alright, Y/N, it’s time to push. If you’re not her husband or part of the delivery team; get out.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Five days later you were still in the hospital, because of all the complications you’d had during pregnancy. Dr. Hajjar wanted to make sure your blood pressure wasn’t a high average before she discharged you. So when Natalie went into labour, you could hear her screams from down the hall. You’d also been where Will briefly went to hide with his tail in between his legs after Helen, Natalie’s mother in law, dressed him down. When you heard her screaming for Will, where he was, you gave Connor one look before he sighed and called Will.

Connor briefly appeared at his father’s ‘I-want-control-as-much-of-my-son’s-life-as-possible-so-I-donated-money-in-my-wife’s-name-for-mental-health-when-it’s-mostl-likely-that-I-murdered-her’ ceremony. He only went for the speech, and when it was over he approached his sister. “Connor, it’s nice to finally see you. You’ve been back in Chicago how long?”

“Almost four months. I, uh, want you to meet my wife and daughter.”

“You- what? Who? How?”

“Well I personally have absolutely no idea how I got lucky enough to have a baby with my wife Y/N, much less have her love me as much as I love her, but I’ve decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“How old is your daughter?”

“Five days today.”

“Oh my God... When can I-”

“Now. You can meet them now.”

“I’ll get dad-”

“Claire don’t. Please. He’s the reason I left Chicago, you’re the reason I came back. I just don’t want the happiness I feel to end just yet.”

“Okay.” She hooked her arm around his as he led her out to the hall. “Did you really come back for me?”

“Well Y/N couldn’t stand the heat while pregnant, but you’re the reason we came back here and not to Seattle.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were cradling your bundle of joy and poop, Aviva Nadya Rhodes, in the lounge chair when Connor and Claire came in. “Hi, you must be Claire, I’m Y/N.”

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you too. Is it okay if I hold- Aviva?”

“Sure, here just sit down on the loveseat and I’ll pass her to you.”

“Oh, she’s so tiny. And she looks just like you Y/N. Doesn’t look like she got anything from Connor. You sure are a lucky girl, huh?” Claire had Aviva’s head in the crook of her elbow and was giving the infant an unbridled, beaming smile.

”Hey! Stop trying to turn my daughter against me.”

“Connor don’t worry, you’re going to be an amazing dad and she is going to love you so, so much. I can feel it.”

“Y/N’s right, Connor. You’re going to do great, plus I’m only joking, I promise. Aren’t I, my sweet, sweet girl?”

“She loves my daughter more than she loves me.”

“I’d normally say no and try to reassure you, but she does,”

“And that’s not a bad thing.”

“Yeah, exactly. I love you, Connor.”

“I love you too Y/N.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sorry this was so bad, I’ll probably re-do this at some point cause I really like the whole faint-cause-pregnant-move-to-Chicago storyline I came up with.

Again, sorry.

#One Chicago #chicago med #connor rhodes #connor rhodes x reader #will halstead #maggie lockwood #Natalie Manning

172 notes · View notes

vulturhythm · 4 years

Text

defend your reputation

@cymothoe

- - - - -

geralt knew jaskier to be an omega from the moment he spotted the insufferable little man in the tavern at the edge of the world. he smelled of suppressed genetics, of the particular blend of spices and herbs that omegas consume regularly to prevent their heats from dominating their lives.

really, geralt had no particular care for the second sexualities and all they entailed. he had been born alpha - had presented early on in the witcher training - but the trial of grasses had wreaked havoc on both his reproductive system and his hormones.

it didn’t bother him much.

all it really meant was that, although he felt the typical pull toward omegas, it was extremely dull, and his ruts were highly irregular - not monthly, as was normal, but completely unpredictable. vesemir had told him, in passing, that he wouldn’t endure a rut unless he grew close to a single omega, and the assumption was obviously that that would be impossible.

witchers lived too long, traveled too much, to form any true bonds... to find a mate.

but, of course, as he was so often wont to do, jaskier came along and fucked everything up.

geralt guesses it was inevitable that jaskier would end up in his bed before long - after all, the bastard was all but flaunting himself in that tavern, and he refused to leave geralt’s side...

perhaps most surprising was the realization that jaskier was the farthest thing from a blushing omega geralt had ever fucking seen.

before they began to court - before jaskier wound up in his bed the first time - geralt had watched him take men and women of every type to bed, and he was almost certain jaskier topped just as much as anything. he remembers, clear as day, the time jaskier had responded to an alpha’s voice with a flippant “fuck you” and a swift knee to the groin.

that had been immensely satisfying to watch.

geralt knows jaskier is far from a weakling, and he’s more than capable of taking care of himself. honestly, he suspects that jaskier prefers it - retaining his autonomy, dictating his own life.

even when jaskier skips his dosage of suppressant to spend a heat with geralt, several months into their courting, the omega is anything but submissive, claiming geralt with bruising kisses and clawing nails, drawing the alpha in and refusing to let go.

only a few more months pass before geralt feels the beginnings of rut. really, he’s not surprised.

he knots jaskier for the first time that week, when they’re holed away in an inn - knots him, bites him, breeds him, again and again.

even as the hormones fade away at the end of the week, geralt feels a rush of pride as he looks upon the teeth marks in the nape of his mate’s neck.

before they bred, few people dared to approach jaskier when he was in geralt’s immediate company - after all, who would want to harass an omega under the care of a witcher? afterward, however, it became a nearly nonexistent thing.

until, of course, the incident.

- - -

jaskier has been performing in a tavern for the past hour or so, earning them the coin needed to move on, and, like always, flaunting his body the entire damn time.

seated at his typical corner table, geralt is only all too aware of the predatory gazes landing on his bard. the tavern is one full of betas, mostly, although there are a couple of alphas, and one omega hanging off the arm of the bartender.

geralt keeps the snarl he yearns to utter to himself - no point in stirring up trouble tonight.

jaskier wears his mark, after all, the skin on his neck darkened and subtly scarred. his musk, too - even from here, geralt can smell himself on the omega, thick and heavy, nearly overwhelming jaskier’s own, more subtle, scent.

it’s maddening.

settling back into his chair with a sigh, geralt returns his attention to ale - after all, he knows jaskier is more than capable of holding his own should some other brute take interest, and usually, the fact that the bard belongs to a witcher is enough to deter anyone else.

this in mind, he lets himself zone out, sinking into meditation and only halfway listening to jaskier’s performance.

he rouses when a new scent reached him, and his eyes snap open, darting to the door.

two men have entered, slipping in quietly, but...

no, not regular men. witchers.

geralt goes tense when he recognizes the medallions resting on their chests - the school of the cat. as he watches, one glances over, meets his gaze... holds it as he nudges his companion.

they’re silent for a moment, all three merely watching. finally, geralt nods, looks away, and the other two retreat to chairs across the room.

here for a drink and a bit of relaxation, no doubt.

geralt can’t fault them for that.

he is quiet for the time being, his attention returning to his bard, who, he notices, is beginning to tire - cheeks flushed, skin damp with sweat, all the more beautiful for it.

geralt yearns to sink his teeth into his throat, his cock into his damp and tender hole.

it’s as this thought crosses his mind - as jaskier plants a foot on an empty chair to put his whole damn body into a line - that another scent reaches his nose.

alpha arousal.

geralt bristles immediately, his gaze snapping to the witchers across the room. sure enough, they’re watching his bard with rapt attention, eyes bright and focused.

for the moment, he keeps still, merely watching them in turn, wondering if they’re foolish enough to dare...hoping they’ll remain in place...

and then, as jaskier’s song winds down and he leans against a support post to catch his breath, gesturing for his audience to resume their chatter, one of the witchers stands, and geralt snaps.

he bares his fangs in a snarl audible only to himself, and before he can second-guess his instinct, he’s on his feet, crossing the room to the bastards’ table.

“sit,” he hisses, low, and takes sick satisfaction from the way the alpha who’d been halfway to his feet immediately falters. “he’s not yours to fuck.”

the witcher pauses, tilts his head, and as his eyes travel back to jaskier, realization seems to dawn. he snorts, lip curling back in a sneer as the other man stands behind him. “no law against watching, is there?”

geralt stands taller, feels an unfamiliar ache in his jaw - feels the need to bite, to rip and tear. “he’s not yours to watch.”

distantly, he knows the other patrons are shifting awkwardly in their seats, are drawing away... breathes in deep and scents fear, scents his mate across the room, watching close.

“i make an effort to be courteous to every witcher i encounter,” he says, his voice low and level, “and you two are no exception, up until the second you so much as step in the bard’s direction. sit down, enjoy your drink, have a rest... stay away from - “

“geralt,” comes a voice at his arm, and geralt jerks his head about, eyes flashing when they land up jaskier - his mate - standing right there, one hand on his back, the other clutching the neck of his lute. “i’m sure they meant nothing by it - “

but geralt is bristling, nearly seething, his fists clenched at his sides, for he can smell the spike in the witchers’ desire now that its object is close enough to touch. “jaskier,” he hisses, and yet, he remains docile, lets his bard rub at the base of his spine and step forward to stand alongside him. “jaskier, stop, this isn’t for you to interfere,” because for all that jaskier is far from an average omega, a witcher with a goal in mind is far from an average alpha, and he knows firsthand that even the hormonal alterations do nothing to reduce instinct.

jaskier seems to have no such qualms, however, surveying the other two with a curiously amused gaze. “if it’s any consolation, darlings, i would gladly come with you to bed - “ geralt’s world flashes red “ - if i didn’t have a prior commitment for the night.”

the taller of the two hums, displeasure plain. “surely your mate here wouldn’t be inclined to cause a scene if you felt like spending the evening with someone new for a change,” he croons, voice sickeningly sweet as he casts a pointed gaze upon geralt.

and he’s right, to some extent. geralt has always made a point of avoiding conflict with humans, suffering abuse and enduring their hate when there’s no point in fighting back... but now, with his mate being harassed, with every other patron in the room watching with apprehension and ill-concealed interest...

he reaches back to push jaskier a couple of steps away, hand flat and firm against his chest as he moves toward the other witchers, fangs bared and eyes bright. “don’t think i would have any qualms with slitting your throats the second you step outside,” he warns them softly. “i won’t spill your blood in front of humans, but that means nothing beyond these doors.”

“you’re a bold one, aren’t you?” the other murmurs, sounding almost impressed. “do you truly think the works of a bard will protect your reputation from crumbling if you kill others of your kind, butcher?”

jaskier reacts before geralt can do a damn thing about the anger that rises on his chest immediately; he has only a second to think before the bard is in motion, shoving his hand aside in favor of launching for the witcher who had uttered that name - has less than an instant for everything to register before the quiet of the tavern is split by a piercing cry.

geralt glimpses blood where jaskier’s dagger had sunken into the bastard’s shoulder through the gaps in his armor, and then the tavern erupts.

- - -

it’s late that night before either of them address the brawl.

geralt had had to pry jaskier from the witchers - had had to use his voice to get the furious thing to subside.

he felt impossibly guilty for it, but he knew that more blood would have been shed had he not.

they - along with the other two - had been kicked out in no uncertain terms, and it had been with difficulty that geralt made jaskier get up on roach’s back for the ride out of town, instead of going after the snarling alphas to finish the job.

(jaskier had been cursing them out until they were out of earshot, but geralt tried.)

now, it’s late, and they’ve stopped for the night in a little forest clearing just a mile or so off the road. geralt has lit them a fire, and there’s a hare roasting on a spit above it, because although he can eat raw meat with little issue, jaskier is not quite so adaptable.

jaskier is seated on a log across from geralt, lute in hand, but the tune he’s strumming keeps changing, faltering; at times, he stops playing entirely.

the awkward atmosphere is tangible.

at last, geralt clears his throat, saying softly, “why did you attack them, jaskier?”

his bard glances up then, disbelief in his eyes. “he called you butcher, geralt, what do you mean? how could you stand for that?”

geralt is, well. bewildered.

“you’d rather defend my reputation than your own honor?” he asks, his brow furrowed. somewhere deep inside his heart, he’s flattered, but... “jaskier, had you been alone, they might have hurt you - witchers of the cat school are far from kind, they could have torn you apart - “

“and you’ve forgotten all the lords who’ve chased me from their wives’ beds?” jaskier interrupts with a dry laugh, setting his lute aside. he stands then, and geralt watches with a cocked brow as his omega crosses to settle upon his lap. “i can hold my own, geralt, as strange as it is for you to believe, and the years i’ve spent rebuilding your reputation from scratch mean far more to me than a few wayward attempts at adultery.”

geralt may as well be reeling. he sets his hands on jaskier’s waist, feels his omega shiver when he brushes a thumb along the curve of his hipbone. “you amaze me every day,” he murmurs, leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth. “i’ll never claim to understand why you insist upon caring for me, but... i - i appreciate it, jaskier. truly.”

he feels the moment jaskier melts, purrs deep in his chest when his bard turns to steal a proper kiss. “i’ll care for you until the day i die,” he whispers, and geralt... geralt refuses to stand for that. ignoring jaskier’s little whimper in protest, he surges upward, capturing his omega in a deeper kiss.

jaskier doesn’t offer much resistance past that point, eager as always to give himself up to his alpha.

geralt wouldn’t have it any other way.

#geraskier #gerlion #dandelion x geralt #geralt x dandelion #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #a/b/o dynamics #skyleen #my fics

422 notes · View notes

dancing-the-hellfire-rumba · 4 years

Text

Seen ✓ - 2

Pairing: Sam x Fem!Reader Warnings: light anxiety Word Count: 2.2k Series Summary: On her way home, Y/n finds an abandoned, cracked phone on the sidewalk. Anxious about the well-being of its owner, she picks it up and texts the first contact she finds; Sam. A/N: Chapter 2! Our pals are kicking it off already. Can you smell the chemistry? The rOMANCE? LESSGO

Pictures used in this chapter were found on google images :)

Beta: no one.

Catch up! : Part 1 Masterlist

Chapter 2: overthinker.

From: y/n_andrews85 To: D_impala67 Subject: I have your phone. That sounds creepy. I don’t think there’s a non-creepy way of writing this. Whatever.

Dear Dean, is it?

I just wanted to let you know I found your phone at the bus stop the other night. I wasn’t planning on holding on to it, really, but I got worried that you may have been in trouble, and then you never really looked for it either so, I don’t know, I figured better than someone who’ll snatch it and leave, you know?

Anyways, that’s why I’m emailing. I snooped through it a little, sorry, hopefully you’ll understand it was kinda necessary? Maybe we can arrange something so I can get it back to you. This girl, Jamie, keeps sending me (well you technically) topless photos of her. It’s not really what lights my candle. I’m assuming you’d like it back too.

I hope you’re safe. Looking forward to hearing back from you!

Y/n Andrews

Do you believe me now?

oh god

you didn’t

Sure did

wow. just wow.

you just handed his ass back to him holy shit!

last time he called, he said he dropped his phone while walking back to his motel, so

he’s okay.

That’s good, I’m glad he’s safe.

I was planning on including something along the lines of “This would’ve been easier if you were an active member of the 21st century and used social media”

But I figured the Jamie thing was motive enough?

yeah. topless Jamie? that’s something else.

Don’t be getting any ideas, dude, I don’t do nudes lmao.

oh god, no i didn’t think that

you did not just type lmao though. how old are you again?

oh god, you’re not 14 or something right? i don’t know what that would make me.

Don’t worry about it, I turned 16 last week.

…

are you serious?

Lmao, no, I’m kidding. I’m twenty-two.

But I think the word you’re looking for is a creep. Oh, and an ageist.

ouch.

Haha, I’m joking.

Lighten up, what are you, ninety?

hi pot meet kettle.

Shit I walked right into that one.

also i’d like to think i don’t text like a ninety-year-old man. could be wrong though

to answer your question i’m twenty-four.

Twenty-four huh? I assume you’re done with college, no?

Or- wait, I guess not everyone goes to college.

Yes, this is me fishing for information.

well… i kinda dropped out.

decided to go on a road trip with my brother.

things went a little south I ended up continuing the family business.

Damn, college drop-out ey? Where from?

Also, Family business? What do you do?

Is this too interview-y? I’m sorry, I don’t mean to snoop.

you’re good.

stanford. pre-law.

and my brother and i are private investigators. that’s why he’s not in Kansas with me. he’s working a case.

Daaaaamn. Stanford AND a lawyer? And now working as a PI? You’re pretty smart, then.

an ageist and a generalist? i didn’t take you for such y/n.

Fuck, okay, you sound like a lawyer too.

hahahah

so what about you?

What about me?

are you in college?

Oh yeah! Film school. My dream has always been to be a director. It’s rare to find someone who loves movies more than I do.

that’s really cool.

hey i’ve been meaning to ask.

Thinking of me, Sam?

…

Do tell.

how come you were walking home through a park in the middle of the night the other day?

Ooh, I was coming back from work.

I’m a bartender and I had a late shift on Friday.

oh I see. That makes sense yeah.

I’m sorry to cut this conversation short, but I’m legitimately three seconds away from falling asleep. I’m gonna hit the hay.

See you later, Sam :)

See you, y/n :)

A smile creeps on Y/n’s features at the thought of more conversations with Sam. He has given her something to look forward to, something to make her a little more excited during her boring every-day life. As she tucks herself in under her covers, eyelids heavy enough to droop involuntarily, the last thing she thinks of is him, the clever, sassy, twenty-four year old college dropout on the other side of the cracked phone screen. The overwhelming urge to get to know him overtakes her as she succumbs to sleep

Do you believe in ghosts?

that’s… random.

May be

why do you ask?

Idk, just wanna get to know you better.

that’s what you ask people you want to get to know better?

Yes?

Are you avoiding the question?

i do. believe in ghosts.

You?

So do i.

Well, sorta. I guess I believe in souls more than anything.

hm?

Well… I guess I hope (more than believe) that we are more than our corporeal selves.

In the sense that, it’s comforting to me that when we die, and our bodies stop working, we don’t evaporate.

I guess.

yeah I understand.

i don’t know. i guess i wanna believe in science more than anything but i know better.

How do you mean?

call it a hunch.

Oh c’mon, it’s gotta be more than that.

Sam…?

Y/n huffs out a breath, gnawing at her lip. She hopes her anxiety isn’t right, that Sam isn’t sick of her silly questions and existential dread, and is actually doing something. Perhaps his battery ran out.

...Sure.

She was doing something too, before she decided to text him. Eyes falling on all her books and notes, spread around her like ugly, depressing, anxiety-inducing flower petals. There’s a blanket over her legs, chilly fall weather seeping through her bones, and there’s a half empty pizza box in front of her. She’s full and the left overs are kept for her sister, Emily, who’s currently locked up in her room.

Damn it. Y/n is stressed and tired, and now her distraction is refusing to reply. This sucks. She hates the crawling, awful, gooey feeling of cold anxiety gripping every beat of her heart and stupidly convincing her he’s purposefully ghosting her, because he doesn’t like her.

Not knowing what to occupy herself with, she heads to take a shower. In the back of her head, she knows that she’ll probably not study any longer, so she takes it upon herself to sink under the hot water and wash thoroughly, trying to get her mind off Dean’s phone. When her feet step out of the shower and she has towel-dried herself as best as she can, she tosses her wet hair in a haphazard bun, and gets dressed.

Books stack under the rickety, stained coffee table, and she grabs her sketchbook, her favorite pencil, as well as her and Dean’s phone. She shoots Connor a text, arranging a hang out of some kind, and opens her little booklet, when a text vibrates Dean’s phone.

hey i’m sorry i got caught up in something.

It’s alright.

She doesn’t press the ghost subject, because he doesn’t seem into it and she really doesn’t wanna make him dislike her any more than he possibly already does.

The empty page of her sketchbook daunts her. With a tight grip on her mechanical pencil, she urges her creativity pumps to use some gasoline, but they seem limp and dead, and once more unwilling to help her. As her eyes fall on Dean’s phone, like a light bulb out of a cartoon, she gets an idea.

Hey, this might sound creepy, but what do you look like?

She stares at the phone. This feels like a risky question. God, if he wasn’t done with her before, he certainly must be now. But then, he surprises her.

why do you wanna know?

I’m in the mood to sketch some, and my creativity has officially left the building.

Care to help a girl out? Maybe your literary descriptions will spark something in me lmao.

i didn’t know you sketched.

Yeah, sometimes. Nothing great though, I promise. I’m certainly no Picasso.

i mean you don’t have to be picasso to sketch well. and you don’t have to sketch well to sketch at all.

Yeah, may be.

I don’t wanna pressure you into anything, you really don’t have to humor me.

If you do feel like it though, don’t send me a picture. Kinda wanna spark some life into my brain cells.

haha i will. only if you show me the finished product tho.

You’ve got yourself a deal :)

She simply cannot believe he has just agreed to this. Her breath is caught in her throat.

so.

what do you want me to start with?

Just whatever. Idk, tell me about your face.

well

i have brown curly-ish hair that reaches my ears. uh, my eyes are hazel.

Okay, that’s a start.

What’s your nose like?

it’s a bit pointy. thin i think?

Jawline?

sharp? i guess?

this is by far the weirdest thing i’ve done.

Lmao, yeah, this is pretty weird.

Exciting though.

She shouldn’t have said that. Fuck, that is definitely overeager.

yeah it is.

Her stomach feels floaty at his response.

Eyebrows?

normal?

How do you classify “normal” eyebrows, exactly?

i don’t know? they’re simple i guess.

Are you implying complicated eyebrows exist out there?

…

Elaborate, Sam. Are you shy? Do you not have eyebrows? Are they bushy? Or too thin? Or pointy?

i’m telling you they’re average.

Sam

what

You officially suck at this.

oh fuck off how would you describe yours?

Y/n proceeds to write a cohesive sentence that includes adjectives apart from “normal” and “average”. Words like bushy, thin, arched and curvy.

well shit yeah i guess i do suck at this.

i think it’s not a skill i mind not having.

That… is a confusing sentence.

just… draw them however. what difference can eyebrows make?

Oh you have no idea.

Okay, last thing.

Do you have a fringe?

yeah but not for long. i’ll probably let it grow out.

Okay, I can do something with that. Thanks :)

no problem

Her creativity is finally servicing her according to her commands, and Y/n puts pen to paper and scribbles messily. Line after line, they curl and sit on the page, forming a smile with thin lips, a sharp jaw, a pointy nose. She has to guess the eyebrows a bit, and the eyes are more cartoonish and generic than she likes. In the end, she gets anxious at the prospect of having to show him, and gives him a hood, so she won’t fuck up the hair.

Okay, I’m done.

that was quick, actually.

Well I didn’t have much to go on.

Sam doesn’t reply. She worries he might have misinterpreted her teasing tone.

Gimme a sec, I’ll send it over.

Ugh, Dean’s camera is such shit. Do you mind if I send it from my phone?

no go ahead.

[Y/n has sent a picture]

As you said, it didn’t take long. It’s really not the best.

that…

is actually not too far from the truth

it kind of looks like me from two years ago

wow, really?

yeah.

and it’s honestly a pretty good sketch. good job.

Thank you :)

Sam doesn’t say anything after this, and she huffs. Her head falls back on the couch, and she stares at the ceiling. She should go to bed soon, it’s getting late.

isn’t this strange?

Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit oh shit, she thinks. He’s regretting this. He doesn’t like her. He’ll stop talking to her and that’ll be it.

Why does she care so much? It’s a thought that passes through her mind. It hasn’t been long since they started talking and, after the near-kidnapping encounter, they’ve been having nearly daily conversations, but that still doesn’t mean much. She knows barely anything about him.

She guesses, she wants to get to know him better. He seems like the type of guy she’d enjoy hanging out with and she has so far. Stopping any kind of conversation would surely feel like a loss. She’d have to go back to her boring routine. This is the most exciting thing she has allowed herself to do in years.

A part of her feels rather lame for finding such a thrill at something so trivial. She’s talking to a stranger, and that’s all it is, but the prospect that he could be anyone at all, and she’s never even seen his face… well… It feels refreshing, new. Scary in an adrenaline-rush kind of way.

What is?

us. texting.

isn’t it a little odd?

I guess it is a bit.

I mean we’ve only known each other for, what, a week? And a half?

yeah.

should we stop?

I don’t know

Do you want to?

The extra moment his reply takes to arrive makes her want to vomit.

Then there’s your answer.

okay then

can I save you in my contacts?

Sure, go ahead.

I just did too.

alright.

Okay :)

I’m sorry, I have to go.

I guess I’ll text you later, Sam.

Go be whoever Sam Something is.

it’s winchester.

Like the shotgun?

yup.

That’s BADASS. Can you even get more badass than this? Pre-law, now a PI, and you’re named after a shotgun? Damn dude.

Well, it’s nice to meet you Sam. I’m Y/n Andrews.

Haha thanks.

nice to meet you, too

goodnight Y/n Andrews.

Night Sam Winchester :)

--- Part 3

A/N: Thoughts? How are you liking the newer version of this? right after I post it, I’m gonna delete the other one.

Taglist:

Old Can You See The Stars taglist: @shutupiminlooove @sammysgirl1997 @kymberlytorres @bambi95-blog @demonic-meatball @thekarliwinchester @littlekay15 @li-m-ii @thinspo-isuppose @carryonmywaywarddemigodwitch @ellen-reincarnated1967 @moonlitskinwalker @marichromatic @illuminatus42 @lazy-author @mirandaaustin93 @hauntedsiriel @pilaxia @devilgirlsarah @nobodys-baby-now @captiveties @calamitychaos @midiocris @wordswillscream

Sam taglist @kymberlytorres @theboykingsam @depressed-moose-78 @andi-mendes-barnes @captainmarvelcorps @nerd-in-a-galaxy-far-away @nellachain

#sam x reader #sam x fem!reader #sam x reader series #sam x reader fluff #sam x reader angst #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x fem!reader #sam winchester x reader series #sam winchestr fluff #sam fluff #spn #supernatural #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #seen 2 #seen

75 notes · View notes

op-law · 3 years

Text

One Piece {Warlord Imagines} When You've Been Kidnapped

*I forgot Kuma*

Trafalgar Law

"If you let me go now, I promise not to tell my Captain about you guys" I was trying to reason with the men who had tied to a chair but clearly these men were morons. "Sorry girly but he's on his way here right now. Today will be the day that Trafalgar Law loses his life! Am I right boys!?"

I ignored their cheers as I waited for Law to show up, these men clearly were a waste of space anyway so it wouldn't matter when Law killed them all. "Boss run!" My eyes shifted to a man at the door who was holding his stomach as blood poured from an open wound.

I see that Law had appeared behind him as he stabbed him with his scalpel and pushed him out of the way. "(Y/n)-ya are you okay?" A man had tried to attack Law from behind but as soon as Law called for Bepo the threat was kicked into a wall. "Law! I was so scared you weren't going to show up!"

"It's okay (Y/n)-ya, let's get you back home so I can patch you up" I only nodded as Law untied me and started to carry me back to the submarine. "Thanks for saving me Law"

"Anytime (Y/n)-ya"

Dracule Mihawk

"Mihawk is going to beat up all of you stupid monkeys!!!" I was currently being held captive by the island's Humandrills. Now Mihawk had a rule in place that I wasn't allowed outside of the castle without him but the man asleep and rules were made to be broken.

"Untie me so I can go home before Mihawk wakes up!!!"

"It's much too late for that (Y/n)" My eyes widened as I looked to the side to see that Mihawk was leaning against a stone wall while staring at the Humandrills. When they noticed the swordsmen standing nearby, a group of them started to attack him but they didn't stand a chance.

"Now (Y/n) you broke the only rule I gave you, whatever shall I do with you?" I picked up on Mihawk's teasing as he untied me and threw me over his shoulder as he started walking back to the castle. Since he was expecting an answer, I gave him one. "Love me, hug me, and never let me go?"

"You're a troublemaker (Y/n) but I suppose we can come to some kind of agreement for your punishment"

Sir Crocodile

"All you have to do is tell us what Crocodile is planning (Y/n) and then we'll let you go" My eyes stayed focus on the wall in front of me as I ignored the man who was questioning me. There was no way in hell I was selling out Croco-chan and I knew that he would be here soon to recuse me from this creep.

"Come on (Y/n) I'd rather not mess up that pretty face any more than I already have" I was growing sick and tired of this man so I spit a mouthful of blood at him. "You little bi-"

"Don't you dare" Croco-chan finally made it, I smiled as his eyes looked me over while he threw the man to the side. "(Y/n) your bleeding" While Croco-chan untied me his right-hand man took care of the trash. "Croco-chan! I thought you wouldn't make it in time!"

"I'm here now" I wrapped her arms around him as he lifted me up and started walking out of the building, we were in. "Croco-chan, can I pass out now?"

"Go ahead (Y/n)" He didn't need to tell me twice as I finally let my body shut down, I knew he'd take care of me in the meantime.

Donquixote Doflamingo

"You're going to be sorry when Doffy shows up to get me!" I was tucked into the corner of the room as a group of men were laughing at my latest outburst, I'd been there for a few hours so far but I haven't stopped talking the whole time. "He'll never find you here (Y/n)"

"Fufufufufu. Is that so well I found my love quite easily actually" The men froze as I stood and ran into Doflamingo's arms. "Doffy! What took you so long!?" I kissed him before I wrapped my arms around him to give him a hug.

"Sorry that I kept you waiting (Y/n). Let's go home~" As we walked out of the house, I seen some of the other family members walking into the house before loud screams were heard. "Did you save me any cake Doffy?"

"Of course I did (Y/n)~"

Boa Hancock

"So, this is the Snake Princess's lover?" I had a blindfold on but I could every word that they were saying about me. "Yes, Boss!"

"Why would Boa Hancock fall in love with someone so average?" His hand touched my cheek but it was only for a second before it was removed but the movement felt forced. "How dare you insult my love! Ladies take care of these pitiful creatures" That was Hancock's voice and she sounded pissed. "Yes, Snake Princess!"

"Hancock is that you!?" My blindfold was removed before I saw Hancock's face. "My love! Don't worry we shall return to Amazon Lily right away!" The next thing I knew Hancock was carrying me in her arms and heading back to her ship as her crew took care of the people who had kidnapped me.

"Thanks, Hancock I'd knew you would find me"

"Anything for you my love!"

Jinbei

I was in a prison cell on a ship, my memory was a little foggy on how I actually got here but I knew that Jinbei would soon show up to save me. As I played with a ball, I found on the floor the ship started to rock back and forth like they were sailing through a storm.

"My rides here!" While waiting a blue fish-man stepped in front of my cell as he opened the lock and pulled me into a hug when he freed me from the cell. "(Y/n)-chan come on we need to go" Jinbei pulled me along with him as we run onto the deck, there wasn't anyone there so I guessed that he took care of them already.

"Come along (Y/n)-chan I'll have my friends take us to a nearby island" Climbing onto the back of a whale I quickly fell asleep in Jinbei's arms, I'm glad he found me.

3 notes · View notes

letstalksymphogear · 5 years

Text

Symphogear, EP. 3 (Cont.)

“aight fellas im here for the fortnite session where we droppin boys”

Hibiki shows up, ready to participate in this four player game of sociological tension.

“hope hibiki’s doing okay. im worried about her. ryoko, stop resting your arm on my head.”

“ryoko does as ryoko pleases baby”

Vibrates angstily.

“im missing my wife for this guys please lets just do this”

“wish i had a wife too instead of this vase filled with fucking ashes” SLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORP

The squad analyzes the statistics of all Noise outbreaks over the last month to see if there’s a pattern somewhere. Somehow, Hibiki is regarded as an authority on this, despite being just a normal girl.

This is not the face of someone who has a degree in Noisology, let alone even listened to a Noisia album.

“looking photogenic while this girl describes how these horrible, lovecraftian entities butcher entire populations will look great on my acting resume”

Strained sounds of holding back laughter at this absolute clownery.

*coughs quietly*

Exposition goes on about the UN acknowledging the existence of Noise, but them existing for far longer, existing in myths as demons and monsters of long ago. This makes little sense, but fuck it, just roll with it. They also say the Noise is rare, but this being Symphogear, the Noise will be here forever, until the end of time.

“its like the noise are a metaphor........................”

Hibiki, looking dead inside as the average overnight studying student would, muses whether someone is behind the noise. She also asks if you can hear the sound of one hand clapping.

Tsubasa makes a very relevant observation that the school is smack dab at the center of all these outbreaks. In retrospect, you probably should have asked her first. She points out it may be because someone wants their get their hands on the almost complete relic hidden away in the 2nd Division: Durandal. Why anyone wants an old ass french sword is beyond me.

“yeah i can do exposition too, fuck you”

Finished relics are extremely rare and as a result extremely powerful. Incomplete ones are pretty powerful, but need to be rebuilt a bit.

“i discovered all this, conveniently, as the only person left to do so! totally not suspicious at all.”

“anime plot hurting brain. bullshit levels make think no good.”

“wish i got hired for a macross anime instead, they get to go to space”

“being meguca is suf- wait, im confusing my roles”

The exposition goes on to note that America wants the relic. This is one of the few shows that depicts America in a very serious and antagonistic light. America never cooperates in any useful way except once.

“it should would suck if someone was sending us them noise monster all on purpose-like”

“yeah............! suuuuuure would suck.... mmmmmmmmmhmmmmmmm...”

Tsubasa and Ogawa quietly plan idol ruminations. This animation used to be far, far worse.

This is the moment where Tsubasa becomes sword-kin. From here on out, she will always refer to herself as a sword. This is law. Literally every single season has this same deal. She believes she is a sword. I know it’s not literal, but I like pretending it is.

Succ Intensifies

“gonna get her number later after the season is over, damn”

Hibiki muses on the nature of war.

“why we gotta fight”

“cause yall suck”

Ryoko then says some very not nice things that we’re just going to walk right around because Ryoko is a little bit of a weirdo and should probably keep her flirting to the short haired lady working on the bridge.

“i will call the cops, lady”

Hibiki starts her next day at school as she spots Tsubasa during her choir class.

“forget my nintendo switch with the latest smash bros game in the classroom goddamnit”

“hibiki please tone down the gay for five seconds while we try to get through this dumb singing class in one piece”

“i smell a homewrecker”

“THE GAY CAN NEVER BE TONED DOWN, IT CAN ONLY BE TONED”

Hibiki is then fed by multiple classmates for this statement.

The Anime Janai crew is fond of Hibiki, much like a group of Lords being fond of the royal court jester. Hibiki clowns it up by working on a report she procrastinated until the very last minute. “Your life sure is an anime!”, one of them says. Hibiki then says, “I wish!”. They smile in unison at the irony.

Look at how they mock the threads of reality. Absolute monsters.

Hibiki nails the report at the skin of her teeth, Miku’s gonna get ready for the meteor shower, everyone’s real fucking happy, the evening looks peaceful, all is well.

“i cant wait to do all these fun things we promised several times over!”

Unfortunately, the worst case scenario happens.

Her tiddies start ringing.

“no.... fuck.... my tiddies... they’re ringing...”

She knows now she cannot go.

In retrospect, she probably could’ve blown them off. I mean, what are they gonna do? Fire her? She’s practically irreplaceable. Alas, her conscience is too strong. The ringing from her tiddies too loud to ignore.

“okay im back for the thing you promised we’d do repeatedly that we planned for a good amount of weeks now”

“...”

“i got fucking ghosted didnt i”

“cannot fucking believe i got ditched on my hot date with hibiki. bet its because her tiddies rang, isnt it. always her and her... GODDAMN tiddies ringing ALL THE TIME. LET ME BE WITH HER... god...”

“bae. im sorry. the tiddies rang. i have no choice.”

Miku tries to keep it together. Neither of them are happy about this state of affairs, and rightfully so, because it’s fucking stupid. Hell, it would have made more sense of Miku knew but still got jealous anyway, because she feels her job is establishing too much distance! And they talk those problems out instead of issues that only arise if everyone’s a goddamn moron about communication!

“but thats the point of the pl-”

NO! IT’S NOT CLEVER! IT’S FRUSTRATING! THERE ARE CLEVER WAYS TO SHOW A LACK OF COMMUNICATION BESIDES A CHAIN OF OBSTACLES TOO STUPID TO EXIST!

Miku takes the whole thing with grace even though I’m absolutely certain she threw her phone at the wall in raw, gay frustration.

Hibiki, understandably, is pretty fucking pissed.

“im gay. im angry, and im gonna fuck yall up for RUINING MY DATE AFTER HAVING FINISHED MY DAMN REPORT”

Hibiki fights the Noise. She’s gotten slightly better at fighting, but for now she’s still sorta trash at it. A grape themed Noise throws bombs and crushed her under rocks from a ceiling.

You’re a student. You’re the lone survivor of a concert that you got flak about for years. You go to an institution for singing with your best friend and basically get shoved into a life of crime fighting unwittingly. Your only teammate hates you and tried to kill you. You don’t get to hang out with your best friend anymore. Your teachers hate you. And you’re losing against the abominations that may have potentially warped your life negatively, forever.

This is probably the pivotal moment where Hibiki fucking snaps and decides she ain’t taking shit anymore. She’s not at her strongest yet, but mentally? She has decided to tell the world to go fuck itself.

“MY WIFE THINKS IM CHEAAAAAATING, MY TEAMMATE THINKS I SUUUUUUUUUCK, AND I’M SICK AND TIRED OF IT”

My, Hibiki, what big fangs you have. All the more to grit your teeth and beat the shit out of things with, I assure you.

Needless to say, even without having the skill, she’s starting to understand and get more comfortable with the full extent of the power her suit provides her.

She’s gotten so mad that even the illustrators are afraid of her.

To note: this isn’t just anime drama silhouette stylization. She is actually physically turning into a red eyed shadow. You’ll know why later down the road.

“YOU WANNA FUCKIN FIGHT ME NOW TSUBASA? HUH? HUH? YOU WANNA FUCKIN’ FIGHT ME?!”

Needless to say, her rampage goes on for a while.

She manages to dispatch all the Noise except for the Grape themed one. Up in the hole it made, she sees the meteor fall from the sky...

Wait, look closer. Is it a bird?

A plane?!

No, it’s...!

“i aint gonna tell her i just did a wish on her”

Sword!

“why the fuck does SHE get jetpacks?!”

Hibiki randomly yells out she wants to protect things too, for absolutely no real reason. Who would even break the ice with that. Hibiki, please.

They sorta stare each other down in a field awkwardly, like a bad high school reunion. But, a mysterious voice breaks out of literally fucking nowhere.

“didnt know they legalized gay marriage in japan already, otherwise id be showing up to this joke of a marriage sooner, you absolute buffoons”

“did this bitch just insinuate id waste my time getting married to this complete idiot, let alone even contemplate getting married in a public park as opposed to having a customized karaoke based marriage in the FUCKING HILTON?!”

“hey time out dont say that shit im already married and my wife already feels enough like im cheating so please keep those comments to yourself okay please”

“eat my ass, nerds. id tell you to come to the park in 15 minutes for an ass kicking...

but we’re already here, now aren’t we?”

#symphogear #symphogear season 1 #recap #anime

21 notes · View notes

hachama · 5 years

Text

Second Democratic Debate Analysis, pt. 1

Like last time, I’ve (finally) read the transcripts. I read the fact-checkers’ analysis. I have ranked them.

Also like last time, due to the size of the field, I’ll be splitting my analysis into four groups. This first one will be the Please Do Not Make Me Vote For Them group:

Good news! Due to candidates dropping out, it’s a shorter list!

Biden, Williamson, Delaney, Ryan, and Bullock

Under the break, I’ll be analyzing their debate performance, how effectively they represented themselves on the issues, and how much I hate them, in reverse order of preference. Let’s begin.

17) Bullock

Governor Steve Bullock did not make an appearance in the first set of debates, and now I know why. He is the Shirley Exception made flesh. “Surely no one would actually use our laws to hurt someone. Surely if someone is really a good person they won’t face terrible abuses. Surely not…” Stevie, these are things that are currently happening. These are facts.

Those who read my analysis of the first debates should know that I do not accept any luke-warm “healthcare choice” arguments, and Steve is full of those, too.

He’s very worried about other candidates campaign promises being unrealistic, and says that it’s important to listen to “real Americans,” as if democratic socialists and the majority of Americans who support universal healthcare aren’t “real” enough for him.

As if that weren’t enough, he also argues in favor of some of the abuses of immigrants, as a deterrent to immigration.

To his credit, he supports treating gun violence as a public health issue, including research by the CDC into causes, which could inform actually useful gun control policies. He wants to see Citizens United overturned, which is also good. But not good enough.

16) Ryan

Representative Tim Ryan has the distinction of being one of the candidates I hated entirely in this debate. I agreed with none of his points, and most of my notes contain profanity. He introduced himself as New and Fresh, playing on his youth (he’s 45. The average age of the democratic candidates is 54. There are 4 people running who are younger than Tim) without offering much substance.

He opposes decriminalizing the border. On healthcare he seems to think we can’t make healthcare better for everyone because then unions won’t have anything going for them which is just… He thinks letting businesses “buy in to medicare” is a good idea, and all I can hear is “privatize the social safety net and let companies decide whose grandma actually deserves to have proper care when she breaks her hip.”

I’m not saying Tim is evil. I’m saying he’s spineless and would let bad things happen because it’s too much work to stop them.

15) Delaney

Representative John Delaney joins Tim Ryan in the dubious category of “I hate you and everything you stand for.” The only reason he ranks slightly higher than Tim is because someone had to. Their scores were the same level of shrieking profanity.

John thinks that reminding everyone that he was the youngest CEO in the history of the New York Stock Exchange is a good thing, showing that he has absolutely no idea what democrats are looking for in a candidate. Surely, we should trust him! He sold his soul early and has abided by the contract for so long!

He is another candidate decrying “unrealistic” campaign promises. He reiterated his concern that Medicare for All would underfund the healthcare industry in America, he considers it an “extreme” policy proposal, and called it an “anti-private sector strategy.” Yes, John, because the private sector’s profit motive has been working so well, let’s all continue dying so that small groups of people can make lots of money off of the price of insulin. Fuck you.

14) Williamson

Marianne Williamson’s contributions were blessedly brief and infrequent. She supports public campaign funding, which is great, but she also spent an entire minute on “I have concerns” without once proposing a solution, referred to the American healthcare system as a “sickness care system,” which for me evokes concerns about chemtrails and chemikillz, and her opening statement evoked American Exceptionalism.

I’m so tired of Marianne Williamson.

13) Biden

Former Vice President, Former Senator Joe Biden was invited to comment on everything. As a result, I have over a page of notes just for him. The moderators’ bold strategy of checking in with Uncle Joe every time anyone said anything gave him opportunities to say a few things I agreed with, but ultimately was not enough to get him out of my lowest ranked category.

As he said in the last debate, Joe supports rejoining the Paris Climate Accord. This time, he said we need to “increase” the standard, apparently recognizing that solutions negotiated several years ago will not be sufficient now, and he wants to see an end to fossil fuel subsidies. These are good things I can agree with.

Joe is concerned by the treatment of immigrants seeking asylum, and the excessive wait times for their cases to be heard and the refugees either released or returned to their country of origin. His solution is to “flood the zone,” spend more resources to make decisions faster. This guarantees nothing except a reduction in detainees which, while generally positive, is less than half a solution.

The thing Joe said that I liked best was about the treatment of former-inmates after the completion of their prison sentences. Joe said that former-inmates should have access to public programs and benefits upon release. This would be a significant change from the current system, which continues to punish people long after their sentence is served. He also said that drug crimes should result in rehab, not prison.

Joe continued to use his association with Obama as a shield against criticism, which was worn thin before the first debate started. He evaded questions about Eric Garner, refused to answer questions about Obama-era deportations (with the added bonus of “what I said was said in confidence, you’d share it, but not me”), invoked American Exceptionalism in his opening statement, interrupted Cory Booker at one point, blamed all of our current political and social dysfunction on Trump, and thinks we should renegotiate the Trans Pacific Partnership.

The cherry on top of this shit sundae? He said the phrase “I have the only plan that (…)” I haven’t talked about this much, because it’s a little hard to express in text, but I have a very, very negative response to any claim to being the only person who can solve a problem. It’s bad when Trump does it, it’s bad when Biden does it, it’s an abuser’s tactic. “I’m the only one who loves you, I’m the only one who can help you, I’m the only one” is always a) a lie, and b) a red flag.

Granted, I was so far behind that some of Biden’s comments formed parallels I might not have seen when he initially said them, but some of the things he said about immigration were symptomatic of the same thought process that gave us that abominable rewrite of Emma Lazarus’s New Colossus. Biden, when trying to make a point about the strength of America being in our diversity, said that “we’ve been able to cherry pick from the best of every culture,” and followed it up with “anybody that crosses the stage with a PhD, you should get a green card for seven years. We should keep them here.” Not everyone who immigrates to the U.S. is going to have an advanced degree. Not everyone who immigrates to the U.S. is going to be “the best and brightest.” And that’s a good thing. There is a limit to the number of doctors and lawyers a society needs. Some immigrants are going to be nurse’s assistants and cab drivers, and we need them here, too.

Even with all of that, the worst of what Joe had to say was about healthcare. Joe thinks that limiting co-pays to $1000 per person is part of making healthcare accessible to everyone. He thinks your health insurance premium should be no more than 8.5% of your annual income. I did some math. For minimum wage, that’s almost $2500 for insurance, out of pocket, before anyone sees any benefit. After taxes, that leaves about $10k for a minimum wage worker to live on for a year. At $15/hour, $20k to live on. These are not reasonable numbers in most of the country.

#second democratic debate #politics #opinions and analysis

2 notes · View notes

osmw1 · 5 years

Text

Crowbar Nurse Chapter 3 — In a World with No Rescue

It felt great to let loose and slay a horde of zombies again. Though as refreshing as that was, I couldn’t help but feel guilty as well. They were formerly people after all. It made me question what gives me the right to kill them.

… ugh, I’ve never even considered any of this when I game. Having blood on my hands is mentally rougher than I thought…

Heaving a sigh, I stood the assault rifle up against the wall then sat on one of the dining chairs… one that the old man wasn’t. I know I’m in a game, but I’m still not about to sit in the old man’s seat.

Still, why is this even happening…? Because my phone glitched…?

Thoughts ran through my head as I was trying to figure out my situation. It was then I noticed the desk to the side… the key was on the desk, just as I remembered reading about on the walkthrough site.

Might as well take it.

Kiryū looked understandably bewildered as he watched me take the key.

“Umm, hey… Sera? What’s that key do?” “It’s super useful and since I don’t have a pocket… would you please hang on to it? Anyway, what did you mean by that? Sera?”

I looked up at Kiryū. He looked back at me with a troubled expression. He knows my name, even though I’m sure we’ve just met.

“… I’m not sure if you realize it yet, but right now, physically, you’re Sera Harvey, the protagonist of Dead Man’s Conflict 2.” “Are you for real?” “I swear. I’ve never played any zombie games before, but I’ve seen this series at the game show in Tokyo before.” “… that’s… very surprising…”

As stupid as I may have sounded, I had no other words but those. Subconsciously, I began looking at my hands… and then my feet.

My long, fair legs were peeking through the bottom of an adorable green sundress. My hair was in a shade of dark bluish black. And tipping my small, slender hands were my fingernails in pink.

… this is definitely not my own body. This body belonged to the beauty who contrasted the deplorable battlefield of Confi City, the stealthy one-man army of Dead Man’s Conflict—Sera Harvey.

“… I’m Sera…”

I shook my head in denial as I finally realized who I was.

“What the heck happened to me…”

The truth was sickening, troubling. This situation was all too ridiculous. Kiryū, as if he understood how I felt, began his explanation.

“From what I can tell, you’re just an average Joe who got dragged from the real world to this side.” “… that’s what it seems like. I swear, I was just a rookie nurse working free overtime in a sweatshop they called a hospital… Kiryū, this is some sort of a dream, right…?”

This would be strange topic if I were in a dream, but I still had to ask… I still needed that small glimmer of false hope for consolation.

“… it’d be nice if it were a dream.”

Kiryū shrugged as he spoke, sounding just like a doctor giving a patient bad diagnosis. He continued with a heavy heart and gently broke the news to me.

“… but I don’t think this is simply a dream. I don’t know how else to describe it, but we’re inexplicably trapped in this world.” “No…” “I feel you. It’s hard to accept. But have you ever been dog-tired and out of breath in a dream before?”

I couldn’t help but shake my head and answer with no.

“… I haven’t had a dream like… that… I suppose. Isn’t this a little too unrealistic though? Zombies only exist in fiction. The concept of the reanimated dead just doesn’t make sense. It goes against the laws of physics. They show all signs of being dead, you know? And how can they produce any adenosine triphosphate to move? I don’t even know how I got here in the first place… to this world…”

I was at my wits’ end by now.

—I opened a door to another universe by working overtime and getting my phone hacked.

No one would believe that. It’d make more sense if it were just a dream. Or maybe I’m in some sort of web novel. They say the hit genre right now is about getting reborn into a game world. Even my brother mentioned he was into that sort of novels and anime. I felt more and more ill as I think about all of this. To begin with, I was on the brink of death at work up until moments ago.

“… real life blows. Were you working overtime too?”

Perhaps he could sense my mental state, Kiryū forced a small smile and began to sympathize. His words seemed a little cool yet gentle. I slowly looked up at him. Kiryū looked as shallow as he did handsome, but the way he spoke was more than genuine.

“Me too. Just now—rather, hours ago, I was stuck at work debugging with the whole team.” “… what’s that?” “You play a game thoroughly to make sure that it’s free of any bugs. It’s a time-consuming process in which gotta play the game over and over again. People from other departments would get on your case and check in with you too. I really thought I was gonna kick the bucket. Then, before I knew it, I got trapped in this ridiculous world.” “I see…” “… I guess I should apologize too. I might look like a real stud, but inside, I’m really an old fart. I’m just like you, from the real world. Except that I’m a 30-year-old software engineer working for a game dev company.”

I let out a slight giggle in spite of myself. At first, I assumed he was a little too serious and awkward, but he’s actually quite kind.

“You can’t call yourself an old fart yet when you’re just 30.” “I appreciate that, but you’ll feel it too when you turn 30. People younger than you will make fun of you for everything, so you gotta be prepared for it.” “Hah, that sounds rough… oh, by the way, do you know who your character is?” “Kiryū Sōichirō, right? I’ve, uhh… seen it at the game show.” “Oh, so you do know!”

Letting his guard down a little, Kiryū laughed with me. He looked like the world’s hottest playboy, but I’d be no better if I said that out loud. We’re both adults who are sick and tired of their jobs, but we certainly don’t look the part.

“I’m glad you’re smiling again. I wouldn’t know what would happen to me if I hadn’t found you too.” “… what do you mean? Were you with someone else?” “Yeah.”

His smile faded into a frown.

“… I found you as I watched my friend get eaten by zombies.” “Like, in a cutscene?” “No… he was a real person. He lost his cool and tried to clear a horde with his bare hands.” “That’s such a movie cliché…” “I don’t get it either. He was saying we’re not going to be rescued anyway… I guess he was at his limits couldn’t handle it anymore.”

Kiryū looked down at the ground and heaved a sigh.

“… please, be strong. For me. We’ll think of some way to safely break out of this world. We can do this together. So please, promise me…”

As his voice trails off, I looked down at the ground and felt a wave of anxiety building up in my chest.

—is he saying we might die in here like his friend…?

But what did he mean that he wasn’t going to be rescued? Does he know something we don’t…?

Silence fell in the bloody, musty room. … then, I remembered something very important and I grabbed the assault rifle. Shit. Christ. This is bad. We can’t afford to be just sitting here.

“—Sera, wait! Let’s talk about this some more!” “There’s lots I want to say too, but I just recalled something really important. In this game, we’re in danger until we reach a safehouse.” “… we’re in danger?”

Kiryū now looked very serious.

“… you mean, they’ll keep spawning and respawning, coming at us?” “That’s exactly it.”

I’m glad that Kiryū, being a game dev, quickly understood what I’m talking about, but I can’t rejoice yet.

“The longer we stay at a location, the more enemies will spawn.” “Ugh. That sounds like the whole world is gonna get laggy… but I get what you mean. It’ll be dangerous if we stay here any longer. We’ve gotta keep moving so they don’t form too big of a horde…” “That’s right. We should head to a safehouse ASAP. But, before that…”

I stopped in the middle of my sentence to rack my brain. There was so much we should be doing.

—what are the locations of this game like?

Are there any places where I can’t return?

Are there any key items that I should get before I leave?

“… before we head to the safehouse, there are two things we have to recover.”

I walked towards the exit as I explained things to him.

“First, I need to pick up the ‘smartphone’ I dropped earlier. Second is the ‘Vital Watch’ that gets dropped in the beginning of this level.” “Vital Watch?”

Kiryū followed behind me.

“It’s critical to our safety that we get that watch. Have you… never played any DMC game before?”

He shook his head and shrugged his shoulders no.

“They say you can do whatever you want in these zombie killers, but they aren’t my thing.” “I see. In that case… umm, the Vital Watch looks like an Apple Watch.” “I see.” “It’s a gadget that… how should I explain this? In short, it’s kinda like a status screen that you can wear around your wrist.”

I grabbed my left wrist with my fingers to demonstrate to Kiryū.

“It fits right around here, and it displays your vital stats, the currently time, and other basic info like that. DMC3 holds your hands throughout the game so that it’s easy to get into it. I think we should be able to find it in this world too.” “I see… diagetic UI, eh?”

Kiryū nodded along as if he completely understood me.

“It sounds like we should definitely get our hands on that Vital Watch. … but your phone? Is it really worth the risk it to get it back?” “Definitely. It was because my phone glitched up that I got sent to this world. It’s very likely a key item, don’t you think?” “Your phone glitched…?” “I’ll tell you the details once we get moving. We can’t sit and chat here anyway.”

He seemed really interested about what happened to my phone.

“In any case, we should definitely go back to get it. We must. I just have to post these pictures online, y’know?” “… what was that?” “Nothing at all. You’re hearing things.” “No shit?”

I digressed but brushed it off with a clap of my hands.

“Well, that’s not important right now. We should get hurrying though! Oh, and where’s your phone?” “Oh. I don’t have it with me.”

Kiryū scratched the back of his head and shrugged his shoulders again.

“I fell asleep at my desk… and when I woke up, I was lying face-up in this world. My phone is probably still on my desk at work.” “Alright, then for now, let’s go retrieve my phone.” “Gotcha.” “Then, we’ll go get the Vital Watch.” “Yep.”

—and so, that was our plan.

First, the phone. Then, the watch.

… the Vital Watch should have dropped after the first section of the game… it should be our first item. Right now, though, we’re at the end of the first locale—Downtown. That means we’ll have to backtrack through the stage.

—… “we’re not going to be rescued anyway”…

That phrase kept coursing through my mind. Nothing but bad feelings welled up in my chest as I looked downwards.

… but now’s not the time to get all depressed.

If we stay here any longer, the game is going to spawn too many zombies. I shook off my anxiety and I tried to cheer up both Kiryū and myself.

“We don’t know anything about our situation, nor do we know anything about how to get back to our world… but let’s keep playing this game. That’s all we can do.”

■Sera

Sera is a rookie nurse whose real name is unknown. Also, a bright and cheerful wild child. She grew up with her brothers—one older and one younger, both two years apar from her. From her grade school days and up till year one of university, she had been obssessed with zombie games. Now, she is suffering the consequences.

contents: /ch001/ /ch002/ /ch003/ /next/

(leave me a tip on Patreon?)

4 notes · View notes

stephenjaymorrisblog · 4 years

Text

The Post Man sings once

The Post Man Sings Once

By Stephen Jay Morris

10/17/20

Here is a condensed portion of a story I wrote about my experience working for the post office during the 90s. It is Chapter 3, from my unpublished manuscript, “Sale Ends March 31st.” I was working in the City of La Mirada, California.

Day 5 The day started when I went into the men’s room to take a wiz. Three mail carriers came in to do the same. I wished there was a law making it illegal for men to converse while at a urinal; I’m way too busy concentrating on my aim. Male protocol dictates that you are supposed to act nonchalant and chat. I have a problem peeing in public: I can’t.

One carrier asked, “Hey, Steve! Are you gonna make it?”

“I hope so,” I answer with great apprehension.

The carrier adds to my answer while shaking his dong of excess wee-wee, “Well, you gotta feed your wife and kids!”

I head up to Oscar’s station. He was doing his hunch back. He sees me and anticipates my question.

“Wait in the swing room. You are going to talk to Dean.”

I walked into the lunchroom and sat down, picked up a newspaper and read the front page. The news was about the war in Afghanistan. I felt the sensation of someone looking at me. I looked up and it was the old man eating his popcorn.

He said mysteriously, “You know, son, how many jobs I’ve had in my life?”

“I don’t know.”

He swallowed and said, “Hundreds! Good luck son, you are going to be just fine!” He got up from his chair, slapped my back, and quietly walked out of the room. Was he hinting at something? Ten minutes later, Oscar came into the room and laconically tells me to follow him. He escorted me to Dean Dan Frank’s office. There he was, sitting his leather, swing chair, looking dignified. There were two empty seats in front of his desk.

“Have a seat,” he said. I sat down, and then Oscar did. I had never talked to Dean before. I had a sick feeling that I was about to get sacked.

Then Dean spoke. I was expecting a sophisticated voice. What came out of his mouth, though, did not match his image. It almost knocked me out of my seat! He sounded like Nicolas Cage, from the movie “Peggy Sue Got Married.” It was a voice like he’d been sucking on a helium balloon. I couldn’t believe it! I had to focus hard to keep a straight face. Then, he went into his rap. His glasses sat down on his nose as he glanced at the report in front of him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to meet you; I’ve been busy. Looking at your report, it indicates that you have Dyslexia?”

Uh oh, Ruby spilled the beans! I answered defensively “Well, Mr Franks, on my pre-medical questionnaire, there was no box to check off for that disorder. I wasn’t hiding anything, I just didn’t think it was that important.”

Dean smiled and said, “Don’t worry about it. I have a sister that’s Dyslexic. She overcame that condition and now she’s a loan officer in a bank. Now if you feel this job is just too darn hard for you, you could resign right now and nobody gets hurt.”

I shot back in pure earnest, “I really feel I can do this job! Just give me another chance and I’ll prove to you that I can overcome my Dyslexia.”

“Okay!” Dean said in his cartoon voice. “Buuutt, any more mistakes, and we are going to have to let you go. Not everybody can do this job. Some people can be rocket scientists and some can’t. I know I can’t, but I do make more money than them, he,he,he.” (laughing to himself.). He continued, “Do not feel like you’re a failure if it turns out you can’t do this job. We will see how you do this week and then take it from there. Oscar here brags, you know, ‘I learned how to do this job in one day!’ (I wanted to respond to him so badly, but I suppressed it). Dean looked at Oscar and asked, “Do you have a route for him?” Oscar nodded his head. “Okay, then, Steve. Follow Oscar and he will give you your route for today. Good Luck.”

I shook Dean’s hand and followed dog-food face out of the room. We sauntered over to Oscar’s station. He looked hungover and I could tell he didn’t want to send me into the field by myself. When we got my station, there was a basket of mail ready to go. He gave me a map of my route. There were only two and mine was just a mile away from the office. The neighborhood was next to the local golf course and high school. They wanted to give me an easy assignment to see how I’d do. Oscar gave me some instructions and I kept nodding my head like a retard while chanting the mantra, “Okay. Okay. Okay.” After completing the routines before leaving the office, I found my truck. It was parked in the spot number “17”. The parking lot was empty except for my truck. The vehicle was a mess! Somebody had left a half filled container of Coke in the truck’s hub. I loaded the back of the truck like I’d been taught, then climbed in, adjusted the mirrors, and I was on my way. One of the procedures required was to honk the horn whenever backing up. I thought this was dumb because nobody was around, but I was being watched with great scrutiny. Though I couldn’t see anyone, I knew it was so. I backed up and proceeded to the driveway that exited into the busy, main street. I looked both ways before making a left onto the street. It was clear and I was on my way.

I couldn’t believe it! After all those years of watching mail carriers driving those funny looking vehicles, I was behind the wheel of one! Along the street, I saw sexy looking high schools nymphs. I glanced at them for a second, but did not engage in any sexual reverie. I was looking for my “parking point.” Just as my luck would have it, it was trash pick-up day and someone’s roll away trash barrels were blocking my space! I had just enough room to park my vehicle. I got out of the truck and locked the door. Then, I opened the rear sliding door. Those doors are loud and you can hear them for miles. When I was with Berry, whenever he opened his door, it was a signal for all the old ladies in the neighborhood to come out onto their porches to wait for their mail. There was one fat woman, in particular, who I will always remember. As soon as she heard the door open, she would come out of her house and start sweeping her porch; or pretend to sweep her porch. Berry told me that she would never leave her house, not even to go shopping. I had to explain to him what Agoraphobia was. His solution to that, however, was that if she were to give her life to the Lord, she would be all right.

So there I was, in back of my truck, loading the mail into my bag. While I was doing this, Bertha drove by in her personal car, checking me out. I waved to her, but she just ignored me and drove on.

It was one of those days when everything went right, except for one problem: one house didn’t get any mail. The customer would swear that he got mail everyday, even junk mail. But, this day, I had nothing for him. I completed the route in average time and returned to base around noon. The California Labor code specified that, if you work for more than six hours, you are entitled to a lunch break. I had only been working for five hours and, so, was entitled to a 15 minute break. Oscar told me to take my 15 minutes. I had brought a lunch box to work, so I gobbled up a peanut butter sandwich and potato chips in record time. After my 15 minutes were up, I went on and did another two routes. It went fine. I thought I had the whole job down. The next day, however, would be different. Very different.

Final day. The day started normally. I went into the swing room and had a morning snack. Things was different. The old man—whom the workers called “Dad”--wasn’t there. I asked a carrier, who was grabbing his lunch-box from the refrigerator, “Hey! Where’s Dad today?” The carrier looked at me blankly and just shrugged his shoulders. He left the room and I was all alone.

Something wasn’t right. Usually, the workers would greet me with a cheerful good morning. Not today. Everybody had the disposition of mourners at a funeral. Maybe I wasn’t privy to something. I reported to Oscar’s station and I said, “Good Morning.” He didn’t reply. He just said, “Report to casing station 9.” I walked to the station and the place was unusually quiet. There was a Black carrier, who was almost done casing his station.

I said, “Hi, I understand that I will be doing your route?”

He smiled and answered, “Just the last part.”

My follow up question was, “Are you going home early?”

He threw a box in the basket and replied, “No, I hurt my back and I am on light duty.

This would be a big challenge to me, as I now had about nine routes to complete. Plus, I had a lot of registered parcels to process. I loaded up my basket and got my scanner. I paid a visit to the Accounts Payable office to get my keys and forms. I told the lady in the office that I’d lost my canister of pepper spray on my route; somehow it had fallen off of my mailbag. She just told me not to worry about it and handed me another. Somewhere in La Mirada, some kid had found a canister of pepper spray and God only knew what he was doing with it.

I loaded up the truck. I noticed that the mirrors were out of place and that one tire was really low. I saw the mechanic and pointed this out to him. He said to me, “Don’t worry about it,” and he walked away. I adjusted the mirrors as best I could.

Driving to my route was kind of difficult. It was on the west side of town and the streets meandered like spaghetti spilled on a floor. They were short blocks with what seemed like hundreds of names. They must have been named after real estate speculators.

My first stop was on a tree-lined street called McMaltin Avenue. It was a quiet place with plenty of parking. Everything went okay. This was “Pennysaver” day, and my mailbag was heavy with the free circular. One customer came out of her house and handed some mail to me, saying, “This is not mine!” She saw that I wasn’t wearing a uniform and asked, “Is it casual dress day?” I answered “No madam, I’m just a trainee.” I proceeded to finish the route. Then, some stupid, small dog came bounding out of a house, barking at me. It was a Bolognese, a breed I hate! A lot of Gay men and middle-aged women love that breed. I looked for the owner and saw some fat woman peeping through her curtains, smiling. I yelled out “Can you get your dog, please?” She disappeared from the window while the dog kept yapping away. I stomped my foot and tried to make a rude sound. The mutt got spooked and ran back into the house. I jotted down the address on a piece of paper; I was going to report this.

And, if that hadn’t been bad enough, I walked over a lawn to get to the front door of a house, when the sprinklers went on. My pants got soaked! I knocked on the door to complain, but there was no answer. I noticed a bumper sticker on his door that read, “Get U.S. out of the U.N!” I realized this was the home of some Right wing shithead who was hostile to the federal government. He was getting an “American Opinion” magazine delivered with his mail. That is the official organ of the John Birch Society. I couldn’t believe they were still around! I stuffed his mail into his box and ran back through the sprinklers. I was pissed! Then, some old geezer came up to me and threw down a “Pennysaver” at my feet. He squawked, “I told you people not to give me this shit!” He stormed off, back to his hole.

At that point, my sense of equanimity was being eroded. I felt that sickening feeling of adrenaline in my belly.

My next stop was one block over. I parked in front of a house where an old lady was yelling at a young woman. As I opened up the rear sliding door, I could hear her yelping, “I don’t care what the doctor says! I’m not taking that medicine! That doctor is trying to kill me!”

Then it happened. All the mail in the subsequent tray was out of sequence. The regular carrier had misfiled everything! I had to put it all in order. I was already 10 minutes behind schedule; this would take me at least 30 minutes. One of those post cards with the inscription, “Have you seen this child?” fell onto the ground. The old lady on the driveway saw this and said loudly, “You dropped some mail!” Every day, you’d come across someone trying to be helpful, but was just plain annoying. I answered, “I know, thank you!” There were some registered parcels I had to scan. I shone the damn beam on the bar code, but only one of the three parcels registered on the scanner. I had to manually input the information for the other two.

Finally, I managed to sort out the route and went on my merry way. My first stop was the old lady on the driveway. I handed her mail to her and she said “Just junk! That’s all get is junk!”

I answered “Sorry,” and walked on. Some little boy was playing with his little sister on the front lawn. He threw a baseball at her and it whizzed past me, almost hitting my head. He asked me in that little boy voice, “Did I get anything?”

“I don’t know,” I answered in an agitated voice. I told him, “You ought be more careful how you throw that ball!”

The little boy laughed and said, “Fuck you, man!” Nice.

I was now 40 minutes behind schedule. When I got back to my truck, I noticed this White guy sitting in a silver Plymouth sedan, reading a newspaper. I knew damn well it was a postal inspector, trying to be inconspicuous. I closed up the back door and drove to my next stop. The guy in the car followed me. When I stopped, he dove past me. I felt like I was in some police state.

I soon found that the next tray was worse off than the previous one. Then, I lost it! I was now an hour behind schedule. I became apoplectic. I yelled at the top of my lungs, “FUCK THIS SHIT!” It would take me another 30 minutes to put the mail in order. I felt so frustrated, I almost cried! All my life’s inabilities flashed before my eyes. I started to think about all of the old people who were waiting for their Social Security checks. I was failing this big responsibility. Most delivery guys have some type of communication devices with them. They would have a CB radio or a cell phone. Not postal workers! I would have to find a pay phone. But, this was suburbia and there wasn’t one for miles.

I stood in back of the truck with my head bowed and made a decision I thought I would never make. I decided to quit. I didn’t want to disappoint Pamela. She was happy that there was now a second income coming into our home. But, I had reached my breaking point and couldn’t take it anymore. I had never quit a job in my entire life! Never! However, there is always a first time and this was it. I slammed the door of truck and hauled ass back to base. I could feel my heart pounding and had a queasy feeling in my stomach. I was on the edge of having a major panic attack as I was driving. I saw the old man they called “Dad,” lowering the flag in front of the post office. This was strange; the post office didn’t close until 5 o’clock. It was only 4 in the afternoon. When I pulled into the parking lot, the lot was still empty. My parking spot, Numbered 17,” was taken. There was the same car that that postal inspector I’d spotted was driving. Of all of the available spots, why did he pick that one? I didn’t even bother to lock the truck, I was so upset. I went into the building and saw Oscar walking toward his station. This was also strange. Oscar was usually gone at three. He saw me and was surprised to see me.

I said, “Listen. This is not working out! The route is all screwed up! I’d like to quit!”

Then Oscar did something I had never seen him do. He SMILED! He must of have realized he was doing that, because he quickly suppressed it.

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s go see Dean.”

I followed him to Dean’s office. There he was, sitting behind his desk like he was expecting to see me. I told him what happened and I told him about my emotional outburst. He became concerned, my hand was shaking and he became sensitive and compassionate.

“Say,” he said softly, “don’t take it so hard. A lot of people can’t do this job! What we will do is, you can fill out a resignation paper. When you reach the section that says, “Reasons for Resignation,” you can write “for personal reasons.” That way, you could get a job being a postal clerk. Let’s go to the other office.”

We went to an adjacent office and there was a female secretary behind a desk.

“Betty?” asked Dean, “Do you have the resignation forms?”

She replied, lethargically “They are in the top drawer.”

He walked over to the metal file cabinet and fumbled through the top drawer. “Where are those suckers? You’d think we could find them readily…. here they are!”

He handed me the form and I sat down to fill it out. Dean watched me closely while I completed it. It asked for my social security number, which I had never memorized. I got my wallet out to get the number. When I pulled it out, I heard him say under his breath “Oh! It’s just a wallet.” What was he expecting me to take out? A gun?

Bertha peeked her head in the door and smiled. I was making a lot of people happy today. That was the first time she smiled since I’d been there. She went back into her hole.

After I filled out the form, Dean told me to hand in my photo ID card and my truck key, which I did. Dean and Oscar escorted me to my Ranger. Dean shook my hand and said, “Sorry it didn’t work out.” They waited until I left the parking lot in order to shut the iron gate that secured it. They were afraid I was going to “go postal,” I suppose. I drove home wondering how I was going break the news to Pammie. I felt a sense of both relief and sadness.

Pamela understood my decision. That’s why I love her to death! She is the most understanding person in the world. That made me feel better about my decision. Two weeks later, I received two paychecks. They totaled $716. I earned every penny of it. I knew, at least, I had tried.

Here is a song I wrote about the whole experience.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hrRV9R0uMUA

#jobs #biografico #charles bukowski #influencer #poets on tumblr #stephenjaymorris #90's

0 notes

holmesoverture · 7 years

Text

The Telegraph Boy, Chapter 4

*Warning for this chapter: discussion of underage prostitution, though according to the laws of the time the people in question were not considered underage. Also, Watson may come off as a bit judgey about the whole thing, depending on how you interpret his reaction.

Chapter 1 Be Here Chapter 3 Be Here

We took our leave of Shrewsbury House and the furiously mumbling inspector, I suspect, not an instant too soon. Had we dared remain, eventually we should have run short of people for Holmes to offend. He hailed a cab at the corner and instructed the driver to take us to Baker Street by way of Cleveland Street, Fitzrovia.

“That’s hardly the most direct route. Why is it important we go by Cleveland Street?” I asked once we had started moving.

“I thought it might interest you to see the scene of the crime.”

“Have we not already done that?”

“We have seen a crime scene, yes, but this case involves two of them. You have seen if not thoroughly understood the second, now you will see the first.”

He did so enjoy his little games and secrets, and as I was by his own admission the only person he is close to, I more often than not found myself indulging them rather than insisting he get on with it. I’m sure I don’t know why. It is not as though he is a desperately lonely soul in need of a sympathetic ear. On the contrary, he has always been more than satisfied to keep to himself and let the rest of humanity alone when he is not working either for or against them. Yet still I refused to verbalise any sentiment that could be construed by him as the least bit discouraging, so we sat in warm silence until Holmes grabbed my wrist and pointed through the window of the cab.

“You see that building there?” he asked.

“Yes.” It was a perfectly average-looking four-storey brown brick townhouse.

“It is maintained by one Charles Hammond. You don’t recognise the name? I didn’t think you would. Mr Hammond runs a brothel from that very building. Every one of the boys employed here was recruited from the General Post Office on St Martin’s-Le-Grand, including our friend Farrier. This is the true source of the payment he offered us this morning.”

The moment the word brothel crossed his lips, my stomach gave a sick sort of lurch, and by the time he’d finished his declaration, it was all I could do to keep my mouth from falling open. The only clear thought in my head was that of Alfred Farrier and his handful of shillings, an image which made far more sense now that I’d been made aware of that horrible place.

“When did you learn of this?” I said finally, and for the first time not looking forward to his elucidation in the slightest.

“I first suspected its existence several months ago. Everything I have witnessed since then has only served to confirm my suspicions.”

“You have known of this atrocity for months and done nothing?”

“What would you have had me do?”

“Contact the authorities and shutter that abominable place, of course!”

“To what end? To deprive the boys’ families of the income generated by their activities? To condemn these most innocent of criminals to hard labour in the short term and to disgrace in the long term? Your capacity for cruelty staggers me, Watson, truly.”

He spoke in his usual careless tone, but I should not have been more astonished had he taken his stick and beaten me about the head and shoulders.

“You mean to say you approve of such establishments?” I said, weakly.

“I neither approve nor disapprove. You know quite well that my interests extend only as far as they must to clear dangerous criminals from the streets and no further, and it seems to me that London as a whole would greatly benefit if Scotland Yard were to follow my example rather than chase after those trying to earn a meagre living.”

This was a half-truth at best. He knew it, and he knew also that I knew it, but the both of us retreated to our own thoughts as we rattled away from that house of ill-fame. More than once in my published accounts of our adventures, I have described Holmes as an automaton, as inhuman, as a machine. This is as much due to my companion’s intervention as to my editor’s. It is a canted reflection of the true Holmes, one he has always fervently worked to change his own nature to match. He imagines his life and his work would be interminably simpler if he really were that unfeeling uncaring being of pure logic. Knowing Holmes, he is most likely correct.

But alas, for all his powers of observation and self-control, he is human yet and possesses many, though not all, of the same compulsions and temptations as other members of the species. Perhaps, in some future work, I shall be able to slip in some reference to Holmes’ acute case of humanity, but at that time, my mind was occupied by the fact that he had somehow cast me as the primary villain in this affair. I refused to abide such a position and prepared an argument with which to defend myself, but by then we had arrived safely at Baker Street and the opportunity to converse had slipped my grasp.

“Here we are,” said Holmes. “I wish you a peaceful rest, and when I return I will provide you with every point and detail so you will not suffer your notes to remain incomplete.”

“You are not coming in with me?”

“No, I have very important business to tend to elsewhere.”

“Then if it will not impede your work, I am coming with you,” said I, regaining my seat in the cab.

“But you are tired.”

“That is so, but the train comes nowhere near my list of the least comfortable places in which I have slept.”

“Then I should be very glad to have you along. We must stop briefly at the telegraph office and then we are off to Gravesend.”

After working so closely with Sherlock Holmes for so many years, I have become acclimated to the sensation of having no earthly idea of what is going on. This enabled me to very patiently wait until we had boarded the train before inquiring as to why we were there.

“You mean why are we going to Gravesend? It’s quite simple. We go to Gravesend because that is where we shall find Lord Walmsley.”

“Should we not be going after Sally Farrier instead?”

“Not unless and until we have proof that a crime has actually been perpetrated. Lady Walmsley made it clear that the strong-box belongs to her husband and no one else, so we must hear from him that something has been taken and, if so, if he desires to pursue the matter.”

“I suppose it would be foolish of me to ask how you know Lord Walmsley is in Gravesend.”

Holmes fixed me with a look I can only describe as indulgent. “It could not have been more apparent had Lord Walmsley written Gravesend upon the carpet and all four walls of his study. Still, I will confine myself to the more obvious clues. A bundle of this stationery was kept in the upper right-hand corner of the desk drawer. As most men are right-handed, they tend to store more frequently used items to their right side where they are more easily retrieved, so I knew the stationery was of some importance.”

He handed me a piece of blank paper. It felt thick and heavy and therefore costly. Holmes indicated the insignia at the top, which depicted a right-facing profile of a bearded man superimposed over three diagonal lightning bolts.

“That is the emblem of the Jupiter Club, a gentlemen’s club in Gravesend devoted to the study and appreciation of classical Greek and Roman literature,” he said. “There were fragments of this same stationery in the study fireplace. They were in poor condition, but enough of the handwriting remained intact to tell me that it did not match the abundant examples of Lord Walmsley’s handwriting available in the papers upon his desk, so it must therefore belong to another who had access to identical stationery—in other words, to another member of the Jupiter Club. The proliferation of this stationery in Lord Walmsley’s office, as well as the fact that he saw fit to burn all correspondence written upon it, indicates a strong and at least partially illicit connection to Gravesend, and most particularly to that club.”

“Is that where Lord Walmsley has gone? The Jupiter Club?”

“If he has, his faith in his fellow bibliophiles far outweighs his common sense. No matter how active a gentleman is within his club, it is highly doubtful he would be sufficiently well-acquainted with all of its members that he would feel secure in entrusting them with the sort of secrets Lord Walmsley has been keeping. No, rather than at the Jupiter Club, we shall find him at the Kendall Estate, home of Lord Reuben Kendall, preeminent citizen of Gravesend and renowned collector of Greco-Roman literature. You may have seen an item or two about him in the paper. He recently inherited from his late father the largest cement factory in Kent.”

“Would Lord Kendall be the author of those letter fragments in the fireplace?”

“He would. The initials RK were inscribed in at least two of the books on Lord Walmsley’s shelves, the result either of gifts or of loans. One particularly indiscreet tome was inscribed with the words ‘To S with all my love, R.’”

“The S referring to Septimus Walmsley and the R referring to Reuben Kendall.”

“And that, you see, is why we are here.”

The majority of this explanation could not penetrate the hazy walls erected by my weariness, and I only recall it now because Holmes repeated it to me once he closed the case. At the time, however, he simply reached over to cover the top half of my face with his long thin hand, forcing my eyes to close.

“You may rest now, my Boswell. Nothing of consequence will occur until we reach Gravesend.”

“Nothing of consequence?” I repeated, eyes still closed.

“Well there is a Scottish greengrocer behind us who is about to discover he is no longer in possession of his watch, which will cause the thief, the sea captain’s daughter seated across from him, to lose her nerve and slip it into the pocket of the dentist to her left just as he reaches into that selfsame pocket for his handkerchief in an effort to alleviate the malingering symptoms of his cold. Their hands will meet, the ensuing commotion will attract the porter, and he will return the watch to its owner while she is escorted off the train in tears. As I said, nothing of consequence.”

Chapter 5 Be Here

Notes of Interest

The only person he is close to – This is in reference to a line from Arthur Conan Doyle’s story The Five Orange Pips, wherein Watson asks if one of Holmes’ friends might be dropping by for a visit and Holmes responds, “Except yourself I have none.”

#sherlock holmes #the telegraph boy #my writing #enjoy my friends :)

10 notes · View notes

wheaterz · 8 years

Text

Testing Maintenance: Chapter 21

This could not have been more typical.

“You know...” Virgil began with a sigh. “I'm not sure you're familiar with Murphy's Law. Do you know Murphy's Law?”

Mel shook her head. The red-haired woman looked pretty fed up.

“Its the concept that if something can go wrong it will go wrong. I think that about sums our luck up pretty well, right?”

She agreed with him wholeheartedly.

They were stranded. Virgil and Mel were currently bumming around on top of the car, Mel laying on her back on the roof while Virgil sat on the engine hood looking out over the miles of land that they had not, and apparently would not, cover. After a miraculous three full hours of driving they had run out of gas. Some of it Virgil suspected was on fumes alone and he also suspected that the fuel they had used may not have been your average gasoline. There was no possible way they would have been able to make three hours on what they'd found alone if Aperture hadn't messed with it, but eventually their car couldn't take it anymore and slowed to a stop. Nothing else was wrong with it. The engine was fine. The tires were fine. The brakes were fine. They had just run out of gas.

The sun had fully set and it was completely dark out now. Crickets could be heard chirping on the side of the road and at one point there had been coyotes howling in the far distance, something that had made Virgil jump initially until Mel explained to him what they had been. They sounded less like animals and more like screaming banshees, in his opinion. Virgil had really thought that by now they would have found something. Anything. This mission that they had been so passionate about and really felt they were making progress in had come to a total halt and they were both downtrodden for it. This had been the worst possible scenario.

Virgil and Mel each wanted to ask the other what they would do next, but neither spoke up because they knew the other did not have a clue. They might as well have been on a deserted island in the middle of the ocean. No, that would have even been better than this. Islands provided their own resources. Humans weren't birds, she couldn't just eat the seeds off of the crops for the rest of her life. Mel thought that they would have maybe seen a car. If they stayed put another vehicle could come their way, but then she thought about how this road led to a dead end. If there were humans still around other than inside Aperture they would have put up a sign saying that this highway lead absolutely nowhere. She remembered that the land Aperture was built on was private property and absolutely confidential, but three hours should have given them more than enough space between the labs and civilization. What had happened up here? Every farm house they passed looked rundown and abandoned, so they hadn't bothered stopping to see if anyone was still living inside. They all looked as hopeless as her barn had been.

So it was just the two people. A human and a robot, and a car full of limited supplies for the one half of them that couldn't just live off of sitting under the sun for a few minutes.

“This is awful.” Virgil grumbled, his arms rested on top if his knees and digging his chin into them. He didn't want to feel like the better option would have been for Mel to stay in Aperture, but the urge to was surfacing again. He would never say it out loud, and he suspected he didn't need to. Mel was an intelligent individual, despite some of her odd quirks, and she would have been going over every possible solution in her head. What a good puzzle solver, but there was no puzzle out here for her. Just wheat. The one time Virgil was able to leave the laboratories and the only thing they'd been able to see was basically just dying grass that you could make bread out of. Figures.

Mel wrote him a note and arched her arm backwards and down the window for him to grab whenever he noticed it. He was usually prepared to grab a note from her whenever he heard the pen scribbling. It was dark out but he could read perfectly well with the illumination of his own eyes and pseudo night vision installed in his head.

I have to walk. There's no other way around this.

“Yeah... Yeah, I know.” Virgil felt something catch in his throat that made his voice raspy. Things he knew weren't there and may have just been memories. “There's no going back from here. We've driven too far. I mean, we must be half way across Michigan by now. We may not even be IN Michigan anymore. We might have just wandered into a different state entirely and what is humanity's obsession with wheat?!”

This is nothing. You should see Kansas.

“I feel like I already have. There's no way this is normal. I've seen pictures of Michigan. Isn't there a lake or something around here we should have hit? Aren't there cities we should have been passing? Mountains? At the very least we should have seen something else growing. Where is everyone?!”

Maybe some of it is barley and oats too.

“Yeah, very funny...” Virgil ran his hands through his hair, knocking his goggles askew. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against his knees, trying to calm down. He felt Mel give him a pat on the shoulder from above, but with how quick it had she clearly wanted his attention. When Virgil looked over at her the human pointed upwards. He followed her finger to the sky and his eyes hung on the millions of little twinkling lights above them. The moon was only on the horizon and was a dim orange, meaning that it left the center of the sky as dark as it could be with the milky way at its brightest potential. Virgil had seen pictures of space. There were the planets in Nigel's testing track, and he was aware of those. He was aware of how they were giant compared to Earth, but he was once again taken by the sheer scale he found himself under. Its one thing to look at photos, it was another to see a star that he clearly new to be Jupiter and to see how small it was from the distance that was between them. He could see Venus, as well, and she was the second brightest thing in the night sky next to the moon.

Mel lay back against the car roof with her hands folded on her stomach. She let out a long, calming breath of air and was smiling. Despite the reality of survival slipping away from the human's grasp, she was being mellow and it really was something Virgil still could not get a clear concept of. He followed her lead, though, and he lay back to look up at the sky. Hopefully he wasn't heavy enough to break the car window, but it seemed to hold him up okay. A meteor flashed across the sky and burnt away in the atmosphere within a second and Virgil's eyes widened. “Oh... that's pretty neat. It does this every night?”

Mel nodded.

“I can see why you wanted to get back up here so badly. I'm just sorry this hasn't been working out.”

I'm not giving up. We can try again tomorrow.

“Right...” Virgil tried to imagine it, but to him it was all very illogical. Nearly impossible. No, just impossible. She was recovering from surgery. This was something that should absolutely, under no circumstances, be happening. All of that work up until now and the pay off seemed to be that Mel was going to just perish on the side of the road somewhere. If that happened, in an odd, slanted reality Aperture had won. The facility kept Mel under lock and key and released her into a post-apocalyptic world. What a sick joke. She seemed to be steadfast and fearless through it all, so he had to wonder.

“Are you scared?”

He didn't have to wait long for Mel to reply.

I've been scared since you woke me up.

“You sure hide it well.” Virgil wished he had that same kind of restraint. “I have to admit, though. I know that situation right now is a little tense, but its kind of nice not having to worry about constant danger. I mean even when it was just me alone in my repair room there was a threat of the area shifting or that I'd fall off my rail again. Here we're just... is there a word for what we're doing right now?”

Stargazing.

He laughed, feeling stupid for asking. “Oh, right. That makes sense, doesn't it? But look at what I mean. I'm about to do something that is absolutely insane.” Virgil sat forward, cupped his hands around his mouth, and at the top of his voice byte he shouted into the night air. “GLADOS! IS! AN! INGRATE!”

There wasn't even an echo to answer him back with how flat the land was and he turned around to grin triumphantly at Mel. “Eh? See that? Couldn't get away with that inside Aperture's walls, could you? She can't hear us. She can't see us. She can't touch us. Same with the Mainframe now, I suppose.” He still hadn't decided if they were one and the same.

Mel had started applauding from where she lay for his performance. The woman stared back up at the stars, taking a breath of the cold night air but coughed a little at how dry it had been and it hurt her lungs. She'd gotten too used to Aperture's musty, recycled air already. She shivered at how chilly it had gotten, rubbing her hands against her arm to tame the goose bumps she'd gained. Still, she could have fallen asleep there staring up at the sky. On many nights in her barn she had done just that. Then she remembered the night that she was pulled into Aperture by Atlas and P-body. She had been stargazing over a rising moon just like this, though it had been a few days and it was no longer full. A sad thought struck her when she gazed at the moon, now growing paler in color the higher it reached for the sky. She handed her thoughts down to Virgil.

I wanted to see humans make it to space, but I missed it.

Virgil scratched at the hair on the back of his neck as he read the note. That was truly something to feel down about missing. “Yeah, by only a few years. NASA launched a rocket to go to the moon in... in...” He thought about it a moment and searched his files. There used to be a way that he could pull it up, but the data was no longer in there and he frowned. “Uh, sorry. I guess I don't have that information. In any case, you guys made it up there.”

The clouds from earlier that had dotted the sky were piling on heavier the more time passed, the wind picking up and sending some to block the sky out. The moon on the horizon was the first to disappear, now only a faint halo of light behind the thick clumps of water. It was a minor detail, but it bothered Virgil that he didn't have all of his files on hand and it felt like a chunk of his brain had been stored away somewhere completely different from his head. It was not at all a comfortable feeling and he shivered at how empty it felt. Where there was supposed to be a year on the moon landing was just a blank slate.

Mel lightly tapped the Maintenance Core and handed him one last note for the evening.

I'm going to get some sleep. Good night, Virgil.

“Oh, okay.” Virgil blinked, being pulled out of his thoughts and grinning at her as she sat up and slid off the roof of the car and to the ground. “Night, Mel.”

He had no need for sleep, so it was going to be a very long night. Virgil watched the human crawl back into the car and attempt to make herself a comfortable sleeping space between the two chairs, but the inside of the car was rather cramped and wasn't suited for lounging. Mel took her boots off and placed them in the back where the food was and tried to stretch her legs from the passenger seat to the driver's side.

Humans needed a warm and comfortable space in order to get rest, right? Virgil checked the temperature. Approximately 6 degrees Celsius and on the other side of the scale 42 degrees Fahrenheit. That was cold, right? Virgil sat up and turned around to look in through the window at her. He deftly tapped the glass. “Hey, Mel? I can't tell, but is it cold in there? Do you want my jacket?”

She looked up at him and nodded, mouthing a 'thank you' in response. Virgil started to slip his jacket off, the vest underneath covered fully in tropical floral patterns with long, white sleeves with a few holes in them. Virgil frowned at how out of shape they looked when compared to his jacket and just decided to roll them up to his elbows so they wouldn't get caught on anything. As he was moving his jacket off, one of the pink sticky notes from the pocket fell out. He was quick to react and grabbed it out of the air. Realizing he should probably grab the other one, he stuffed the first of the notes into the pocket of his pants and searched his jacket for the other.

He read the second note off before putting it away and rolled his eyes. Oh, right. This one was the 'dumb' note. He wondered why he even hung onto this one other than he was being passive aggressive towards Mel at the time. However, as he looked at the pink sticky note a thought struck him, one that should have been clear to him much sooner than now. Virgil got off the hood of the car and went around to the passenger window where Mel was trying to get comfortable and handed her his jacket. “Here you go. Sorry about any oil stains on it.”

She didn't mind and was just happy to have something to wrap around her shoulders and arms as she drifted off. Virgil walked away and paced around the road for a bit while she fell asleep. His thoughts ran away from him and went in all kinds of crazy directions. He thought about things along the lines of 'this is ludicrous' and 'I'm out of my processor'. It was funny that when he did not have company he could talk to himself for hours, but now that he had someone else with him and she was sleeping he knew very well to keep his big trap shut. So many things had gone wrong that he was only asking for disaster at this point. While Virgil was stressing, Mel had fallen asleep, unaware of her friend's inner turmoil just beyond the car. When he'd done a good ten minutes of pacing, Virgil walked back to the window to see if Mel was still awake. She was not, so it was now or never.

Virgil planted the sticky note on the car wheel with Mel's hand writing. The stunt he was about to pull would make him an enormous hypocrite, but he was at least getting a better understanding of Mel's thought process when she'd initially made the note. He stood in front of the car, the long run of black tar stretching through bare fields into the sky. Fields that had crickets, crows, coyotes and possibly other things starting with C that they had not yet seen that could have been hiding from them. Crocodiles? No, those needed water, didn't they? He was pretty sure they were on the wrong part of the map for those, anyway, but he couldn't find that file either. This was beginning to get mildly annoying.

“Oh boy...” He attempted to psyche himself up for the long walk he was about to take. “Okay, here we go. Just going to put one foot in front of the other and not look back. See if there's something over that rise. That's not too far, right? Mel, she just keeps going and going. She doesn't stop and she's got muscles. Those get tired. I don't have muscles and I don't get tired so it should all just be...fine. It'll all be fine.”

So much for trying not to talk to one's self so the human didn't wake up. Thankfully, Mel had been sleeping like a stone and it gave Virgil the perfect gate to start heading off without a single word out of her in protest. Because she would have been against this, and for probably a very good reasons. He just didn't want to think about what those reasons were.

Virgil shook himself out, squared himself up, stiffened his chin, and walked.

At first, being alone on the road wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. It was not much different from his management rail. Back in Aperture he could go for very long periods of time without speaking to anyone and did nothing but ride along his rail, following it wherever it decided he should go while he searched for parts for his workshop. The basic concept was there. He was alone, walking a straight line to a location, it was dark, and he was searching for something. Even though there was a clock that told him the time at all hours, and was 100% accurate to his region, Virgil had no real concept of how it passed. That was how it used to be, anyway. He had grown so used to having Mel to talk to over the past few days that a task he was usually able to do without a hindrance now seemed to be taking ages. He could have started talking to himself again, but he didn't feel like it.

The coyotes started howling again, but they no longer bothered him and he realized that even if they wanted to attack him his assist droid body was made of metal and wouldn't have been fun for them to digest. If Virgil was able to look up anything on them at all he would have known that they did not normally attack people and were hardly bigger than a small house dog, but in his current state of mind he could not pull the information up. He wondered if he was losing his mind, and realized that may as well have been it. Some of what made him so intelligent was that he had access to all kinds of information fed to him and the other cores throughout Aperture whenever they needed it, and he was one of the few that new how to utilize it correctly, or even cared to. He had to ask himself if what was happening was dangerous, and decided that it wasn't. It was just embarrassing. He'd be more scatterbrained than usual.

Hours had passed and the crickets chirping began to die. The clouds had fully rolled in and completely covered the sky, turning from black to a blue-gray the closer the morning came. Virgil would stop every now and then to do a 360 turn around, making sure that he wasn't being followed or if he'd missed catching any other forms of life. He'd been startled by a flock of black birds that flew out of the field from right beside him and he jumped away with a shout, taking the hint to keep walking. The wind had picked up and was knocking his hair around, sweeping it to the side and managing to get a shiver out of Virgil by how strange it felt, rather than the temperature. It would not be the strangest sensation, however. When the morning had lightened up and turned the world around him silver with low clouds, a light spray of water showered down.

Virgil stopped dead in his tracks, raising his arms over his head and shielding himself from the light drizzle that was coming down and protesting loudly. “Oh come ON!”

He was waterproof, as long as he wasn't absolutely submerged, but having soggy clothes was still terrible. The android had been walking for hours and was fed up with this new mishap, kicking a stone clear off the road and upsetting some birds in the field to go flying away. He raised his head to the sky and yelled at it. He'd gotten into the habit of yelling at astronomical, mighty forces of power recently and it was one he didn't seem ready to break out of any time soon.

“There anything else you want to throw at me?! I can stand it! Try me! Just try it! You want to fight me, nature? I'll win! There's nothing you could give that I can't take! I have a human stuck in a car in the middle of nowhere with waning rations but SURE! Lets make water fall from the sky on ol' Virgil and make it even harder on him to find help! Right! It’s not like I was keeping an eye out for air crafts or anything useful like that!”

He grit his teeth, then flinched when he got a droplet in his eye. He grumbled something nasty under his breath and grabbed a hold of his goggles, pulling them down over his eyes so that he wasn't getting at least part of his face rained on. He was just about ready to continue his walk, but the sensation of the water had been tingly and he stayed in one place to focus on it. In his anger he had failed to realize that this was water that was falling out of the sky at him without any other resource. The sky didn't just spring a leak from a pipe or anything structural like that. It was simply just coming out of the clouds. Virgil blinked a few times as he slowly calmed down and continued to stare at it.

“Huh.”

There was a flash somewhere in the distance and he looked up. Far away over the flat fields where the mist obscured the horizon and you could see the dark underbellies of storm clouds, bright light pulsed and flickered for a fleeting moment and disappeared. Virgil stood by to see if it would happen again, but the follow up was a low, faint rumble. As fascinating as he considered his first real experience with thunder and lightning, Virgil decided that this was not the place to be stopping. “Oop. Time to go.”

He quickened his pace. Actually, come to think of it, what exactly was stopping him from just running? Absolutely nothing, he'd try that.

-----

Mel would have slept longer if she had been somewhere comfortable. Unfortunately, the combination of light coming in through the windows and the thinly cushioned seats of the mobile sardine can didn't beg for a five star rating in luxury. The woman had been very stiff sitting up and the first thing she did was stretch the soreness away. Mel was all for having herself a good breakfast, bag up the food into an old backpack she'd found in the car, and then get straight to their hike away from the broken down vehicle. She patted her hands against the jacket she had used for a blanket and smiled, ready to give it back to its owner. Mel was about to get out of the car when she realized it had been lightly drizzling since at least the early morning hours and had to wonder why it was Virgil had not retreated inside. In fact, it was a miracle he hadn't woken her up about it, especially since she could hear a trace of thunder in the distance.

Using the jacket over her head as a shield from the rain, Mel opened the car door and went out to see if he was walking around outside to check on the weather, but after doing a full circle around the car there was no trace of him. Feeling panic raise a knot in her injured stomach, Mel looked around the inside of the car again to see if he'd somehow managed to squeeze into the back, but she had no luck finding him there either. It wasn't until she'd done looked back into the car that she caught a glance at the pink piece of paper pasted to the steering wheel. It had been one of her's, and obviously worn from being folded and stuffed somewhere. She read the text in her handwriting and remembered Virgil had pocketed it. She assumed it was because she had said something that amused him, but this was far from funny anymore.

'I'll go. You stay.'

Mel dropped the note on the damp ground and threw the jacket back into the car through the open window. She circled around a few more times, looking for any sign of Virgil in the fields or if he'd made some kind of imprint in the wheat. When she didn't see him on the road Mel climbed onto the car and stood up on the roof, scanning the horizon for however further of a scope that little extra height had given her. She didn't see him on the highway anywhere. He was just gone.

A hand went to Mel's stomach, a sharp pain causing her to grip the fabric of her jumpsuit. Her knuckles turned white at how tightly she held the suit between her fingers and she doubled over. Despite the deep belief that it would not work, Mel opened her mouth and attempted to call him. She forced air from her lungs and through her throat, moving her lips to form Virgil's name but the only sound out of her were some gasps and a choked up, strain of a whimper. She eventually stopped when she'd tried calling so hard that she'd gagged, folding into herself and sinking to sit on top of the roof. She hugged her arms around her waist.

Any number of things could happen, and every one of them occurred to her in that moment. They raced through her head in flashes of horrible imagery from the android finding himself hopelessly lost to fully breaking down and not being able to function. She thought about how she had gone to sleep the night before in the company of one of the few things she still had as a constant and how he'd walked away. Had things been different between them, she would have suspected he went back the other way towards Aperture. She knew this wasn't true, even though she hoped that had been the case. She felt he might have had a better chance if he just retraced his steps and found his way back. She knew, though, that he'd gone forward and was looking for help on her behalf.

What could she do? He could have taken off the moment she was asleep, giving him hours of an advantage ahead of her and he did not grow tired. And he'd asked her to stay there. What if he found help and she wandered off where he couldn't find her? Either way she thought about it, his condition would remain unknown to her unless they got really lucky. Mel felt the cold spray against her back, but she stayed huddled on the roof of the car until she'd started to shake violently. She wiped the moister from her brow, droplets collecting on her eyelashes. She wasn't helping anything to stay out there and catch a cold, so she reluctantly slid back off the roof and into the passenger's seat of the car. Mel rolled the windows up and curled folded under the warmth of the jacket that had been left behind. She'd have some food and she would look out at the rain, but all she could do for now was wait and hope that everything was going to be okay.

Time passed, and so did the storm. Mel was relieved that it had never rained too hard or that the lightning had gotten too close. She didn't know how Virgil would have fared walking around in full downpour. She wondered if he could act as a lightning rod, and she added the possibility to her list of worries. The day went by without a glimpse of the android, hours passing over her with the sun until the sky could be seen through the clouds again. The sky turned pink with the setting sun and the darkness of night returned, only Mel did not feel like going out and watching the stars like the night before. She felt like she may not enjoy it the same way that she used to ever again after having one night to show it to someone that had never seen the sky before. She had been isolated before, and as much as it had bothered her then, she knew that anyone she cared about was already long gone. The situation had shifted so that she had something to actually lose this time.

Mel had her dinner and threw the can of tuna out of the car window and onto the pavement, hearing it clatter and startle an animal in the field close by. She sat up to see over the rim of the window, watching two glowing, green eyes catch the moonlight and disappear. She guessed it to be a fox out hunting field mice. She starting to get sleepy again, realizing it was most likely drawing close to the same time that she'd gone to bed the night before. She didn't want to sleep. It didn't feel right to, but she had nothing else to do but sit there and feel horrible. Eventually, whether Mel had wanted to or not, she drifted off in the tiny, car sized haven in the center of the wilderness full of food and warmth, if not the most comfortable seats. Time had passed by so slowly that day and she felt ill. As much as she had not wanted to fall asleep, her body was relieved for all of the extra rest it was finally being rewarded with after so much physical turmoil and she slipped into it deep.

Another day went by without a word from Virgil, and the day after had been just as uneventful. Mel had nothing to occupy her time with other than getting out to walk around and stretch when the Gremlin became too cramped for her to sit in any longer. She had to restrain herself from eating too much of the canned food and had limited herself to two per day. One in the morning and one in the evening. At one point Mel tried walking a distance until she got a raised view in the surrounding land, but it made no difference. There wasn't anything to see. When she'd returned to the car she passed some more of her time by plucking a few stocks of wheat and took the seeds out to throw on the road for a couple of mourning doves that had dropped in for a rest. When they'd lost interest in being fed any longer, Mel slid back into the car once again and started drawing on her sticky notes, pasting her doodles up along the inside of the car as decoration. Drawings of things she'd remembered from her childhood, such as animals at the zoo or more current characters like the robots she had seen going through Aperture. She drew the singing turrets, adding little music notes up beside them. When she decided that was enough wasted paper for one afternoon Mel did a whole great amount of nothing at all.

She almost preferred being harassed by mordant, murderous machines over this.

Again, night fell for the third time since they had escaped without much of anything happening. The cans of food she'd brought were already half gone and she began to wonder if she had made the right decision by leaving a few back in Aperture. It seemed to be more of an emotional decision rather than actually using her brain. Her head probably would have told her that this scenario was a possibility and to take everything you can. All the cans that you can. Like background noise that one may only pay attention to selectively, the worry she held for Virgil came back and disrupted any peace she may have formed for herself over the past few hours. The woman lay back and folded her arm over her eyes, evening out her breathing and calming her nerves, but with shallow success.

“We've got this.”

She repeated those words to herself a few times, spinning them through her head and making the effort to believe them. They got this. Against all odds, this was only just another bump in the road for two very stubborn people. Mel had no other choice but to eventually fall asleep, again with the fear of isolation to disturb her dreams. Through the darkness she could feel the draft whistling through Aperture's greatly spacious areas like the testing droid repair station that hung over a pit into the center of the earth and the loud hum of factory machines building cubes, turrets, and whatever else the facility called for. She saw the burning red glow of the robots that had been shut down by the mainframe and how the darkness was thick enough to suffocate.

Mel opened her eyes. The dim light of dawn was the first thing to welcome and comfort her, and the woman relaxed, tightening the jacket over her shoulders from the freezing, crisp air coming in through cracks in the car's sides. When Mel closed her eyes to try and fall back asleep for a couple more hours, she realized that the hum of Aperture that had been in her dreams was something she was currently hearing while she was awake as well. There was the distinct, grated churning of an engine and Mel sat up to look out over the road from the window shield. Coming down the highway towards her car was a faded blue pickup truck with chipped paint and rust along the edges. It looked to be in no better shape than Mel's car, but it was running and coming right towards her.

The red-head flung the car door open and stepped out onto the road, waving her arms into the air to flag the truck down. From where she stood she began to make out a shape past the window of the vehicle. The driver was a woman, but she seemed to be the only visible passenger. However, once they were close enough, a figure leaned over the side from the back of the truck, his spikey head of brown hair whipping around in the breeze as he waved at her excitedly. Virgil cupped a hand to the side of his mouth and hollered at Mel as they came down the road. He looked so very proud of himself. “Hey, Mel! Look what I found!”

Mel was overjoyed. She stood by, only just barely managing to wait for the truck to slow down and come to a stop. The driver remained in her truck once it was parked, but Virgil jumped out of the back to meet Mel on the road the second they had stopped and the whole car rocked under his weight as he bounced off of it. Mel, barefoot on a road that was damp and chilled from the morning condensation, ran straight for Virgil and flung her arms around him in the tightest hug she could physically give him. Virgil had nearly been knocked over at the velocity she'd taken in just that small distance, but he straightened himself out and returned the gesture. “I know I said I was going to stop scaring you. Sorry about this.”

He was going to be sorry. Mel quickly let go of him, frowning furiously at the robot, and despite having hands too soft and frail to really do anything to his plated robot body, she began to whale on him. Virgil shrank away from her, surprised by the sudden switch in attitude and brought his arm up to protect himself. “Ow! OW! I can feel that you know—OW! Okay, okay! I said I'm sorry! Look, I got a truck and everything so it worked, didn't it? Ouch! Quit hitting me!”

The woman in the truck watched them curiously, leaning silently against the front wheel to observe them from the car window, but did not bother to get out of the truck to interrupt their moment.

Mel stopped, if only because her hands were starting to get sore, but her eyes were red with stress and water was collecting along the bottom lids. She'd been trying to stay mad at him with a stiff lip, but it quivered and broke the illusion that she was as angry as she wanted to let on. It was exactly like when he'd dropped off his rail to get away from Atlas and P-body, only that time he had been a pathetic, beaten up ball of metal and it felt wrong giving him a good smack. Here he was alive, happy, and perfectly stable. She could be as mad at him as she wanted to be and not feel bad about it. The woman took up a note.

That was stupid of you!

“I'm not going to even try arguing that.” Virgil's mouth pulled into a wry, lopsided frown. “It was completely stupid. I even got rained on. And boring. It was tremendously boring. But look!” He held an arm out in the direction of the truck, the woman in the driver's seat waving at them when she realized she was being addressed. “I found a town not too far from here! Its not much, but its a town. Everything's a little worn out and I might have tried, um... I might have tried stealing this truck.”

Mel raised perplexed brow at him and pointed to the running vehicle.

“Yeah. That one. I tried to hijack it to bring it out here, but then got caught by the owner—that nice lady over there in the front seat, yes. Her. She was ready to toss me up and down the place until I explained our situation and she was surprisingly nonchalant about the whole thing, considering how insane it must sound from an outsider's point of view. She offered to drive me out here to get you, on the condition that I ride in the back, and even got some extra gas packed for our car.”

Why didn't you just ask someone to begin with?

“Um...” Virgil looked behind him at the truck, the lady in the driver's seat still very patiently waiting for them while they spoke. “I got a little nervous. I mean, look at me. I have visible joints, a broken eye, and what looks to be a headlight in the cavity of my chest from a human's perspective. I'm clearly suspicious.”

Mel shrugged, but nodded. She could agree with that. He was deceptively human in many ways, but not enough to warrant immediate trust.

“Hey, why don't you two get acquainted while I fill the Gremlin up. You still have my jacket, right?” Virgil thumbed over his shoulder at the human in the truck and jogged up behind the running vehicle to climb into the back and grab for the canisters of gas they had brought. He was going to have to make a couple of trips, but once they were beside the car, Virgil leaned into the passenger window and grabbed his jacket out of the seat to slip back on. He felt weird walking around without it. It was nice to have pockets to stuff his hands into when he wasn't doing anything with them, and it had driven him crazy the whole walk.

Mel watched Virgil make himself busy, and while he was filling the Gremlin up she glanced at the woman at the front of the truck. Her dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail and she wore a denim jacket over a black shirt. Mel walked up to the window of the passenger door to look in at her, not yet bold enough to approach the driver's side. She observed the other woman like she'd been a whole other species and Mel subconsciously checked for glowing eyes or the same seams that Virgil had around the neck and his wrists. She hadn't meant to be cautious, but the woman didn't seem to take any offense to it. They looked to be about the same age, or physically, at least. Mel believed herself to be a perfectly aged bottle of wine by now.

The driver then spoke up, her tone even and diligent. The woman had a stern, steeliness about her eyes that commanded attention, partnered in contrast with the warm understanding in her voice. “Can you talk?”

Mel was a little startled by the question. She shook her head.

“But you used to be able to, right?”

Mel nodded.

“Its fine, then. We'll get you fixed up once we're back. Are you injured anywhere else?”

The red-head's hand went to her stomach where the bullet had been. Though it had been removed and the wound had healed up for the most part, she still had a stabbing pain from her core if she moved around too much, so she nodded. She'd also noticed that she'd earned herself a slight limp when she walked, but she hoped that it was only temporary.

The woman in the truck kept her hands to the wheel, her slate gray eyes shifting from Mel to the window in front of her and she nodded out over the road at Virgil. “It's done filling the car.”

Mel was a little thrown off by the pronoun used for the android, at first, but when she realized she had been talking about Virgil she looked over to see that he had finished emptying the last of the gas into the Gremlin. Now that her head had cleared and she could think straight, Mel found it strange that they needed to fill the gas tank at all. It would have been more efficient to simply ride in the truck with the other human and abandon the other car altogether rather than riding along behind her. Mel studied her friend, her fingers curling into an anxious fist and relaxed again when she decided to approach him. As she walked she took a note from the thinning cube in her pocket.

Virgil closed off the clasp over the gas tank and smiled up at Mel as if nothing in the world was wrong. However, his enthusiasm thinned when he saw that she was not sharing the same energetic high that he was. “Is... something wrong? I know that other human seems a little cold, but...”

Are you leaving?

Virgil had been avoiding the subject so that they could share this victory. They had finally triumphed and it should be cause for celebration. It wasn't meant to last, though, and he knew he'd be the cause of it. She stood before him, her eyes demanding a straight answer out of the core. He wouldn't side step her. He was once able to beat around negative details when she had been in Aperture her first time through, but it seemed that it was no longer part of is nature. At least not with her.

“I had a lot of time to think while I was walking. As amazing as this place is and as happy for you as I am that you finally made it here, its not for me. I've lost a chunk of myself leaving Aperture behind. I have files that I can no longer access, just as an example. That's not even an important detail, but it made me realize how out of place I am. I'm just not... I'm not supposed to be out here, Mel. I need to be back there where I can do what I was made for. I don't expect you to understand why, because I don't fully get it either.”

Mel looked as if she would melt where she stood. Every feature of her sunk and her bright blue eyes shaded over. She reached out and grabbed for his hand hurriedly and tugged at it in the direction of the truck desperately. When he didn't budge she pulled another note out on him. He didn't stop her like he had before and let her get it out the best way she could.

I can help you live here. We can work through it.

“Mel...”

He fell silent again since the woman was already on to her next note.

You don't have to go back there.

“Mel.”

We worked so hard.

You can find purpose out here.

You deserve this just as much as I do.

I can't lose anyone else. Please, don't do this.

“Melanie.”

She had already been half way through her next protest, but the mention of her full name caused her to freeze up. Mel's hands quaked and they dropped the pen and paper. Virgil reached out for her and drew her in, wrapping his arms around the human and keeping her close. She slowly raised her hands and returned the embrace, feeling as though she had been tricked into thinking that her heart could not break anymore, but this had hurt too much. She wanted to ask him to stay with her own words and question his reasoning, but if all she could offer were small pieces of paper with writing than she could barely get an argument out. She wasn't sure that if she could speak he'd be any easier to convince. The only thing she could do to keep him longer was to stay like that.

“I'm sorry...” The ghost sensation had returned. That pressure that built up in his chest and to his forehead that he could not relieve. On pure reflex he ran a thumb under his cheek from where his head was bowed over Mel's shoulder, and in doing so he realized what it was that was bothering him. However, his cheek had been dry when he'd checked. “I have no excuses, but I am sorry. I'm going to be fine but you're going to be great. You get to leave and conquer. You... heheh. You're getting me worked up. I didn't even think that was possible.”

He pulled back, wiping his hands under his eyes again but they remained dry. He laughed at how ridiculous he must have looked. “We're a pretty good team, right? We shut down AEGIS and faced off against GLADOS head on. We beat the Mainframe, which is basically like fighting Aperture itself. Not bad for a simple Maintenance Core.”

She shook her head. He'd gotten her to smile again, if only briefly. As Mel had smiled, though, his own disappeared. This could very well be the last time they ever saw each other and he didn't want her to leave with just a few frail pieces of paper and a pen. Virgil patted himself down, searching for something he could offer her. He remembered waking up to seeing his friend had taken his goggles off in order to put them on herself and he reached for his head for them. “Uh, here. You can have these. They look better on you, anyway. Just something of me to... to keep with you. Its not all of me but its something.”

Mel accepted the goggles, running her thumb over the lens fondly. She fixed them over her bun so that they rested on top of her head in the same way Virgil wore them when they weren't being utilized. Mel mouthed to him 'thank you' and leaned forward to plant a kiss on his cheek before pulling him in for one last hug. Virgil was a little dazed by the kiss he'd gotten. It had been a new sensation, but not at all a bad one. It didn't stop him from returning the hug.

“Take care of yourself, Mel.”

Neither of them wanted to let go, but Mel was still aware there was a very kind person waiting on them to bring her back to the town. When she separated herself from Virgil, Mel held onto his hands and bobbed them up and down, giving him one last, misty smile. There were so many things she wanted to say to him. There was so much she'd wanted to share and talk about, but they had never been given the opportunity to talk like normal people. Mel couldn't, at the very least, and it had made the short time they'd spent together even briefer. When she'd collapsed and Virgil had found her food, Mel had been perfectly content with just getting to talk with him. No danger, or any good reason to run from it up until GLaDOS intervened. They just spoke for the longest time in the isolation of that ruined lobby deep in the depths of the earth. She picked up her pen from the floor, and instead of writing on the paper she used the palm of her left hand, holding it up to him with the blue ink smudging slightly, but the message was clear.

See you later, Virgil.

“Heheh... Yeah, see ya.”

She felt good about being able to return the goodbye this time, whether she could speak or not. Virgil waved to her as the human turned around to head for the truck. She opened the passenger door and situated herself into the front seat, the woman beside her reminding her to fasten her seat belt. The android stood on the road, waving until the truck had backed up and turned around, his last glimpse of Mel seen through the rear view mirror on the side and she was still waving back to him until he was too small for her to make out his face. He watched them go for a long time. The sun had finally come up over the horizon, drastically changing the sky from pink to orange and setting the fields on fire with color.

“She's out.” Virgil mumbled to himself. “She is out...Good job, Mel. Hopefully, you'll get to enjoy it this time around.” He'd never felt so conflicted, a mass of remorse and relief at odds with one another, but above it all was fulfillment. He was allowed to feel good about it, as well as sorry. Perhaps, bittersweet was the word he'd been searching for. He'd really been out of his own head, recently. It was time to head back home now that their Champion had been escorted out of the stadium.

This was a triumph.

#testing maintenance #chapter 21 #portal #portal 2 #portal stories mel #psm #fanfiction #fanfic #ff #fic #virgil #mel #tm

27 notes · View notes

ibilenews · 4 years

Text

Lagos sex workers slash rates to attract customers despite lockdown

The noisome ambience reeked of marijuana and cigarettes as our correspondent walked down Ipodo Street on Tuesday evening. Sitting on the outskirts of Allen, Ikeja, Lagos, the busy street is one of the few places with a semblance of bustling life characteristic of Nigeria’s economic capital since the state went into lockdown about three weeks ago.

Dotted with all kinds of small shops and few residential buildings, Ipodo Street is a melting pot for kerb-crawlers, miscreants and commercial sex workers once night falls.

As of 8pm that day, nothing significant has changed in the crowded hood despite appeals for social distancing to slow down the spread of the coronavirus pandemic.

“Hi, Hello,” three ladies walked up to our correspondent while sauntering around a storey building in the middle of the street.

“Let’s go to my room,” one of them in her early 20s, Blessing (not real name), muttered as she led our correspondent to a small, dingy room on the first floor of the brothel housing an expansive bar on the ground floor.

“I don’t lick am o,” she remarked leisurely while approaching the room.

“They say COVID-19 is everywhere but e no fit catch me by God’s grace,” she added dismissively, agreeing to treat our correspondent to a blowjob when he insisted.

“COVID-19 never reach Nigeria,” Blessing declared as she asked our reporter to sit on her medium-sized bed littered with clothes. “How many people have you seen contracting it in Nigeria?” she queried when told the virus had infected hundreds of people and killed about a dozen in the country.

Blessing strongly believes coronavirus is a ruse and a conduit for diverting public funds. “I hear e don dey many states. Na lie. Na money dem (government) they pack. They go steal tire. They go chop the money forever.

“If coronavirus dey, we wey dey here, why we never contact am. The thing no dey anywhere for Nigeria,” she said.

Fun goes on amid lockdown

On Tuesday, March 31, a day after the President, Major General Muhammadu Buhari’s (retd)lockdown of Abuja, Lagos and Ogun commenced, the National Coordinator, Nigeria Sex Workers Association, Amaka Enemo, said sex workers in the country had suspended activities.

Enemo told The PUNCH that although sex workers offered “essential services,” they would remain indoors because their services involved “substantial bodily contact,” adding that the association had sensitised its members to the dangers of COVID-19.

Enemo had said, “There is sensitisation across the country including within our network. Sex workers also offer essential services. However, there is no way sex workers can do their work without bodily contact. So, they are staying at home to watch what happens.

“The government has announced a lockdown and as law-abiding citizens, we will not flout the law. If the government says sit at home, we will all obey because nobody wants to die.”

“Abeg, forget that thing; (there is) nothing like coronavirus in Nigeria,” Blessing reiterated, dismissing the national coordinator’s statement. “I told you that government is just using it to steal our money.”

“Do you want short time?’ she asked in obvious desperation to get down to business.

“It is N2,000,” she concluded without waiting for a response.

After haggling back and forth, she agreed rather reluctantly to collect N1,000 offered by our correspondent.

“Hey! Na because of this COVID-19 you com dey price am like this, abi?” the light-complexioned, short lady marvelled. “Ok, let’s do it quickly so I can go outside to look for another customer,” she added, handing a small bottle of sanitiser to our correspondent preparatory to the ‘action.’

“I only use the hand sanitiser for customers like you who believe there is coronavirus in Nigeria,” she noted, indifferently.

Our correspondent at this point backed out to the disappointment of Blessing who lamented she hadn’t got any customer all day.

“I wouldn’t have wasted my time talking to you if I knew you were not a good customer. My manager would think I had a customer already,” she thundered.

Manager, sex workers cut down charges

About to exit the brothel, some sex workers loitering around the alleyway surged forward to engage our correspondent.

One of them, about five-foot tall, donning a pink skimpy skirt and see-through top exposing the better part of her cleavage, wanted to take our correspondent to her room.

Our correspondent, however, insisted to have a discussion with her over the transaction at a corner outside the premises where a tall, lanky man in police uniform was puffing away on a cigarette. She agreed.

“Give me N3,000 for 30 minutes,” the young woman, identified only as Ruth, demanded.

As part of the terms and conditions of the deal, Ruth assured our correspondent of as many rounds as possible while the duration lasts. “But if you ‘come’ early and you can’t regain your stamina, na your luck be that o,” she added amid wry smiles.

The price was eventually reduced to N2,000 and after a second thought, she accepted the offer citing low patronage for her decision.

When the transaction appeared to have been finalised and Ruth wanted it sealed in her room, our correspondent digressed into COVID-19.

“Coronavirus no dey anywhere,” she asserted confidently. “I wan carry am sef if hin dey. No virus fit infect me because God made it clear that my body is not for the devil; it is not for sickness. It is for Him.”

She continued, “Some of my friends who believe the virus is real had left. For those of us here now, we don’t believe it exists. Let’s go inside; I will give you hand sanitiser.”

Ruth later walked away to scout for another prospective customer when she realised our correspondent was non-committal.

On Toyin Street, about 300 metres away, a sex worker, popularly addressed as Slim, agreed to cut N3,000 out of the N8,000 she normally charges for an all-night romp.

Like Blessing and Ruth, Slim also attributed the discounted price to the effect of coronavirus on their business.

“No dey fear coronavirus. You no fit catch anything wey no dey,” she stated in presumption of this correspondent’s follow-up question.

Slim disclosed that the fear of contracting the virus had scared many customers away and disrupted influx of clients into the facility.

From four customers on average daily, the 22-year-old said she hardly got one offer these days.

“We used to pay N4,000 to our manager every day but now it has been reduced to N2,500 because of low patronage. On Sunday, I didn’t have any customer, so I was unable to pay the manager but he recorded it for me as a debt.

“I am praying to have good customers this week. Things are hard this time but we have to survive,” she stated winking a face filled with frustration.

Asked if they had been facing harassment from policemen patrolling the area to enforce lockdown, she said, “They don’t enter here even before the coronavirus issue started. Police have good relationship with the owner of this place.”

No kissing, blowjob please

For a first timer, it takes intelligence from ‘an initiate’ to unravel what goes on behind the red gate of the ‘coded’ brothel located on Obafalabi Street, Ojodu-Berger.

A warm smile from Showbaby (as she preferred to be identified) and soft music playing via her small mobile phone welcomed our correspondent into a small but tidy room inside the facility. A standing fan stationed at a corner of the room kept the place cool and comfy.

Asked why she and her friends were still operating at the brothel despite the fears of COVID-19, she said, “Wetin be coronavirus. No be wetin government wan use steal money. I no believe am o.”

“They have been using it to steal money and that was why they had to extend the lockdown for another two weeks. I don’t believe in it,” she added, bluntly.

No doubt the lockdown has affected their business in terms of patronage even though she didn’t admit expressly.

She later conceded that patronage had dropped, especially because the bar within the premises where they get most of their customers had been running skeletal operations.

In the past, one would hear music blaring from loud speakers from a distance, but now, only people familiar with the terrain would know that such a place exists and still catering to the needs of ardent customers.

“How you want am; short time or till day break?” Showbaby asked in a cheerful mood. She pegged the price of short time at N2,000 but after much haggling, she reduced it by half.

“As everything dey lockdown now, make I just manage am,” she said as she took her seat on the bed.

When our correspondent expressed preference for romance only, she said, “That one too dey, but na im dey take time pass, so you go add money.”

After few minutes of haggling, she agreed to do same for N1,000, stressing that she wouldn’t have gone below N1,500 but for drop in patronage. “But there will be no blowjob and kissing,” she added a caveat.

“We no dey do those ones for now but I go make sure say you cum’,” the chubby dark-complexioned lady noted on why those two options had been removed.

She however got angry when our correspondent offered N500 for a romance.

When told to manage it since patronage had dropped, she said, “Which yeye coronavirus? You for tell me since say na N500 dey your pocket. I for no allow make you waste my time,” she said as she opened the door and took her phone.

“If I insult you now people would think I’m not fair,” she ranted while reporting our correspondent to her neighbour, who was also waiting patiently to have her own customer.

Across the stretch, some of the workers still had customers trickling in though not as many as they would have been if there was no lockdown.

Sex workers’ coordinator, doctor, police react

Reacting to the failure of some sex workers to comply with the social distancing practice, Enemo told Saturday Punch on the phone that many Nigerians had also flouted the lockdown directive to contain the spread of coronavirus.

She said, “When government said there is lockdown, people are still moving. So they (sex workers) are human beings like every other person. We are trying to send palliatives to them.

“There is shutdown and you advise people to respect that but you cannot force them. It is their health and they are not doing it for me. I cannot be going out to enforce it because I will also be putting myself at risk.”

A public health physician and Head, Medical Centre of Federal College of Education, Akoka, Lagos, Dr Rotimi Adesanya, stated that commercial sex workers defying lockdown order were putting themselves at high risk, noting that using hand sanitiser wasn’t enough to protect them from contracting COVID-19.

He said, “As everybody is being advised on social distancing, commercial sex workers too need to observe it. They are putting themselves at high risk. All over the world, COVID-19 is a reality. The countries that have everything are suffering today how much more Nigeria that does not have everything to protect the citizenry.

“They should be on lockdown for their own safety. The nature of their job is such that they are meeting with strangers. They are more at risk than any other person and using hand sanitiser is not enough because it can’t stop sneezing which may arise during bodily contact with customers.”

The Police Public Relations Officer in Lagos State, DSP Bala Elkana, explained that sex workers were not exempted from lockdown, adding that police would raid any locations where they operate.

Elkana stated, “I just heard from you that they are still operating. I am not aware of any area where commercial sex workers are operating now because the lockdown order is applicable to everybody. If we have information about where they are operating in violation of the lockdown order, we will definitely enforce the order. They are not part of those exempted from lockdown by the President.”

0 notes

lovenerdywinnerbouquetfan-blog · 6 years

Text

How much would insurance be on a $39,000 Lexus LS 460 car?

"How much would insurance be on a $39,000 Lexus LS 460 car?

Im probably gonna buy my dream car that cost $39,000 but its valued at $43,000. Its a 2007 Lexus LS 460 and i want to know how much full coverage insurance would be? I have a good driving record with no accidents and just need a basic idea. Thanks!!

BEST ANSWER: Try this site where you can compare quotes: : http://howmuchisinsurance.xyz/index.html?src=tumblr