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bellascool · 1 year

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clown trauma

PABLO GAVI

posted : 15/04/2023 (European date)

masterlist

requests open !

english is not my first language, I apologize for the mistakes.

TW : traumas, clowns

Clowns.

They were your biggest fear and your worst nightmare.

You hated them, even when it was just a silly cartoon, you still couldn't watch them without feeling fear rushing down your blood.

All of your friends knew about the trauma you had when you were still a little girl.

All alone, you lost your parents in the amusement park and everyone knows that a kid + amusement park + without parents + dark outside = bad ending.

As you were trying to find them, you bumped into a tall man that had a silly colorful costume, a red nose and a red wig.

When you tried to ask for help, he lifted you in his arms and took you in a dark corner where no one could possibly come to help.

You tried to get away but it was too late, his grip was way too strong for a 7 years old girl.

The rest of the story was too painful for you and you still cried every time you had to tell someone what happened.

All you could say was that your parents never took you to the amusement park again, firstly because you were too traumatized to go back again and secondly because they didn't wanted to feel again the pain they felt when they saw their daughter crying for days, even weeks after that.

•

"I don't know.. Maybe it's too much Lia" Pedri said as he drank his water on the side of the pitch

"Come on don't worry, she always pulls pranks on us too"

"Yeah but not in a bad way"

"She shaved your eyebrows when you were sleeping, what do you mean not in a bad way?"

The oldest sighed, annoyed by his friend who kept on insisting.

"Okay fine but I won't be responsible for what happens and I won't stay" he said before finally going back to training

Lia internally screamed victory and went back to her seat where she watched the training.

•

On your side, you were trying to not fall asleep on the desk of your uni amphitheater as your maths teacher's voice felt like a lullaby to you.

You missed your home, your bed and mostly your boyfriend who went to training at 6:00am.

It was now 7:00pm and the bell just rang, making you quickly put your things in your bag before rushing to the exit, excited to get some love.

You drove as fast as you could and sighed in relief when you finally saw your house.

You got out of your car after quickly parking in the driveway.

You unlocked the door and dropped your bag on the floor after closing it back.

"I'm home!" you yelled but the only answer you got was silence.

"Pablo?" you said as you checked in the empty kitchen

"Where are you cariño I had a long day and I really want to-" you interrupted yourself by shouting as if you saw a dead body in front of you but instead it was a clown toy [click to see the idea]

It was there, on the kitchen counter and it terrorized you at a point where you couldn't move.

Your breath got heavier and you found yourself sweating as if you ran a marathon.

After a while where you stared at it, you quickly shook your head and ran to your bedroom to find some comfort but oh what a bad idea my dear.

You entered the empty dark room and when you tried to turn on the light, it didn't do anything.

You panicked even more, thinking that everything was against you today.

You grabbed your phone from your pocket and put on the flash in front of you.

The light showed a tall figure with a red curly hair wig, red nose and literally everything that makes a clown a clown.

You screamed from the top of your lungs, your heart was racing in your chest and tears quickly soaked your cheeks.

You pushed the figure who fell on the floor which made you assume that it was a doll and ran to the bathroom.

You locked yourself and slid your body against the door as you tried to get a normal breathing again but you couldn't, the trauma still hit you hard, even years after.

"Please make it stop" you repeated those words, hoping that it was just a nightmare you had

As you were looking at the floor, you saw a gloved hand with a tissue appear on your field of vision.

You slowly lifted your head and your eyes met the dark pupils of the fucking clown.

You didn't even scream, you felt your body getting heavier and suddenly everything went black.

•

"You're so dumb oh my God!" you heard yelling but it was like you were underwater

"How would I know she was that scared?"

"Well maybe because she's your fucking best friend I don't know?"

There was 3 voices, a feminine and two masculine ones.

After a while in the darkness, you finally managed to open your eyes and saw your three friends along with your boyfriend around you.

"She's awake! Y/n how are you feeling sweetie?" Aurora asked you as she helped you sit on the bed

"I'm tired, my chest hurts, I'm hungry and it's like I had the worst nightmare I could possibly have in my whole entire life" you said as you watched the 3 others stop arguing to approach you

"Hungry, you're hungry. I'll get you some food or maybe you want me to cook? I can do whatever you want or-"

"Oh my God calm down you're giving me a headache" Lia said cutting Pablo

"Shut up no one asked you to talk after what you did" he gave her a death stare and you would swear that if looks could kill, she'd be dead now

"What did you do?" you harshly asked, every word hurting as your throat was dry

"I don't think we should talk about it now" she shook her head but the two boys weren't sharing the same opinions

"Oh no we should totally talk about how a bitch you were for making your best friend live her trauma once again" Pedri said clearly annoyed

"I'm the bitch? Why didn't you say no then?"

"Maybe because you're so annoying and in the end I didn't even help you"

As things started to get heated, Pablo(who was surprisingly silent)'s sister decided to calm down the situation.

"Amigos, even if I share the same opinion with Pedri, we shouldn't start arguing in front of Y/n like she isn't there" she said calmly as she stroked your hair gently

"Lia I think you should leave, now" Pablo said not looking at her once

"But why? She's my-"

"No she's not and that's my house so if I tell you to leave, you do without even complaining, now please leave" he cut her

She sighed before leaving the room and probably the house too, now you were even more confused.

"What happened?" you asked still trying to know why they would kick her from your house

"I don't want to hurt you but-"

"She's the one who made all the clown prank on you" Pedri cut Aurora who sighed

"Oh" was all you managed to say

"Pedri I think we should leave" the oldest said as she stood up

"Fine, you can call me anytime if you need something Y/n" he finally turned around and left the room, closing the door behind him, leaving you and Pablo alone

You didn't know what to say, you were still shocked by what happened earlier and your heart was still racing a little.

Without saying anything, he laid down next to you before putting his arm around your waist, bringing you closer to him as his free hand found its way to the back of your head. Your face was now on the crook of his neck, his cologne impregnating your nose.

Without even noticing, tears started to fall which he felt since he hugged you even tighter.

"I'm so sorry" he whispered against your hair

"Don't, you didn't do anything" you said between hiccups

"I wasn't there to help you and now you have another trauma"

"It'll pass don't worry" you softly left some kisses on his neck, your tears drying as he made the situation way better

"I love you but not just love you like you're my soulmate"

"You're so sweet, I love you too" you smiled and left his neck to kiss his lips passionately as he kissed you back

"Aww cariño" you heard from the other side of the door

"Aurora!" his brother yelled after he detached from the embrace to look at the door

"Lo siento!" she said back before finally really leaving as her footsteps faded

"Back to what we were doing" he turned back his head to look at you with a small smile on his face which you returned

"Come here" he pulled you even closer to his body as if you would escape anytime and slowly, your eyelids got heavier and you fell asleep cradled by his warm arms.

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opalfairy · 8 months

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A crossover was revealed to me in a fever dream: Scum Villain but there are Alternates à la Mandela Catalogue.

(Quick note: I have only watched the first volume of The Mandela Catalogue, and I'm not up to date with the lore [I'm using the Mandela Catalogue wiki to check information] but that's ok, I can simply put Airplane in the same boat as me and problem solved)

Ok so, from what I can remember of this dream, Airplane had added Alternates in his notes, maybe even thinking of an Alternate wife, but decided to delete them because let's be honest... most readers of them fantasy harems catered to hetero men are cowards that only like their monster girls when they look A. Conventionally pretty and B. Are not too monstrous.

Deleting the notes, unfortunately, did nothing to actually deleting Alternates from the PIDW world and so, when a certain Cucumber transmigrated, he did so into the role of Shen Qingqiu. It is important to note, however, that role and body do not necessarily mean the same thing and, unfortunately, Shen Jiu had already been supplanted once.

(Now, when was he supplanted, that's for you to decide, it can range from a week ago to when he was a little child and therefore the Shen Jiu we know has always been an Alternate)

Anyways, back to the present: So, Peerless Cucumber, now Shen Qingqiu, goes through the plot as normal without even realizing that he is most definitely not human... at least at first. But then the evidence starts to pile up and the direction it points to is not "classic cultivator/Airplane bullshit"

Because floating without a sword sounds improbable but plausible; but then one day, in the privacy of his room, he mockingly repeats something the system just said and it sounds exactly the same as that nightmare google translate voice. And what about the time when he was practicing cultivation in the bamboo forest and after hearing a sudden noise and, scared of being caught, he simply appeared inside the bamboo house? He's pretty sure teleportation is a power reserved only for Luo Binghe and Mobei Jun???? Since when can the scum villain teleport???????? System????????? Explain??????????????

And what about the demon invasion? Sure, at the time he thought he had gotten lucky and that the poisoned thorns of Elder Sky Hammer's armor had missed him, but now that he thinks about it he did feel a light pressure on impact, and his poor sleeve had been pierced, so why did nothing happen to him?

But the weirdest thing so far was that he could now see a person and, if he concentrated enough, he would know exactly what to say, what strings to pull and buttons to push for them to fall into despair, and the worst part was that he wanted to do it! Some part of his being wanted to cause this suffering and the only two things stopping him were his morals and his self preservation! At first he had thought that this was some weird fucked-up residual part of the original goods, but now he wasn't so sure...

All of this culminates in Shen Qingqiu looking at his reflection on a bronze mirror while getting ready for bed after a very bad day (maybe, through his fucked up ability, he had looked at his zhangmen-shixiong and knew that it would be so easy to push this strong, kind, man into a never-ending abyss inhabited exclusively by his heart demons and himself. He had turned around and all but bolted to his bamboo house, least he do something that he would regret for the rest of his life) when all of the pressure and fear of being trapped in this situation came crashing down on him, and, looking closely at his cold, immutable reflection, he wished that his calm outside could reflect the storm raging inside...

...not a second passed after such thought had sprouted in his mind when his exterior started to change. His eyes, his mouth, his limbs, all of them started to elongate and contort impossibly. And Shen Qingqiu's mind, at first filled with horror, soon realized that there was something familiar in the grotesque display he was witnessing through his mirror. You see, before he died, Shen Yuan, Pearless Cucumber, used to be a chronically online consumer of internet media. And what he was looking at felt indeed very, very, familiar.

After a few minutes of freaking out (and telling Binghe that "Everything is fine, this master doesn't need any help, yes Binghe I'm sure, do not open the door") Shen Qingqiu managed to return to the form of the original goods (can it even be called that? Since the body was most definitely not Shen Qingqiu's. This was not part of the original novel!) while processing that yes, this was actually happening wtf? wtf?? wtf???????

A few extra notes that my brain decided to just ad while I was redacting this:

• In moments of extreme distress, Shen Qingqiu's face distorts if he isn't careful. After he discovers he is an Alternate, it happens less, but it may still happen

• Following that, during the demon invasion, when Shen Qingqiu saved Binghe from big spiky demon man, his face did distort, but it was too little and most people were not that close so only someone who was paying attention to Shizun's face (cough cough Binghe cough) rather than all that had just happened would notice

• Another moment of face distortion happens during the abyss yeeting scene.

• SQQ finds out SQH is Airplane because during the conference, the Alternate Instincts (as I've decided to dub the compulsion to cause M.A.D. in people) tell him that a good way to start the spiraling on the other is to tell him how worthless he is, that even in a world of his own cration nobody has, nor will appreciate him as anything more than a tool. This, of course, leads to SQQ realizing that Airplane is right there! And he has severe self-esteem issues!

• Because of this, after Cucumber confronts Airplane he makes sure to never treat him as worthless or useless. He does insult him (that's how their friendship works) but never devaluating his worth as a human being.

• After confronting SQH, the first thing Cucumber asks is how long the original goods has been an Alternate. Airplane is very confused, up until SQQ does the face distortion party trick, then he is just unconscious.

• Talking about cumplane friendship, because Alternates can mimic not just voices but also music, these two abuse the hell out of said power by listening to modern music together.

• Binghe, knowing that his Shizun is not what he sais he is (an immortal master cultivator) since at least the demon invasion (SQQ probably slipped a few times over the years and Binghe absolutely noticed).

• Does he know that he is specifically an Alternate, though? I mean... probably? He did have access to the entire Qing Jing Peak library, plus Meng Mo, plus all the during/after abyss treasures and tomes of the demon realm

• That said, following Binghe's Shizun kink, and taking in account that he, unlike the average monster girl harem male reader, is not a coward... he would totally be into unhinged Alternate non human form if his Shizun would just let him! Please! He is ready to act as pathetic as necessary if it will get him the privilege of looking at his Shizun in all his analogue horror glory!

#svsss #the mandela catalogue #scum villain #scum villans self saving system #shen yuan #shen qingqiu #luo binghe #scum villain crossover #svsss au

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blahblah-911 · 5 months

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Finally watched The Couple Next Door. I don’t normally try to watch anything he’s in as I find his acting to be dreadfully mediocre and this didn’t disappoint. How anyone can be as bad at accents as he is and at this point doesn’t just tell casting agents, look I’m limited and need to stick to whatever that English/Scottish mix he sports in real life, I don’t know but him trying to spit it out only for every other word was distracting as hell. He also is literally just Jamie in every role he plays. He seriously has zero range and I don’t know if that can be taught honestly? Also, there was zero reason to show his ass and shirtless other than to feed his ego and “objectify” him. 🙄

I loved Eleanor in Poldark, her character became pathetic but I felt she was a decent actress. Here, not so much. She didn’t come off as crazy so much as just uninteresting and I think that’s the worst thing that can happen to a character, to just become a bore?

The plot of which I guess is a remake I found ridiculous as here you have “swingers”. By definition they’re allowed to stray outside the relationship yet only one does it, she gets jealous and he breaks whatever golden rule of one and done I guess and of course, like Jamie Fraser his super sperm knocks up the other woman, all while already hiding a deaf son and the little woman accepts all to the point of defending him physically. No introspection as to wow this guy is a total dick, maybe I need to reexamine my priorities here? So like some of the OL fanfic that many women find so romantic when Jamie cheats or abuses Claire and she forgives because he’s just so awesome, this for me was reminiscent of that. I wanted to like her boyfriend but he turned into such a milktoast I just felt embarrassed for him and nothing else.

My score is a 2/5 mostly for the truly bad acting, zero chemistry between SH & ET and the unbelievable plot.

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changingplumbob · 4 months

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Pancakes Household: Chapter 8, Part 2

In this part Fergus' sleepover continues then Eliza tells Bob about her pregnancy decision. It's a quick Freezer Bunny day and Iggy and Carson catch up after their scout meeting. Contains some sim spice, as usual no pixel private parts are shown.

For clarity Bob's nickname for Eliza is Jumble, and Eliza's nickname for Bob is Sleek. I'll try to capitalise them when they're being used as names to make any translations easier.

Eliza: Kids! Come eat! Bob left waffles

Drake: Sweet

Fergus: Did Atlas just disappear

Eliza: He left, he’s not coming back

Fergus: OMW mother what did you do

Eliza: Nothing! He was coughing and his mum rang and said she tested positive for Llamaflu and thought he should get home and rest just in case

Kelly: I hope he infected us all, it’s what I would do

Iggy: Fergus why are your friends so weird

Drake: I’m sure your friends are more weird

Ginger: *whines* just drop a corner, come on, give me a taste of waffle

Iggy: Kelly? Weren’t you just here

Kelly: It’s called a sleepover and if it goes well the watcher will count it as one of needed three gold sleepovers

Iggy: I’m not sure that’s how the watcher works

Kelly: How would you know? Had a conversation with them have you

Iggy: Just about how annoying you are

Eliza: Ginger? Where are you?

Ginger: *barks happily* 🎵trash, oh glorious TRASH🎶

Eliza: Ginger did you come outside?

Ginger: *barks happily* 🎶Trash I love you, oh trash I do🎵

Eliza: GINGER! We do NOT play in trash! Are you a common stray? No, you are meant to be domesticated. Get your paws OUT

Ginger whines sadly, learning not to play in the trash.

Eliza: There there, it’s okay. You’re still the best girl around here

Eliza: Lets go give you a bath before Bob decides you smell great in trash scents

Fergus: It’s called- mother, why are you here

Eliza: It is my house, I need good light

Fergus: But this is my sleepover

Eliza: Relax Fergus. I’m nearly done then I’ll leave you three in peace

Drake: Knew we should have done this at my house

Kelly: To bad you were to stupid to book this weekend first

The kids bicker and Eliza once again wonders how any of them call Kelly their friend.

Drake: I hope Atlas will be better for school

Fergus: The family always get their vaccinations, they’ll be fine

Kelly: Unless they all die

Drake: You don’t seriously think that

Kelly: Maybe they’re getting a visit from Grim right now, he’s going to get us all

Fergus: Oh yeah? Is Grim going to get Anya then?

Kelly: Obviously, Grim means business

Fergus: I forgot to tell you, I’ve joined the drama club

Drake: Why

Fergus: Just had a whim to try it

Kelly: Yeah I have whims to but they’re normally stuff like, make enemies

Drake: Do you actually have any enemies

Kelly: *sighs* it’s not for lack of trying, believe me

Fergus: Plus look at those two on the TV, they’re our age and they would have made money from this

Drake: Their parents probably forced them to do it

Kelly: Parents are the worst

Fergus: Make that all adults *titters* I’m an adult and you need to do what I say

Drake: If you don’t you’ll be sent straight to bed

Kelly: With no supper to wither and starve

The three wind themselves up with their impersonations and eventually have to give up on the film after missing what was even happening.

Fergus: Okay, story time! Come here Ginger, you can help

Drake: Why is your dog half inside your sleeping bag

Fergus: Dogs belong everywhere, don’t question it

Kelly: This better be scary

Fergus: Actually I’m going to tell the tale of a pirate

Drake cheers while Kelly boos. Fergus launches into his adventurous tale anyway. He has fun and the boys can see he’s practicing for drama club already.

We had some minor game glitches (by minor I mean it took between 1 and 2 hours of mod testing to find the culprit) so if there’s some continuity errors we will all just roll with it.

Bob arrives home happy. He had a stern critic come by the restaurant and rather than bore them with the house staple he decided to make them some comforting mac and cheese. He didn’t lose any job performance, so he calls in a vacation day for tomorrow. He sneaks inside past the sleeping kids and goes to find his wife.

Eliza: And that is why your only choice can be to invest in the company

Bob: I’m convinced

Eliza: You’re home, finally! Let’s get it on

Bob: Can we talk first

Eliza: Sure. What is it Sleek?

Bob: Have you thought about if we’re going to properly try for another pregnancy

Eliza: *sighs* I have thought about it

Bob: Do we have a verdict

Eliza: Lie back, get comfy, and listen

Bob climbs on the bed and Eliza begins to speak between kisses.

Eliza: I want another kid with you. I do. But I’m proud of what I’m achieving career wise right now. This next promotion will take a lot of work. If we get pregnant, then we get pregnant and I will love our child, but for now my focus needs to be on upskilling myself

Bob: I think you’re very skilled already

Eliza: *smirks* I can hardly use these skills in the boardroom. But I’ll make you a promise

Bob: I’m listening, I am a captive audience after all

Eliza: If we don’t get pregnant by the time Fergus is a teenager, we can start properly trying again. Will you be okay with that?

Bob: I can be. I love you. I want you to be happy

Eliza: Believe me Bob, right now you are making me very happy and… *chuckles* yes it feels like I’m making you happy to

The conversation draws to its natural conclusion, woohoo. The next day is Freezer Bunny Day and the slumber party kids wake up pretty early.

Eliza: Have you lot had breakfast already?

Fergus: Of course mother

Eliza: Are you alright Kelly? You don’t look too flash

Kelly: Bloody Atlas must have infected me before he left

Eliza: I think it’s time to head home then. You to Drake

Fergus: Mother what time is the holiday ceremony

Eliza: Not until 10, we have some time

Bob: I wanted waffles for breakfast

Eliza: You could always make some more

Bob: No point, I’m doomed to be sad

Eliza: Have some of this trout with me, you did a great job with it

Bob: Really?

Eliza: It’s excellent, I promise

The two eat and flirt some more before Eliza gets up to wash the dishes.

Eliza: I can feel you staring at my ass Sleek

Bob: But it’s such a fine ass

Eliza: I’m glad one of us appreciates this unshifting baby weight

Iggy enters the kitchen and Bob decides to pull Eliza aside to keep talking.

Bob: I’m sorry you’re unhappy with it, but I do love the curves

Eliza: I know you do, I just wished I loved them more. I mean looking at me, who would know I’m fit

Bob: Don’t worry about what other people think, to me you’re the most beautiful sim in the world. Remember what I told you last time you felt like this

Eliza: *sighs* That me being curvy was a sign of love? Love for the food you make and love for the lives I brought into this world

Bob: Exactly. You know I met this stunning girl in university who told me, weight doesn’t equal worth, and it helped me beyond measure

Eliza: She sounds like a catch

Bob: *chuckles* why do you think I married you before some other sim could. Now come on, or we’ll be late

After the Freezer Bunny Day ceremony Eliza goes to practice her skills and Bob searches for Ginger. She is very dirty so Bob decides the smartest thing to do is wait until after a jog to give her a bath.

Fergus: Did you check the couches

Iggy: Yes, I found a couple. Did you look in the laundry bins

Fergus: I don’t think the Freezer Bunny would put eggs in dirty laundry

Iggy: Yet you said we needed to check the toilets

Fergus: You’ve been pranked!

Iggy: How could it be a prank if I found an egg there

Fergus: *huffs* stupid Freezer Bunny

Bob: We did the jog, no more avoiding, it’s bath time

Ginger: *whimpers* but I don’t even know how I got dirty

Bob: I’m sorry. If it was up to me you could stay dirty forever. But we need to think of the others in the house, and they don’t enjoy dirty dog smell

Ginger: *whines* but I just had a bath yesterday, infants don’t even get bathed daily

Bob: Guess we’ll do this the hard way then

He scoops up Ginger and carries her to the bathroom, all the while she yaps in protest.

Bob: See, if we keep the harness on we can clean it at the same time. Eliza had to get me to stop showering with my clothes on, but it saved time so it was hard to convince me not to

Bob places Ginger down and she immediately begins flinging off all the loose water. Bob tries to avoid it but a puddle appears. He decides it will dry by itself. Carrying Ginger in to the lounge he sets her down and switches her into he collar.

Bob: There, clean and fashionable

Iggy brings Carson with him after scouts. Harvey is going to swing by for dinner and pick him up then. They do the secret scout handshake and reflect on the meeting.

Carson: I can’t believe you found that super rare badge

Iggy: I can’t believe they dropped it. I’m glad the troop leader knew who it belonged to though and was able to get it back to them

Carson: You definitely couldn’t have kept it, the leader would know you didn’t earn it

Harvey: I saw your wife tuning up the doorbell

Bob: I knew there was probably something I forgot to do

Harvey: Are you looking forward to your birthday tomorrow Iggy?

Iggy: Yes! Though it sucks Carson can’t age up at the same time

Carson: We are technically the same age after all. Promise me you’ll still come to my birthday party when I have it

Iggy: Absolutely!

Bob: Food everyone! Come and get it!

Iggy: It looks great dad. Mother are you... smoking?

Eliza: I’ll be fine. I just got electrocuted by the doorbell

Bob: Are you sure you’re okay? Maybe you should lie down? With soup!

Eliza: I’ll be fine Bob

Fergus: Wait… if both of you are Llamacorn scouts... why don’t you have matching uniforms?

Iggy: I don't have an answer (and neither does the watcher)

Previous Part ... Next Part

#sims 4 #the sims 4 #the sims #Rotation8 #ChangingPlumbobStorytime #PancakesHousehold #ElizaPancakes #FergusPancakes #BobPancakes #KellyYork #CarsonFoster #HarveyFoster #simblr #OnyxPancakes #IggyPancakes #R0805

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deadhumourist · 2 years

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Pink Velvet

Pairing: F!Reader and Jack “Whiskey” Daniels

Rating: M, just to be safe - it contains 1 mention of non-explicit, previous sexy times.

Words: 1300+

Warnings Angst and hurt, character doesn’t feature in story apart from flashbacks. Kids. No happy ending here, folks.

A/N: This is a little hurt/angst/softness piece. Depending on how this goes down/if there’s interest, there might be a part 2 where things end on a happier note. Let me know if we leave it like this or not ;) A huge thank you to @just-here-for-the-moment for beta-ing this and assuring me its not the worst thing she’s ever read.

Masterlist | Taglist

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Dusk is settling over the quaint little garden, and one by one, the night dwellers emerge from the nooks and crannies they slept in all day. Lightning bugs glow to life, organic little paper lanterns drifting around. Their lights gently swirl up in the air, the uneven pattern carving up the slowly darkening air.

The gentle nightbreak brings a stillness both outside your home and inside you. Quiet in the knowledge that another day has come to a stop and you have nothing more to do with the outside world that has taken so much from you.

"Mama?"

Your not-really-a-toddler-anymore Josie is peering at you from the doorway, her face half hidden behind the door jamb. You hear the soft shuffling of her pony-shaped slippers against the reclaimed wooden floor. It's her tell, and you answer the question before she has to ask.

"Let's go pick out a story for bedtime, darling."

You unfold yourself from the large, comfy chair by the window. It has plush pink velvet pillows which in turn you have buried your laughter, your heart and increasingly lately, your sorrow in. The funny thing about velvet is that it keeps stains and secrets all the same.

You walk to your daughter’s bedroom, making a beeline for your and her favourite feature in the cosy room - the bookcase. You’ve read to her since she was a baby, even if she didn’t understand any of the words yet. You wanted to establish a routine, a safety net that could catch her on hard days that may come.

You kneel in front of it, pretending to survey the colourful collection for a book to read. But you know this act of the play by heart. You will pretend to select a book, any book, and Josie will look at you with her big, brown eyes, apprehension tugging at the corners. She will sidle up to the corner of the shelf and slide out the same book that you’ve read about 100 times now, and gingerly offer it to you. “This one?” she’ll hesitantly ask as if it’s the first time.

She is the apple of your eye so you smile warmly while taking it out of her hands.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

She bounds excitedly to her bed and jumps under the soft layers.

You settle down next to her, tucking your legs underneath you, cradling your daughter in your one arm while holding the book in the other. Josie loves helping to turn the pages when you read.

“Once upon a time, there was a handsome cowboy who lived in a small town. He was the town sheriff, keeping all the bad people out and making sure the town’s people were safe. Every day, the cowboy would ride through the town on his horse, making sure there were no bad men disturbing the peace.”

Your daughter looked up at you, her owlish eyes finding yours. She doesn’t normally interrupt storytime but you wait for her to continue.

“Mama…” she hesitates for a long beat.

“Mama, is Daddy a cowboy?”

The simple question tears through your heart like a shotgun at close range. You had been careful. She was so small when she last saw him, and there aren’t any mementos in the house apart from a photo that you keep close to you. It feels like it was taken a lifetime ago.

“What makes you ask that, sweetheart?’

“I dreamt about him and we played horsey and he let me ride on his back. And he said he missed me.”

Your heart pinches painfully. She will have almost no memory of him, and you had buried yours so deep. You were sure “Daddy” was a pastiche of the storybook cowboy and the photo in your locket that your curious child would have found.

No matter what you choose to do next, every option seems cruel in its own way. Deny everything and leave her to wonder, anchorless in a sea of ephemeral memories, or give in and open old wounds to share the reality that he was gone without a trace.

You’re quiet for a long beat before you continue, your voice soft.

“Yes darling, he is a cowboy. A very noble one that also keeps bad men away.”

Josie’s face lights up like a ray of sunshine as she smiles, her little rosebud mouth revealing one missing tooth to the side.

She glances at the page you’re holding and then back to you.

“And is he also handsome like in the story?”

You glance at your daughter’s glossy dark chocolate hair and golden skin. She is your child too but Jack’s genes had won out by a country mile. You remember his eyes, so much like hers, brimming with tears when he first held her. He was overcome that something so perfect could also carry a part of him and be his.

“He is. You look so much like him, too.”

That seems to satisfy her curiosity, at least for the time being. Contentedly, she snuggles against you and lifts her little pointer finger to the open page, indicating that you need to read again.

You barely manage to hold in a relieved sigh.

“The town was quiet and safe, because the handsome cowboy was good at his job. Then, one day, bad men rode into town on their horses. One of the bad men went to see the cowboy at the sheriff’s office.The men told the cowboy that he needed to give them all the money in the bank, otherwise they would kidnap the mayor’s daughter. The mayor’s daughter was a very beautiful young woman, and the cowboy liked her very much.”

“The cowboy told them to leave town, but the next day, the bad men kidnapped the beautiful young woman! Oh, the mayor was so angry! The cowboy was angry too, and vowed to rescue the woman.”

Josie sticks her thumb in her mouth, enthralled by the story she had heard so many times before.

“The handsome cowboy chased the bad men out of town and rescued the beautiful young woman, and she was very grateful!”

The thumb leaves her mouth with a pop.

“Mama, did Daddy rescue you too?”

You think back to how you met Jack. That’s not exactly how it went down, and you recall jokingly arguing with him over drinks about who rescued who exactly. That was quite the mission. Even though you lost the mark, you didn’t come home empty handed. Not exactly.

“No sweetheart, that’s just in the story. But if I was in trouble, he would have.”

She nods sagely, like she knows this to be fact.

You continue the story.

“Once the woman was safe, the cowboy told her that he liked her. And she said she liked him too. The cowboy kissed her and they lived happily ever after.”

Josie’s insistent questioning is unraveling old memories from their tightly sealed boxes in the recesses of your mind, and at the mention of a kiss, Jack drifts into your mind’s eye yet again.

He’s covering your body with his own, your legs entwined with each other’s. His large hand cupping your jaw and pressing adoring kisses into your heated skin. He captures your lips again hungrily, making sure the only thing you can focus on is him.

You close the book carefully, noticing Josie slumped over in the crook of your arm, thumb still in her mouth. You slide out as slowly as you can, careful not to wake her. After pulling the covers up around her and switching on the nightlight, you tip-toe out of her room.

Retaking your seat at the window, you take a deep breath to steady yourself. You reach inside your sweater to retrieve your keepsake. Clipping the locket open, you stare at the small photo inside for a long while.

Jack - dark hair slicked back and moustache neatly groomed and framing an exuberant smile. The one you have to see a ghost of every day, when you have breakfast with your daughter, or laugh with her, or read her to sleep.

And then the beautiful young woman wept for her cowboy, who never made it home.

------

Comments and reblogs are appreciated so much <3

#jack daniels x f!reader #jack daniels imagine #agent whiskey/f!reader #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey #kingsman: the golden circle #pedro pascal fanfiction #kingsman fanfiction

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okiekp13 · 3 months

Text

Safe Word

SoapxGhostxFemreader

Quite honestly this is nothing but a daydream I had and I needed to get it out. Hopefully, it suits someone else's tastes as well.

Established relationship, Soap returns home needing release, Ghost is brought along for the ride, safety words used, p and v, double pen, squirting and little bit of aftercare.

MDNI

If you are under 18 I will ban you so fast your head will spin.

Enjoy my brain rot.

Good god it was raging outside your house; torrential rain my ass it was pissing cats and dogs out with lightning plus thunder so loud you felt your house vibrate with it. It was spring time though and storms always kicked up right before summer; you just wished you weren't home all alone hoping the power stayed on. Wrapping up in a blanket on the couch you let your TV play in the background as you scroll on your phone; it's been ages it feels like since you've heard from Johnny. Not knowing where he is or for how long eats at you but you can't bring yourself to take him away from his work. He does the dirty work no one else wants to do you know that much; he's good about keeping most of the details away from you the less you know the better he'd say. There were many times he would come home beat up; worn out or so pissed off you'd think the world personally affronted him. It took some time but you figured him out without him even having to say anything; you were always an observer before an engager. He liked that about you he would say. Joke about how maybe you should have gone into the military you would have done great at it, but you knew it wasn't for you. Too constricting, too rigid and you valued your sleep, to be honest. A smile tugs your lips as you remember joking around with Johnny about such things…you missed him. An aching hole sat where your heart should be…only when he was home did the ache go away. Sure you could be independent while he was gone and keep everything running smoothly but nothing compared to the warmth and comfort having him home could do for your mental health and soul. A sigh leaves your lips as you get cozy on the couch falling into the various rabbit holes on the net.

A series of booming bangs make you jump a few hours later; clutching your blanket around yourself you get up and immediately go to the side table by the foyer grabbing the pistol from a compartment underneath that Johnny insisted was needed for your protection. Holding the pistol like he taught you to; you quietly walk up to the door and look through the peephole. A dark figure stands on the porch; lightning flashes beyond the porch illuminating a cold-featured Johnny. You know that look…a mission would have to have gone bad for him to be that closed off and pissed. Flipping the safety back on the pistol you set it back on the table before unlocking the door and falling into your role to bring your Johnny back.

"Soap? Safety word?" "Johnny." "What level?" "Six."

You had a system you followed; when he was like this you knew he needed an outlet and with some exploration, you found that making his name a safety word worked best. When he was brought out of his mind back to himself he would use it and you would let go of the control you had on him. The levels ranged from 1 being the least concerning to 10 being the worst. He was pretty pissed at a 6 and you knew he would need to let it out to bring himself back to normal. Opening the door fully to allow him in, you watch as he shuffles through; he is drenched and tense. Taking a moment to close your eyes and center yourself you close and lock the door completely before you give in to your role.

"Strip!" You grit out.

The sound of wet clothes hitting the floor meets your ears moments later, the clunking of heavy boots and his rucksack. Once he is down to his boxer briefs glaring at you; only then do you let the blanket you held fall revealing to him how you are wearing his shirt and your booty short undies he loves so much. You were just lounging at home so there was no sense in getting dressed beyond pjs. But with the way he was glaring at you it wouldn't have mattered what you had on his stare alone makes you feel naked and vulnerable. You can't slip though he needs your help.

"Go." You whisper.

The man immediately crowded you and pinned you up against the nearest wall with a little more force than necessary was not your Johnny…this was Soap you were dealing with. The hardened soldier. The demolitions specialist who could invoke fear near and far. Not the goofy, charming Scot you loved dearly…but to get that scot to come back, you would have to get the rage out of Soap first. His lips crashed on yours; his hands grasping your hips and pulling them up against his making sure you felt how hard he was. Soon he was yanking your shirt off and ripping your underwear from you; only to then grab your legs and hold you against the wall. Good thing you were into rough sex; you were already slick and knew foreplay would be skipped this round. He grabs his dick and lines up with you before he pulls you down onto him. Even slick the stretch is a bit much and you cry out both in pain and lust; his grueling pace only makes you louder. Holding on to him in any way you can you grip his grown-out mohawk with one hand while the other digs nails into his shoulder.

"Come on Soap is that all you got?" You hiss.

The man currently pounding into you from below growls as he grabs you and walks to the dining room table throwing off the decorative bowl and wickerballs. He nearly drops you on the table as he pulls your hips to the edge only to drive into your walls like a batting ram. You grip the edges of the table for stability as you see the rage in the man above you drive him into a frenzy thrusting into you faster, harder, rougher and it makes your blood sing. Each hit against your cervix brings you closer to the edge that will make you see stars, the harshness he uses as he palms your breast or bites at your flesh doesn't deter your euphoria as it rises and rises.

"S-shit gunna cum. Come on Soap fuck me like you mean it!" You cry out.

Another growl from the man echos in the room as he grips your hips in a punishing grasp surely to leave bruises. He pulls out to nearly the tip before slamming back into you with all the force he can muster; his pace is faster and getting sloppier as you crest over the edge and moan out as you cum all over him. A shouted moan leaves his lips as he explodes inside you pumping inside you still until he shivers with aftershocks. Only once he is collapsed to his elbows on the table looking up at you did you hear it.

"J…Johnny."

You smile sweetly at him and gesture toward him; he's quick to pull you to him and hold you softly. His heart beating rapidly under your ear as you are drawn to his chest. His skin was slick with sweat, smelling of gunpowder, fuel of some sort, and just him.

"Steamin fuckin Jesus!"

"Had a rough one this time didn't you?"

"Aye…fuckin joke it was. Ye alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine I always like it on the rougher side you know that. Let's get you showered and get you some food." You offer.

"Y're too damn good to me."

"Oh, you're not off the hook just yet. You had your fun I will have mine before long." You tease.

Shoving him into a shower moments later and giving him some leftovers from dinner you made earlier; you are not satisfied until you see him eat, drink and settle with you on the couch. Finally, you can relax; curled up against his side as he nurses a cold beer.

"Fuck a cold brew hits different when I'm home."

"I bet."

Not long after you are pulled into his lap; straddling his lap watching the TV and he gets some very inquisitive hands roaming all over your body. Playing with you listening to your gasps and moans as he pinches a nipple here, nips your neck there, and caresses your pussy before letting his fingers stroke and play in your wetness. He does this until you are moaning his name and begging for his fingers, he can never deny you when you call out so beautifully. He takes his time in stripping you again; then lifting you only to slowly sink you onto his hardened dick picking a slow pace so he can feel every inch inside you. He moves his hips lazily drawing out your need as long as possible; you grow desperate as he denies your hips to move or your fingers to touch your neglected clit.

"That's a good bonnie…taking every bit o' me. Miss me dinnae ye?"

"Fuck…yes!"

"Miss feelin' this full?" He teases.

"J-johnny come on…please."

"Need to cum lass? Need to feel all o' me?"

"Yes!"

"Ah, what a good girl…then take it all."

Johnny pushes your hips down as he thrusts up into you making you see stars; arching against him you reach an arm back until your fingers tangle into his mohawk yanking on his hair. He growls in your ear as he thrusts harder and faster; using his thighs to keep yours spread as he grunts.

"Touch ye self bonnie wannae see ye cum!"

Your hand never moved so fast in your life; rubbing your clit until you feel the euphoric buildup of him hitting your g-spot matched with your aching clit it was only seconds before you fell off the edge and felt your pussy pulse on his dick as you came. Groans of his name fall from your lips as you spasm; Johnny was not far behind you as he pounded into you until he buried himself as deep as he could. Feeling like jello you felt like you were glued to his skin before you giggle to yourself.

"So much for staying clean."

"Aye…can always shower again."

"I'm glad you're home Johnny."

"Me too lass."

This routine always worked for your Scot; you preferred not to know what his job all entails but you did question him often about tiny tidbits so you better understand the stresses he would be under whenever he would come home after a long mission. Like what conditions he usually had to deal with while on said missions; and what dangers he could be dealing with in the field but never specifics. You were aware of the team he always worked with, met them a time or two but never really got to know them beyond being acquaintances. You did have Capt. Price's secured line saved to your phone in case of emergencies but that was your only connection to the team. Johnny would talk about his team to you like they were his brothers and you learned he was especially close to a guy he called Ghost. You only knew him as the skull face guy; regardless of the mask or not you can only remember the deep molten chocolate color of his gaze staring at you from time to time. He watched you as you did at times, observing, learning, and reading cues…it unsettled you a lot honestly. But Johnny always assured you that Ghost was a good man and if your Scot respected them so did you. However, you were not expecting Johnny to come home with the mountain of a man after a long mission.

Both men stand outside your door; bloodied, gear tattered, expressions grim and menacing. You almost didn't want to open your door but you knew your Scot needed you, needed his solace he could only get from you. Cautiously you opened the door enough for them to see you yet closed enough you could force it closed if needed.

"Soap? Level?"

"3 Lass. Ghost is a 6."

"Company this time?"

"Please Bonnie…show him?"

You debated with yourself; the thing you had with Johnny was intimate…you didn't know Ghost and you sure as hell didn't know what preferences he had or how rough he would be. Would he be rough? He was huge and could toss you around with little effort…the idea of being pinned down by him weasels into your brain, your body is a traitor…getting heated up by the idea alone. He is Johnny's mate you can't deny him when he needs help. Sighing heavily you open the door the rest of the way until both men are in the foyer and you lock up.

"Alright, you know the drill. I'll say it again…Soap? Level?"

"3."

"Safe word?"

"Johnny."

"Ghost? Level?"

"6"

"Safe word?"

"Simon."

You arch a brow; you've never heard his real name so you're not sure why you are surprised to learn his name is Simon but you like the sound of it. Your arms are crossed over your chest as you eye each man.

"Strip!" You demand.

Johnny leads the way; unbuckling his vest, and holsters, and kicking off his boots before pulling off his t-shirt and unbuttoning his jeans. Ghost is following suit, everything he wears is black like a wraith. You knew enough about the man to know the mask stays. You don't wait for them you simply head right to the bedroom and pull the covers back, you're going to need the space. You kept a locked toy box under the bed; pulling it out you rummage through it until you find what you expect to need, condoms, lube, restraints if need be, and your favorite vibrating wand. You feel their presence enter the room; stopping yourself from looking up at them you busy yourself setting up your tools before you look at Johnny.

"What's off the table?" You ask.

"He's like me Bonnie just…stronger."

"You'll mediate then?"

"Of course lass…been thinking of stuffing that arse for months. Be watching over ye back."

Goosebumps run over you from head to toe; so Ghost would be the one you ride…that idea is enticing. Your mind starts to wander down a rabbit hole of all the ways you could be had by the two men, making your tongue feel thick in your mouth as you nearly drool at the idea. No, you have a task at hand. Clearing your throat you fall back into your role.

"Ghost sit up against the headboard, and use the pillows to cushion your back in an almost lounging position. Soap grab towels and a washcloth."

You watch as Ghost towers over you; he stares down into your eyes like he's getting a read on you. You don't falter and keep his eye contact waiting for him to follow your order; emotions are swimming in his eyes you can't exactly place but you are not his therapist you are just there to offer him stability and a release. Whatever he was looking for he must have found it because he walks to the bed and gets settled like you told him to; his large frame nearly takes up most of the bed, it would be comical with anyone else but with Ghost, it was just downright intimidating. He wore his black boxer briefs still as did Johnny but even that didn't hide the thick monster he was sporting, you were going to feel the stretch for sure and it made you clench on nothing even thinking about it. Johnny returned with the towels and washcloth you asked for putting them down on a nightstand.

"Take it off Soap. Then help Ghost get more…comfortable." You order.

You watch as your Scot shimmies his briefs off and lets them fall to the floor; allowing your eyes to feast on the thick, needy, length you've been missing for three months. Your mouth waters just looking at it, you'll need to taste him another time right now you have other things to attend to. Johnny gets on the bed with Ghost.

"Sorry LT these gotta go."

Johnny tugs the briefs and Ghost lifts his hips reluctantly allowing him to pull them down his legs. Your jaw nearly drops; Ghost is hard, thick, and longer than average…you were going to have to work that thing in for sure. Grabbing a hair clip you twist up your hair getting down to business; lifting your t-shirt over your head you feel your body sway as you feel their eyes on you, slipping your underwear down your legs as slow as you can to tease them further only adding to your fun. Crawling on the bed you swing a leg over Ghost's lap so you straddle his thighs; his chest is heaving with his quick breathing, and he's holding himself back you can see the strain in his posture, the veins in his arms as he clenches his fists. Damn, he's pure testosterone and just man you have to pause a moment to get yourself centered.

"Soap. Work me up."

"Bonnie?"

"Put on a show Soap. Give Ghost here a preview." You tease.

Johnny smirks to himself as he gives you a quick 'aye lass' before he grabs your wand along with a condom and lube. He gets behind you until your back is pulled flush to his front; he lets his hands roam over your body bringing soft sighs from your lips, his fingers travel down to your clit tapping it to tease you further, and soft mewls from you fill the room. Your gaze is locked on Ghost; he's watching everything so intently it makes you preen under his gaze, your hips moving on their accord dancing for him. Johnny fires up the wand and presses it against your clit making you moan and throw your head back against his shoulder. Your scot is quick to take advantage and nip at your neck and shoulder, he ushers you closer to Ghost until you are right over his dick. Ghost's thick thighs make you spread your legs farther to accommodate him, licking your palm you grab a hold of him and slowly start to stroke him. A hissed breath escapes him. You line yourself up with him; taking the wand from Johnny you continue to tease yourself as you let your slick get all over Ghost's dick. Johnny was working behind you; his excitement made him a bit clumsy but you didn't mind until you felt the cold lube on your ass that is. You jumped a bit but soon relaxed as you felt his fingers massage it around your ass before he pressed a finger inside making you keen. Using Ghost's shoulder for support with your free hand you relaxed before opening up more to Johnny's fingers, he adds a second finger and stretches you open before removing them.

"Ready. "

"Good. Ghost…give it to me."

The ghost moved so quickly like an unleashed tiger you couldn't have been prepared, he grabs your hips pulling you closer, he lines up with you and pulls you down on his dick, working himself a little at a time into your tight heat, groans and grunts falling from him. Once you were nearly fully seated on him; Soap stops him so he can get in your ass. You lock eyes with Ghost as you feel your scot steal your wand to press it against your clit as he eases his tip into your ass; never breaking contact with Ghost you moan as you feel yourself be filled with your scot.

"I'm good." he croaks.

"Good. Alright Ghost show me what you got." You tease.

Anger flares in his eyes; grip tightening on your hips and before you know it he is lifting you up only to slam you back down on his dick until fully seated, the burn of the stretch mixed with the absolute euphoria you feel as he hits your cervix leaves you breathless. You feel so full; the motion of both men in and out leaves you mindless, you can only focus on the sensation as they slam into you.

"Fuck lass…so fuckin tight! Missed me filling up this arse did ye? Taking me like a champ!." Soap groans out.

"Shit. Feels good."

"Here that LT? She feels good…blow her mind will ye?"

Ghost growls; he yanks his mask up to his nose before gripping your neck and pulling you to his lips, the kiss is rough but you love it. You wrap your arms around his neck and dig your nails into his shoulders as you ride him; he's thrusting up into you and the feeling of Soap groping your breast has you feeling sensitive. Ghost tastes like bourbon and spices, you could get addicted to him quickly if you're not careful. Johnny is matching pace with Ghost, he nips and kisses your back as he fucks up into you, his thighs burn but he could care less he just wants to fill you up with his cum and that alone is enough to nearly make him scream.

"Fuck Bonnie….such a good fucking girl!"

"M-more!" you demand.

Soap kicks up his pace and Ghost bites your bottom lip as he plants his feet on the mattress so he can drive up into your sopping pussy battering your cervix like a caveman, your moans like music to his ears as he draws closer and closer to his end. Soap comes first with an earth-shattering pace that leaves you moaning against Ghost's neck, when Soap pulls out and falls to the mattress spent a glint sparks in Ghost's eyes. He rolls over tossing you on the mattress as he pulls your hips up to his level so he can shove himself into you as deep as possible, you scream out as he hits every spot imaginable and his thumb rubs circles over your clit making you ascend to orbit with how quick your orgasm takes hold of you leaving you breathless. His pace is ruthless as he slams into you until his hips shutter and he's growling low in his chest as he cums unbothered to pull out, he fills you so much so you feel it seeping past him down your thighs. He falls to you on the mattress still mindful to keep some of his weight off of you.

"S-simon," he whispers.

"Aye…Johnny."

"Welcome back." You smirk.

You feel like you should be boneless; you don't have the strength to move your limbs yet, everything feels warm and fuzzy like you're coming down from a high. Johnny is the first to move; he grabs the washcloth and starts to wipe you down pausing as he notices the mess Ghost has made of you.

"Hey, Lt…ye filled her up didn't ye?"

Simon moves enough off of you to look where is it Soap is talking about; Johnny is just having fun now teasing you. He pulls one of your legs wider so they both can see the cum leaking out of you, your hands are already covering your face in embarrassment. Rough callused fingers slip through your folds collecting the cum and shoving it back inside only to watch it seep out again. You watch how Simon is transfixed on it, he pushes the cum back in again liking how you keen and writh for him. His fingers are thick and as sensitive as you are after cumming you are sure it wouldn't take long to cum again if he keeps up playing with you.

"Want to fill her up again LT? Give her a taste of Simon instead of Ghost?" Johnny asks with a smirk on his face.

"Please…I need more." You whimper.

Simon doesn't mind on bit; he uses his fingers to bring you to the brink again only to pull his fingers away. You groan in frustration before he rolls you over on your stomach, he straddles your thighs keeping your legs together, pulling your hips up to where he wants you before he is nudging his hard-on against your puffy lips, he bullies his dick back into your sweet slickness making you both moan. Simon starts slow before he starts to piston his hips against your ass; punishing grip on your hip and lower back as he dives in over and over again, his thick head jackhammering your g-spot making you scream for him like a nymph. You cum on him before you can warn him causing you to squirt on him, you twitch as you feel him pick up his pace and growl in your ear as he fills you up again.

"Such a good fucking girl!"

You knew you were done for; you would forever be replaying that in your head now with his gravelly voice thick with lust. Simon was the one to insist on cleaning you up before himself and Johnny. Your scot got water and made sure you were good. On shaky arms, you sit up and lean against a pile of pillows on the headboard.

"That was incredible." You confess.

"Aye, that was pretty amazing."

Simon shocked you one step further; he was sitting on the edge of the bed his elbows on his knees, and he was still sweating quite a bit. He pulled off his mask altogether leaving him open for you to see; he was blond! You didn't expect that; his hair was a bit outgrown but you could tell at one point he kept his hair high and tight in style, his features were sharp edges and scars but you found them quite attractive. So this was Simon…the man behind the Ghost. He looks over his shoulder at you; there is unease in him and you give him a soft smile…you aren't afraid of him and you motion to him to come to you. He's hesitant for a moment before he lays down next to you and you pull on his arm to have him cuddle up to you. Johnny is quick to be your big spoon and cover you with the blankets before he quips.

"Lt I think ye been adopted."

"I'm open to you staying a part of us if you want it?" You confess.

"Yea Lt what do you say?"

"Fucking hell…alright."

#john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #call of duty #femreader

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jennay · 1 year

Text

Don’t Leave me

The request:

Hi love 😍 can you write (in your free time!) fluff with Peter and Y/n when they're both secretly in love with each other and he kisses her for the first time? 🥰

When you graduated nursing school, you expected to work at a hospital or maybe even for a family that needed help with their elderly relative. However, you never wished to work for a man experimenting on children.

It wasn't explained this way when you signed the contract. You were told you'd care for young, sick children ranging from 7-18 years old.

They didn't say that you would be living there or that these children had unexplainable powers; you were sworn to secrecy, and if you didn't follow along, you'd be another body in the ground, and nobody would know.

You've been here for six months now, and the things you've seen will horrify you for the rest of your life.

You spent more time with the children than any of the adults. To be honest, it frightened you how none of the other adults seemed to care how wrong this was.

"Ms. (L/N), you're needed in room 22."

You smile at Peter; he might be the only person who genuinely cares for the children outside of yourself. "Thank you, Peter." you start down the hallway.

Peter stops you by resting his hand on your shoulder. His blue eyes hold sympathy as they wander your face. "It's not good." Admits. "Should I go with you?"

You swallow hard; this was the worst part of this job. The electroshock therapy would leave burns on the children, and they'd often come to find you when they were injured by the orderly or by Dr.Brenner himself.

Peter's hand drops back to his side. You pinch the bridge of your nose and close your eyes, "I could use the assistance if it's as bad as you say."

Peter didn't necessarily want to help, but he enjoyed your company and slowly learned how to mimic your normal human emotions. He watched how you would smile and congratulate the children when they succeeded and how you'd pour your sympathy onto them while they were troubled or give them your love and affection. He didn't know why you did it. It's not like the kids ever did anything for you. Why would you reward them?

Peter didn't want to admit that he was jealous, but he was. He wished he had someone like you when he first arrived. Things could have been different if someone had shown him the kindness that you showed them.

When you entered the room, rage filled you as you looked at the teenage boy lying on the metal surface. They didn't give him a blanket, not a pillow. They left him to freeze in this tiny room that was soundproofed.

His collar was still around his neck, and burn marks appeared on his neck and face. You shudder at the sight, "Peter, can you grab a blanket out of the hall closet and maybe something he can rest his head on?" You sit next to the young boy; his eyes are closed, but he is breathing. You hold his hand and whisper, "I'm going to find a way to get you all out of here. I don't know how but I'm going to."

You didn't know that Peter was standing in the doorway listening to every word you said. He felt something strange like someone was pulling on his heart string. 'This isn't right.' He thinks to himself. 'I'm not allowed to feel these things.' Peter didn't know what love was, but he knew he felt different when you were around and when he watched you care for the children. Part of him wondered if someday you could show him love, and maybe the two of you could have children-

"Peter, can you help me for a second?"

He snaps out of his future plans and hands you the blankets that he found. After carefully adjusting the boy, you listen for his heartbeat and count his respirations. "It's going to take some time, but I think he'll be ok."

This image of your patient was engraved in your mind and would haunt you in your sleep. Not many people in this building knew that you were incredibly sensitive.

You feel tears pool in your vision, but you quickly blink them away and wipe your cheeks, hoping that Peter didn't see. You knew he wouldn't tell anyone, but you didn't need him thinking you were weak; you didn't know that he admired every emotion you showed.

"Hey," He sticks his hand out to you. "He's going to be ok. Let's get you back to your room. I think you need a break." Excitement pulsates through his body when you hold his hand. He felt you were the only person who treated him like a human. The others knew who he used to be and wanted nothing to do with him.

You'd heard stories and rumors about him, but you didn't care about the stories; Peter had always been gentle and kind to you. There was no reason for you to fear him; as a matter of fact, you found yourself wanting to be around him more and more. How could people be cruel to him when he was nothing but kind to everyone?

It amazes you that he showed respect for Dr. Brenner even after being punished for 'Fratinizing' with you. It seemed everyone else was allowed to talk to one another without judgment or repercussions, but when it came to Peter, he had a different set of rules to abide by.

Peter stops at your doorway, "I'll see you tomorrow." His voice is soft and shy; his eyes roam around the floor nervously.

Smiling, you ask, "Would you like to come in?" You take your long white jacket off, revealing your thin frame. "Come sit." You pat the bed next to you, and he makes his way over. Both of your backs leaned against the wall.

You don't know why but you rest your head on his shoulder, looping your arm with his and lacing your fingers together. "Your hands are cold." You bring his hand to your face and cup your free hand around your entangled fingers; you blow hot air to warm his hand.

What are you doing? Why do you always mistake kindness for flirtation?

Peter can't hide his smile. You were incredibly thoughtful; it was second nature to you, and he adored you. "That's better." He chuckles.

He cautiously leans his head on yours. "Why are you so good to me?"

He feels you shrug, "Why not?" You questioned.

"I've never had anyone want to be my friend before." He sadly admits.

You pull your head away from him. Your eyes locked with his, "I find that hard to believe." You cringe when the lights in the hallway shut off. The only light is now the lamp on the shelf by your bed.

He softly laughs at your reaction. "Are you afraid of the dark?"

You stand and walk over to your dresser. You know it's a bold move, but you shimmy out of your work pants and put them away. "I'm more so afraid of this place in general." You bounce to your bed and crawl under the blankets. "Will you stay with me?"

He curiously raises his brow. "You want me to stay here with you? In your bed?"

You sit up, pulling the blankets closer to your face. He smirks at how innocent you look as you nod your head. Your big doe eyes could charm him into doing just about anything. "I'll stay with you."

You watch as he removes his shoes and unbuttons his shirt; you try not to stare at him when his pants come off, but you can't help yourself. "Are you going to scoot over?"

"I guess," You tease him.

He takes no time getting under the covers next to you. He turns on his side, and you two stare at each other with smiles, taking in every freckle, wrinkle, and scar. He brings his hand to your face, gently cupping your cheek. You inch your face closer to his, your eyes shut, and you feel the most gentle kiss placed against your lips; just the smallest peck, but you knew he wasn’t as experienced as a normal adult would be. You knew he'd lived here most of his life and was also sworn to secrecy and contracted to stay here, at least that's what he told you.

He shyly pulls away from you and swallows hard, "I think I love you." He rubs his thumb against your cheek, "And I want to do that again."

A smile drapes your lips; you kiss him again, adding a little more passion, showing him you're happy with his words. When you start running out of breath, you pull away from him and say, "Good, 'cause I think I've always loved you." You kiss the tip of his nose and brush his hair out of his face. "Please don't ever leave me." You whisper.

He pulls you close to his chest and holds you tightly, "I'll never leave you. You're mine now, and I promise to keep you safe, always."

#peter ballard x y/n #peter ballard #jamie bower #001 #001 fic #001 stranger things #henry creel x you #henry creel

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sethan-obsession · 6 months

Text

one thing that doesn't come up very often when anything about Neco-Arc comes up is the characters' position in the actual games they're in

while Melty Blood isn't something that a lot of people are very versed in (especially amongst people that like the little =3 cat, myself included), outside of meme culture and story mode funnies within the series, the characters are almost entirely a nonsequitur

Neco-Arc and Neco-Arc Chaos (the latter abbreviated to NAC and the former abbreviated to usually "Neco", for later reference) typically occupy the bottom 2 position in whatever game they're in, approximately, between their 3 moons. moons are a "groove" system in melty blood similar to that found in CVS2, or otherwise it's similar to the differences between Shadow and Normal characters in Persona, essentially mixing around your characters' set of universal mechanics and general moveset, though especially strongly associated signature attacks are usually kept between all moons.

some specific characters are considered worse on their "bad moon(s)" than the Necos on their "good moons", but generally those characters' "good versions" outshine most anything any variant of the necos can do.

their general pros between them are "annoying" and "small and difficult to hit or combo, conditionally". they typically attempt to play a zoney, pixie-esque air focused game, but the common theme between much of the necos' kits are that they seldom function, and are a traditional hardcore style "joke character" like street fighter Alpha Dan.

i want to generally focus on NAC for this because i find them more interesting (and they look cute & unique, design and personality wise), the character generally deferred to as bottom 1 with the worst moon in the game amongst popular opinion.

on Mizuumi (for those unaware, a "poverty" FG wiki equivalent to sites like Supercombo and Dustloop), NAC's strongest moon in Crescent (shorthanded to C-NAC) has a wall of cons and a short burst of pros which sum up to "annoying" and "so bad that people don't have match experience to know the matchup".

even at their absolute best or with their most "complete" kit that forms the most functional gameplan, NAC is still marred with some of the funniest shit ever. check these green boxes out:

all of these are incredibly slow normals and mostly the only epitome of "range" NAC has, with other buttons literally extending a few pixels in front of their silly little cat sprite. they extend their gigantic hurtboxes before they're active and up until NAC is actionable again in most cases. only normal you can actually play footsies against in melty blood.

C-NAC focuses on specials that do passable zoning (though generally easily disrespected, and low reward). the other moons, however, are quite dire.

Half Moon Neco-Arc Chaos (H-NAC) can be generally surmised by the first thing at the top of their page, before even their normals:

it's no exaggeration, either. Skeleton is pretty much the only person who even has H-NAC games on record. there are a few here and there, mostly some locally recorded matches between friends, but in the modern day, this is your guru, and the only advice they have is "Please do not pick this character". splendid. extremely funny.

H-NAC generally suffers from losing out on important things that allow NAC to play as a "worse than almost everyone else but still almost functional Melty character", such as having a functional airdash or backdash, but hey, they've got a command throw in case someone's response to not knowing the NAC matchup is to hold downback instead of mashing (if you find an individual of such criteria, i'll give you ten dollars.)

F-NAC, however, is the worst it's ever been. take a gander at this:

lol

H-NAC lacks the ability to really do much of anything, and is blessed with an EX move which does *zero damage*, has a superflash as Melty EX moves do, and is -20 on what, on meterless variations, is meant to be a pressure reset special. in exchange, if you hit with it point blank (and i mean it, your pushboxes have to be touching in most cases) it can cause Circuit Break (no meter usage or gain for x amount of seconds) on the opponent, but that's meter you can spend on bad reversals instead, since your abare is terrible. if you don't hit with the Circuit Break point blank hitbox, it instead builds a ton of meter for the opponent on hit, drains yours, and does zero damage, leaving you in a bad oki situation after.

four hit jumping mid which has the same terrible hurtbox rules, isn't very active considering NAC's bad jump arc and airdash, and fails to combo into anything beyond that usually. good move.

#neco arc #neco arc chaos #melty blood #long post #nac #h-nac #neco-arc

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doctorbrown · 6 months

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What is the WORST time period Doc has ever visited? Why? How would he go about fixing the time period, if he could?

The worst time period he's ever visited?

For a while, 1985A was Doc and Marty's it could always be way worse. Sure, they could imagine realities that were possibly way worse than Biff being all-powerful, corrupt, and tyrannical, but without having actually experienced them, felt the seconds of their own existence rapidly ticking away into nothing, it's an entirely different beast to imagine it than actually experience it.

What Doc learned of the world and his own future in that timeline shocked him to his very core that day.

However, over the years, Doc and Marty, through time-travel, have experienced plenty of things, ranging from mistakes to alternate timelines to witnessing the deaths of each other/people they cared about. Sometimes, all it took was an errant word, spoken at the wrong place at the wrong time.

They've experienced realities in which they've never met, in which one was dead or worse, in which they were both unhappy, even ones in which they were both successful. (These were all accidentally stumbled upon, but they still exist. (Stories maybe I'll write out one day.))

But if we're limiting it to the history that's already happened without any temporal interference... Ooh, I might argue that a trip to Salem in late 1692 was particularly bad, because as you can imagine, things snowballed, and Doc nearly found himself convicted for practicing witchcraft.

However, and this is the most important thing: unless it's an alternate timeline resulting explicitly from one of their mistakes, Doc would never change past events. (Manipulating the future in a small way for the sake of the most important people in his life is something else entirely, even if a touch hypocritical, but even then at the heart of the pt.2 & 3 incidents, the personality change that is Marty's inability to control himself when being called chicken thanks to the overlapping/merging of personalities between TP and LP Marty (because that issue did NOT exist in pt.1, which leads me to believe it's an exclusively LP Marty thing, lending further weight to the one single Marty across timelines) came through Doc trying to preemptively course-correct events that would happen in the future through their current present.)

The past is the past and it happened the way it did for a reason. To change anything would be to affect the outcome of history and possibly change things radically from where they knew it. (See LP timeline, for example, even if the effects were arguably more localised (though I mean Match Made In Space becomes an international bestseller, film adaptations are made, you could make arguments).) Doc is fully aware that there are many points in history that are cruel, terrible, all that. He's told Clara about it plenty of times when talking about the future, because he can't hide the bad things/problems with society and paint an inaccurate picture of the time he lives in and the years he lived through.

So even if he'd love to fix things, limit the amount of struggle or suffering that happened to people in whatever time period it is, he can't. And he won't.

Time-travel in and of itself already pushes him outside the realm of what one might consider a normal human being. To change the past simply because he doesn't like the outcome of it would be almost like crossing a completely different line, one that brings him closer to playing god, shaping and manipulating the timestream as he sees fit and that's not what he invented time travel for.

#&; a great idea can change the world 「 hc 」#&; all your questions will be answered! 「 asks 」#i keep forgetting i have an asks tag #anyway - very long way to say doc's not about changing the past just because times were bad #i rambled again whoops

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ne0nbreeze · 1 year

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BRO DID UR CITY BECOME ORANGE??? ARE YOU GOOD??? WHAT THE FUCK MAN

I mean. Yeah yesterday it kinda did 😭

This was a picture I got two days ago, when it pretty much constantly smelled like a neighbor was using a barbecue.

This was at around 1pm yesterday

This was only 20 minutes after that

And this was an hour after that. This was definitely the worst of it, and it smelled like you were standing directly in the smoke of a bonfire. This was the point when you pretty much had to avoid breathing outside air as much as you could because it was pretty much outright dangerous to breathe it for too long. A single poorly insulated window led it to start smelling like a bonfire near that window, so we had to close a curtain to try blocking it.

My city actually became the city with the worst air quality in the world, hitting an AQI (Air Quality Index) level of 413 (out of a possible 500). The worst it can normally hit in most places is around 50, and anything above 300 is considered the “hazardous” range.

Thankfully it didn’t stay full on orange for too long. The sky was just a “normal” grey by the end of the day, but there was still enough smoke to make the sun look like this

(this is a terrible picture but it does look cool I have to admit)

Now the sky looks relatively normal again and the sun only has a slight tint to it, but there’s still a decent barbecue smell and it’s recommended to stay inside when you can. At least today the sky isn’t completely grey and I can see a little blue again, but it is pretty hazy. The current AQI as of this post is 173, which is still in the “unhealthy” range but it’s nowhere near as bad as yesterday. Everything’s alright now for the most part though

I didn’t mean for this answer to be this long but I’m a weather nerd and couldn’t help myself alsngksnwkfnnd

#weather #my post #a--random--person

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elendiliel · 1 year

Text

Beautiful Chaos

Reached the canon events at last... (Though the chronology may have been adjusted a bit. Time is weird.) Inspiration credits to the usual source.

---

“Doctor, what is the current status of your synthetic Energon experiments?” Ratchet didn’t turn round when Ultra Magnus addressed him, but his second, Glitch, who had been perched on the edge of his desk, legs swinging and digits tapping against each other like an Earth crab’s claws (her usual way of keeping her shell occupied while her processor worked), stilled herself in preparation for a potential battle of wills, mildly annoyed by being left out. What am I, chopped rivets?

“Doing the best we can, Commander, given the lack of functional equipment at our disposal.” A common complaint from both medibots. They were relying on Earth technology – about a century behind that to which Glitch was used – and the gear she had brought with her from her own reality, which was designed for field medicine, not chemistry.

“You do realise that an alternative energy source may be essential to our survival?” Talk about stating the sparking obvious.

“Believe me, Ultra Magnus, no one is more acutely aware of the stakes than I am.” Also very true. Ratchet had control of the team’s Energon rations – though Glitch regulated her own oil and gasoline intake – and replaced lost fuel after injuries. And his colleague was pretty sure he was short-changing himself to keep everybot else running. Ridiculous. He needs it as much as anybot else.

“And we’d work faster if we weren’t being pestered for updates every five minutes,” Glitch chimed in, glaring up at the much taller mech. The Wrecker commander and the field-tech were usually “ride or die” for one another, and both knew it, but medic solidarity came first. And it unsettled her to see Ratchet, any Ratchet, even slightly subdued. Hers generally gave at least as good as he got in clashes with authority, especially where their Ultra Magnus was concerned. (He had considerable reason for that, she knew.)

“Of course,” that universe’s Magnus conceded before heading off to berate half the team for not being out in the field – only to be told that they were complying with his own orders. At least he can’t charge me with dereliction of duty, Glitch thought. She had woken up that morning feeling tense and irritable, with a growing processor-ache (a normal one, not the kind that had plagued her since the cortical psychic patch) and much too aware of everything – all the warning signs for a Bad Day and potential meltdown – and tipped Ratchet off so that he could requisition her to help with his Synth-En project. All according to the now-standard procedure that prevented her from becoming a liability in combat. She wondered whether Ultra Magnus were having a bad day – or Bad Day – of his own, trying to keep the chaotic team – so far outside his comfort zone, more like a family – running while Prime was away, and resolved to cut him more slack in future.

Wheeljack did not share her sentiments when he came inside coated in coolant after tinkering with Magnus’ ship, the Iron Will, to her pilot’s displeasure. Luckily for everyone concerned, though, the argument had barely got started when Prime’s jetpack came into auditory range. Glitch sympathised with Magnus when everyone else greeted their leader with affection they never showed him, but decided to leave that problem in Prime’s capable servos and deal with a simpler issue.

“Better clean yourself up before you get coolant everywhere,” she advised Wheeljack, throwing him a towel she kept beneath her repair table. “And soak that immediately once you’re done, or it’ll stain.”

“I know that,” Wheeljack said, applying the towel to the worst of the coolant patches. “But how’d you find out?”

“The hard way.” As ever. “If you’re going to fly a ship, you have to know how to fix her.”

“I didn’t know you were a pilot.” Somehow it had never come up in conversation, she realised, and the team usually bridged everywhere. When the Iron Will was needed, Magnus and Wheeljack had a duopoly on the controls. “What’s your ship?”

“IG-2000 cruiser, heavily modified. Technically she’s state property, confiscated from a bounty hunter my Ratchet and I arrested, but we’ve put so much work into her that everyone considers her ours. Handles like the proverbial dream, especially since we stripped out most of the weapons, has top-of-the-line stealth tech, and we boosted the shields for when that’s not enough, as well as fixing the hull breach her last pilot made trying to kill us, renovating the med-bay and changing her name from Death’s Head to Moth.” Glitch suddenly realised just how much she missed that ship. Almost as much as she missed her team, their base in Detroit and her old home, family and friends on Cybertron. I’ll see them again. When we’ve beaten this lot of ‘Cons.

“Good name. Suits you. You’ll have to show her to me when we get you back home.”

“Which might not happen if we don’t solve this,” Ratchet put in, recalling Glitch to the matter in servo. She refocused her attention on the problem of synthesising Energon, until the detection of the natural version posed a new and more familiar problem and the Autobots rolled out.

One solar-cycle, Prime’s Windu-on-Anaxes impression might actually work. (Offering the enemy a chance to surrender, that was, not defusing a bomb with the Force.) It was not that solar-cycle. The battle was as short and sharp as expected, the Vehicons going down almost too easily, leaving carts of Energon for the taking. Prime assigned Stealth Team to transport them to base while the Wreckers – plus Smokescreen – inspected the mine for hidden fuel or enemies.

“Watch your backplates in there,” Glitch warned, levitating a cart with her magnets. “Something about this doesn’t add up.” When she said that, it usually meant something, rapid data analysis being one of her built-in abilities.

“Ah, c’mon!” Smokescreen didn’t know that. “What’s that Earth saying – don’t look a gift house in the mouth?”

“Horse,” Glitch corrected, which clearly made more sense to the sports car. “Daft expression. I can’t quite compute it, but there’s something off here. We pick up a motherlode of Energon, already mined and packaged, badly guarded, right when we need it most – doesn’t that seem a bit too convenient?”

“Coincidences happen. I mean, what were the chances of you turning up when and where you did?” Smokescreen had a point – probably. “Anyway, I’d better go. I’ll tell you whether you were right when we get back.” The Wreckers vanished into the mine, and Glitch returned to the task she had been given, still more than a little uneasy about the whole situation.

That unease was still present when, a while later, the last carts of Energon were about to go through the groundbridge and none of the Wreckers had come back. Instead of continuing with the Synth-En project, she scanned for the team’s energy signatures, focusing on the area around the mine. Prime, Bulkhead and Smokescreen were together and stationary, but the others – she knew that pattern of movement, and it chilled her to the struts. Doubly so when she tapped into Wheeljack’s and Ultra Magnus’ comms and heard the unmistakable sound of Autobot alloy striking rock, over and over, the ring of metal on metal, and, in particular, the Forge of Solus Prime hitting both Autobot armour and a similar but distinct alloy, not Autobot of either reality, but not Decepticon either. The difference was subtle, but with her senses heightened by a Bad Day she could hear it. There was no time to lose. She switched channels to call the Autobots nearest the battle. “Wheeljack and Magnus need backup. Five flipping cycles ago.”

“Wreckers don’t call for backup,” Bulkhead protested automatically.

“If those two don’t get some sharpish, we’ll be cleaning up what’s left of their shells, if we’re lucky.” Glitch regretted her harsh tone, but was too tense to apologise.

“Can you guide me?” Prime broke in. Of course he was the logical choice, the fastest and most heavily armed of the three Autobots there. And yes, she could.

“I’ll prepare the medical bay,” Ratchet said as Glitch began to relay directions to Prime, one audial listening to the battle in the mine, one optic on the life-sign scanner. The Wreckers were fighting well, co-operating as never before, but it might not be enough. “Arcee, bridge the others back, and be ready to do the same for Optimus, Ultra Magnus and Wheeljack.”

The next few minutes were among the longest of Glitch’s life. Time slowed to a crawl as the Wreckers and their unknown (but suspected) assailant hammered away at each other, and almost entirely stopped when she heard Wheeljack say, “And here I was just beginning to tolerate you.”

“It’s been an honour, soldier,” was Ultra Magnus’ reply, just before something metallic – not the Forge, please, not the Forge – broke. They would have been perfect last words for each one had Prime not arrived just in the nick of time. Glitch’s spark was still humming as he carried his soldiers away, no longer needing her guidance, though she kept the comm lines open. Which was just as well; nanokliks before the groundbridge opened, the sound she heard justified her fears and told her and Ratchet with what kinds of injury they might be dealing.

Ultra Magnus was out like a light when Prime flew into the hangar that served the Earthbound Autobots as a base, but Wheeljack was still conscious as Smokescreen took him from their leader and half-carried him over to Glitch’s repair table (significantly lower than Ratchet’s, as Glitch was less than half her superior’s height, and would have struggled to keep even Wheeljack upright). His processor-to-synth filter had taken a beating, though. “Oh, great, I get stuck with the rookie.”

She knew he didn’t really mean it even before her scanner revealed minor processor damage, as well as a number of other injuries. “You just have straightforward impact trauma. Magnus lost his flaming servo; he needs Ratchet, not me.” She remembered what had done the damage even as Wheeljack flinched. “Sorry. Bad choice of words. Flaming and Predacon go together too well.”

“How’d you know about the Predacon?”

“I was listening in on your comms. I’ve sparred with Dinobots and Jetfire back home; I know what a fire-breathing ‘bot sounds like.” She remembered something else she had heard, which hadn’t made sense at the time. “Can it transform?”

“He, I think, and yes. And he’s one Pit of a fighter in both forms – though Magnus fought like a Wrecker.”

“We know,” Bumblebee beeped. “Glitch was watching your life-signs. She made sure you got backup in time.”

“Seriously? You could tell we were in trouble just from that?”

“I know what a combat movement pattern looks like, too. My processor’s weird like that. Can’t deal with social conventions, can barely read faces, but can spot teammates in trouble and go full-on – angry medic at whoever might be able to help them.” She almost said “Kix on Umbara”, but she knew Wheeljack hadn’t seen The Clone Wars.

“Well, thanks, from both of us.” Wheeljack glanced over at Ultra Magnus, who was slowly coming round to find Ratchet cauterising the twisted metal where his servo had been. The younger Wrecker lapsed into silence for a little while, allowing the field-tech to fix him up. “Optimus didn’t get there a moment too soon. The Predacon threw a fragging stalactite at me, used the Forge to take Magnus’ hand clean off, broke the Forge and was about to kill Magnus when -,”

“Broke the Forge?” Glitch had known that was on the cards, but had hoped her suspicions weren’t correct. “And you didn’t bring the pieces back?”

“We were a little busy not dyin’,” Wheeljack pointed out, quite reasonably, though Glitch was almost beyond reason. Now that she had finished repairing her friend, the anger she had pushed away so that she could do her job – anger at herself for not doing more, at the Decepticons for setting up the trap, at everyone who had fallen for it – surged up through her circuits and took control of her processor. All she could say was, “We needed that.”

Before anyone could stop her – Smokescreen tried, but Prime held him back – she had stormed over to the groundbridge, switching the coordinates to the last log entry but one, and activated it with a magnetic pulse. Nobot tried to follow her back to the mine. They knew, as she did deep down, that she had to work that fury out of her system, preferably by doing something constructive.

The mine was deserted when she arrived, outside and, as far as she could tell, in, but she still put her stealth training to good use. She was built for stealth, after all, despite her often-conspicuous bronze plating. Had she been protoformed during the Great War, she would probably have been a scout, not a field-tech – never mind that her digits seemed to have been made for medical work, or that she felt most alive when she was treating a patient (or with Bee). Form had defined function back then. Things had got better, though; becoming a field-tech, rather than an academic like her caregivers, hadn’t been easy, but it had been possible, and she had chosen to learn stealth – among other skills – from her cyber-ninja teammate Jazz, when he had the time.

She had also learned well from her Ratchet, her mentor. Just before the space-bridge malfunction that had sent her to that universe, he had taught her one of the finer points of using her magnets. They could be employed as a kind of scanner, distinguishing objects by their magnetic susceptibility. Describing the difference between one metal and another was like – to use a cliché – explaining colours to a blind person, but she could sense it. (Bee called that “using the Force,” naturally.) The Forge, a relic of the Primes, was easy to pick out once she had almost reached the site of the battle; the pieces all but jumped into her servos. The handle was cleanly broken, and could be repaired, shorter than before but functional, while the head was intact. Autobot alloy was also quite distinctive. She was able to retrieve some of Ultra Magnus’ shattered servo – all the digits and part of the palm – and stowed the fragments in her repair kit. The mechanisms were probably beyond saving, but the alloy could be recast, at least.

“Fascinating…” She nearly dropped the pieces of hammer as the voice echoed through the mine. Cybertronian, but not familiar. Perhaps the elusive Shockwave? She crept closer, her steps still soundless despite her humming spark. It was Shockwave all right, if the others’ description were accurate, a purple tank mech standing with his backplate to her in the wreckage left by an explosion (Wheeljack’s servo-work, most likely). Shattered glass and fragments of metal were strewn around, and here and there she could see something that might once have been part of a Predacon. (What had Wheeljack done?) But Shockwave’s attention wasn’t on any of that. He was studying another set of metal structures at the far end of the space, which showed no signs of damage. Nor did they seem to have been forged by human hand or Cybertronian servo. The random shapes had an almost organic quality to them, as though they had grown. Cybermatter?

She had no more time for sightseeing; Shockwave had called Megatron, who would surely be arriving soon. Best to be gone before that happened. She slipped away as quietly as she had come, towards the groundbridge back to base and her newest family, sparing only one more glance for the beautiful chaos she was leaving behind – before heading for another sort.

#transformers prime #transformers animated #fanfic #tfp ultra magnus #tfp wheeljack #autobot oc #tfp ratchet #misplaced medic au

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bopinion · 1 year

Text

2023 / 06

Aperçu of the Week:

"We wanted the best, but it came as usual."

(Viktor Chernomyrdin, former Russian prime minister, in 1993)

Bad News of the Week:

The image of the "People's Democratic Republic" of North Korea is often described as Stone Age communism. While the majority of the population suffers from extreme poverty and, in some cases, famine, Kim Yong Un stages himself as a monarch and operates a strange cult of nuclear weapons and long-range missiles, which he sees as life insurance for his own despotic regime. All of this is done under the eyes of China, a protective power that is difficult to understand, and in distinction from the economically successful brother nation of South Korea.

For a long time, North Korea existed like a country on another planet. Hardly any information penetrated to the outside or the inside, the communicative isolation seemed perfect, the media control total. This still works internally, but in recent months it is the World Wide Web, of all places, on whose map the country is no longer a blank spot. On the one hand, North Korea operates extremely successful hacker cohorts who, in addition to various espionage and disinformation campaigns, also managed to collect at least $1.2 billion in cryptocurrency through online fraud and data extortion. In other words, a concretely lucrative business that flushes foreign currency into the state coffers.

What is unclear, however, is the objective of what is currently the second notable North Korean Internet phenomenon: an apparently broad-based social media offensive. In a series of channels, which according to CNN are new and have been astonishingly successful in a short time, the country is staging itself as a pleasant home for seemingly normal teenagers. Who speak perfect English with a British accent. Who, for example, enjoy popsicles and love to read Harry Potter. Only the former is hardly available and the latter is even officially banned. Why is this done? Good question.

The videos "look like a well-prepared play" scripted by the North Korean government, said Park Seong-cheol, a researcher at the Database Centre for North Korean Human Rights. The scenes shown from the alleged everyday life of youngsters are not completely fake, but staged. For example, there is a water park, a movie theater and an amusement park in Pyongyang. Only these facilities are reserved for an elite class of party officials, military officers and government employees. Like the Internet access these strange influencers use - just like the smartphones that aren't actually available. What's the point when, according to the CIA fact book, only 26% of the population even has electricity? It would be nice if the North Korean tourist office, which wants to open the country's borders to international tourism, were behind this.

More likely, however, it is a red herring. With which the regime wants to influence the current narrative: North Korea is not an isolated country that could attack its neighbors and the United States with nuclear weapons. But rather an ordinary East Asian country where ordinary people like you and me live ordinary lives. Combined with the recent spate of missile launch tests, the latest expansion of the Nyŏngbyŏn nuclear facility documented with satellite imagery, and a new solid-fuel intercontinental ballistic missile (ICBM) unveiled just last Wednesday at the 75th anniversary of the founding of the armed forces, this leaves a queasy feeling.

Good News of the Week:

Probably the death toll of 28,000 from the earthquake in the Turkish-Syrian border region is out of date by the time I post this. The worst series of quakes since scientific records began has devastated an area where nearly 20 million people live. And as events unfold, a whole series of negative findings are coming to light.

The Turkish government is not implementing the regulations that actually apply to buildings in the latently earthquake-prone region. Neither Syria's ruler Bashar al-Assad nor the rebels in the north of the country are allowing solid disaster relief by foreign forces. Enemy nations cannot be stopped from attacking each other even in this situation. Even in the Near East, there are sub-zero temperatures at this time of year. And the Kurds remain constantly the biggest loosers of them all anyway.

Fortunately, many humanitarian highlights are also showing up in the face of adversity. For example, even Sweden, reviled by Erdogan, is sending aid workers to eastern Anatolia. So is the beleaguered Ukraine, which surely would have been admitted a different set of priorities. And those that don't have appropriately equipped aid workers, like the United Arab Emirates, are opening their wallets. And every day there are - still! - improbable miracles, such as the rescue of a heavily pregnant woman who was rescued yesterday after 115 hours under rubble.

What somehow makes one optimistic despite the terrible circumstances is humanity. When people stand by each other in times of need, even though the religion they believe in actually dictates enmity. When official requirements are suspended in order to allow family members who have become homeless to travel to their relatives in Germany, for example. Or when the international community thinks not only about the current rescue, but also about reconstruction afterwards - the EU has already announced a donor conference for those affected.

Even the self-proclaimed crown of creation, which likes to define itself in terms of greed, resentment, jealousy or hatred, is capable of empathy. It's nice that the term "humanity" still has a positive connotation. Even though we so often seem to go out of our way to change that. The heart is probably more than just a blood-pumping muscle after all. And conscience more than a transmission in the synapses of the brain.

Personal happy moment of the week:

I broke a bottle of red wine while shopping the other day. And moistened various purchases in the carrier bag. I noticed most of it and was able to clean and dry it. That the red wine also flowed into a box of cigarillos, I did not even notice. Not until I wanted to smoke one and had a damp, soft stem in my hand. So I put the box open on the heater in the office. And discovered two pleasant side effects of my mishap: the smell of red wine and tobacco at work has an comfortable calming effect. And the taste of the cigarillos gets a pleasant additional flavor. From that perspective, I was able to profitably recycle some of the spilled red wine.

I couldn't care less...

...whether the former head of the Office for the Protection of the Constitution, Hans-Georg Maaßen, who is increasingly conspicuous for his racist and conspiracy-theory tones, can be officially expelled from the conservative CDU. Or whether the high good of freedom of speech also protects him within the party from accountability for his unspeakable statements. The fact that an obviously extreme right-winger could rise as a political official to become the head of the most important authority for upholding the state of lawfulness, of all things, weighs considerably more heavily and calls for more consequences than which membership card he carries around with him.

As I write this...

...I'm drinking a beer not even five hours after I got up today. A tough week in many ways takes its toll. And I tackle the challenge of relaxing Bavarian style.

Post Scriptum

In the German capital Berlin, the House of Representatives will be newly elected today - as a repeat election. This is because the regional election that took place in the fall of 2021 parallel to the federal election was declared invalid by the Administrative Court due to numerous mishaps - from ballots running hout to polling stations closing too late. Realpolitically less relevant, since no result of the election would change e.g. the majority conditions in the Bundesrat, is a look on Berlin nevertheless interesting. On the one hand, out of sarcasm, since this debacle also fits perfectly with the prejudice that simply nothing works in this city. On the other hand, out of curiosity, since in the end every conceivable party constellation is indeed possible. The extent of my tendency toward the former will depend on the first projection in less than an hour on the latter.

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