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horanghaejamjam · 3 years ago

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Calico: Chapter 1

Story Summary: Now that he is a successful business owner and financially stable, Yoongi felt it was finally time to welcome a hybrid into his home. What he didn’t expect, was a chance meeting with the young calico that would steal his heart.

Chapter Summary: After looking for a hybrid leads to a dead-end, Hoseok decides to take a chance and introduce Yoongi to their newest addition.

Pairing: CEO Yoongi x Calico hybrid OC.

Rating: PG

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 2.9k

Chapter Warnings: None

Disclaimer: Images used in header are not mine. All written work is 100% my own, editors and beta readers will be credited as needed. Do not copy, translate, or repost my work onto other sites without my permission.

Previous Chapter (None) . . . Next Chapter

Calico Masterlist

Yoongi had to admit that he was actually a bit nervous about this. He had wanted a hybrid ever since he was little but was always worried that he wouldn’t have the time or resources to properly take care of one. Now that he had taken over as head of the family business and become majorly successful, he figured now was as good a time as ever. All of his closest friends owned hybrids, with the exception of Hoseok who owned a shelter for hybrids. That was where he found himself at the moment, sitting in his best friends office as Hoseok went through the important documents and checks he needed beforehand. It was quicker than usual since he had known Yoongi for years and knew that he was a suitable owner for a hybrid but he legally still had to check everything first. Yoongi didn’t mind though and took the time to glance around the others office as he waited. It was nowhere near as large or luxurious as his own but he was also the CEO of one of the biggest companies in the country, and Hoseok was the founder of a hybrid shelter. Still, the office itself was rather cozy; Hoseok’s desk was covered in documents and pictures of friends and family that also lined the walls, there was a small sofa behind them, and the room was covered with various toys and blankets for the hybrids themselves. According to him, it wasn’t unusual for one or two of the hybrids to play in his office while he worked on adoption papers. The older couldn’t help but admire the bond his friend formed with the hybrids he cared for, hopefully he could have a bond like that with one of them as well.

“There we go, all done!” Hoseok said as he entered the last piece of information into the system, turning to his friend with a smile, “sorry about that Hyung. It can be kind of easy to trick the system if we’re not careful so we have to be as thorough as possible to make sure someone is genuine.” Yoongi merely shrugged, already knowing this was a long process when he arrived. He had taken the full day off from work so he could come here, already expecting that it would take more than an hour or two.

“Didn’t take as long as I thought it would honestly,” he admitted with another shrug. Hoseok nodded and pulled out another stack of papers and a pen, sliding a copy across the desk to the other male.

“This next part should be less boring, I’ll take you to meet the hybrids in a moment but first we need to fill out this questionnaire. It’s just basic questions about what you are looking for in a hybrid and things like that so we can start looking for potential matches. I can ask you them or you are free to fill it out yourself,” Hoseok explained. Yoongi nodded and began skimming over the questions, pulling out a pen of his own and beginning to fill them out as he went. The questions were definitely specific, asking if he had a preference of gender, species, certain traits he liked or didn’t like, etc. Though he didn’t struggle too much with filling them out because he had taken quite a bit of time to think over this so he was prepared. Yoongi didn’t honestly care about things like species or gender, he just wanted a companion that would understand him and enjoy his company. After watching the way Jin and Taehyung interacted with their hybrids, he honestly desired a relationship with his future hybrid like the ones they had, where they became his best friend. The more he thought about it, the easier it became to fill out the questionnaire.

“Wow, that was quick!” Hoseok said as he took the completed form, Yoongi now flushing a bit in embarrassment.

“I may or may not have been thinking about this for a while,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“There’s nothing wrong with that!” Hoseok assured, “it just means you’re prepared and ready to own a hybrid!” He added the completed forms to Yoongi’s file and stood up while clapping his hands, “Alright now that we are set you can actually start meeting them!” Yoongi nodded and stood up as well to follow the younger back into the main lobby, his expression was still neutral, but his lips were twitching upward with every step they took. Hoseok led him down one of the hallways, passing many separate doors before reaching a larger one at the end of the hall. “We let the hybrids out in groups to play and socialize, you’ll be able to go in and interact and play with them. The groups are pretty mixed so you’ll get to meet different species, ages, genders, and all that,” he explained as he began to unlock the door, “if you meet someone you like then we can have a one on one meeting in a separate room. I will be standing right by the door so just come back to me when you are done with meetings.” With that, he opened the door and gestured for the older to walk inside, following and closing the door behind them.

Yoongi took a moment to just scan the area, it was a large room fitted with different structures and toys so that all of the hybrids had something to do. There were canines playing tag, a few felines just resting, multiple wild cats up on the higher ledges, and many more he couldn’t quite pinpoint on first glance. After hearing the door open, a lot of them had stopped and turned their attention to Yoongi, clearly excited by his presence. Meanwhile, he was frozen in place as he took in all of their gazes. Hoseok chuckled when he saw how tense his friend was and gently nudged him forward, “They won’t bite, go on in!”

Taking the younger’s advice, Yoongi slowly walked into the room and closer to some of the hybrids. Some of them seemed uninterested in him and completely ignored his presence, while others excitedly came up to him looking for pets and asking every question they could think of. It was almost hard for the young male to keep up with all the questions he was getting, clearly overwhelmed with how hyper some of the younger ones seemed to be. It quickly became apparent that none of them were the right one for him, a lot of them were too hyper or didn’t care to acknowledge his presence. Among the few he actually did get along with, he didn’t really feel a strong connection with any of them. He remembered his friends telling him there would be an obvious bond when he found the right one, and he didn’t feel that with any of the individuals here. Sighing, he soon walked back up to Hoseok and shook his head, the younger immediately understanding and leading him back out.

“Don’t lose hope Hyung,” Hoseok said as he rested his hand on the smaller males shoulder, “it can take a while before you start to bond with a hybrid. People often have to come in many times before finally meeting one they work well with.”

“I know,” Yoongi replied with a sigh, his flat tone masking his slight disappointment. He had known from the start that the chances of adopting a hybrid after his first trip to the shelter were slim since he needed to form a bond with his new companion. In fact, he remembered Taehyung saying it took almost a month before he finally adopted Jungkook. These things took time, and he wanted to make sure he found one who would actually bond with him. Otherwise, what was even the point of him adopting a hybrid? Still, the fact that none of them had seemed to connect with him was a little bit disheartening. Perhaps Yoongi hadn’t been as stoic as he had hoped. That or Hoseok had read his mind, since the younger seemed to easily catch on to his disappointment. He frowned at his hyung for a moment before suddenly getting an idea. “I probably shouldn’t be doing this, but if you’re interested then there is one more hybrid you can meet before you go.” Yoongi didn’t say anything, but the curious look he gave Hoseok urged him to continue, “She isn’t actually up for adoption at the moment which is why she wasn’t out there with the rest. Judging by the way you interacted with some of the other hybrids though, I think you might actually like her.”

“If she isn’t up for adoption then why would you introduce us?” Yoongi asked. Honestly he didn’t understand what Hoseok was implying at the moment. Why would it matter if they got along or not? It would only get his hopes up then disappoint him more because he wouldn’t be able to adopt her in the first place.

“Trust me it’s not what you think!” Hoseok quickly added once he saw his friend’s reluctance, “she’s not up for adoption yet because we only got her a few days ago so we know nothing about her. All we know is her name, age, and breed but no idea of where she came from so we can’t really offer her in case there’s something we need to know. Once we find her records then we’ll be able to offer her for adoption, meaning that if you met her now and you liked her then we could start the adoption process now. All you would have to do then is wait for those records to come in and sign the remaining documents before you take her home.” Yoongi had to take a moment to process everything the younger male had just said. Hoseok was clearly hopeful that this could work out in their favor, but the look Yoongi gave him indicated he still wasn’t convinced.

“Let me get this straight,” Yoongi started, “I meet her now and if I like her I can start the process but can’t take her home yet. Once you get her records, and if they’re good, I can take her home. However, if they are not then I can’t and we just wasted everyone’s time and got our hopes up for nothing.”

“Well, when you put it that way it sounds worse.”

“That’s the point Hoseok, it’s a 50/50 chance either way and I’m not sure I’m willing to take it.”

“Come on Hyung!” Hoseok argued, “you know I wouldn’t be offering this if I wasn’t confident it would turn out okay. You just have to trust me on this one, just give her a chance please?” Yoongi still wasn’t a hundred percent convinced that this was a good idea, but the look Hoseok was giving him was enough to make him give in. With an annoyed groan, he ran his hand through his hair before turning back to his friend.

“Alright fine, I’ll meet her.” Hoseok smiled and clapped in excitement, grabbing Yoongi’s arm and practically dragging him back down the hall before stopping at a door close to the lobby.

“Before you go in I just want to warn you that she is a bit shy so try to approach her calmly,” he explained as he went to unlock the door, “I won’t be going in with you since I don’t want to crowd her, but I’ll be watching if you need anything.” Yoongi gave him a look that was less than amused but didn’t have time to say anything before Hoseok was opening the door and nudging him inside, “Mika, there’s someone here to meet you!”

Yoongi curses under his breath as he is shoved forward, Hoseok closing the door before he can get a chance to say anything. Instead he sighs and looks around the room, which was designed like a makeshift bedroom, except for the fact the bed itself was covered in a pile of blankets. Had it not been for a slight shuffling coming from under said pile, Yoongi would have thought that he was alone in the room.

Two soft hazel eyes peeked out to look at him for a second before the blankets were shifted to reveal a young calico cat. She was quite small, even when sitting he could tell she was shorter than him, and she seemed to be on the thinner side as well. Her ears and tail were mainly white with patterns of orange and black, whereas her hair seemed to mainly be black with the same patterning throughout. She was on the paler side, though not as pale as he was, and her features appeared quite small and elegant overall. She was looking up at him with wide eyes, seeming like she was a bit unsure but not exactly scared of him. Yoongi had to admit, she was absolutely adorable.

A tense atmosphere filled the room as the two of them entered an awkward staring match, neither one knowing what to say. She was clearly shy and he had no idea how to approach her without scaring her. Yoongi made a mental note to kill Hoseok for making him do this. Taking a deep breath, he slowly walked a bit closer and kneeled down so that he was at the same level as the calico. “Hi, Mika right?” he asked in a soft voice, “my name is Yoongi.”

Mika blinked at him for a few seconds before asking, “Are you friends with Hobi?” The question made the male smile as he nodded, this girl was too cute for her own good. The confirmation seemed to be good enough reason for the hybrid as she abandoned her blanket pile and slowly went to sit down in front of Yoongi, silently observing him before she moved any closer. The closer proximity allowed the male to confirm that she was in fact smaller than he was, probably younger as well. There was an almost childlike innocence that radiated off of Mika and it gave him the strong urge to want to protect her. Perhaps that is what caused him to move without thinking, lifting his hand to her and waiting for the okay so that he could pet her. Mika seemed to flinch back a bit when she saw his hand, but leaned forward again to take in his scent. After a moment she deemed him okay and nuzzled her head into his palm, allowing him to scratch her ear softly. Immediately Yoongi noted how soft her fur was, and how she started purring once he found a spot right behind her ear.

Mika closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling of being pet, subconsciously pushing herself more against Yoongi until she was almost leaning on him. It was clear she liked physical affection and he was more than happy to oblige. Mika eventually pulled away and looked up at him, “Why are you wearing a suit?”

Yoongi couldn’t help but chuckle a bit at the question, “I came here from work. I am the boss so I have to wear suits.”

“All day?” Mika asked in surprise.

“All day,” Yoongi confirmed. It seemed the hybrid didn’t like this as she made a questionable face at his choice of attire.

“It’s so uncomfortable though, how can you wear it all day?”

“I don’t mind it that much. Had I known I’d be getting cuddled by a kitten today though I probably would have changed.”

The two spent about an hour getting to know each other. Mika had, at one point, gotten distracted by Yoongi’s watch and he ended up taking it off just to watch her paw at it. It was actually very fun and they seemed to get along very well. Unfortunately, the fun did not last as Hoseok had reluctantly walked in and said that it was time to go. Yoongi was a bit disappointed, but nodded and said his goodbye to Mika before standing up. It seemed she had other ideas though as she stood as well and gripped onto Yoongi’s arm desperately.

“You’ll come back, right Yoongi?” she asked, tilting her head to look up at him with pleading eyes. The man in question smiled softly and patted her head before gently prying her arms off of him.

“I will try to come back and see you okay?” with that he quickly waved and turned to exit the room, hearing shuffling behind him as the young cat returned to her hiding spot.

Hoseok closed and locked the door again before turning towards Yoongi with a knowing smile, “So Hyung, what did you think of her?” Yoongi responds by glaring at the younger for a second before giving in and sighing softly.

“How long will it take you to get her records in?” he asked hesitantly.

Hoseoks smile only widened as he scrolled through something on his phone, “Well we got her just over a week ago so I would say another week at the latest.” He then raised a knowing eyebrow at Yoongi before adding, “Now why exactly were you curious about that?” The older groaned and rubbed at his temples for a second, tempted to just say forget it and leave, but he decided to give into his friends teasing.

“Alright you win, I want to adopt her.”

Taglist: None (To be added to Calicos taglist comment or message me)

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messenger-of-stupidity · 2 years ago

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Protocol Mug - Day Three

Welcome to day three! I actually enjoyed writing this. The dynamic between Asset and James is barely in existence, but the few videos they interact are some of my favorites. So enjoy.

Prompt: Hand-painted mugs

Characters: James and Asset

CW: Mentions of distrust, reverse of progress, worries about the future, a hint of mystery, fluff if you squint. And I mean if you squint like you’re half blind and are trying to see the details of a mosquito’s wings. Might as well get a fucking microscope at this point, minimal cursing

Masterlist

Asset followed the security guard down the hall, the noise compressors installed into their body silencing the otherwise loud metallic footsteps they would have had against the linoleum. They stared straight ahead, line of sight bypassing the security guards shoulder.

The day had started out simply enough. They had powered on Marcus would have said they should use the term "woken up" because it made them more relatable to humans, which would improve their social standing, and picked out an outfit to wear today. Granted there was no variation. But they could pick out which white long sleeved shirt and light gray pants they wished to wear. Footwear was unnecessary and their installment team wanted to test the noise compression updates. They were partial to the socks commonly found within a human hospital that allowed for the wearer to find friction on the ground for movement. They liked the soft sound of it sticking. Plus when they were well and truly alone, as much as they could be, they could turn the sock around and use the fabric to slide this way and that.

They had been waiting for the first summons or appointment when the security guard had come to get them. That only ever meant one thing. They were going to meet with James.

She didn't acknowledge them as she knocked on the door to James' office. She only departed when the door was pulled open and Asset was greeted with his smiling face. Smiles can't be trusted. Don't start now.

"Good morning. How are you doing?" James asked them as they entered. The bionic eyes shifted in their sockets, documenting every new and little shift of their surroundings before they took their usual seat.

"I'm well. All my systems are functioning properly, and the new upgrades appear to be working as the installment team had hoped. As for my emotional health, nothing today has gone wrong to cause a dip within my... happiness." They answered, hands folding in their lap as they looked at James carefully. "How are you this morning?" James smiled at them, but it was soon replaced by a frown. Their emotional detection reasoning spun as they tried to orient and assign an emotion to the expression on his face.

"A bit troubled if I'm being honest. I'm worried about you. Do you want to tell me what's going on?" They seriously doubted that he needed anything from them. After all every activity they participated in, whether scheduled or not, was documented and reported to him and his own teams. So he would know everything. They looked away.

"I don't know what you are referring to. Please specify." They replied. It was a demand, but James knew they meant it as a question.

"Gladly. The newly appointed lead for your social protocol team reported you as uncooperative and disinterested." If they were human, they might have flinched. But they weren't, so they remained still with their expression carefully maintained. "And it's only with your social protocol. I can understand how it might unnerved you, but is there another reason why you want to avoid all interactions with the team?" He asked. They wished he hadn't been so thorough with his question. It had been purely analytical, so there was no room to dodge or leave information out. He certainly had a knack for getting to the heart and root of all of their problems.

They fidgeted with the stitched hem of their shirt. He knew it was on purpose though. Every action that seemed accidental was always done on purpose and thought through.

"I don't want to risk something like the code happening again." They muttered and James nodded with a sigh. They didn't like it, but they kept the opinion to themselves. They watched him lean against the edge of the desk and cross his arms over his chest.

"That's understandable. But these protocols are important to your connection to humanity. And you have to have that connection to have true and unshakeable motivation to save us. It's unknown what you'll encounter but we have to make sure you'll never waver." He said, sympathy coating his words. They nodded along with a frown. "Would it help if it was someone you could trust?" He asked. They stared at him before their shoulders moved in a shrug.

"I suppose if I already had a solid basis of trust and mutual understanding, it would make me less apprehensive to allow my social training to resume." They relented, unsure of where the conversation was going. They knew everyone that worked with them, but that didn’t necessarily mean they trusted them. The only person they could think of that they trusted was Anton, but he was on the team that focused on installing upgrades. That was what his contract was for. They watched as James nodded as if he had gotten some clarity. They still remained confused however.

“Alright. Do you trust me?” He asked, still staying where he was. They eyed him before copying his open stance. It wasn’t a perfect replication, but the flaws in it were also made on purpose.

“I suppose so. However, I don’t have a lot of data on you. While you have been very forthcoming with information in the past, you also held some information away. It brings into questioning what else you’re not releasing to me.” They responded. James’s smile didn’t go away, but his eyes remained guarded. They weren’t going to pull anything new from him, but that was expected. If they had been trying to get more information from him, they would have continued their line of questioning. Instead they leaned back in their seat and dipped their head a few calculated degrees towards him. James clapped his hands together, signaling a change in the conversation direction.

"Well then. Now that you've established you trust me, with some added tidbits, how would you feel if I took over your social protocol training? At least until you built a relationship with your new team lead and member, or until we found a suitable replacement. Whichever comes first I suppose." He asked. Asset paused at the offer, genuinely caught off guard. It didn't happen very often since they were usually able to predict outcomes. Then again, James had always managed to trick them. So they shouldn't be surprised. Although it was a very human thing to do - becoming surprised by the typical behavior of an individual.

"You have enough recreational time to set some aside in your schedule to take part in my training, James?" They asked skeptically. James didn't answer them, but the question was more rhetorical than it was literal. They nodded, as careful as usual. "I suppose that would be an acceptable temporary arrangement." They responded and James nodded, straightening up as he walked around his desk to the other side.

"Perfect. I figured that we would start now since you're already here. Is that okay with you?" There were a few possible reasons for the consistent check ins. It could be because James was that type of person, he wanted to keep their trust, or he was trying to get them to trust humanity as a whole once again. They guessed it was a mix of the latter two.

"I have no complaints with doing so." They responded, watching curiously as he pulled out a plastic shopping bag. They leaned forward slightly as their eyes grew wider. There was a soft mechanical whir as their pupils audibly zoomed in. James pulled out a couple art kits and he watched with amused interest at the way that Asset replicated the soft scrunch of their nose and the disinterested lip curl that was so present upon human expressions. "You want to do arts and crafts for my protocol training? I don't mean to bring doubt upon your methods, however... unprofessional they may seem, but I must question what painting clay pottery has to do with learning the social behaviors and patterns I'm meant to emulate of the human species." James laughed softly at their confusion as he opened one of the boxes to pull out the kiln-dried mug from its protective styrofoam casing.

"True true. But it's not the act that is the protocol training. It's the act of the bonding over such a project. I admit I also want to test your creative cylinders. But humans are social creatures, so we seek anyway of bonding. Plus I figured it would be a nice way to ease into this arrangement." He said, waving the mug harmlessly by the handle. Asset's eyes tracked the movement before their gaze shifted to lock eyes with James.

"Observations tell me that you have no inclination how my social team teaches and trains me." They deadpanned. His smile turned sheepish and he shrugged. His eyes never lost the guarded calculating look though.

"Guilty as charged. I can put the mugs away if you'd like." He offered. They stood up and walked over to grab the unopened box. They turned it over in their hand before meeting his eyes again.

"Negative. I'll take part in your scheduled activity. From my understanding, conversation is often present during such activities, often leading to mistakes being made which provokes frustration. I have multitasking program installed, so I shall not get frustrated. What would you like to converse about?"

When James had first met them, their speech had sounded slightly off. Just a nudge away from sounding genuinely human, bar any slang. But after the Marcus incident they had been distancing themselves further from more human speech patterns. It was what had provoked James to intervene in the first place. The concern that they would distance themselves as much as possible from humanity as a whole had been the more concerning factor. The sense of duty to save humanity had already been established, however they also wanted the Asset to desire to save humanity. It would make them try harder and cut no corners.

"It could be anything you'd like." James answered as he pulled out his radio to request a small table to be brought into the office for the two to work on. He watched as they sat down on the floor, carefully and methodically unboxing the mug. He wondered if they would purposefully cause bits of the styrofoam go splinter off like it would under a human's clumsy hands. But they managed it without much mess and collected little bits that came from it scraping against the flimsy cardboard of the box.

"I have nothing to say or contribute. Choosing topics are often in my clearance as well. The privilege was revoked since my topic of interest was always..." Their voice trailed off, body and expression stilling. The silent name was practically tangible. And for a moment they could almost feel his fingertips drifting along their sensors. They shuddered and refocused on the mug. They didn’t look up as the door clicked open and two people entered, carefully carrying a table as the third held the door open. James waited for the door to close before grabbing an edge of the table and scooting it to where he desired.

"I was serious when I said that whenever you changed your mind we could pursue legal action. It might be a bit difficult because of the memory modification, but we have legitimate proof of his crimes.” James offered gently. They looked at him, their head already moving in a shake.

“I would prefer to just try to let it become less detrimental within my memory hard-drive. It’s better to let it not get in the way of my progress.” They responded as they picked up the mug and painting accessories from the floor to bring it to the table. It was at average knee height so there was no need to drag a chair over. They moved towards it on their knees, holding the objects close to their chest. It was a very human behavior, although James didn’t bring it up. He carried his own project and sat down on the floor across from them. The cold temperature of the tile below the rug brushed along his thighs. He was sure that they were able to detect it. But it wouldn’t bother them.

“Alright. I just want you to know that the offer was still on the table.” He said as he leaned an elbow on the table, fist supporting the weight of his head, as he eyed the mug calmly. They stared at him, trying to analyze and sort his behavior. Giving credit where credit is due, he looked very relaxed and open. Too bad he couldn't mask the expression in his eyes. Unless he was leaving that open on purpose. Or was that a mask hiding different intentions itself? "You're trying to read me again, aren't you?" James asked, his attention now returned to them. There was no point in lying.

"I'll admit there was never a pause or lull in my analyzing. It's always active and directed to any organic lifeforms in my vicinity. Isn't that what some of my program updates' purpose was?" They answered. They grew confused at the appearance of a crease in their... what was he... owner? Boss? Manager?’s forehead. He didn't give them a chance to ask a question. He simply wet his brush before dipping it into the paint palette and began to carefully move it along the mug. They stared before mirroring the action. They hesitated before letting it touch the dried clay though, thinking. They let the brush touch briefly in intervals to let it place small green circles over the expanse.

"Have you decided what you want to talk about?" James asked. They glanced at him, but he was still carefully constructing a pattern out of their view.

"Yes, I have realized a conclusion to your inquiry. I would like our topic of discussion to be about you. It seems only fair considering how you already know everything about me. Especially since you been on this project since before the start of my operating. Don't you agree?" They asked. It was a little passive aggressive of them, but if it would get them what they wanted, it was a small price to pay. Silence filled the room as James considered his answer and they waited patiently. After a couple minutes he responded slowly. Carefully.

"What about me specifically?" He asked, looking up from his project to regard them. They washed the green away from their brush before putting yellow on one side and making small brushstrokes of the yellow to make repetitive small rectangles.

"Have you always resided within this nearby vicinity?" They asked. James shook his head without pausing to think. It meant that it was a safe question for him to answer. And that meant that some information was being held away from them due to the danger factor of it. How many threats were there?

"No. I travel around some for my job. This is just one of the longer stays." He answered. That didn't surprise them. They had scientists, programmers, doctors, ect. from all over the place brought in under NDA and contract to work on the project. Project being them of course. Of course there were those who didn't mind it as much and those who did. Like Brian. Although was that just because he had to leave his family?

"Do you have family, James?" They asked, the volume of their vocal compartment lowering. It was the most human they had sounded for a while if reports were to be believed. There was a pause this time and their grip tightened slightly on the shaft of the paintbrush, applying more pressure to their mug.

"Yeah, I do. My..." His voice trailed off as he paused to think again. He corrected himself soon after. "The person I care about is waiting for me to come back." He finished. They nodded, understanding the feeling, if a twisted form of it.

"I apologize for keeping you away from your loved one." They added a couple moments later, remorse filling their tone. James smiled.

"This is important. You are important. My partner understands this to some extent due to the confidentiality of this project. Besides, once you succeed, I plan on spending more time with them again. So don't feel sorry for existing. It will be thanks to you that I'll be able to see them again by the end of it." He said. They nodded, not offering a verbal response. The topic was moved away from James, as well as their end goal. A part of them wanted to ask what would become of them once if they completed the goal of saving humanity. Would they be repurposed? Held in some kind of mental frozen animation in case they were needed again? Scrapped?

“What happens at the end, James?” They asked suddenly as they used the water to help blend some blue and violet together so they could get the intended gradient effect on the handle of the mug.

“The end of the book? I haven’t finished it yet, so I don’t know.” James answered, misunderstanding the direction of their question.

“No, at the end of my mission. What happens to me?” They looked up to see James smiling and they frowned in return. What about their question brought him enjoyment?

“That’s a really human thing to wonder. Improvement. But to answer you question, I don’t know. That would be outside my jurisdiction. I’m high up there, but I still answer to people. It would probably be the decision of the project originators. Which is a council of people when it comes to answering that. I hold no sway there.”

Out of all the information within their grasp, all the statistics they were able to run, variables to account for, educated and often correct assumptions to make, the answer of their future was always out of their reach.

A soft buzzer sounded and the door opened. They looked up to see the face of a security guard to act as their escort. “It’s time for their physical, sir.” The guard said. James sighed and nodded, standing as well.

“Alright then. Next time I suppose. Thank you for meeting with me today. I’ll see you again in a couple days, is that alright?” They stood, hesitantly leaving the partly finished mug on the table.

“Yes, that’s fine.” There was only an illusion of another answer choice, but they appreciated the structure of a question instead of a demand nonetheless. They dipped their head to James before following the guard out. The door to his office closed behind them.

James turned towards the table to look down at the paints, cups of water, and two mugs. He picked up the Asset’s to look at it. As soon as he did, he swallowed at the sight, a chill running down his spine and his jaw tightening. He stared at the design on top of the blended background. How the fuck did they know what a shade looked like?

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted james #redacted asset #redacted project meridian #redacted android #android listener #redacted android listener #redacted love #redacted fanfic #redacted hc #writing challenge day three #day three #writing challenge

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the-heaminator · 3 years ago

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October 24: Sleep Deprived || Injury and Illness

Yes this is from an already existing fic of mine but I added more so it still counts

England and Germany, two overworked fucks who won't sleep if their already flimsy sanity depended on it, and behold the voice of reason and some fucking divine intervention gets the idea through their thick skulls that sleep Is good and that maybe they are more than friends

Arthur was in a hurry, as per the usual, there were train strikes today so he had to leave earlier because, unlike some people, he did not enjoy or condone being late, for a meeting in his own lands even less.

He had not had time for breakfast and did not eat dinner the previous night as he kept procrastinating until the morning came while he was typing a report up.

To everybody else, he looked like shit, and to himself, he felt like shit, perhaps he should have maybe slept more during the past week, but he was keeping up a steady correspondence with Germany over the said week.

It was regular things, trade agreements, economic reports and all that, but being England and Germany, they both had to be extremely thorough with it.

Arthur may have been mildly concerned that an email sent at 4am was returned not 15 minutes later with an attached document of over 5000 words. But he was really not one to talk as he may have sent an email as well about half an hour later.

Anyhow, the bus came at a blessedly early time and there was minimal traffic, meaning Arthur managed to get to the hall 20 minutes early. Though he almost missed his stop because he was either daydreaming or falling asleep, perhaps both, but he managed to scramble off the bus just in time.

When he entered the conference room, it was mostly empty, save for the usual people, Germany, and Switzerland.

Anyhow, the lack of sleep was causing his eyes to not function properly, even through his glasses and he had to blink very hard to be able to discern which Germanic was which, he had not had time to put his contacts on this morning so he came wearing his unmistakable rather thick glasses, purely because he liked not bumping into things, being able to recognise people, and being able to read.

Switzerland was looking both non-confrontational and very confrontational at the same time, though that in itself was not entirely unusual, Germany looked like absolute shit, which was strange considering Arthur really liked how Germany looked normally, he had eyebags, not large ones, but unlike Arthur, he did not get eyebags often and even from a distance England could see his eyes were inflamed and he was slouching, completely irregular, considering the German brothers had always prided themselves in being neat and orderly.

Gilbert would have had a fit looking at his little brother.

Switzerland was eyeing both of them warily, once again normal Switzerland behaviour, but the wariness seemed different, more worried for them than himself, though neither sleep-deprived nation realised that.

They were all sat in their designated seats, Ludwig was leaning his head on his hand while writing something and Arthur was attempting to read what was each presentation to be about today, this was the first day of meetings and there was to be more.

Blessedly this meeting would be short, considering this meeting was non-EU countries mainly, communicating with Germany and France, Liechtenstein was not to be attending, though Switzerland was going to take notes for her. Norway and Iceland came in next, Iceland pointedly avoiding looking at anybody in the room while Norway wordlessly shot England a pointed look of concern, which he brushed off with a practised glare, though much more tired than usual.

France sauntered in with Turkey, both no doubt talking about something deeply irrelevant to anything useful, probably food or who fucked who. It was France and Turkey after all, I do not know what you would expect of them.

Though they both shut up immediately sensing the level of I am done with this shit and will eat your liver vibe emanating from both England and Germany, though they both seemed dead on their feet, possibly the cause of said vibe. But anyhow neither of them wanted to cross a sleep-deprived England or Germany if they wanted to keep their livers at least, and everyone is fond of their liver.

The meeting continued without much disruption due mainly to the lack of nations, but everyone picked up on the unfocusedness of England and the much more snappish attitude of Germany, possibly also being a cause for the calmness, though Basch seemed more tense than usual.

Once the meeting was over, all the nations sans the first three that were there, had left.

Germany was apparently asleep and Arthur was staring at some unspecified place in the middle distance, unfocused and all weird.

Basch was just concerned, so he tried to communicate with England first, seeing as he seemed to be the most sentient at this point, it did take an unreasonable time for him to realise someone was talking to him, but he did eventually realise and turned to observe him.

Basch gave a pointed look which really could have only meant one thing, "I am fine Switzerland, stop fretting, there is no need for you to be sweating."

He raised an eyebrow at the weird rhyming, but said nothing about it, instead saying, in the driest voice he could muster, "Sure, eyebrows that are more suitcases than bags clearly show your wonderful sleep schedule."

"Basch, shut your face or I may be tempted to maul it with a mace."

With the look he was receiving, he was sure of it, but again with the rhyming?

He the attempted to approach Germany, who, due to him being asleep, was less likely to maul him.

Probably.

He poked Ludwig, expecting him not to wake up, and to be fair he didn't, but he did mumble in German "Fuck off Gilbert."

He poked the sleeping nation again and said "Not Gilbert, Basch, you're in the meeting hall and asleep."

Ludwig sort of came to his sense, kind of, and looked blearily at Basch who looked back at him and continued "you're still in the meeting room Ludwig."

While this was happening, England was mumbling some unintelligible but vaguely threatening words that Basch gave an ear to but sort if ignored though they played in his head later, even though he understood just about none of it.

Ludwig finally decided to look up and Basch swears to God he had never been this scared in his life, Germany looked fucking undead, with pale, clammy-looking skin, bloodshot eyes and the lot.

"JESUS FUCK LUDWIG, GO THE FUCK TO SLEEP."

"I'll sleep when I'm dead, I have stuff to do you know." He said, still somehow sounding annoyed while looking both physically and mentally exhausted.

"You look dead, that has to count for something." Basch deadpanned.

"For fucks sake Basch leave him and go away or you may have to be slain."

Switzerland looked at him weirdly "Stop rhyming, it is very off-putting." Even Germany, in his corpse-like state looked mildly uncomfortable with Arthur's odd rhyming and general off putting atmosphere that seemed to surround him.

Switzerland did not exactly know what caused him to say that the rhyming was concerning, I mean this is englad we're talking about, and despite never having really faced him, everyone else told him to stay well away from the blonde, as well as telling him to stay well away from Ivan.

Usually, he could see why, the fucker generally fought the first person he saw, usually France and to be fair he would have done so if he had such a reputation. Germany had also garnered a pretty bad reputation despite still being a babe in arms for most of everyone, especially in Europe and Asia, but apparently, two world wars and being the so-called master of Europe does that to your reputation.

But right now, he couldn't see it, not for either of them, he had the strongest motherfucking urge from when Ludwig was a tiny, sickly thing and Gilbert was a stressed older brother who had no idea what the fuck he was doing, and one who would rather eat his own foot than ask Hungary or Austria for help, to comfort him, put him in a blanket and make him sleep. Like back in the 1870s and 80s.

This was not the time for fucking nostalgia damnit!

He let the two walk out of the room, now that they were somewhat awake-ish he proceeded to get 3 cups of coffee, he still knew not why he was being so protective over the two, they were grown adults, and he barely knew one of them at all, but their very clear exhaustion was palpable and Basch did not like that.

He sat at the table where the two were discussing something at a rapid pace in hushed tones, right they had a one-to-one meeting after this didn't they.

After that BAsch would drag the two and knock them out with a shovel if he had to to make them rest, because for god's sake this can not be healthy, while he was in his mental ramblings, and it wasn't even a very long mental rambling either, at least by his standards, but the two, mind you, steaming cups of coffee had been drained and the two looked like they had a little more life in them, just a little.

Unfortunately, it was now the time for the two t have their meeting, and time for Switzerland to leave, but as he did so, he made sure to call Gilbert.

After exactly 3 rings, Gilbert finally picked up the phone and in German said "Basch what happened?"

Ah so he knew something was up.

Not one to beat around the bush too much he said "Ludwig looks like a corpse."

Gilbert sighed over the phone, sounding like a long-suffering father "Well fuck he did it again. Listen Basch, you're in England right?"

"Yes I am, Why?" He asked a bit suspicious of what Gilberts intentions were.

"If Germany is overworked like this, I can also assume that England is at about the same level of dead, I want you to take both of them to his house, I will call Wales, he will probably be able to help."

Switzerland was not expecting Prussia to have a whole protocol for this, but he shouldn't be complaining as he knew Prussia would more than happily go out of his way to irritate him.

But now he had the task of dealing with the two while Wales got here, conveniently for him Wales wasn't too far away, currently waiting for a train at Langley station, bit it would take at least 2 hours for him to get into central London

Basch would have to deal with this himself for now, and he was definitely not fucking ready.

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p-artsypants · 4 years ago

Text

The Ghost of Smokey Joe (4)

You’ve Got Me VooDoo’d

Adrien Agreste was acting bizarre. Stilted body language, plastic smile, and he seemed to have forgotten how close they were. Before she can get the truth out of him, Marinette finds herself as the sole heir to the Gabriel brand and the mansion, following the murder-suicide of both Adrien and Gabriel Agreste. The mystery continues as Tikki explains that Adrien was Chat Noir...but if Adrien is six feet under, why is Chat Noir still running around?

Ao3 | FF.net

“Have either of you talked to Adrien lately?”

Nino scoffed from his place on the couch. “You mean Mr. Roboto? Yeah, he’s been a blast. What did you do, Marinette?”

“Me?! I didn’t do anything!”

“Well he wasn’t this weird until your failed date night.”

“I know that! And I also know that I did nothing wrong!” She scolded.

“Mari’s right,” said Alya. “Sunshine’s transformation is probably a side effect of his dear old dad.”

“What did Gabriel do?” Asked Marinette.

“Don’t you remember? He’s a great designer, and apparently a cool boss, but he’s a super shitty dad.”

“Yeah. But ever since Adrien turned 18, he’s mellowed out. Somewhat.”

“So? He probably cranked it back up. When was the last time you saw Adrien outside of the mansion?”

Marinette blinked. “God, like two weeks ago, before ‘my failed date night’.”

“Exactly. If you ask me, Sunshine is depressed. Or forbidden from showing emotion.”

Marinette clutched at her chest, the very notion sending a throb to her heart.

“I’m going to talk to him tomorrow. I’ll sneak up on him, so Nathalie doesn’t know. Maybe without her talking to him beforehand, he’ll feel more relaxed.”

“That’s a good plan! And if he has a camera in his room?”

“Um…I’ll write a note! Not an email, in case his dad is monitoring it, but an actual, physical note.” It was as good enough of a plan as it could be, though she had neglected to mention to them the tiny detail of Adrien’s document.

‘Your name is Adrien Agreste’ it said.

Why would he be reading such a thing? Did he have amnesia and Gabriel was trying to keep it quiet? Extremely early onset Alzheimer’s? That’s the only thing that made sense.

Still, Marinette opted to not mention this. It was her clue to the mystery. Maybe later.

Just like some magic potion

You fill me with emotion

You control my very soul

You've Got Me Voodoo'd

“You could at least respond with ‘k’.”

The reply was immediate. “K.”

“Oh, so now you’re talking to me?”

“K.”

“Did I do something?”

“K”

“That doesn’t even make any sense!”

“K”

“You’re really pissing me off, Agreste.”

“K”

Marinette put her phone down for her own health. After a morning in the office, and not getting a response from Adrien, she was beyond frustrated.

If he had a problem with her, fine, but they had work to do! He still had a job at the company, outside of being a model, and some of her work relied on him.

It was coming in, slowly, poorly, and mostly wrong. Besides modeling, he was an assistant in sizing, making sure that their clothes were made to be close to the market standard, and flattering for as many possible body types. They did do custom orders, of course, but for the average consumer, it was important that they ordered what they wanted, and received what they expected.

But Adrien’s measurements were wildly wrong. Women’s extra large shirts didn’t gain inches in the bust, waist, and arms respectively, but the whole outfit scaled evenly.

Meaning that if an average small was 16 inches long, instead of gaining one or two inches, it reached down to the knees. Shoulder seams fell halfway down the bicep, and sleeves continued a few inches over their hands.

The models in testing looked like children wearing their parents' clothes.

“Miss Dupain-Cheng, I have to ask you about this collection and the…interesting sizing you’ve decided to take.” One of the sales reps asked, right outside her office.

“It’s wrong,” Marinette clarified. “It should have been caught before prototypes were made, but there’s been a hiccup in the production.” She stood, and put on her purse. There was no way to solve this problem without talking to Adrien. And goddamnit, she was going to make him talk!

“See to it that it’s corrected immediately. With Gabriel’s nearly complete absence, this collection is way behind. Aubrey Bourgeois already has her fall collection out!”

“Yes, I know. I’m heading over to the manor now to get some concrete answers. Hopefully by tomorrow, we’ll get our sizing corrected.”

“I hope you do.”

Marinette hurried down the hall, coworkers giving her concerned glances.

It was pretty obvious, even to those who weren’t immediately in the office:

The company was a sinking ship, and Marinette was the only one who had a bucket.

You knew the goddess Venus

Would start this love between us

You inspired me with desire

You've Got Me Voodoo'd

Marinette let herself into the manor, though it wasn’t her day to work there. Thankfully, it seemed like Nathalie was too busy to notice her arrival.

Up at Adrien’s bedroom door, she was about to knock. Then she noticed his door was cracked open.

Surely spying on him slightly wouldn’t be wrong?

She pushed the door open a little more for her to peek through.

On the other side of the room, staring out the window, stood Adrien. And that’s all he did. He just stood looking out the window. The lights in the room were off, backlighting his silhouette. She watched him for a moment, waiting. Nothing.

Then she knocked. “Adrien? Are you decent?”

“Yes, I am.” He spoke formally.

She opened the door fully, and he turned to look at her with the most plastic smile she had ever seen.

He didn’t have his dimples.

“Hello Marinette, it’s nice to see you. I didn’t know you were working here today.”

“Nice to see you too. I haven’t had the chance to talk to you properly the last few days, you’ve been so busy.”

“I have been, I apologize.”

“It’s not your fault. I know how your father is.” She took a seat on the couch, and pulled out her salad from her bag. “Sorry, I’d wait to eat with you, but I’m so hungry.”

“You may eat. I understand.” Though he just stared at her, still smiling, and still standing.

“Are you going to sit?”

“I can.” He sat next to her, leaving a cushion of space in-between. Normally, he would practically be in her lap.

“You don’t need to be so formal, you know. We’re alone.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

She frowned slightly. “You don’t need to apologize. Just like...relax.”

Adrien looked at her, before exhaling loudly and sinking into the couch more. “Is this relaxed enough?”

She shrugged.

“What did you want to talk about?”

“I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Doing?”

“Yeah, you’ve been acting super weird lately.”

He tilted his head slightly. “Weird? How so?”

“I don’t know, stiff? Formal? Just kind of...stand off-ish. And forgetful. There've been some pretty obvious mistakes in sizing for this collection, and you approved them. You haven’t been in the office the last few days, so I was worried.”

He considered this. “I’m sorry if my absence caused you any inconveniences. I wasn’t aware I needed to be at the office.”

She blinked a few times, incredulously. This was absolutely bizarre. “You don’t need to be there, you just usually hang around after shoots or fittings and keep me company.”

“Oh, because we are friends, right? My good friend Marinette.”

“Yes!” She slammed her Tupperware down. “This is what I’m talking about! It’s like you don’t know who I am!”

He frowned, the expression running lines in his face. “I’m sorry, Marinette. I’m having a hard time right now, and I’m kind of exhausted. I’m…kind of confused.”

She took a calming breath. “Okay. I get it. You’re stressed. Let’s talk this out though, okay?”

He twisted up his mouth in thought. “Okay, what would you like to talk about?”

“What’s got you stressed? Is your dad breathing down your neck? Are deadlines too much to handle with modeling too? Do you need a vacation?”

He stared at her, blankly. “I’m not sure. I would have to think about it.”

“Well, you know you can talk to me about anything. I care a lot about you, Adrien.”

“Oh…that’s nice.” He smiled and patted her hand.

It sounded incredibly patronizing. And it hurt.

“What is up with you? You’ve been acting so strange! You’re not the boy I know!”

You knew you had the power

And even picked the hour

When the full moon was up above

I was hypnotized when I looked into your eyes

My heart was filled with love

The unbelievable plastic smile shifted then, relaxing ever so slowly, until it was gone, and it almost seemed like it was never there.

“You should go.” Adrien said, hollowly.

“What?”

“You should leave now. I don’t think you should be here. Does Nathalie know you are here?”

Marinette swallowed. “No, she doesn’t. I mean—I didn’t think you’d mind. You usually like it when I come to hang out…” she looked to the floor, “at least you used to.”

“Please give me thorough warning the next time you need to speak with me.”

She snapped the lid back on her lunch, the second time she had done so. She only had a few bites, just like last time.

And food just didn’t taste as good without him around.

“Fine. You know what? I won’t bother you again. Next time, I’ll send an email, like I do with all my other co-workers.” She slid her lunch into her bag, and stood. “The sizing for this collection needs some serious work, and I’ve been the one to have to fix it, on top of all my other responsibilities. Please do better next time, Mr. Agreste.” She shouldered her bag, and walked out.

Once the door slammed behind her, she let the tears gather in her eyes, but didn’t let them fall.

So it was over then. Her friendship with Adrien, her best friend, was over. And she wasn’t getting an explanation.

“Marinette,” Tikki said, sadly. “It can’t be your fault. You didn’t do anything.”

“I know. And that’s the worst part. Because that means I can’t fix it.”

She left the Agreste mansion that day, not knowing the next time she walked through those doors, life would be completely different.

Just like the siren Circe

You've got me at your mercy

Always to be brave and bold

Mama, You've Got Me Voodoo'd

It was late. Too late for anyone to be calling, and yet, here her phone was ringing. Marinette fumbled for it. Grabbing it and blinding herself with the screen.

It was 3am, and Adrien was calling her.

She loved a late night confession as much as the next girl, but she had a presentation in the morning. What was he thinking?

She hoped it was an apology. Maybe he was finally going to break down and tell her everything that was going wrong.

Or maybe he was going to confess he didn’t actually know how clothing measurements worked and he’d been guessing the whole time.

“Hello?” She grumbled.

“Marinette.” His voice was so stern, so cold, it gave her goosebumps. “Did I wake you?” He asked, softer.

“Yeah.”

“Sorry, but it’s important.”

“Okay. What’s up?”

“I’m sorry.” He breathed. “You were right. I’m not the boy you knew.”

More awake now, she sat up in bed. This had obviously been driving him wild for a while. “We all change, Adrien. It’s okay. If you’re going through something, I’m here for you. Just be honest with me.”

“That’s not—“ he sighed, a growl at the end. “Look, just…I don’t have much time. I don’t know what he—what I was going to tell you that night, but it probably wasn’t good.”

Another voice was on his end of the line. “What are you doing?! Who are you talking to?!”

“Shit. Just look in the basement!”

“What?!”

“How dare you!”

“Let go of me!”

And the line went dead.

What. The. Hell.

She called him back, now completely wide awake.

“Hey there, it’s Adrien, I’m not available to answer right now…”

All the chapter titles are songs from my spooky halloween playlist that inspired this fic (and their lyrics will be in the chapters)! You can find that playlist here. The playlist will be updated as the fic goes on.

I hope to post the last chapter on Halloween!

#ml #miraculous ladybug #fanfiction #adrienette #ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #chat noir #the ghost of Smokey Joe

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cheri-translates · 5 years ago

Text

Headcanon - when you think he has an ex-girlfriend

This work, 当你误会他有前女友, was originally written by 君兮耶君兮 on Weibo, and she has given me permission to translate it 🌸

[ VICTOR ]

You feel slightly indignant.

When you went over to LFG to invite Victor out for dinner, you were told that he was in a meeting. Planning to wait in his office, you discovered that it was already occupied by someone.

A woman.

An impeccably and gorgeously dressed woman.

You take the coffee from the secretary’s hands, donning a professional and mild smile as you enter the room. “Miss, please enjoy.”

The woman lowers her head, staring at her delicate nails. “LFG’s service is as thorough as always. But I prefer cappuccino. Vic knows that.”

“Vic”...? Isn’t that an intimate term of address?

You laugh wryly in your heart while maintaining your blank expression. “How should I address you, and may I know how you’re related to CEO Victor?”

“My surname is Lin. As for how we are related - According to our former relationship, you could say that I’m LFG’s female boss.” Miss Lin exudes an arrogant aura, causing your blood to boil.

An ex-girlfriend?

Before you can probe further, the door is pushed open, and Victor strides in.

“Vic, you’re here~” Miss Lin stands up, unconcealed joy in her eyes.

Victor takes a step backwards coldly. “Hello, Miss Lin.”

The business-like manner he’s treating her causes your bubbling anger to dissipate.

“Why are you being so distant? Just call me ‘Cha Cha’~” Happiness seeps into Miss Lin’s voice. “Can we have dinner tonight?”

Victor furrows his brows, walking past her and to your side. He wraps an arm around your waist. “Apologies. I’ve already made a reservation at a restaurant with my wife.”

“Wife?! You’re married?!” Miss Lin exclaims in a shrill voice, her face stricken in disbelief as her eyes flit to you, looking as though she’s suffered a wrong.

Ah, so she is his ex-girlfriend.

“The wedding invitation was sent to your parents.” Victor lifts his wrist to look at the time. “It’s late. If an opportunity arises, LFG will collaborate with your parents. We’ll make a move.” He gestures to her to leave the room.

She bites her lip, eyes welling up in tears as her storms off, her high-heels clacking against the floor so loudly that the entire company can hear them. Just watching her makes you worried that she’d accidentally sprain her ankles.

“See you again, Miss Lin~” You wave at her, grinning broadly.

Miss Lin almost trips on her feet. She tosses her head around, gives you a harsh glare, then leaves LFG.

After the troublesome person is gone, you peel Victor’s claws from your waist.

“What’s wrong?” He gives you an odd look. “Are you throwing a fuss again?”

What does he mean by “a fuss”?!

“Hmph.” You face away from him, refusing to talk.

Victor knits his brows tightly, turning your head around so that you face him properly. “Speak.”

“Victor, you’re being fierce towards me! Because of your ex-girlfriend!” The more you talk, the more maligned you feel, tears swimming at the edges of your eyes.

“I don’t have an ex-girlfriend.”

He sighs, wiping your tears away gently. His finger pads brush the corners of your eyes, grazing your skin. “She’s just the daughter of a business partner, and a junior two years younger from university. I helped her resolve a few issues.”

You turn your face away, huffing. “She said you knew her preference for cappuccino.”

With a look of resignation, Victor tidies your slightly messy hair. “That was the only type of coffee we had in school back then.”

Does he think you’ve never read romantic fiction books on how people from the same school and graduate into the same profession end up together easily?

Seeming to be in a pleasant mood, he pinches your cheek. “Jealous?”

You’re livid. It’s bad enough that this man doesn’t coax you - how could he be happy right now?!

“You’re the one who’s jealous!”

“What nonsense.”

Victor leans down, pressing his forehead against yours. “In university, I was busy learning how to run a business. Where would I find the time to bother about such things?”

A warm kiss meets your eyebrow. “Also, I spent 17 years looking for you. In this life, there’s only you.”

“Don’t stand so close to me - I’m still angry!” You poke his chest, pushing him away timidly.

“Angry?” He gives you a mischievous glance. “In that case, let’s call off the reservation at the restaurant and go straight home.”

“Victor!”

[ GAVIN ]

Gavin has been acting weird recently.

He often holes himself in the study room, where he would remain for at least half an hour. At first, you thought he was troubled by an unresolved case. But when you bumped into Eli in the STF, he commented that the officers have been pretty idle these days.

So what exactly does Officer Gavin do in the room?

You peek through the door furtively, meticulously observing every movement by Suspect Gavin.

Gavin is in front of the desk, its middle drawer opened halfway - the only drawer which has a lock.

On the table rests a small, pale pink box that you’ve never seen before.

The colour clearly doesn’t gel with Gavin’s usual style.

Wanting to have a closer look, you instinctively inch closer, and end up pushing the door further and catching Gavin’s attention.

In one swift motion, he hurriedly covers the box and stuffs it back into the drawer, twisting the lock. It’s as though he has a guilty conscience. If you weren’t suspicious that he was hiding something from you, you would have applauded him for how smooth his actions were.

“W-what’s wrong?” Mr Gavin has never been good at lying, and he stammers.

“Nothing. I’m just here to tell you that dinner’s ready.” You try to pretend that nothing happened, but you just can’t suppress your curiosity. “What are you doing?”

Gavin’s eyes dart around. “I was... looking at files.”

Who stores files in a pink box oozing with a feminine aura?! Does it contain wanted posters for absconded Disney princesses?!

You release a gloomy noise of acknowledgement, turn around, and head downstairs.

Behind you, Gavin sees that he has successfully evaded suspicion. With a sigh of relief, he double-checks that the drawer is locked properly before trailing behind you.

You’re upset.

Gavin has his own little secret. And it’s a pink one.

Your head is plopped on the office desk, not a single word typed on the proposal document even after half an hour. Finally, you decide to call Minor in.

You pull the curtains closed, increase the intensity of the lights, and glare at Minor fiercely. Like an interrogator, you question: “Let me ask you this - do you know why your Bro Gavin has a small box?”

Minor shrinks into the sofa. “I know.”

He adds softly, “And it’s pink.”

So even Minor knows about it but you don’t... :)

“What’s in the box? Don’t tell me it’s ‘files’.” Just thinking about the obvious lie Gavin spun makes you angry.

“Eh, there’s nothing much. It’s just things belonging to the girl Bro Gavin used to like. He just adds things into it from time to time.”

A girl Gavin used to like.

Then again, Gavin is so outstanding. Before you reunited with him, how could he not have had a girlfriend? Anyway, those things happened in the past, so you should be more magnanimous, and not care about it.

“Not care about it”?! What a joke!

After receiving the acknowledgement that Gavin has an ex-girlfriend, you’ve been in an incredibly bad mood. It’s akin to finding a good pig, and then discovering that one of its trotters has been fractured by someone else.

What’s worse is that Gavin remains in the study room to look at the box frequently, and even adds things to it! Doesn’t this mean that she’s still constantly in his mind?

The more you think about it, the more enraged you are. After work, you storm off, your high heels clacking against the floor noisily.

When you reach home, you find that Gavin is already back, and is current in the study room.

Good. Very good. You’ll settle the matter with him once and for all.

Fuming, you push the door open and exclaim, “Gavin, you’re still thinking about your ex-girlfriend even when you’re already with me?!”

“???”

Your sudden action startles Gavin, leaving him unable to hide the box in time. He stares at you, frozen in place.

He recovers after a moment. “I don’t have an ex-girlfriend.”

Nonsense. “Minor told me everything. That box stores the things related to the girl you used to like!”

“Minor?” Blue veins pop out on his temples as he balls his hands into fists.

He picks up the box and brisk walks over to you. “There isn’t another woman. These... are all yours.”

A hand-copied “Byron’s Poetry Collection”, photographs of you from various angles evidently taken in secret, a worn out copy of Franz Liszt’s “Liebestraum”, a ginkgo bookmark, and pictures of the both of you...

They are indeed related to you.

There’s practically not a shred of anger left in your body.

You lean into his arms. “Since they’re related to me, why did you have to be so secretive about it? I even thought you...”

He sighs. “I wanted to give this to you during our wedding. But it seems I have to do it earlier now.”

Why do you feel strangely guilty?

You purse your lips. “I could pretend that I didn’t see it?”

Gavin gives you a resigned smile as he pats your head. “If you see it again, it wouldn’t be a surprise.” He lowers his head, burying it in the crook of your neck, greedily drinking in your scent. “But I guess we could bring the wedding earlier.”

[ LUCIEN ]

“Good afternoon Ah Ming, have you had lunch?”

It’s 9pm, and you just received an overseas call from Ah Ming, who is now in London. You guess that they’ve had lunch not too long ago.

“We’ve eaten. Teacher’s Wife, don’t tell him I said this, but Professor just went into a jewellery shop to get a custom-made brooch. Apparently, it’s very suitable as a gift for one’s girlfriend. It’s definitely for you. I’ll send you a picture.”

It was indeed worthwhile to buy Ah Ming small bites behind Lucien’s back. Having eaten your cakes, he’s on your side.

Since Lucien didn’t tell you about it, it must be meant as a surprise. In that case, you pretend not to know about it.

After Lucien returns, you take a meticulous look through all the gifts he gave you, but there’s no sign of that brooch.

Could Lucien be waiting for an even more suitable time to give it to you?

But after waiting for a long while, he doesn’t seem to have an intention of giving you the brooch. You gradually sense that something is not quite right. Lucien custom-made a brooch meant for a female, but it’s not for you.

So could it be for another woman?

This question receives an answer in the best biological centre in the country, where you see a woman sitting on a stone bench, wearing the brooch you saw in the picture Ah Ming sent.

Your initial high spirits in coming here to invite Lucien out for dinner was doused with a bucket of cold water.

Finding a conversation topic, you decide to engage in small talk with her.

“Hello, are you waiting for someone?”

The woman seems to be a good conversationalist, and she answers your question candidly.

“Yes, my boyfriend is a professor here.”

Since the topic has arisen, you can dive straight to the main topic. “Your brooch is beautiful. Did you buy it from somewhere?”

The woman lowers her head and fiddles with the brooch. A sweet smile subconsciously surfaces on her face, a complete contrast to the emotions in your heart. “My ex-boyfriend gave it to me, so I don’t know where he bought it. from.”

Who in the world smiles so happily at the mention of their ex-boyfriend??

No - the important thing is that Lucien is her ex-boyfriend?!

Or rather - she is Lucien’s ex-girlfriend??

Jealousy overwhelms you, causing you to find this woman and even the building unpleasant to look at. Much less Lucien, who has just appeared at the main entrance.

Seeing him walking towards you, you get to your feet. He opens his arms, waiting for you to rush into them as you usually do.

Gripping your bag, you turn around and walk away.

Lucien: ???

He hurries after you, tugging your arm and pulling you into his arms. “What’s wrong?”

Despite struggling, you’re unable to free yourself from his grasp, so you simply give up.

You’re angry. “Don’t hug me. Go hug your ex-girlfriend!”

The more you speak, the more angry you feel.

“Ex-girlfriend?”

It’s rare for Lucien to be astounded, and it seems he doesn’t understand what you’re saying.

“There.” You tilt your chin towards the direction of the woman.”She said it herself - that brooch is from her ex-boyfriend!”

Lucien looks over in the direction you’re signalling towards. When the woman notices his gaze, she gives him a nod.

Such an interaction - do they think you’re blind?!

You’re so enraged that the corners of your eyes have reddened. He once said that you were the only colour in his monochrome world - what nonsense! Right now, you feel like you’re just a streak of green in his colourful and vibrant world!

“The Little Butterfly has misunderstood me.” Lucien looks as though he’s been wronged. He draws closer to your ear. “That’s Professor Huang’s girlfriend. More accurately, his fiancee. What she meant was that Professor Huang was her ex-boyfriend. Now, he’s her fiancé.”

Very quickly, Lucien catches your drift. “Professor Huang asked me for a favour to have the brooch custom-made while I was abroad. It was an engagement gift to her.”

...how would you have known what she meant...

You let out a “hmph”, lowering your head and refusing to speak.

He ruffles your hair. “Look over there.”

You lift your head, and see the woman lunging into the arms of a bespectacled man. Just like the countless times you’ve lunged into Lucien’s arms.

After verifying that you had really misunderstood the situation, you apologise softly. “I’m sorry.”

Lucien presses his hand on the top of your head, giving it a rub. The smile on his lips is tender and affectionate. “I’ve never had a previous girlfriend. You’re my first, and the only one. However...”

He steers the topic of the conversation.

“I’m very happy to see my Little Butterfly jealous. It’s very cute.”

[ KIRO ]

Kiro is really good when it comes to his skills.

Not in terms of cooking, but in terms of make-up and fashion.

Each time you fret over your dressing when attending all sorts of gatherings, meetings, and even day-to-day activities, he always pick out the most appropriate outfit for you.

At first, you thought this was a necessity for artistes. At least, that was until you visited him at his workplace once, and heard Savin being in awe at how skilled Kiro was when he arranged your hair out of boredom. “If the both of you could work together when writing songs, would your output be as good as your hairstyling?”

“...Savin, having one’s hair tied up isn’t good for the scalp. I can’t bear for my Miss Chips to go through such pain. I used my own special model before this~” Kiro pats his own hair as he stares into the mirror, then helps loosen the bun he tied for you.

His own special model?

But this is the first time he’s trying out this hairstyle on you.

You tilt your head in suspicion, looking at Kiro.

Kiro senses your eyes on him, and he turns around to meet them before averting his gaze.

Something’s odd. Kiro is definitely hiding something from you.

Make-up, pairing accessories, hairstyling... these things are close to the hearts of women.

Does Kiro have an ex-girlfriend?!

With such a thought in mind, you start viewing Kiro in a new light.

It’s not good to cause a scene when there are so many people around, so you decide to suppress your emotions for now.

Make-up artistes at the side watch Kiro and comment politely, “It’s rare to see Kiro being so meticulous. Yesterday, as usual, he asked my daughter about make-up. Specifically, make-up suitable for Loveland City’s Golden Horse Film Festival. He even recorded down pointers in a small notebook.”

‘As usual’? ‘Golden Horse Film Festival’?

You haven’t received an invitation to this award ceremony. So Kiro was definitely not asking the make-up artiste on behalf of you.

He really has an ex-girlfriend!

A staff member pushes the doors to the make-up room. “Savin, there aren’t enough people outside. The director wants Kiro’s make-up artistes to help out.”

Savin makes a sound of acknowledgement. “The two of you - stay here, and don’t move around.” He then brings the make-up artistes to the filming venue.

Seeing that they’ve left, you decide to settle the issue once and for all.

You stand up and shift further away from him.

“Miss Chips, did I do something wrong?”

Since just now, Kiro could sense that something was off about you. Moreover, you’re deliberately staying far away from him. If he couldn’t see that you were angry, he'd truly be a fool.

Your eyes redden as you bite your lip. “You’re so skilled. Did you... practise with your ex-girlfriend a lot?”

He immediately grabs your arm and denies it. “I don’t have an ex-girlfriend.” His eyes are filled with the seriousness of KEY. “I’ve only had Miss Chips.”

Although you really want to believe him, you need proof.

“In that case, why did you say that you have a “special model”? You’ve never tried that hairstyle with me before, and I’ve never won a Golden Horse Film Festival award...” Your voice grows soft, and you can’t help but choke at the end.

At the sight of you crying, Kiro becomes frantic, forgetting that there are tissues on the table. He lifts his arm, using his sleeve to wipe your tears dry.

“I was referring to an actual model. It’s the one in our basement storeroom - the mannequin with the same hairstyle as yours.”

He didn’t think his words would cause you to misunderstand. He explains further. “As for the Golden Horse Film Festival, I didn’t want to bring it up yet. I thought you would have preferred to find out from the officials. I think they should be sending you the invitation tomorrow, my ‘Best Producer’~”

The news is too sudden, like a streak of lightning in a clear sky. You’re unable to react, and can only stare blankly into his blue eyes.

“Miss Chips?” Kiro waves his hand in front of your eyes.

You have no reaction.

Like a gigantic Apple Box, he jumps up and down.

You finally return to your senses, lowering your head and speaking softly. “I’m sorry...”

“Your suspicions hurt my feelings.” He holds his chin, as though in deep thought. “Your punishment is to accompany me to the amusement park this weekend~”

[ SHAW ]

There’s something off about Shaw.

In the past, he used to send messages in the open, and you wouldn’t intrude on his privacy. But whenever he gets a notification these days, he’d first cast a glance at you to ensure that you aren’t looking before he replies.

You didn’t really care at first. But as it happened more frequently, you started becoming suspicious that he was up to some shady business behind your back again. It was as though he was planning to swindle someone - and you had a feeling that the victim was going to be you.

Another notification sounds, and his eyes subconsciously flit towards you.

You arch your brows. “What do you want!?”

“Nothing. Continue watching the television.” He blocks the screen from you secretively.

There’s definitely something going on.

After replying to the message and checking that his phone is locked, he sets it down on the coffee table, leaning back against the sofa and watching the television.

After a while, he gets up, preparing to get a glass of cola from the kitchen. He tells you sternly, “Don’t look at my phone.”

You purse your lips.

Another notification.

“...”

It would have been better if he didn’t specially tell you not to look at it. Now, you’re even more curious.

You glance towards the kitchen, and decide that it should be a while before Shaw returns. You wouldn’t be discovered if you just snuck a quick peek, right?

Judging from the name alone, it’s obvious that the sender is a female. Troubled, you tap open the chat.

“It’s been so long. How’s it going at your end?”

“I’m all prepared. You can tell her tomorrow.”

“Mm, she doesn’t know about it yet, but she seems to be getting suspicious since I’ve been hiding from her when I send messages.”

“Why do I feel like my existence shouldn’t be known?”

“That has always been the case.”

“Sigh. Be careful then.”

“Sure. I’ll leave tomorrow to you.”

“Existence shouldn’t be known?” You repeat. In the realm of relationships, the person who fits such a description is usually a third party or a mistress.

Or could it be Shaw’s ex-girlfriend?

“Hey!! Why did you peek at my phone!?” With Shaw’s sudden return and how you forgot that you were supposed to be doing this in secret, Shaw catches you red-handed.

It’s a good thing you can confront him in person. After all, you’re the “existence who has been known”.

You narrow your eyes at him. “Who are you talking to?”

“No one.” He looks as though he has nothing to hide. But after interacting with him for such a long time, you aren’t sold at all.

“Is she your ex-girlfriend?” The more you think about it, the more you believe in your inferences.

Shaw’s eyebrows arch upwards at this unexpected question. “What are you thinking? What ex-girlfriend?”

“Then why don’t you want me to know, and why are you hiding it from me?” You shoot him a cold expression.

“You’ll know tomorrow.” He snatches his phone from your hand, turns around and walks into the bedroom.

That night, Shaw tries to hug you to sleep as usual. But after you struggle from his grasp, he sighs and gives up, lying on the bed properly.

You don’t sleep.

In the morning, you feel Shaw getting out of bed. For someone like him who doesn’t get up until noon, this behaviour is yet another dubious point.

You don’t stir, pretending to be asleep while he changes his clothes.

Before he leaves through the door, he glances in your direction. “I have something on in the afternoon so I won’t be back. Tonight at 8pm, I’ll be waiting for you in Live House’s break room.”

He knows that you didn’t sleep.

Without an appetite, you skip breakfast, and have something simple for lunch to stave your hunger pangs.

At around 5pm, you start questioning yourself. Giving up would be an impossibility. Back then, Shaw was the one who confessed his feelings to you first.

You change into a sheath dress, which very appropriately showcases the sophistication and beauty of a mature woman. If the other party is a white collar employee, you’d show her the aura of a company’s boss. If the other party is a younger girl, you’d let her experience the cruel workings of society.

After applying make-up meticulously, you’re all set, and you drive to Live House.

Today, Live House isn’t as crowded as it usually is. It could almost be described as desolate.

The large hall isn’t lit, so you use your phone as a light source as you make your way to the break room.

Once the door is open, cream clematis flowers flood your vision, and you’re at a complete loss.

“Happy birthday.”

Shaw is standing in the middle, holding a present. On the table next to him, there’s an exquisite birthday cake.

You forgot that it was your birthday today.

“Shocked silly?” He walks towards you, wrapping an arm around your waist and leading you towards the table.

“That wasn’t my ex-girlfriend. It was the boss of the floral shop. I let her decorate the break room for me.”

You come to your senses. “Then why were you acting so secretively?”

“Stupid. If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise.” He pinches your cheek. “Make a wish.”

“My wish is to have three more wishes.”

“Wishes don’t come true if you say them out loud.” He holds up a cake knife. “All right, since you’ve ruined your wish, let’s enjoy the cake~”

“Shaw!” You twist his ear angrily.

“Just kidding. I’ll give you three chances to make a wish. For real this time.”

Under the soft illumination of the candle lights, your shadows meld together, just like the cream clematis flowers.

More translated and original works: here

–

[ Permission to translate ]

君兮耶君兮: You can - just note the source of the author

#mlqc #mlqc victor #mlqc gavin #mlqc lucien #mlqc kiro #mlqc shaw #cheri shortcake

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theodora3022 · 5 years ago

Text

Love You To Hell And Back(Yandere Claude)

Pairing: Yandere Claude Faustus x F!reader

Summary: Upon running away from home due to an unwanted arranged marriage, you took up a maid position in the Trancy household. You thought it would be simple, lay low for couple of months then the other family would cancel the engagement. Being a maid should be easy right? Just wash and clean the house and saying yes to their lords. You never thought you would end up in such a bizarre and dangerous household.

Notes: I am a Claude simp. If you do not know before, you do now. Do not get the wrong idea, Sebastien is handsome alright, but there is just something about those golden eyes makes me shiver in the best kind of way. (Also I love the French pronunciation of his name but whatever)

Word count:2k

Warning: Non-con touching, coercion, possessive behaviour, general Yandere content

SFW

As a lady on exile, you do not have many options. Your relatives were out of the question since they could inform your parents of your whereabouts, and so does all of your friends. Luckily, you figured out the perfect solution: disguises! And who is more unnoticeable then a maid? They blend naturally in the background of drawing rooms and parties, no one will bat an eye if there happen to be an extra one. Nobles do not care for servants, so a forged name and documents would get the job done.

Answering advertisements seems to be a good way to start. Ah, there is one right here. The Trancy Estate? To your knowledge, there is only one young lord there, and you are not acquainted with the family. Seems the ideal choice: “Only for two months, as a replacement.” You know being a servant would be unpleasant, compare to your noble lady life now, but you had chosen between this instead marrying a man you despise.

Packing some essentials, you thrown on a simple cotton dress borrowed from your maids and sneaked out. You thought you had escaped from hell, not knowing you are better off staying. Because, you had quite literally, walked into a spider’s trap.

A dark-skinned maid welcomed you, explaining how she has to leave the household for some personal business while giving you a small tour of the building. She seems nice enough, although you were curious why her right eye is covered by bandages. The manor is dead quiet and empty, giving you an illusion of how you can hear your own breathing.

“Miss Hannah, where are the other servants?” You shiver, tightening your clock just a bit. Although it is only autumn, the winds are chillier in this house, or so you felt.

“There is only five of us. Me, the triplets, and Sir Claude the butler. Our master can be...difficult, one could say.” Handing you a basket of maid attire, Hannah seem to be terrified of this master she speaks of.

I wonder why he is so difficult. You thought as you thanked her and settled down in the little servant room you were given. Better put on these maid clothes soon, getting use to them as fast as possible. Blue and white does not look so bad together.

Kitchen duties are not so bad since all you need to do is chopping up vegetables and wash the dishes while the triplets took care of the cooking. Dusting is a nuisance, but with enough efforts it was taken care off. The triplets are an odd flock, as they never speak unless necessary. All your befriend attempts had failed miserably, you felt as if they look down on you somehow? Since you only do backstage work, you had yet to meet the master and his butler. Not that you mind, you want to kept your existence covert, after all!

You were trying to dust off the chandelier in the drawing room when you first met Claude. The stairs you use are a bit unstable, which causes you to have major anxieties about falling.

“Ahh!” You squeal as your staircase finally deciding to let you fall. Closing your eyes in horror, you were certain you are going to suffer at least bruises. But the expected pain never came. Instead, you felt a strong set of arms had caught your body mid-hair.

Gazing up, what did you see?

Oh did that gorgeous face make this fall worth it. The tall man in black reminds you of those flawless Roman statues, of King David. You never thought humans can be this magnificent.(Well you are still right, as he is no human)

Gently placing you back on your feet, Claude started to examine you behind those clear glasses. You quickly smoothed the wrinkles on your skirt as you dip your head for greeting.

“Greetings, kind Sir. You must be Sir Claude. My pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am (y/n), the new maid.” Gods, he is handsome. You were not even sure words can describe how those golden eyes made you feel. Are you blushing? Ugh, get it together, self! He is only a butler here. It is beneath you to swoon over him. You put on a smile, then courtesies to the stoic man in the most elegant way possible.

The lack of callus on your fingers and your sophisticated manners informs him that you, are no ordinary maid. As a servant to his lord, Claude needs to make sure no sketchy individual can harm him. Some investigation would need to be done.

How interesting...Why would a high-born lady such as yourself ran away from your prestigious noble house, only to serve as a humble servant here? Just where did Hannah dig you up? Ah, that is no matter at present. Surely your cheerful spirts can light up the dull days of this mansion. The only thing Claude need to ensure is you do not expire as quickly as others. Alois can be such a spoiled brat; however no harm should befall to you as long as he can help it.

Your voice reminds the demon of little birds of forest mornings, chirping delightfully to a new day no matter how horrid the night before was. The way you thank him stuttering then trying to go back to your duties are just adorable, and amusing. It is clear as day:you are fascinated by Claude’s pretty face. Quite bold for a lady to do so. Claude had met a lot of people in his long life, but none of them intrigues him so as you do. He cannot grasp what exactly, but there must be something enchanting about you, that makes him want to pull you close and do unspeakable things to your good, pure body.

Tender and cautious, that is what the knocks on his office door suggests. It is late, way past Alois’s bedtime. Who could have business with him this hour, apart from his demanding lord? “Come in.” Claude’s curiosity had spiked up.

It is you, still dressed and with a plate in your hands. What a pleasant surprise. And are those pastries?

“I...baked these for you, Sir. I want to thank you for your help earlier today.” Looking away, you quickly remind yourself how you should never indulge too much. However you had already spent two hours of your free time trying to bake something decent.

Did your parents taught you it is improper to visit a man’s quarters this late at night, alone? How rebellious of you, not that Claude minds anyway. You might appear to be demure and good at first sight, but under that nice façade is a bold maiden who does not care for modesty, how complex.

Chocolate chip biscuits, but with distorted shapes. “I am not very good at this, so I totally understand if you do not wish to eat them. I jus want to properly show my gratitude, that is all.” Nervously fidgeting your apron corner, you bit your lip when he raises one of them to his lips and took a small bite.

Edible, but has lots of room for improvement. Claude can practically taste your eagerness to please from the chocolate spheres. Seeing your gaze fixated on him, expecting his comments on your work, Claude let out a quiet laugh. Which made heat rush up to your cheeks. Is that a good or a bad response? It cannot be that terrible can it?

“Come.” He signals with a hand wave, and you hesitantly walked beside his chair. How cute, the butler and the little maid. It would be a shame to just give you some half-hearted praises and send you out, wouldn’t it? It is what a gentleman would do, of course. Claude on the other hand, has never been one. He could entertain that appearance for his lord’s sake, but in this little room with just you, there is no need for charades.

You were shocked when one gloved hand pulled you swiftly onto his lap, with the other locked around your waist, pressing you against his chest. Of course, you fantasized the idea of being the lover of such a fine specimen of mankind, but only the idea of it. Even though you are nothing more then a lowly maid now, you are still a lady of nobility with conducts of propriety.

Your shrinking pupils made Claude realize he might be pushing a bit too fast. But human lives are so fragile, so short compare to demon ones. If he does not seize this opportunity, who knows when is next one going to arrive? Whether it is your intention or not, Claude is now mesmerized with you. Now that he is holding you this close, breathing in your intoxicating sweet scent, the old demon had his first epiphany of a millennium: you are lovely, and he intends to keep you this way, one way or the other.

Squirming with protests, you tried to get out of his suffocating embrace. “Sir, this is not proper, please let go of me.” Yet you achieve no results, those iron grips still hold you firmly in place, those same arms that spared you an embarrassing fall this morning.

“Little bird, finally thinking about propriety? You should know better then coming to my office this late unless you want something to happen.” Claude is close, too close, you can feel his breath fanning your ears gently. Gloved fingers trace down your jawline, making you tremble with fear. “Am I right, Lady (family name)?” You froze. What how did he-how do he know you are not a mere commoner? Had he already done a thorough investigation on you?

“Now, repeat after me, little bird.” His golden eyes shifted its color to pink, round pupils bending into a thin line. In normal circumstances, you would be terrified of how his features suddenly changed, but now you are too possessed by his intense gaze to think of anything else. Those eyes, you felt as if you could drown in those two magenta pools.

“I love Claude Faustus forever and I would do anything should he asks of me.”

“I-I love Claude Faustus f-forever...and I would do anything should....should he-e asks of me.” It is still your voice, although those words are defintely not your own. What is happening? Why do your tongue just moved on its own like man possessed?

“Perfect.” Running his bare fingers through your hair, Claude left a light kiss on your forehead, ignoring the horrid expression you are wearing. “You will behave, right little bird?”

“Of course, Sir Claude.” You did not just say that !There is no way. What has this evil man done to you? You never should have come here. Your terrible fiancée at least could not cast spells on you!

“I’ll take good care of you, my dearest little bird. After all, your fate is defined since the moment I lay my eyes on you. We are destined to be together.”

“Oh, do try to behave. It would be a shame if something should happen to your dear family. I would hate if you end up like your other human predecessors.” His lord, despite his young age, is a master at torture and inflicting suffering. There is a unfortunate reason why there is only a few servants in this manor, and the fact that they are durable demons too. Claude knows exactly where you would end up had he not intervened. Do not worry, he would never let you go. Demons mate for life, didn’t you know that? Why resist?

“I love you my dear, to the hell and back. We shall stay together until the end of time.”

#black butler #black butler imagines #black butler fanfiction #yandere claude faustus #claude faustus #yandere black butler

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sugakookielix · 5 years ago

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Calico: Chapter 1

Summary: After looking for a hybrid leads to a dead-end, Hoseok decides to take a chance and introduce Yoongi to their newest addition.

Pairing: CEO Yoongi x Calico hybrid OC.

Rating: PG

Warnings: None

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 2.9k

All images used are not mine, credit for header goes to a friend. Do not copy, translate, or repost my work onto other sites without my permission.

Calico Masterlist

Yoongi had to admit that he was actually a bit nervous about this. He had wanted a hybrid ever since he was little but was always worried that he wouldn’t have the time or resources to properly take care of one. Now that he had taken over as head of the family business and become majorly successful, he figured now was as good a time as ever. All of his closest friends owned hybrids, with the exception of Hoseok who owned a shelter for hybrids. That was where he found himself at the moment, sitting in his best friends office as Hoseok went through the important documents and checks he needed beforehand. It was quicker than usual since he had known Yoongi for years and knew that he was a suitable owner for a hybrid but he legally still had to check everything first. Yoongi didn’t mind though and took the time to glance around the others office as he waited. It was nowhere near as large or luxurious as his own but he was also the CEO of one of the biggest companies in the country, and Hoseok was the founder of a hybrid shelter. Still, the office itself was rather cozy; Hoseok's desk was covered in documents and pictures of friends and family that also lined the walls, there was a small sofa behind them, and the room was covered with various toys and blankets for the hybrids themselves. According to him, it wasn’t unusual for one or two of the hybrids to play in his office while he worked on adoption papers. The older couldn’t help but admire the bond his friend formed with the hybrids he cared for, hopefully he could have a bond like that with one of them as well.

“Wow, that was quick!” Hoseok said as he took the completed form, Yoongi now flushing a bit in embarrassment.

“I may or may not have been thinking about this for a while,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“There’s nothing wrong with that!” Hoseok assured, “it just means you’re prepared and ready to own a hybrid!” He added the completed forms to Yoongi's file and stood up while clapping his hands, “Alright now that we are set you can actually start meeting them!” Yoongi nodded and stood up as well to follow the younger back into the main lobby, his expression was still neutral, but his lips were twitching upward with every step they took. Hoseok led him down one of the hallways, passing many separate doors before reaching a larger one at the end of the hall. “We let the hybrids out in groups to play and socialize, you’ll be able to go in and interact and play with them. The groups are pretty mixed so you’ll get to meet different species, ages, genders, and all that,” he explained as he began to unlock the door, “if you meet someone you like then we can have a one on one meeting in a separate room. I will be standing right by the door so just come back to me when you are done with meetings.” With that, he opened the door and gestured for the older to walk inside, following and closing the door behind them.

Taking the younger's advice, Yoongi slowly walked into the room and closer to some of the hybrids. Some of them seemed uninterested in him and completely ignored his presence, while others excitedly came up to him looking for pets and asking every question they could think of. It was almost hard for the young male to keep up with all the questions he was getting, clearly overwhelmed with how hyper some of the younger ones seemed to be. It quickly became apparent that none of them were the right one for him, a lot of them were too hyper or didn’t care to acknowledge his presence. Among the few he actually did get along with, he didn’t really feel a strong connection with any of them. He remembered his friends telling him there would be an obvious bond when he found the right one, and he didn’t feel that with any of the individuals here. Sighing, he soon walked back up to Hoseok and shook his head, the younger immediately understanding and leading him back out.

“Trust me it’s not what you think!” Hoseok quickly added once he saw his friend's reluctance, “she’s not up for adoption yet because we only got her a few days ago so we know nothing about her. All we know is her name, age, and breed but no idea of where she came from so we can’t really offer her in case there's something we need to know. Once we find her records then we’ll be able to offer her for adoption, meaning that if you met her now and you liked her then we could start the adoption process now. All you would have to do then is wait for those records to come in and sign the remaining documents before you take her home.” Yoongi had to take a moment to process everything the younger male had just said. Hoseok was clearly hopeful that this could work out in their favor, but the look Yoongi gave him indicated he still wasn’t convinced.

“Well, when you put it that way it sounds worse.”

“That’s the point Hoseok, it’s a 50/50 chance either way and I’m not sure I’m willing to take it.”

“Alright fine, I’ll meet her.” Hoseok smiled and clapped in excitement, grabbing Yoongi's arm and practically dragging him back down the hall before stopping at a door close to the lobby.

Yoongi couldn’t help but chuckle a bit at the question, “I came here from work. I am the boss so I have to wear suits.”

“All day?” Mika asked in surprise.

“All day,” Yoongi confirmed. It seemed the hybrid didn’t like this as she made a questionable face at his choice of attire.

“It’s so uncomfortable though, how can you wear it all day?”

“I don’t mind it that much. Had I known I’d be getting cuddled by a kitten today though I probably would have changed.”

The two spent about an hour getting to know each other. Mika had, at one point, gotten distracted by Yoongi's watch and he ended up taking it off just to watch her paw at it. It was actually very fun and they seemed to get along very well. Unfortunately, the fun did not last as Hoseok had reluctantly walked in and said that it was time to go. Yoongi was a bit disappointed, but nodded and said his goodbye to Mika before standing up. It seemed she had other ideas though as she stood as well and gripped onto Yoongi's arm desperately.

“I will try to come back and see you okay?” with that he quickly waved and turned to exit the room, hearing shuffling behind him as the young cat returned to her hiding spot.

“How long will it take you to get her records in?” he asked hesitantly.

Hoseoks smile only widened as he scrolled through something on his phone, “Well we got her just over a week ago so I would say another week at the latest.” He then raised a knowing eyebrow at Yoongi before adding, “Now why exactly were you curious about that?” The older groaned and rubbed at his temples for a second, tempted to just say forget it an leave, but he decided to give into his friends teasing.

“Alright you win, I want to adopt her.”

AO3: SugaKookieBias

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thiswaycomessomethingwicked · 4 years ago

Note

I'm curious about "a history of dead women in the city" (and also the Wellington one, of course)

Yusss!

“History of dead women in the city” - oh man one day I will write this. It's part of this world I'm creating called Babel and it follows this woman as she tries to figure out what happened to her sister who died years ago.

A long excerpt:

Here is a scene from our childhood: It’s a sunny day. Dappled. Portrait worthy sun. It brings out freckles. We are in the courtyard, my sister drawing and me watching her draw. On a large blanket by the well sits our parents. Our mother is laughing, her arms entwined with our father’s, they are so in love. They do not notice us. It’s one of those loves that perfumes air, that is intimate and consuming, where only they exist and nothing else.

‘That is what I want,’ Bellefrey says to me. She’s drawing my round face. Squinting, holding up her thumb, making a show of it. ‘I want a man who makes me feel sublime.’

‘Don’t you mean loved?’

Oh no, she means sublime. She wants to be a thunderstorm. A tsunami. A hurricane. Something you stand in awe of.

‘The word awesome is overused,’ she explains. ‘We use it too much. Everything is awesome. The food-stalls at the mid-summer carnival are awesome. The paintings by George Dier are awesome. The play at the Round was awesome. I’m awesome. You’re awesome. Everyone’s awesome. Awesome, awesome, awesome.’ Her voices becomes mocking at the end.

‘But I am awesome,’ I protest. ‘I know how to make a penny appear from behind your ear.’ I sit up to perform the trick and she lets me fumble through it.

That was over thirty years ago when Bellefrey was seventeen and me, a mere ten.

Bellefrey wrote to me a week before she died saying that she hoped her daughter Lyra would make up her mind about the name for her daughter. The child was two weeks old and still no name. How was that to be countenanced?

Lyra was Bellefrey’s third child, though second to survive. Perhaps she thought you should have all these things planned. Bellefrey was a great believer in organization. She planned out all the names for her children. Lists tracked down the side of commonplace books next to recipes and almanac predictions. Boy names, girl names, names that could go for either.

As soon as she missed her third course she was to the local midwife to read leaves over her stomach so she could prepare properly. Will it be a boy? Will it be a girl? Will it die and so there is no need to prepare a name?

Johan is her son, first born. He followed his father into the merchant trade and sells all manner of fabrics and spices. He visits me, aunty I’ve black tea pearls for you laced with lavender, hounded by dried ginger, protected by saffron. We brew fragrant drinks and he shows me his art. All those drawings of places I will never see but he has and oh isn’t that wonderful.

Havel was her second child, a boy, but he died at three weeks. One of those deaths where the babe goes to sleep and doesn’t wake up. Gay in the morning, dead by dinner except there is no fever to blame this on.

Lyra is three. First daughter and pulled out a screaming child with spindly legs and a too-large head. Her hair is the thick curls that is our mother’s inheritance, her grandmother’s inheritance. Married to a lawyer who aims to one day be well connected through the inns of court, she means to make herself into something. Daughter three was named Belle. She wagged a finger at me, never a word about beasts and fairy tales.

I don’t tell her that a woman I knew said that fairytales are our collective neurosis born out in repeating tropes. Patterned to go down forever and on.

The fourth had no name because the leaves read by her midwife told her not to bother. It was born early and without heartbeat.

Guilluam is fifth and last. She swore he was conceived ready to escape her belly. He patted the inside of her stomach as soon as he could move. Once born he clung to her then didn’t anymore, running away at sixteen. A year before she died.

What would her most difficult child make of all of this? I remember his sneering face. Where Johan was gentle kindness, Guilluam was sharp. He cut with a look. He cut with a laugh. He could be a harsh, cruel boy. Probably is a harsh, cruel man.

Or maybe he’s softened. Maybe as he ages he’s gentling. Some people do that. But in all honesty, I don’t think Guilluam the sort.

What am I trying to do? I’m trying to introduce a woman. A girl. A child. A person whom I have loved all my life and will continue to love all my life. Though I am so angry with her for leaving us it wasn’t her fault.

See, I’m guilty as all of us are guilty.

Bellefrey got caught up in something bigger than her death. She was hidden in the shadows of a great anger and a great brutality.

Bellefrey died and was found months and months later wearing a green dress and purple shoes with pearls on them.

No one knows what she was caught up in and no one knows about this great brutality, this great anger that once stalked through our less than fine and noble city.

I do not have my sister’s blood on my hands. But I do have her gravedirt.

---

The Wellington one! I completely forgot about this one. It's part of the ridiculous Woodford Napoleon AU where Napoleon ends up in England and there are murder fairies. In this story, things are starting to come through a mysterious mirror that someone shipped to Napoleon for unknown reasons. Arthur shows up to investigate.

Another long excerpt:

In the drawing room rests the mirror. It was received a little over a month ago wrapped in brown paper with no information on sender or purpose. It is a heavy, old thing. Age-spotted, warped, the frame is heavy, gilded wood. Napoleon says that for him it’s Tuileries. Has he told Arthur about Tuileries? The sacking of it?

‘Only that you said vive la revolution and someone asked if you were from the south and you said yes and that is what saved you.’

‘Southerners have to stick together,’ Napoleon’s sphinxian smile. Then he goes into himself, how he does when he’s formatting a memory — twisting it into some form of narrative that will make sense to those who were not there. Bertrand told Arthur once, It’s the revolution, we can’t really explain it. How we went about our day but also checked this list that was kept of everyone taken up as enemies. You went every morning to make sure your friends were still alive. Then you had breakfast.

Napoleon shrugs at Arthur’s patient waiting. ‘It was messy. There was a man’s head on a pike. He had a beard, brown hair that curled, blue eyes. And the floor was scattered with torn drapes, rags that were once kingly gowns, shattered statues, remains of old portraits. A lot of broken glass. Windows and mirrors.’

And as for this mirror? With its growth that says: come come come. Nothing happened the first little while. Oh yes, various and sundry people of the neighbourhood came to view the mirror — to see if they recognised it.

‘And did they?’ Arthur asks.

Yes and no for all who saw it. Mrs. Topsom said it reminded her of a beautiful manor in the Scottish highlands she once visited as a child. She did not seem comfortable with this recollection. Mrs. Phillips said it brought to mind a book she once read which told the story of a young woman trapped in a tower whose uncle froze time. Lady Preston said it was something from the Assembly Rooms in Bath.

‘And your household?’

Napoleon shrugs. What is there to say on that? Nothing. It was the revolution and it was abdication and it was family homes that are no longer homes of families.

Arthur shifts his gaze from the pensive face of Napoleon back to the mirror and he looks at it for a long moment. Studies the carvings of the frame — the flowers, vines, mischievous eyes peeking out from behind leaves. ‘I suppose it’s something from Spain, if I think on it long enough. A wealthy home we stayed in, during the campaign.’

‘A bit of something for everyone.’

‘Yes,’ Arthur agrees. Then he adds, ‘and no.’

The main issue with the mirror is this: that there is a staircase growing out of it.

When Arthur approaches he can hear whispers crawling through his mind. Slithering down the back of his head.

‘How long have the steps been here?’

‘Week and a half. It formed slowly, so we were able to document it in a thorough manner. Bertrand will give you his notes.’

Arthur hums as he inspects the object, pondering cause and effect. And, more importantly, who sent it to the exiles and to what purpose. There is nothing behind the mirror, only the wall it is propped up against. The stairs themselves are made of oak, and descend as three steps out into their world. Within the mirror they meld into an old stone walkway that climbs into a forest and is lost amongst trees and brush and forest fog.

There are leaves on the floor. And dirt. Detritus of autumnal life. They crunch beneath Arthur’s boots. Everything smells of decay.

‘Has anyone touched the mirror?’ Arthur asks. ‘Seen if it’s solid?’

‘We had Sir Hudson Lowe test it.’ Napoleon replies with an air of innocence. Arthur casts him a look. ‘What? Would you rather him disappear forever into the mirror or my good self? And no need to answer. You can save your blushes, we’re alone.’

‘You’re incorrigible.’

‘It’s one of my finer points.’

‘And? Was it solid?’ Arthur asks.

‘Yes and no.’ Napoleon approaches and touches the glass. His palm rests against it for a beat, then it begins to go through to the other side. Napoleon lets his hand sink through up to his wrist before withdrawing. ‘No one has walked through yet.’

With this touch the whispering decreases. Though, there remains the feeling of being watched. It is not that they are hunted, Arthur thinks, but rather they are being inspected. Something is curious about them.

Reaching forward, he places his palm where Napoleon’s had been. The glass is cool to the touch and when his hand begins to sink through his skin buzzes with frisson of magic, that unfurling warmth crawls up his arm as his hand enters the other side where the air is cool yet humid. That sticky feeling of late winter.

He pulls his hand away.

‘What are your orders?’ Napoleon asks.

‘To investigate.’

The whispers return. Arthur rubs the back of his head. Such an unpleasant feeling, something else in your mind speaking a language you cannot understand in a collection of voices none of which are your own.

‘Maybe we should put a sheet over it,’ Arthur suggests after a moment. ‘Just in case.’

Going over to the window seat Napoleon opens a cupboard beneath to pull out a heavy blanket. He holds it up showing the shredded fabric.

‘We tried,’ Napoleon says. ‘Mrs. Phillips recommended salt so we put a circle around it but found strange footprints in it the next morning. We tried the blanket, but it was clawed through. We collected iron implements and made a circle around it with those and that seemed to work better than the other options. I still think they got out, though.’

‘And you’re just keeping it here in your house?’

‘Oh yes, it’s fine.’

Arthur rolls his eyes. Trust Bonaparte to think it’s fine keeping a mirror-doorway to the land of fairy in his house with potential creatures coming and going out of it at all hours.

‘We leave food out for them.’

‘They’re not pets!’

‘No,’ Napoleon pats Arthur’s cheek with a warm smile. ‘But that’s what you’re supposed to do to keep fairies happy. Come now, you should know this. Milk, bread, sometimes a brandy.’

‘I give up!’

‘Young Napoleon Bertrand has suggested names for them —‘

‘Good lord.’

‘Ferdinand, Finnegan, and Felipe.’

‘Christ’s blood.’

‘Excellent,’ Napoleon enthuses. ‘You’re cursing like a Catholic. I knew I’d be a good influence on you. Come, we shall have a late supper.’

---

Thank you so much for the ask! <3 <3

[das meme]

#ask #reply #writing #ask meme #napoleon #napoleon bonaparte #arthur wellesley #duke of wellington

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heyyouwiththeassbutt · 5 years ago

Text

His Good Little Girl - Part 2

Summary - A mission goes wrong and you’re put on probation away from your team for months. Does Steve have another reason to keep you away?

Pairing - Dark!Steve Roger x Reader

Warning - Smut in future chapter. DUBCON. Dark!Steve. Altered Personality.

Word Count - 1,365

A/N - I had intended for this to be a two parter, however the more I thought about it, the more I felt this would be better suited to three or four chapters, to get in as much context as I felt was fitting. Real smut happens next chapter. Thanks so much for reading, as always while likes are loved, feedback is greatly appreciated.

—————

Information flooded your mind as you knelt before Steve, trying to piece together every crumb of training you had been given for situations like this. Your SHIELD training had been thorough, covering everything from small disturbance cases right up to otherworldly wars, but your train of thought faltered under Steve's gaze, your mind distracted as he twirled a lock of your hair around his finger. There was no training that would have covered your super-soldier boss getting infected by an unidentified vial of mind-altering gas. There was definitely no training for if that super soldier boss wanted you and tried to- well, you honestly were scared to think about what exactly he planned on doing with you.

"Steve, listen to me, please," You began with a steadier voice than you had expected, "We can go to Nick, he can find out what's going on with you, maybe even Banner if you'd prefer. You aren't.... you aren't this person, you're a good guy, an amazing guy, who's saved the world countless times. You don't want to hurt me."

The smile that appeared on Steve's lips chilled you to the core, "I'm not going to hurt you, Doll. You're going to enjoy every minute of it, so long as you're a good girl for me. Do you understand?"

A shudder ripped through you as you shook your head adamantly, refusing to agree to anything he was asking of you.

Steve leaned forward again, the smile not once faltering, but his voice soft, almost sickly sweet, "Don't you think I, after all of these years of serving my country, deserve to have what I want? Do you not think that an 'Amazing guy' such as myself should get a little bit of happiness?"

Staying silent, you glared up at him. You weren't sure if it was the built-up anger or that your nervousness was starting to fade, but the fire flashing behind your eyes had to be visible even to the deluded Steve Rogers.

A booming laugh left his lips and you jumped in place, eyes widened as your mouth popped open in a shocked gasp. Steve was so close to your face as he sat there, his hand dropping from your hair as his elbows and forearms sat relaxed on his legs, not only his legs now surrounded you as one arm reached out and lifted the file from the coffee table.

He leaned back again, sliding slightly lower on the couch, his thighs now touching your arms, as he flicked open the file. He flipped a few pages before he settled on one, smiling softly as he turned the file to face you.

Your breath hitched as your brain tried to make sense of the work brief. It was just like the ones you had received from Doris every day for the last three months. Usually, they had something along the lines of 'Role Length - 09.15 AM - 13.30 PM Review Unsolved files 482 to 494' and so on for the rest of the day. This one was different from the rest.

'Role Length - Indefinite. Care and assistance to Captain Steve Rogers.' There was nothing else on the sheet, other than a signature at the bottom from Nick Fury himself.

Your eyes watered as you looked at him past the file, "I don't understand."

Steve set the file back on the counter as you fidgeted, your knees starting to hurt against the solid flooring. His hand ran through your hair again, and if it wasn't for the situation, you would have said the look in his eyes was loving as he gently bit his lower lip.

"What this means Doll, is that you're all mine. So long as you do as you're told... I still save the world dozens of times over and you still get to be the best little agent you can be. I'm willing to work on a compromise with this, I could have just taken you, but that would be boring. I want you to have a life, I'm kind like that, but you are mine. Nick Fury himself has agreed to it."

Your lip quivered. You looked over your shoulder at the file, glaring at it as if your thoughts alone could change the contents. You didn't look back at him as you asked, "What else is in that file?"

You didn't look back as he laughed softly, "You. Everything you've ever done within SHIELD, your personal history, your life... Your family details."

Squeezing your eyes shut tight, you shuddered. The last thing that you would have wanted was for Steve to know anything about you, but there it was, in black and white in front of your eyes. As far as you were concerned, that file meant that Steve owned you. The address of the home you'd grown up in, the current home of your parents was contained in that stupid document, and that scared you more than anything else and the bastard knew it. You considered asking what he would do if you were to refuse to comply, but the answer terrified you as your heard beat pounded in your ears.

Looking back at steve, your watering eyes betraying you, letting him know that you have lost, you nodded your head silently in understanding. The shit-eating grin on his face was enough to make the lump in your throat grow several times in size. Steve had you and he knew it.

"I'm glad to get all of this out of the way. Now, we can start our lives together, no more hiding our feelings, we'll make the dream couple, I swear it." The giddiness in Steve's voice was beyond horrifying, but you nodded anyway, not wanting to risk arguing that the feeling was most definitely one-sided, as he continued, "So, to start off this long-awaited day properly, I'm going to need you to prove your dedication."

"My... Dedication?" You spoke quietly.

He nodded slowly as he leaned back fully, his back pressed into the couch as he held out a hand. Gingerly, you took it, expecting him to pull you up from your currently kneeling position, but that isn't what he did. Instead, he placed your shaking hand over the buckle of his belt. He withdrew his hand from yours, leaving you clutching the cool metal within your slightly sweaty fingers as he raised an eyebrow at you, waiting to see how you would react.

You refused to look up at him as the dizzying thought came to your mind. There were cameras everywhere within the Stark Tower. Every inch of every room was monitored by FRIDAY at all times. There was no way in hell he would let this conversation be recorded, nevermind have the risk of Tony or anyone else getting their hands on a video of Steve getting his rocks off by the hand of an agent. He'd somehow switched off the cameras and recording. The tiny shred of hope in the back of your mind that there was proof of what was happening was instantly crushed.

With a final shudder, you resigned yourself to your fate and sat straighter, unbuckling Steves belt within a few seconds. You glanced at him as he sighed, a blissful smile on his face, knowing he was going to get whatever he asked of you. If this was going to happen, you though, it may as well be something he can't reprimand you for.

Popping open the button of his jeans and slowly unzipping them, you never broke eye contact with him, something that seemed to spur him on as his eyes shone brightly. You wiggled his jeans down his hips as he raised his back off the couch, assisting you until they were rumpled across his thighs. Your eyes momentarily glanced down at the prominent bulge in his dark navy boxers, only then the realization hits you that you were actually about to suck Captain Rogers cock.

Not allowing yourself to carry on with your thought, you gently pulled down the boxers, freeing Steve from the confines of the fabric. And confined he had been. Your eyes widened as you glanced between his shockingly large member to his face, then back again.

Well, shit.

#steve rogers smut #steve rogers/reader #steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #captain america/reader #smut #steve rogers reader insert #steve rogers reader #steve rogers reader smut #steve rogers x you #steve rogers/you #dark!steve x reader #dark!steve rogers #His Good Little Girl

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maple-writes · 5 years ago

Text

Dissidia Week 4

The earliest I’ve gotten one of these done in the last few weeks lol

@dissidia-writeblr thanks again for running this!

###

Sitara didn’t waste any time getting started, and within fifteen minutes of chatting on the couch Richard followed her into the working part of the workshop. Volt lagged behind, peering at some of the devices and books scattered on crowded tables. She didn’t stray far though, glancing back at him and Sitara frequently.

Nerves crawled their way across his skin as she started to look him over, scribbling down notes as she went, but it didn’t take long for him to start to relax. Something about the way Sitara muttered to herself as she worked, the way she her face set in hard focus and curiosity… It was a far cry from the technicians he used to know and how they wouldn’t speak to him, didn’t care to even look at him any more than they needed to do their work. She stepped away for a moment, returning with a worn looking document, flipping to some page with a scrunched eyebrow. Richard glanced down at her notes while she read. He couldn’t make out most of her scrawled handwriting, but it looked organized enough.

Hours ticked by as Sitara started to carefully investigate the interior systems, starting with his broken eye. Ventilation fans in the walls hummed softly in the background, broken by the gentle metallic clicks of her tools dissecting the mechanics. On the other end of the room Volt had taken a couple of the files, with Sitara’s permission, back to the couches. Half an hour ago she’d been reading them, but when Richard glanced in her direction the files sat stacked on the table and Volt lay curled up in a nap. He smiled. Good.

The rest of the afternoon went by quietly, and Sitara finished her inspections before dipping out to another part of the workshop to compile her notes. Richard rejoined Volt on the couch. She yawned as he sat down, rubbing at her eyes and pushing hair back out of her face.

“Done already?” Volt yawned again, slowly sitting up. “That was quick.”

Richard grinned. “Maybe for you! I was awake the whole time. Not that I’m complaining.” He leaned back and stretched his legs out in front of him and his arms above his head. The muscles were already starting to feel stiff from holding still so long. “She seemed thorough, seemed to know what she was doing.” He dropped his arms back to his sides, let his feet settle back on the floor. “Turns out there was still debris in the eye. It’s a lot less… Sandy now anyway.”

“That’s good.” Volt said. “I meant to check out some of these,” she nodded at the files on the table. “But that didn’t exactly go as planned.”

They looked up again as Sitara joined them on the other couch. “I love the technology! It’s so interesting and intricate! I’ve never seen anything like this before. It’s fun learning more about it!” She cocked her head. “So, I noticed that some of your machines don’t work properly. Would you like me to fix them for you?”

Richard leaned forward but before he could say anything someone burst into the workshop, door banging loud against the wall. He leapt to his feet in a heartbeat, gaze locked on the tough-looking woman in the doorway.

“Sitara, they realized you found people who were summoned here.” She hurried into the room on prosthetic legs. “They’re coming.”

“Actually, they’re already here.”

She backed off and turned to face the new speaker, dropping into a defensive stance as the man entered the workshop. He stared right past her, ignoring everyone but Richard and Volt.

Sitara stomped towards him. “I found them, so they don’t belong to you. Back off.”

The man didn’t seem intimidated. He sniffed and walked right past her. Richard nudged Volt behind him as he circled the two of them, meeting his stare with every step. He widened his own stance, claws ready at his sides, auxiliary systems ready to be upregulated and muscles tensed to react if the intruder dared make a move.

The man glanced up at Sitara and the other woman. “We are currently being threatened with war.” He settled back on Richard and Volt. “We need anyone we can get to fight.”

Sitara crossed her arms. “I do not give you permission to be here. You have no legitimate reasons to be here. Get out.”

He glared at her, but seemed to think better than argue before leaving without another word. Richard watched him go all the way down the long hallway before letting his guard drop.

Sitara uncrossed her arms and turned back to them. “The leaders of Torr can’t actually force non-citizens to fight, so they have no power to take you away, no matter what they try to say.” She sighed, glancing at the other woman who had burst into the room. “This is Zeth. She’s a friend who is helping me out. I can keep you safe from the leaders of Torr, but I understand if you’d like to leave. The leaders will be more aggressive in trying to recruit you. I’ll help you get out of Torr, if that’s what you’d rather do.”

Richard turned back at Volt, her mouth pressed in a tight line. She looked like she was thinking it over, but Richard didn’t need to think long.

“I don’t think we should stay here.” He leaned back, looking down the thankfully still empty hallway. Good. That man wasn’t still lurking. “We should go.”

Volt hesitated. “I don’t know Rick,” she paused, picking her words. With a glance at Zeth she lowered her voice to keep her words between the two of them. “If we leave, who knows when we’ll have this kind of opportunity again?”

Someone powerful knew where they were, and they wanted him to join them in a war, probably Volt too once they found out what she was capable of in combat and command. He didn’t like it. It would be too easy for things to go wrong, too easy for them to be taken advantage of in this strange world.

“I don’t care.” He shook his head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.” He didn’t want to be a tool again, just a step up above a weapon to be commanded. Even if Sitara could solve his problems, was it really worth that risk?

Volt closed her eyes a moment with a long sigh. “Are you sure you’re okay with foregoing Sitara’s help?”

“Yes.” He nodded at once. “I’d rather we both get out of this safe even if it means I… You know.”

As much as he tried to hide it, Volt knew he was only getting worse. She saw what how he was after working too hard, after exerting himself just a little too much. She knew he wouldn’t spend days in bed afterwards if nothing was wrong, if he weren’t in pain. If there wasn’t the threat of something happening to either of them before they could get back home, he’d have stayed and let Sitara work on him in a heartbeat. But they both knew dying here wasn’t an option.

“Also,” he glanced back again at the empty hall. “I didn’t like that man.”

“I didn’t care for him either,” Volt admitted. “And if you’re sure about leaving, then I agree.” She turned to Sitara and Zeth, taking a deep breath. “How soon can we get out of here?”

#dissidia writeblr #dissidia writeblr september #space wip #volt #richard

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commodorecliche · 5 years ago

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Hey Lindsay, I've read a few of your fics and I love the way you write :) I've been trying to write a story but i'm just stuck at the outline. So, I was wondering if you could, perhaps, make a little tutorial or a walk-through your process? I'd like to have my story points defined before I start writing but I don't have a structure that I can follow and I really love your style *-* It's okay if you don't feel like it though. I understand. Thank you in advance ^^

hey there friend! i’m not sure when you sent this ask today, i so hope you haven’t been waiting all day for my reply!! i just saw it.

first things first - thank you so much for your kind words about my writing. they really mean the world to me. and i am SO EXCITED to hear that you’re working on your own fic. that’s amazing!!

now to the meat!

so i don’t know if i have specific or... super organized... process, per se, and i don’t really do a ‘strict’ outline, in the most traditional sense of the word (meaning i don’t have a document full of numbers and bullet points and such). and everyone’s process is going to be a little different, so bear in mind, what works for me might not work for you. but once you get the feel of writing your story, you’ll get a better sense of what your own writing process is. and you’ll figure out what works and doesn’t work for you. the way i do things might not work for you, but that’s totally okay, you’ll come into your own as you go along. and hey, maybe this will work for you! who knows!

but what i generally do when i start a new fic is:

1: i type out my rough and basic idea. i like to do this (and most of my outlining/drafting) in all caps, it helps keep me focused and helps me organize what i have ‘drafted’ and what i have properly written lol.

so for example, um, In the House We Remain, my first idea was jotted out like this, at the top of my document: SAPPY GHOST STORY, AZIRAPHALE BUYS A COTTAGE THAT CROWLEY USED TO OWN, CROWLEY DIED THERE. CROWLEY WAS AN AUTHOR AND HIS BOOKS ARE STILL IN THE HOUSE, WHICH IS HOW AZIRAPHALE GETS TO KNOW HIM.

that’s my base level idea, and i kept it at the top of the document.

2: from there, i start thinking about what are some MAJOR scenes i want to have happen. not the minute details, just the major scenes that were popping in and out of my head when i was daydreaming about the fic. these can be as minimal or as thorough as you like. for In the House We Remain, i had a pretty set idea on how i wanted the story to progress from start to finish, so i had a lot of scenes already in mind.

using the same fic as an example, these are some of the scene ideas i wrote in my fic document, underneath my top line idea: SCENES: - AZIRAPHALE SEES THE COTTAGE (ANATHEMA IS THE REAL ESTATE AGENT) AND HE LOVES IT. HE BUYS IT THAT DAY. (DEFINE THE LANDSCAPE AND HOW THE COTTAGE LOOKS, PROBABLY WANT A POND IN THE BACK, THAT COULD BE HOW CROWLEY WAS MURDERED. COTTAGE SHOULD BE COZY AND DREAMY, A LOVELY THING SET OUT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE COUNTRYSIDE. LOOK UP PICS FOR REFERENCES.) - GUNNA HAVE TO MENTION SOMETHING ABOUT THE HOUSE THAT’LL CONNECT TO HOW CROWLEY DIED, SOME VISUAL INDICATORS OF HIS SPIRIT. MAYBE WATER STAINS ON THE FLOOR? LIKE DRIPPING WATER MIGHT POOL AROUND A WET PERSON’S FEET? AM I GOING WITH DROWNING AS CAUSE OF DEATH? DUNNO.***COME BACK TO THIS. - WHILE UNPACKING AZIRAPHALE SEES A BUNCH OF UNFAMILIAR BOOKS IN THE STUDY AND IS CURIOUS ABOUT THEM. - AZIRAPHALE TALKS TO ANATHEMA ABOUT THE BOOKS AND THE AUTHOR. LEARNS THAT CROWLEY IS THE AUTHOR, AND THAT HE OWNED AND DIED IN THE HOUSE MYSTERIOUSLY. - AZIRAPHALE READS THE BOOKS, LOVES THEM, FEELS A CONNECTION WITH CROWLEY. - AZIRAPHALE SOMEHOW CONNECTS WITH CROWLEY’S LINGERING SPIRIT IN THE HOUSE (DETAILS TO COME) - THEY START COMMUNICATING. CROWLEY REVEALS THAT HE WAS MURDERED - I WANT THIS TO BE AN EMOTIONAL SCENE, AZIRAPHALE VERY UPSET AND DISTURBED BY WHAT HE’S BEEN TOLD. ALSO AFRAID CAUSE HE’S MADE CONTACT W/ SOMEONE WHO’S VERY DEAD. MAYBE HE EVEN CALLS ANATHEMA AFTER TO REVEAL THE NATURE OF CROWLEY’S DEATH. - NEED SCENES OF AZIRAPHALE GROWING OLD IN THE HOUSE WITH CROWLEY’S GHOST, THEN EVENTUALLY DYING AND ACTUALLY UNITING WITH HIM. SAPPY, EMOTIONAL, THE WORKS. - AZIRAPHALE AND CROWLEY’S SPIRITS LINGER IN THE HOUSE, EVEN AS A NEW COUPLE MOVES IN.

those were my major scenes that i needed to write and that would make up most of my story.

3: flesh out the aforementioned scenes. break these scenes down individually and think about them, picture them like a movie in your head. when aziraphale sees the cottage, what’s happening around him? has he gotten out of the car? what is the weather like, is it a dreamy setting? should the wind be gently rustling the trees and his hair? is he in awe? does he take a moment to take in the exterior of the house. what does the house look like? picture that entire scene from start to finish, then jot down your thoughts. remember, you aren’t actually doing Proper Good Writing out. you’re just getting the ideas down and the draft ideas fleshed out. 4: once i have those scenes fleshed out (always typed in all caps for me lol), i start the actual ‘writing’ process. I drop the all-caps, start using proper grammar, and go into I’m Telling A Story Mode. I usually try to start writing at the beginning, because i tend to visualize my stories as movies that play in my head. i need to mentally see it progress as i write it, like i would do if i were watching a movie or reading a book. but sometimes that doesn’t happen - sometimes beginnings are the hardest part. if you struggle with the beginning, skip to the first most fleshed out scene you have, the one you feel most comfortable with, or whatever scene you feel REALLY ready to write. this writing doesn’t have to be perfect (it definitely won’t be lol). but you’ll start to get a feel for how you want to actually present this story and these scenes once they’re all finalized. you can edit it and make it prettier later, but for now, just get some words on the paper as if it were a story you were ready to tell. 5: once you have your main scenes fleshed out, you need to start making connections between them. stories need depth and background, so you need to be able to go “okay, i have aziraphale loving the house and buying it, then i need him to find the books in the study, how am I going to connect those two scenes?”

you can do this part either as you go along (example: you’ve written your first Major Scene, and you want to progress onto your next scene, so you write the connections first, then once you have the connection scenes done, you can then move on to the next Major Scene from your draft) OR you can get all your major drafted scenes written, and make your connections AFTER those scenes are done. you just gotta see what works for you.

i prefer the first method, i try to write the major scenes and the connection scenes as i go along so that i have a natural flow. that also allows me to make some changes to a later Major Scene before i actually write it. (example: hm, i was gunna have Aziraphale do XYZ in the next scene, but with this connection, I think having him do ABC in that scene might work better).

if you don’t have a clear-cut idea yet for how to connect your scenes, go back to the all caps ‘drafting’ mode, where you’re just throwing ideas on the page in between, like: ‘AZIRAPHALE HAS JUST MOVED IN AND IS READY TO UNPACK, I NEED HIM TO BRING HIS BOOKS TO THE STUDY TO START UNPACKING THEM AND SHELVING THEM. THAT’S WHEN HE SHOULD NOTICE CROWLEY’S BOOKS THAT HAVE MYSTERIOUSLY APPEARED ON THE SHELVES.’ from there, go back into ‘proper writing’ mode when you’re ready, and flesh out that scene - what is aziraphale doing while he’s unpacking? are his boxes of books already in the study, or do i need him to have a reason to bring them into the study? maybe a mover accidentally placed one in the wrong room. this is your connector that will get you between scenes. 6: once you have all your scenes done in a proper first draft, go back, do re-writes, add new things that you think you might need, take out things that aren’t necessary, check your grammar and spelling, and do your final proofing. (read your story out loud too - it’s the easiest way to catch typos, errors, or weird phrasing)

7: don’t be afraid to write ANYWHERE. many of my ideas for scenes popped up in the middle of a work day, and every time that happens, i text myself. i send myself a text, all caps, with the scene idea, and i don’t open it until i’m ready to write. it helps me keep track of things. i did a lot of writing in notebooks, on post-it notes, wherever really. i even have googledocs installed on my phone so i could access a fic from anywhere if i had a sudden idea. and if i had something new to add to the document, i put it in all caps, so i would know i needed to address it later.

8: act things out! seriously, i’m not kidding. act your scenes out with yourself. especially dialogue scenes. have those dialogues with yourself, think about how you want dialogue to progress, and talk those ideas out in a way that sounds natural to you. that’ll help you write your dialogue later. (the number of times my husband has walked in on me running through some dialogue aloud......... goodness).

9: don’t be afraid of music :) maybe it’s silly, but i make a playlist for every fic i write because i like to listen to music to get me into the correct mood for what i’m writing. it helps me a LOT. maybe it won’t be as helpful for you, but always worth a try.

and that’s really.... the extent of my process. it’s a little messy, i know, and maybe it’s not the best advice. and i just hope that it at least a LITTLE bit of sense... but i hope it will at least be of some help to you! if you’re confused about anything, please don’t hesitate to message me.

or if you want to chat one-on-one, that’s totally fine too. i 100% don’t mind if you send me a chat message. i’m always happy to help.

#kind nonnies #long post #writing #advice #fanfic #Anonymous

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deeepseametro-blog · 5 years ago

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home improvement ideas

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Though it’s certainly not an exhaustive list, these are most of the common in-home areas where mold tends to accumulate due to their natural conditions: Basements Crawlspaces (particularly those built above uncovered soil) Laundry Rooms Attics Under Cabinets Drywall Behind baseboards Tile Grout and caulking Conclusion At the end of the day, in-home mold is little laughing subject. Mold can expand in a humid environment in as little as 24 time, top rated to destruction on the upset area and lowered breathability of the room’s atmosphere. If you have recently experienced a major water flow in your house, you should consider some period and check all of your at-risk areas to ensure this unsafe contaminant is normally nowhere fast to come to be determined. Should you find mold, begin washing it up instantly after you’ve received the proper protective items and washing components. 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akwelvhi · 6 years ago

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Transient transgressions that transcend time

I wanted to do something for Trans character day, but I couldn’t come up with something. Instead, this happened. Well -shrugs-.

“Trans-”

Short for transgender or transsexual

Trans also is sometimes used as a shortened term for Cis-trans isomerism, Trans-lunar injection, Trans-acting just to name a few.

Needless to say this word "trans" means a variety of things depending largely on the context of course.

Same can be said for the word "bi" or "poly" - especially when these words are being used within the R&D or Science departments of Q-branch.

Misunderstandings and mis-hearings is something bound to happen when you mix the staffs of the different levels and branches of MI6 into the one staff cafeteria (because MI6 will not part with the budget of paying for more catering workers who need to undergo such thorough clearance and briefings just to make food that feeds the humans who do Her Majesties important work)- anyway coming back from that tangent.

It happened one day in the cafeteria, that this person overheard that person say something bad-sounding about something-trans or so, as such the rumour was passed down that trans people and others in the LGBTQ+ community were treated unfairly in MI6. Which somehow escalated to Q-branch having yet another - small unimportant task which snowballed into an issue - piled on top of their ever growing list of technological related issues that IT department deemed "not my department".

The rumour in question had led to a staff generated poll, on one of those benign staff feedback portals, that had gained a viral response following. The strength and width in which the rumour and the poll in question had spread, had resulted in a portal crash so bad IT department submitted a request for budget approval of a new system because they couldn’t fix it. Which then became Q-branch's problem because well, Q was the youngest and smartest of all branch heads and that's just the way things worked much to Q’s annoyance.

The poll in question asked.

MI6 does not provide adequate support to staff belonging to the LGBTQ+ spectrum.

0 --- Agree

0 --- Disagree

0 --- Others. Please elaborate : ______________________________________

The idiot who created the poll made the mistake of not only allowing all options to be selected instead of one. But also allowed the maximum character limit for long-answer responses which was a 1,000 character limit.

The dear, poor, minion QB-X8 who was tasked to "fix that system, we don't have the budget for a new one. Q-Branch you fix it because of that 1.2 million project of yours." managed to uncover the source of the issue.

The 1,000 character limit, was long enough a character limit, for a single keyboard smash response to somehow be translated to a line of code that led to the system crashing. It didn’t help that the system was already glitching to begin with.

After going through approximately four thousand eight hundred and fifty two responses on LGBTQ related matters, in which over a thousand of them came from how they couldn't use the company medical benefits for LGBTQ+ related treatments. QB-X8 was understandably delirious enough that a loud branch-wide rant ensued.

[[Disclaimer: MI6 medical benefits does allow coverage of any and all medical treatments as long as it is prescribed and administered by a professional physician. This includes coverage for cosmetic plastic surgery. Though of course like all medical insurance coverage. There is a cap. The cap is also dependent on your salary grade.]]

This led to Q authorising QB-X8 to send out a MI6-wide email blaster - with monthly reminders which included a pop-up box which would last a whole year, especially for those who took the time to flood the poll with multiple responses or those who did not answer properly. It was only due diligence, if those responders did not abide by the basic rules of completing a poll, then they obviously needed additional reminders.

The email entailed, in detail, the medical benefits and HR staff entitlements document pasted out onto an email word by word format (no document attachment, because some people don't open attachments). Which amounted to three hundred and twenty one pages of words. In Comic Sans font 15. No fine print excuses now.

On the plus side. HR was glad that 80% of the staff were finally fully utilising the benefits of the company’s medical insurance coverage - which had the company paying a very large six figure number paid monthly for the premiums. Employers and people in general always lost money to insurance companies. Well this year. MI6 would say they gained - in the sense that their staff were filling claims to the insurance company. Their staff were happy and healthier, the LGBTQ community included. And thanks to the 10 year agreement they just signed with said insurance company. It was all good on their accounts end too.

On the minus side. Q-Branch was on the receiving end of random and frequent death glares whenever they were identified (should their staff pass be visible) when they visited the communal space which was the staff cafeteria. (So you see guys, this is where the hearsay that the cafeteria food is lousy came from. Q-branchers would rather just avoid the place, well at least for a year till the monthly emails stopped.) And medical's stock of hormone treatment suddenly depleted resulting in a month long waiting list for staff receiving timely service from medical. Thus irking their head to no end because medical has never failed to deliver.

Overall. It was all good.

The next poll that went up asking the same question (with the ' improved by Q-branch' modifications made so the system wouldn’t crash again) received an overall 87% satisfaction rating on MI6's staff benefits including support for LGBTQ+ staff.

All is well.

Now if only people just read the damn fine print and hundred page document on terms and conditions. None of this would’ve happened. To think these people work for the government of Her Majesty for god's sake!

A/N: The title may be a bit superfluous but it just wanted as many trans-words in it as possible, haha, sorry. XD

#007 fest #007 Fest 2019 #team civilian #QB-V4

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arcticdementor · 6 years ago

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Classroom integration wasn’t an entirely positive development for black educational prospects. That argument, completely out of vogue, needs airing amid our reacquaintance with the busing controversy of 50 years ago. When Senator Kamala Harris exposed Vice President Joe Biden’s opposition to federally mandated busing in the early 1970s, progressives congratulated her—and that’s understandable. Busing fostered the integration that many districts resisted even after the Supreme Court in Brown v. Board of Education rejected the “separate but equal” doctrine, which had condemned so many black kids to substandard schooling. Thorough studies have confirmed that busing improved the scholarly performance of countless black kids.

Certainly, the underfunded one-room schoolhouses in the old South had to go. Something else that has to go too, though: the idea that any black student is only being properly served if white kids are studying next to him. That misimpression, fostered by the school-integration movement, has yielded a disturbing by-product: a harmful psychological association between scholastic achievement and whiteness.

Many on the left dismiss as a racist fable the notion that black teens often say their nerdy peers are “acting white,” bristling to even read it mentioned in pieces like this, claiming the whole scenario has been refuted. Deniers even lit into President Barack Obama for his famous line about the black kid with a book in his hand being called “white.”

In fact, this charge grew out of the integration era, as Stuart Buck documents in Acting White: The Ironic Legacy of Desegregation.

…

Over time, open white resistance to black kids in these schools receded as attitudes on race changed. However, a cultural meme casting school as “white” had set in and has become self-perpetuating since. The “acting white” charge can thrive even in extravagantly funded schools where nonwhite teachers are as exquisitely sensitized about racism as humans can be, quite unlike the nasty, dismissive teachers that black kids encountered decades ago.

It may seem counterintuitive that the “acting white” meme would persist beyond what caused it. But this is how cultural memes can work. A useful analogy would be the wariness some black people retain even today of hospitals, a legacy of the Tuskegee experiment, during which researchers left black men’s syphilis untreated. A meme can be especially tenacious when it is useful for other purposes. Teens of all stripes seek ways of defining their subgroup, fostering a sense of group membership, and even of acting out. In black-teen culture, one way of doing this is to embrace the idea that studying is “white.”

…

More useful is a rarely addressed study by Clifton Casteel from 1997, in which white eighth and ninth graders tended to say they did homework for their parents, while black kids said they did homework for their teachers. That is, they had a quiet sense that school was not for what “we” are at heart. Or, Harvard’s Roland Fryer has shown that while the number of white kids who report another white kid as a friend increases with that kid’s GPA, the number of black kids who report another black kid as a friend increases with GPA at a much lower rate, and then plummets after 3.5. Fryer even notes that it is specifically black kids who give evidence of putting in special effort who have fewer friends, not the ones who manage to excel while making it look easy.

Add to this body of research the decades of journalism on how black kids are tormented as “white” for liking school, up to the present day. John Ogbu wrote a book carefully documenting the association in Shaker Heights, Ohio. After I wrote a book in 2000 with a chapter addressing it, I received—unsolicited—well over 100 letters from black people explicitly attesting that they were teased as “white” for liking school, many saying that their grades went down as a result, as well as from concerned teachers wondering what to do about black kids telling them that this charge was being lobbed at them. One letter-writer said black kids called him a “nerd” in the early 1960s because he liked school, but that they called his younger siblings “white” for the same reason by the end of that decade.

…

Data are piling up on what makes for a good school, and racial diversity is not the best, let alone the only, answer. Reading should be taught via phonics, not “exploration.” Teach for America has gathered data revealing just what makes for a good teacher, even to poor students, including careful attention to the abilities of each student, fostering parental involvement, and the “I do, we do, you do” method of imparting skills (first via demonstration, next involving the whole class, then assigning each student to do it alone). Education must focus less on sociopolitical ideology and more on the nuts and bolts of schoolteaching, such as creating a curriculum and maintaining order. Teachers’ unions should be more open to longer school days. The idea of school ending for the summer so that kids can help their parents with the harvest must be rethought, of course, which also underscores the importance that schools always be air-conditioned.

President Obama condemned “the slander that says that a black youth with a book is acting white.” But that slander didn’t exist in the old days and need not exist today. We just have to get past an unintended variant kind of slander—assuming that a black youth has a book because he goes to school with whites. Desegregation forever, indeed—but let’s not forget that lots of learning can go on in all-black schools as well.

#the atlantic #john mcwhorter #school integration #stuart buck #read the whole thing

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bestpriceforcar · 2 years ago

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What should I do to get the best price of my used car?

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· Set Your Mind to a Resale Price: Having a firm understanding of the lowest price you believe your automobile should sell for is a crucial checkpoint in any used car transaction checklist. Keep in mind that if you sell the electric car to a local company, they will want to take a 3-5% commission when they sell your car to someone else. It is recommended that you increase your minimum sale price by 4-5% as a result.

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· Get your car fixed: Make sure to give your car a thorough inspection before going to sell it. Watch out for defects and other problems. Your car's engine has to be fixed more than its exterior because it is the most crucial component. Ask the mechanic to properly inspect the engine when you take your car to the garage for a detailed service to get rid of minor annoyances. Before selling, fix any denting and painting problems because, as the saying goes, making a good first impression is half the battle won.

· Ensure that the documentation is flawless: It is essential that you provide all relevant legal paperwork and documentation when selling your car. This implies that when you go out to sell your car, you need to make sure that everything is set up. Certificates like the original Registration Certificate (RC), updated Insurance Policy, Pollution Certificate, and Warranty documents for different accessories like batteries, tyres, etc. should be stored safely. The value of the car will undoubtedly rise with proper documentation.

· Duplicate key: Your car's spare key is a vital item that needs to be kept in a secure location. It is advisable to put these products in a place that is easy to find because they are rarely utilized. Oh, yeah, and. Your car's new owner will also require it.

· Toolbox, First Aid Kit, and Air-filled Spare Wheel: Never misplace your toolbox or any of the items in it. Before you sell your car, be considerate and give them back if you lost them. The first aid kit should also be cleaned out of any outdated medications and bandages. Make sure your spare tyre is always in good working order and doesn't appear to have been stolen from a neighbour.

If you have the best used electric cars for sale then you can list them on bestpriceforcar.com. We provide the instant best price for your car with a stress-free inspection. There is minimal paperwork with a same-day payment facility which makes it a hassle-free process. If you have used tesla model s for sale you can contact us.

#best used electric cars for sale #sell electric car #used tesla model s for sale

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