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azrielwingspan · 8 months ago

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THE CHOICES WE MAKE (AZRIEL X READER)

Summary : An unexpected turn of events puts Azriel and you to the test.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of kissing, fluff if you squint.

(The River House, Velaris)

"The Book of Breathings sets us a few steps ahead of our enemies. Do you understand the extent of magic the book contains? The power that could be wielded?" Amren says, eyes widening with astonishment and wonder.

"In the wrong hands...it could be the end of everything." Nesta fixes her gaze upon Amren, eyes stalking her like a predator. "It should be locked away."

"I'm sure we can find ways to utilise it and keep it a secret. None of us in this room will ever speak of it." you say firmly, casting a look at everyone in the room. The inner circle had gathered in the River House for a meeting. A meeting which had turned too dark too fast.

"Nesta is right." Rhys spoke up, surprise flickering through you at his agreement. You couldn't remember the last time the both of them had agreed on something. "It's too big of a risk to use it. Even if we do, the magic is so strong, someone will track it to us."

"Someone is always going to be looking for it though. Keeping it within our court is a risk in itself." Feyre adds and you agree with her. Azriel and Cassian had already voiced their opinions earlier. They'd suggested locking it away in the court of nightmares under a ward of spells.

"A show of hands then." Mor sighs. "All for using the book?"

You, Feyre and Amren are the only ones to raise up your hands. Letting out an irritated sigh, you drop your hand as Mor takes the book to be locked away.

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

(Later in your room)

Strong hands wrap around your waist from behind, a warm body pressed against yours. Letting his scent invade your senses, you relax your tense body allowing yourself to find comfort in his presence.

"Still annoyed?" Azriels voice rumbles through his chest. Not bothering to respond, you let your thoughts drift once more. A defeated exhale slips out his mouth as he drops his head to your shoulder.

"It's for the good Y/N." he mumbles against your skin, lips dropping a soft kiss.

"The good of whom Azriel?" you say calmly, your voice quite flat. "The good of whom, tell me? The good for the people or for us? Us...the people who are meant to protect and help those around."

You turn around in his grasp, placing your hands on his forearms for stability. "We have the power to help people. We have the power to change lives. Yet we choose to lock it away like an artifact?"

Azriel looked down at you warily as a strange look appeared in your eyes. He had never seen you this worked up before, it was quite disconcerting. "Don't we deserve happiness and peace as well, Y/N? Don't we deserve a break? There are other ways to help."

Cupping your face in his hands, he leaned down to touch his forehead to yours. "I want to spend my life with you without having to look over my shoulder for threats. I want to wake up to you by my side. Not in a war camp. In a home. OUR. HOME. Is that too much to ask for?"

Guilt smashed through your irritation, giving you a whiplash. He was right. Of course he was. The hope in his eyes snuffed out the remaining bits of anger that had accumulated over the past few hours. He was standing so still, waiting for a reaction, a reply, anything to indicate your agreement. Placing a peck on his lips, you mumbled "I got carried away, sorry."

"Don't apologize. You weren't wrong either. It shows how much you care and that's what I love about you." Azriel responds, going in for a longer kiss. You wrap your hands around his neck as he takes his time to ravish your lips.

The both of you had gotten together three years ago , a few months after you met at a council meeting in Vallahan. He was everything you had hoped for and more. You weren't mates but you were hoping that the bond would click into place one day.

"I love you..." you breathe onto his lips earning a beautiful grin from him.

"Let me show you how much I love you." you yelp as he lifts you off of your feet and carries you towards the bed, his laughter music to your ears.

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

(Vallahan council chambers)

"The situation at the borders is getting out of hand, my lady. We've sent one unit to monitor, but nothing has been reported so far." councilman Freda states.

A headache starts to set in and you rub your temples to ease the pain. “I’d say it’s progressing too fast , wouldn’t you councilman ?”

“Uh yes …my Lady. I guess we could say that.” He shuffles.

“Then kindly tell me why we haven’t relocated the people. I’ve given the orders last month. Do we have a problem ?” your voice rose in intensity along with you anger.

“N-No my lady we…” he took in a deep breath before explaining “the people of the other towns and cities won’t accept them because they think the border fae are cursed due to the recent …situation.”

“So they’ve decided amongst themselves that it’s a curse then ?” your mind starts sprinting thinking of different solutions and possibilities.

“If I may say so my lady, I do think it’s a curse. A spell of some sorts.” Your attention snapped back to focus upon hearing his words.

“Explain.”

“There have been rumours of a death lord…Koschei living on Prythian. They say that he might have been the one to place the spell.”

“Who is this ‘they’ ?”

“Me and a few other councilmen , my lady.” He has the decency to look a bit apologetic but you knew it was a good possibility.

“Hmm… I’ll go pay a visit tomorrow. The last time I went it was just starting to breach the forest line.”

Councilman Freda steps forward in surprise “ I do not think it is such a wise idea. It’s quite dangerous…”

“There are people living there everyday. I’m sure I’ll be fine for a couple of hours. Thankyou for your time.” Understanding the dismissal , the councilman simply nodded and left .

——————————————————————————

(At the border village of Vallahan)

“I’m glad you asked me to come along.” Azriel said casting a cautious glance at the black rot that had taken root. “I can feel the magic permeating the air. This is dangerous magic Y/N. I don’t want you near it.”

“I need to find a solution in the new two days Az. This is spreading faster than I had expected it to.” You hands trembled at the sight before you , but clenching them into fists you forced yourself to push the fear down. Now was not the time.

“I’ll speak to Rhys. See if there’s anything he can do about this.” Turning to face you, he let you see the nervousness in his eyes “There’s a bog in Prythian ..that dark creatures have made their home. I get the same feeling here…it’s far too sinister.”

The fear in his eyes and the warning in his tone made a shudder rush through you. The shadow singer of the night court was scared. Azriel was never scared and yet here right now, he was almost terrified.

Letting out a shaky exhale, you intertwined your hand with his leading him away from the rot.

——————————————————————————

(Your chambers in Vallahan)

“Azriel wasn’t exaggerating. It is dangerously similar to Koscheis magic.” Rhys stated , running a hand over his face.

“What do you suggest I do ?” You ask twirling the glass of wine in your hands.

“I can ask Helion for a spell that could keep the curse at bay for sometime but it’ll only be a temporary solution.”

“For how long ? I need to fix it before it gets worse Rhys.”

“I know I know. Atleast we can give ourselves more time to think.”

You did think. You’d spent the last two sleepless nights thinking and worrying and planning. You had an idea but weren’t sure if Rhys would be happy with it. Nevertheless , you finally decided to bring it up.

Leaning forward in your chair you blurted out “What about the book of breathings ? Do you think—“

“I know what you’re going to say. Yes I’ve thought about it but I think it should be the last option.” he said firmly , maintaining eye contact with you , challenging you to say something against him.

You held back a scoff and shook your head in disapproval. “It’s getting a bit tiring don’t you think Rhysand? Having the solution and yet not willing to recognise it?”

“Enough.” The high lord of the night court commanded , standing up from his seat. “We’ve had this conversation before. You know why. Get some sleep Y/N. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Alone in your chambers, you let the silence engulf you, the sound of blood rushing through your ears fill your head.

——————————————————————————

(The River House, Velaris)

“It’s Koschei. No doubt.” Nesta stated flatly, her eyes burning in anger. Rhys and Cassian had taken her to the Vallahan village earlier to confirm their suspicions.

“I can feel the darkness and the depth of the magic. It feels cold and…like death.”

Azriel ran a hand through his hair, his shadows moving agitatedly around him. The last few days had been tough on him as well. He couldn’t stop thinking about the fear and the worry in your face. Couldn’t stop the guilt and disgust that enveloped him when he realised how useless he was in the situation.

“It’s a trap for sure.” Nesta continued “he knows we have the Book. I don’t know how , but he knows.”

Rhys hummed in agreement while Cassians face morphed into that of the General of the Night Court. He was already planning, strategising.

“So if we were to use the book to find a spell, he would track it down immediately.” Cassian confirmed.

“Yes. He knows it’s with us but he wants to lure it out. Somewhere far from us. Somewhere he can overpower us. Somewhere where we don’t have the upper hand.” A flicker of anger lit in Rhysands eyes.

“We should tell Y/N.” Azriel spoke up.

“No.” Rhys and Nesta spoke at the same time, Azriel looking at them in shock.

“What do you mean no? It’s her territory. She deserves to know.”

“Az…she’s been acting strange lately.” Rhys said steadily trying not to anger the shadow singer. “It might be the stress but it’s a huge risk to our court and Prythian.”

“She’s OUR FRIEND. Someone we can TRUST.” The coldness in Azriels voice made Cass step forward in reflex.

“Easy, Az.” Cass muttered softly.

“She wants to save her people.” Az ignored Cassian.

“And we have to save ours.” Nesta said firmly. The words felt like a cold shower to Azriel. He finally realised the position he was in.

Help his court or the woman he loves?

PART-2 COMING SOON.

Tag: @lilah-asteria @anuttellaa

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marblemoovt · 2 years ago

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Bake A Wish - John Price/Reader

Masterlist

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: Fluff with a smidge of angst

Summary:

You bump into a man and his daughter at the grocery store. The kid is really insistent you join them for dinner.

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She’s been on a tangent about her father, who you assume she’s hiding from, for ten minutes now. From what you’re able to gather, he works in the military.

Unwilling to dampen her excitement, you crouch down and listen to every word. “Is that so, little one?” you say, propping your chin up with your hand.

She nods, brown strands flying everywhere. “Mhmm. And he’s super handsome, too! A lady called him a dill, but Daddy’s not a pickle! She was so silly.” Your eyes widen, and you slap a hand over your mouth to barricade the gurgle in your throat. A fucking DILL.

Note:

This has been sitting in my wips for over a month but it's finally done!! I apologize if the quality feels sporadic throughout the fic. Writing consistently is just something I can't seem to do and my motivation/inspiration has been in a slump lately. The amount of fluff fics I've written that involve baking is ridiculous, I didn't realize that's the activity I default to lol.

I've never written for John before, so I'm still trying to get a feel for his character.

Anyways, thank you @yeyinde for introducing John Price to me. I was debating on not tagging you but I can't be a coward forever.

Happy Reading! ヾ(•ω��`)o

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

John holds the hand of his six-year-old daughter, Rose. The little munchkin is a ball of energy, and he fears the consequences if he were to let her run wild. “Don’t let go of my hand, ok Rosy?” Rose grins with more mischief than a little child should have. She attempts to run away, and John scoops her in his arms.

“I’m too big to be carried, Daddy!” she squeals, arms flinging around his neck to stabilize herself. The scent of her strawberry shampoo tickles his nose.

“You have to promise me you’re not going to do that again,” he says. Rose holds out her pinky, and he accepts her promise. Her finger looks tiny and frail compared to his. He sets her down and ruffles her hair despite her whinging. “Do you remember what we came here to buy?” he asks.

She claps her hands with glee and exclaims, “Cookies for Santa!!! Because Daddy can’t bake, so we have to buy cookies from the store!” John smiles, but he can’t help but feel the sting of her bluntness. Kids are way too honest.

“What kind of cookies do you want to get?” he asks.

“Not chocolate chip. Everyone uses chocolate chip.” She strokes her chin, imitating the gesture she’s seen her father do whenever he has to think hard about something. “Candy cane cookies!” She ponders over it for another minute before nodding her head. “I bet Santa’s never gotten candy cane cookies before.”

“I don’t think they sell those, rosebud,” he says, and she frowns.

“I guess they’re too special to sell in a store,” she laments, her enthusiasm wilting a little.

John crouches down to Rose’s eye level. “Why don’t we look at all the cookies they have and pick one afterwards?” he suggests.

“Ok,” she sighs, holding her hand out for him to grab. Large, calloused fingers swallow her hand whole, and John wonders how much longer it will stay like this. Her brown locks are a few inches longer than last time, but the beaming smile on her face when she sees him remains constant. He blinks the heat away from his eyes and leads Rose to the snack aisle.

There’s an entire shelf dedicated to cookies, some of them themed for the holidays. But the snowflake shortbread cookies further deflate Rose. She droops when they come across sugar cookies in the shape of Christmas trees. John silently curses the corporate companies for manufacturing every winter holiday cookie except for a candy cane. He squeezes her hand, and his heart aches when he catches Rose biting her lip. Tears are on the verge of spilling, but she will not cry. He actually can’t remember the last time he’s seen her cry. The thought bothers him more than he wants.

John spots a box of rainbow cookies on the top shelf. He releases her hand to grab them, “What about these?” When he turns around, Rose is gone. The box tumbles to the ground. “Rose?” His eyes sweep the shelves. Rows of cookies and other snacks, but no sign of her. “Rosy?!” He begins jogging through the store, checking every aisle before moving on to the next. Icy claws grip his chest, and all of his senses are on high alert. He fidgets with the dog tags around his neck and has to remind himself that he’s not on duty.

Sharp laughter slices through the pounding in his eardrums; a high-pitched fit dissolves into familiar giggles. Rose. He flexes his clenched fists to relieve the stinging in his palms. He pinpoints the sound to the baking section and sprints like a madman. Sliding to a stop, he spots her at the other end of the aisle. His body sags against a shelf, and the air enters his lungs with ease once more.

“My Daddy’s amazing! He can shoot bad guys from reeeeally far away,” Rose brags to a stranger crouched in front of her. That stranger is you.

A faint giggle grabbed your attention. Twinkling lights accompanied by the pounding of tiled flooring. A little girl beelined straight toward you, veering to the side to hide behind a display of chocolate bars. She covered her shoes with her hands to dull the blinking, peering around for someone. She spotted you holding a bag of flour and asked if you bake. Her eyes lit up when you confirmed that you do.

She’s been on a tangent about her father, who you assume she’s hiding from, for ten minutes now. From what you’re able to gather, he works in the military.

Unwilling to dampen her excitement, you crouch down and listen to every word. “Is that so, little one?” you say, propping your chin up with your hand.

She nods, brown strands flying everywhere. “Mhmm. And he’s super handsome, too! A lady called him a dill, but Daddy’s not a pickle! She was so silly.”

Your eyes widen, and you slap a hand over your mouth to barricade the gurgle in your throat. A fucking DILL. You don’t have the heart to correct her. Correction: You’re too busy trying not to collapse on the floor in a fit of laughter. The misunderstanding is best left alone, but your curiosity is piqued. What does this man look like?

“Rose!” A voice booms from the other end of the aisle, and the child hides behind you. You stand up and shield her with your body, eying the stranger with a frown. Brown hair with silver streaks, and his eyes—fuck, you wish the sky would be that blue instead of grey. He approaches you two, and when Rose makes no further movements, you stick your arm out to block him.

“Who are you?” you ask. He must be at least six feet tall, with broad shoulders, and built like he could beat you into a bloody pulp if he wanted.

He mirrors your frown, eyes flickering to the brown hair peeking behind your figure. “I should be asking you that. Who are you, and what are you doing with my daughter?”

You narrow your eyes. “How do I know you’re not some pervert who kidnaps children?”

He chuckles; the low rumble sends the butterflies rampaging against your stomach walls. “Sweetheart, I could say the same about you,” and he crosses his arms—his thick and muscular arms. The way his biceps bulge underneath his sweater…. You bite your lip. The metallic tang in your mouth grounds you. You swipe a tongue across the fresh wound, and the sting helps you regain a few brain cells.

Turning to Rose, you ask, “Is this your dad?” and squeeze her hands. “You can tell me if it isn’t, and we’ll find a nice employee to help you.” You talk slowly, enunciating each word with care. Rose glances at the man behind you before settling on your face.

She cups her hands around her mouth, and you lean in, her warm breath tickling your ear. “Yeah, that’s my dad. What do you think? Super handsome, right?” she whispers. You glance at him and huff. A fucking dill, indeed.

“Rosy, stop bothering the nice stranger,” her father says, gesturing for her to come to him. She skips over and fails to dodge his hand. Rose groans and buries her face into her father’s stomach as he ruffles her hair. You avert your eyes and ignore the heat that prickles the back of your neck. Wringing your hands, you stare at the floor as their laughter echoes in the aisle. You hardly know these people. Plus his wife must be somewhere in the store, ready to pop out at any second.

“The ‘stranger’ has a name,” you speak up, introducing yourself. You keep your eyes trained on the shelf of sprinkles above his right shoulder as if the plastic bottles of sugar will stop you from falling.

He holds out a hand for you to shake. “John, John Price.” Firm warmth envelopes your skin and dissipates far too quickly for your liking. Sparks of electricity fizzle before they get a chance to light your nerves on fire—and you want to burn.

“Heh, P as in Pickle,” you snicker, making the mistake of meeting his gaze. Your arm drops to your side, and your bones turn to lead. The sky must be grey because all the blue was stolen and contained in his eyes. There’s no coldness, no ice, only calm ripples of water. The gentle drag of the ocean as the waves lap against the shore, inviting you into its depths.

John raises a brow. “An odd observation, but yes.” He smooths Rose’s hair to no avail. Baby hairs and cowlicks in all different directions are a continuous reminder that he’s been meaning to learn how to style hair.

Rose beams at him with her toothy grin. “Cause Daddy’s a dill!” she adds.

John’s confused expression quickly morphs into one of horror. “Where did you hear that?!” He narrows his eyes at you.

You throw your hands up in surrender. “Don’t look at me. This is the first time we’ve met.”

Rose tugs on his shirt and says, “That lady who used to babysit me. She also called you a fox, but I told her you’re a man.” Your eyes widen, and your shoulders tremble. John runs a hand through his graying hair, and you rip your gaze away because witnessing that felt illegal. Every time you look at him you notice another thing that attracts you.

John sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “I’m sorry about her. I love Rose, but she can be a handful at times,” he says, whispering the second half. His head tilts forward, and now all you can focus on is how his moustache frames his mouth. Plump and pink.

Your lips crook upwards in a slant. “It’s not a problem. She’s an entertaining conversationalist.” You find yourself drawing nearer to his face, wandering from the shore and deeper into the ocean—oblivious to the current that will pull you under.

Rose tugs on your shirt and asks, “Why don’t you join us for dinner?” You pull away with a sharp inhale, processing how John’s eyes flicker to your lips. The little girl gazes at you with a hopeful smile, but you look to her father for confirmation.

“Rose, you can’t invite people you barely know to your home,” he reprimands, and her smile flatlines. It’s probably for the best. At the current pace, it’s like you’re in a sappy romance novel! John shoots you an apologetic smile, but you wave your hand and shake your head in understanding.

Rose pouts and stares at her shoes. She shuffles her feet, and the lights twinkle with each tap. “But then there’ll be someone who can bake cookies,” she says, looking up at him with puppy eyes. John winces.

You notice him wracking his brain for a response and decide to help him. “They sell rolls of sugar cookie dough; next to the puff pastry,” and you jerk a thumb behind you. Sometimes you buy a roll or two when you feel particularly lazy but crave cookies.

John mouths a “Thank you” and holds Rose’s hand. “C’mon, rosebud. Let’s buy some, and you can make your candy cane cookies.”

Rose perks up at the mention of cookies, her shoes now fighting to match the brightness of her eyes. “Wow! They sell everything here!” She drags him to the pre-made dough section. Well, she tries to drag him. Rose is less than half her father’s size. It reminds you of those cartoon characters that try to move a comically large boulder. Blue eyes meet your gaze one last time and wink at you.

Did. Did he just?

You stand there, unblinking, staring at the corner they disappeared behind.

Holy fucking shit. He did.

You don’t register going through the checkout and packing your things in the car. With a blink, you’re in front of the steering wheel, key in hand. Where were you...? Home. You were on your way home. Slotting the key in the ignition, you start the engine and begin the drive home. For once, the clouds have gone, and the world mocks you with its clear skies. You don’t think you can stand to look at the colour blue for a while. It’s a good thing you’re sitting right now.

The drive itself is unremarkable. You go through the same streets, pass the same buildings, pull into the same parking lot, and park in your usual spot next to a truck. You admire the muscular arm resting on said truck window. Funny. Guess that sweater is popular around here. Large hands run through brown hair flecked with grey—John.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

You creep out of your car and circle around to the apartment building, abandoning your groceries.

Just a few feet. Just a few feet, and you’ll make it to the door. Conscious of your steps, you slink across the pavement and concrete. You wrap your hand around the handle, and the tension bleeds from your shoulders.

“Are you playing hide and seek, too?” a voice from below asks. You jerk and pull the door instead of pushing. A loud rattle echoes in the vicinity. Who decided it was a good idea to make doors out of glass? A sadist who likes to watch people open doors incorrectly, that’s who. You glance down. Long lashes frame blue eyes that stare into your soul. Your fingers itch to adjust the cowlick in the disarray of her hair. You spot a few leaves clinging to her locks. Was she hiding by that bush beside you?

“Are you hiding from your dad?” you ask Rose, scooting behind the potted plant when she beckons you closer.

Rose shrugs and peeks around you. “Daddy was taking too long. I’m waiting to see when he’ll notice I left.”

Your brows pinch together. “That’s not safe, Rose. You should stick close to him. What if something bad happens to you?”

“Don’t worry, I have a lot of uncles, and they taught me how to beat up baddies!” She punches the air a few times. Her face pulls tight in concentration before loosening into a grin. She shrinks behind the bush and brings a finger to her lips.“Now shhh, we have to be quiet.”

Boots thud against the pavement, the strides between each step growing shorter. “Rosy! Where did you run off to this time?” There’s a divet to his tone beneath the loudness, like the warning tremors of an avalanche. “I need to put that girl on a leash.” There’s a smile in his tone, but it stretches taut like a rubber band, ready to snap and whiplash you with his increasing agitation. He runs a hand down his face and sighs, eyes darting across the rows of cars.

You can’t watch this any longer. You move to reveal yourself, but Rose beats you to it. She tiptoes behind her father, giving up halfway and slamming herself into him.

“Boo!” Rose screams, voice muffled by his shirt.

John stares at Rose and shouts half a second later. “Ah!” Half a second too late.

Rose pulls away with a sullen frown. “I didn’t scare you, did I?”

John crouches down and pets her hair. “No, no, rosebud. Was so afraid I forgot how to talk,” he insists.

Rose gives him a scrutinizing look. “Liar,” she pouts. John leans in and whispers something into her ear, scratching her smooth cheek with his beard. She giggles and squirms, pushing his face away with both her hands. He deliberately rubs their cheeks together, and it causes her to laugh harder.

Once again, you’re watching the two of them from afar. Heat pricks your skin, and your gaze steers toward the door. You should be able to slip unnoticed if you’re quiet. Standing up, you wince as your joints pop. You might as well hang a giant neon sign to denote your presence.

John’s voice glues your feet to the ground. “Let’s bring everything inside, then you can bake your cookies,” he says. You press your back against the wall and exhale through your nose. No big deal. You just need to wait until they head inside first. Your palms dig into the stony material of the building. As if with enough force, you’ll be able to reorganize your atoms and disappear into the walls to escape dying from embarrassment.

“I have a surprise for you, Daddy!” Rose’s voice draws nearer.

You are a wall. A silent, still, and formidable wall.

“Did you find another pretty stone?” John asks, tone laced with amusement.

You close your eyes, but the ocean will not leave you alone. The waves lap at your feet on the shore, and you shrink away. Stone presses hard into your back.

They won’t find you. They’ll walk past you and go inside. Your erratic heartbeat fragments your thoughts into mismatched puzzle pieces. You can’t think with all this drumming and adrenaline.

“It’s pretty, but it’s not a stone.” Rose runs up to you and tugs you from your hiding spot. “A special guest for dinner!” she presents you like a prized animal. You stumble, and your eyes snap open in fear of hitting the ground. Strong arms rush forward to steady you. You lift your head, and your mouth dries.

Cerulean eyes pull you into their depths, crinkles forming at their edges. John’s accent caresses your ears, and you tamp down the unintelligible noise that threatens to destroy your last shred of dignity. “I didn’t know you lived here too,” and the corners of his lips twitch.

You force your tongue to articulate, the words scraping like sandpaper up your throat. “Neither did I—that you also lived here! Cause I know that I live here because I live here!” A shaky laugh warbles out of you. “I wasn’t following you because that would be creepy—and I’m going to shut up now.” You seal your lips together before you can dig a deeper hole for yourself. His hands are still on you, fingers wrapped around your arms. Your blood sings at the contact.

“Do you think Daddy’s handsome?” Rose blurts out. Flames lick your skin, and your mouth becomes reminiscent of a goldfish.

John’s fingers dig into your arms, and it’s not until you flinch that his hands drop to his sides. “That’s not a polite question, Rose,” he rumbles. It’s low, a warning. But when you’re a kid, you’re not afraid of anything.

Rose places her hands on her hips. “But you were like this in the car on the way home too! And when I asked you what was wrong, you told me I was too young to understand. I’m not stupid, Daddy. I’m six.” She stomps on ‘six.’ And you watch as this little girl brings this burly man to his knees.

John sighs, “Not here, Rose. Please.”

But Rose refuses to yield. “Why not? You both like each other, so why can’t we have dinner together?” she asks.

John rubs the back of his neck, the muscles in his arms flexing. “Would you like to join us tonight?” he asks, eyes flickering between your face and the parking lot behind you.

“I’m afraid Rose will kidnap me if I don’t say yes,” you joke.

Rose grumbles, “Just because you’re right doesn’t mean you have to say it out loud.” She grabs your hand and tugs you to the entrance. “Daddy can bring the groceries inside. I want to show you my toys!”

You dig your heels into the ground and say, “I need to bring my things inside as well. It’ll only take a few minutes.” Rose’s smile falters, and she reluctantly lets you go.

“Don’t worry, Love. I can take care of that for ya,” John offers

You fidget with the keys in your pocket. “Are you sure?” You’re not worried about him stealing your car. He can’t exactly hide if you two live in the same building. Besides, you want to believe that the kindness in his eyes is genuine.

“Wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t,” he reaffirms.

“Ok,” and you hand him your car keys. His fingertips graze your palm, and you shiver. God, you’re pathetic. Rose tugs on your arm, and you trail after her. She leads you up a few flights of stairs before stopping on the third floor, where you also live. Except she walks to the opposite end of the hallway, away from your apartment. She pulls a key out of her pocket and unlocks the door.

Rose drops your hand and runs inside, returning with a stuffed animal in her arms. “This is Mr. Bear. Daddy got him for me!” Mr. Bear is wearing tactical gear and a bucket hat. Frayed threads stick out of his body along the seams, and small patches of fur have fallen out. She cradles the stuffed animal close to her chest and rests her chin atop his head.

You nearly melt on the spot. “That’s very sweet of him,” you say.

“Sometimes, when I miss him, I just need to squeeze Mr. Bear tight.” She gives you a demonstration.

A familiar warm timbre greets your ears.“I love you, rosebud.”

You grin and say, “Your dad reminds me of a bear.”

“Yeah! He’s big and cuddly. But his face turned red when I told him,” Rose mumbles the last part. She straightens up and tugs on your arm. “Oh! And these are my action figures!”

You walk into what you assume is her bedroom. It’s not as chaotic as you thought it would be. Her bed is in one corner of the room, with a collection of stuffies sitting along one side. There’s a shelf with knickknacks and picture frames. Your eyes land on a photo of John holding a small bundle in his arms. It looks like the picture was taken without him knowing. His eyes are wide, staring at the tiny hand wrapped around his thumb.

There’s something that’s been bothering you, but you don’t think it’s your place to ask. Rose startles you when she starts barking out, “Hold your fire! We can’t alert the enemy of our whereabouts!” You whip around to see her sitting on the ground with a mini soldier in each hand. The large tub behind her is open, the lid propped neatly against its side. You sit next to her and watch the ‘mission’ play out. She hands you a soldier and assigns you the special position of super spy. Now a successful job rests on your shoulders.

Thanks to Captain Rose, your team retrieves the files, returning without a single casualty. Although you had a close encounter with the enemy’s Captain Pickles, which began some sort of enemies-to-lovers arc. You don’t know. She’s six. She reasoned that the power of love triumphs over all. Rose begins cleaning up, setting the toys neatly in the bin before snapping the lid shut.

“Did you learn all that from your dad?” you ask.

Rose shrugs and picks up Mr. Bear. “Daddy never tells me anything about work. It’s classified. Sometimes I watch TV. There’s a show where one of the characters looks just like him, but Nana doesn’t let me watch much 'cause it’s not for kids.” Dear lord. Could you imagine being sandwiched between two Johns??

“Rosy? Want to bake your cookies now?” John shouts from the corridor, snapping you out of your fantasy.

“Yes, please!” Rose replies. She grabs your hand and gives you a toothy grin. “You can be my assistant. Daddy’s hopeless at baking.” She leads you to the kitchen, where some bowls and a tray are on the table. Rose lets go and skips to a seat, plopping herself down. Mr. Bear is seated on the chair next to her.

You sit at her other side and ask, “What kind of cookies are we making?” There are no cookie cutters in sight to give you a clue.

Rose clasps her hands together. Her feet swing beneath the table. “Candy Canes! Santa will be so impressed that he’ll grant my wish for sure,” she answers.

You don’t know what a six-year-old would ask from Santa, but you sincerely hope it’s fulfilled. Perusing the items on the table, you notice a vital ingredient missing. “Do you have food dye?” you ask.

Rose strokes her chin. She hops off her chair and walks up to John. “Daddy, do we have any food dye?”

John’s head peeks out from behind the fridge door. “Sorry, Rosy. I don’t remember,” and there’s a sheepish grin on his face.

Rose hums and grabs a stool, tottering to the drawers. “I forgot. You went away for a while. I think Nana left some the last time we baked.” Your eyes snap to the fridge when you hear a thud. An apple rolls across the floor and stops near your feet. You pick up the fruit, thumb brushing over the bruise blooming underneath its skin. “I found red!” Rose waves a small bottle in her hand and dashes to show you.

You set the apple on the table and praise Rose. Her chest puffs up, and the smile she gives you is dazzling. She hops onto her seat, clutching the bottle to her chest.

John walks up to you two. “Here’s the dough,” and he holds out the cylindrical tube but changes his mind and leaves it on the table. The only seats left are the ones across. He picks the spot in front of you.

“Thanks.” You snap the tube open and remove the packaging. “Alright, Rose. We split the dough in half, and you’ll colour one part red.”

Rose cocks her head to the side. “We don’t paint the cookies?”

You shake your head and say, “There’s an easier way to make them look like candy canes.” You hand Rose a wooden spoon and tell her to mix the dough while you add the dye. Once half the dough is red, you take equal parts from both bowls and roll them into noodles. Putting them together, you twist them to form a cane. You curve one end, and the result is a near-perfect replica of a candy cane. Rose marvels at the sight, face inches from the table’s surface.

There’s a streak of food colouring on her face, and you grab a tissue for her. She’s engrossed in the cookie, picking it up and turning it over. Out of impulse, you wipe the stain on her cheek and her laughter tinkles throughout the room. She complains about being ticklish between her giggles. A low sigh draws your attention. You look over to John, who’s watching you with his head propped up with his hand. “What? Do I have something on my face?” you ask.

There’s a softness to John’s features. He looks at you like you’re holding his heart in your hands, squeezing the pulsating organ with every cookie you form. “Do good looks count?” It’s barely audible, but you hear it. His elbow slips from the table, and he clears his throat. “Just been a while since I’ve seen her so happy.” He folds his arms across the table, a wall of muscle to create a false sense of distance.

You gesture your head at Rose. “Make a cookie with her; have fun together.”

John stares at the table, stroking his chin in a familiar fashion, but remains silent otherwise. You chew on the inside of your cheek and resume forming the cookies. The squeal of wood scraping against wood pricks your ears. John squeezes himself into the space between you and Rose. His shoulders brush against you, and he is radiating heat. “What have you got there, Rosy?” he asks.

Rose looks at him with furrowed brows. “A candy cane, silly. Here, I’ll show you how to make it,” she answers. Rose does a quick demonstration, but John still struggles. Somehow he’s managed to mix the parts to create pink. Rose shakes her head, lips tugging into a frown. “My hands are too small; can you help him?” She turns to you. Long lashes frame her doe eyes, and you can’t bring yourself to say no.

You glance at John to find he’s staring at you. Shifting in your seat, you say, “If you don’t mind…?”

John maintains eye contact. “I’m all yours,” and the smile he gives you is bashful. You fight the warmth rushing to your cheeks, but it’s like trying to douse a flame with gasoline. The heat intensifies, and you grab a tissue to wipe your clammy hands, muttering an excuse about the dye staining your skin.

You focus on the table, resisting the temptation to turn your head and meet the gaze burning into your face. “You take equal parts of each dough and roll them into logs.” You pause to make sure he’s following along. “Once they’re the same size, you can twist them together to form a cane.” John is about to mush his cookie as children tend to do with playdough; always mixing the colours. You grab his hands to stop him. His fingers twitch against your palms, but he doesn’t recoil. “Like this,” and you twist your cookie, rolling it some more to flatten the cane.

“You make it sound so easy,” John huffs.

You shrug your shoulders. “It’s not too bad once you get the hang of it.”

John shakes his head. “Give me a pistol, and I can field strip and reassemble in a few minutes.” He holds up a warped cookie. “This, this I can’t do.”

You bump your shoulders together. “I’ll have you baking like a pro.”

John grins; it’s boyish and charming—it pulls you in like a flower reaching for a ray of sunlight. “Is that a promise?” he asks, lashes framing an expanse of blue. And once again, you are hopelessly lost at sea.

“Only if you’ll invite me over again,” you quip.

“Is this flirting?” Rose asks. Her head pops up behind John’s shoulder. “If Daddy won’t invite you, I will.”

You smile as John buries his face in his hands. “Thank you, Rose,” you say.

She returns the gesture with a wide grin. “You’re very welcome.”

You continue making the cookies in silence, gaslighting yourself into thinking that the numerous brushes against your hand are accidental. 7/10 times you’re grabbing something, John also happens to be reaching for the same item. The cookie under your palm flattens into a pancake when his body leans ever-so-slightly into yours. Thankfully this is the last cookie, and you place it on the baking tray with the rest.

Rose insists on putting the tray into the oven herself, and John watches her like a hawk, hovering behind her in case he needs to step in.

Once John’s certain the apartment won’t burst into flames, he rolls up his sleeves. You eye the veins along his arms as subtly as you can, wincing like a child caught in the act of misbehaving when John speaks. “Can you please help Rose clean up? I need to get started on dinner,” he asks.

“Yes, Chef,” and you give a mock salute. “Alright, Rose. I’ll wash all the dishes in the sink. Can you wipe the counter?” you ask her.

Rose straightens her back and nods. “Affirmative,” she replies, marching to grab a towel.

You begin collecting the bowls and utensils, plugging the drain afterwards to fill up the sink. A few drops of soap and a mountain of suds form. With a sponge, you begin scrubbing away at bits of dried-up dough and red dye. In the corner of your eye, Rose is reprimanding Mr. Bear on how he needs to pull his weight too and that it doesn’t matter if he’s not heavy because he’s full of stuffing.

“You’ve got an adorable soldier,” you say, turning your head to John, who’s heating a pan on the stove.

John watches Rose with deep affection. Those are the eyes of a man staring at the purpose of his existence. “She’s a trooper, alright,�� and the smile on his face is lax.

“What’s on the menu tonight?” you ask, adding more soap to your sponge. The remaining traces of dye are giving you grief.

“Fish and chips; one of Rosy’s favourites,” John answers.

“Daddy makes the best!” Rose pipes up.

John shakes his head, and the base of his neck flushes. “She’s exaggerating,” he says.

You smirk, “I’ll be the judge of that.” The chuckle your words elicit from John fills you with a pleasant buzz.

“I have to warn you. I aim to please,” and the lilt in John’s voice encourages you further.

“Yes, you certainly look the type,” you say, eyes trailing up and down his figure. John’s body trembles under your gaze. “Is it just you and Rose here?” You don’t know if he’s divorced, but you don’t recall seeing a ring on his finger.

“She’s dead,” John says. Concise and well-practiced. The plate in your hand slips and splashes into the sink with a thud, shattering the silence. You look over at John, but his back is to you. Shoulders hunched and head low. “Died during childbirth,” he adds, and the slight wobble churns your stomach. You should have known. Should have guessed from how the pictures on the walls only contain two subjects. Rose only ever talks about her father and grandparents. How could you be so fucking blind?

You crush the sponge in your hands, and bubbles seep out between your fingers. An apology is on the tip of your tongue, straining under the weight of your rapid thoughts. Day one, and you’ve already stepped on a mine. A phantom pain aches in your chest, grieving the loss of a love you never had in the first place. John says nothing. Continues to fry the fish in silence. Pops of oil like the rounds of a machine gun, but not loud enough to drown out the hammering of your heart.

Rose breaks the silent war. “I cleaned the counter. Can I check on the cookies?” she asks.

The apology dies on your tongue, and you tear your eyes away from John’s back, missing how the tension bleeds from his body. “Of course,” you say, placing the last dish on the drying rack. “Do you know how?”

“Nana showed me the buttons because I accidentally turned off the oven before,” Rose replies. She hands you her towel, and you lump it in the sink with yours. Rose walks up to the oven, and John moves to the side. You hang back, grappling with the temptation to steal a glance. You’re not sure what’s worse: John catching you staring or the disappointment of him not staring back. In the end, you decide to focus on Rose. She awes at the cookies and beckons you closer. You shuffle towards her, sticking close to the opposite side.“We should leave extra for the reindeer and elves who want some too!”

You smile and pat her head. “Next time you can buy peppermint extract so they’ll taste like candy canes too!” you suggest. Rose’s eyes widen. She looks at you like you have the biggest brain in the world. Your confidence skyrockets, but a quick peek at John sends you plummeting back to Earth. You can’t read the expression on his face, and it worries you.

“They look so good! Santa will definitely grant my wish!” Rose’s comment piques your interest.

“What’s your wish?” you ask, crouching down to her level.

Rose glances at her father before lowering her voice. “I can’t tell you with Daddy around; it might make him sad.” Your jaw slackens. What could a child wish for that would make their parents unhappy?

Dinner is served, and the seating arrangement remains unchanged. True to John’s words, Rose devours her dinner. She even asks for seconds. “I’m a growing girl,” is all she responds with when she notices your amused expression.

The conversation consists of small talk. You learn they moved into the complex two years after you did. It’s honestly amazing how you didn’t run into them earlier. John doesn’t talk about his job, but he asks you plenty of questions about yours. You’re happy to answer. Glad to have something to talk about that won’t prod old wounds. Before you know it, you’re cracking jokes, and John is struggling to breathe. His laughter is intoxicating, and like an addict, you crave another dose. Rose watches the entire interaction with a broad smile, nibbling on her food as her eyes ping pong across the table.

John leans forward and hangs off your every word. Every ounce of his attention focused solely on you. You pause mid-story, caught up in the softness of his features. Before he can ask you what’s wrong, your phone vibrates in your pocket. You pull out the device to see it’s a text notification. The time on the screen reads 9:30 pm. It’s getting late, and from the way Rose slumps in her chair, she should be in bed soon.

“I should go. Rose looks like she’s about to pass out,” you say.

“M’not sleepy,” Rose argues, rubbing her eyes.

John rises from his seat. “I’ll clean up. Rosy, why don’t you say goodbye to our guest?”

Rose gets out of her chair with Mr. Bear and holds your hand, leading you to the entrance. John steps forward but stops himself. He turns to collect the dishes, and you walk away, feeling the heat of his gaze lingering on your back.

As you’re slipping on your shoes, you ask Rose, “Now that it’s just us, do you want to tell me your wish?” She glances behind her. The faint sounds of porcelain clattering against metal travel along the corridor.

“You can’t tell Daddy, but I don’t want him to be lonely. He doesn’t cry at night anymore when he thinks I’m sleeping, but he still looks like a raccoon in the morning,” Rose says, pinching an invisible zipper between her fingers and dragging it across her lips. You copy the gesture and even go as far as to mime turning a key and tossing it over your shoulder. You have a sneaking suspicion, but you don’t want to get your hopes up.

Unlocking the door, you reach for the doorknob. “Wait,” John shouts, stopping you in your tracks. He jogs up to you and holds out a reusable takeout container and your bag of groceries. “I made too much. Take some leftovers with you.” You peer inside, and there’s a generous portion. How much did he cook?

“I’m tired. I’m getting ready for bed,” Rose suddenly announces.

John chuckles, “I thought you weren’t tired earlier?”

“That was earlier. I’m tired now.” Rose walks off to her room, mumbling to Mr. Bear. The only snippet you catch is something about ‘having a moment.’ You take the container and bag from John, fingertips touching. He doesn’t let go, and you’re left standing there awkwardly.

“Don’t feel bad about what happened earlier,” John says, withdrawing his hands and shoving them into his pockets.

Earli—oh. Your cheeks tingle with warmth. You clear your throat and bring the container close to your chest. “I didn’t mean to pry, I just wanted….” You pause.

“Wanted what?” John asks, and his eyes are wide and pleading. He waits and doesn’t push. Watches as you chew on the inside of your cheek and avoid his gaze.

When you finally gather the courage to look at his face, tender eyes observe you. Does he feel the same? A wave of confidence washes over you, and you decide to take the risk. “To know if I have a fighting chance,” you say.

The corners of John’s lips boomerang up and then back down. His eyebrows draw together, and he almost looks… scared. “Love, I work in the military. I’m a single father. I don’t have much to offer,” John rasps, the words constricting his chest like a vine of thorns. His throat bobs, and he closes his eyes, steeling his body. Because bracing for impact is a natural human response in an attempt to lessen the damage of an imminent crash.

You smile softly. “And if I said I didn’t mind? That I’ll wait for you to come back and become Rose’s favourite while you’re gone?” John’s eyes snap open wide. He stares at you like you’re some sort of mythical creature; a being that can’t possibly exist in this world. Here is a man with his own baggage, who carries a burden on his shoulders that you will never comprehend. And you want to learn how to love him anyway. His expression softens, and he gravitates toward you.

“When I saw how you handle Rose, I didn’t think I could like you more than I already do,” John says.

Your ears perk. “You like me?” you ask. You didn’t think the attraction went both ways.

John rubs the back of his neck, and his cheeks flush. “Might have seen you use the elevator a few times… regularly,” he confesses. “I’ve liked you for a while.”

“And you never tried to say hello?” you tease him, placing a hand on your hip. The pain that flashes across his face is brief, but it stops you from continuing. You decide to change the topic. “Can I kiss you goodbye?” Your face engulfs in flames. “On the cheek, I mean!”

The pink dusting John’s face darkens. “Only if I get to kiss you—on the forehead,” he clarifies.

“Deal.” You place a quick peck on John’s cheek, his skin an inferno against your lips. He cups your face and leans in. It’s soft and leaves you tingling from head to toe. A laugh bubbles in your chest. You slap a hand to cover the dopey grin spreading across your face. “Sorry. I'm just really happy.”

John’s thumb caresses your cheeks. His blue eyes are sparkling. “So am I, Darling. Goodnight,” he says, leaning forward to plant another kiss. You close your eyes and make a content hum, basking in his warmth.

John opens the door for you and leans against the doorframe after you step out. The hallway is relatively dark, and the lights from the apartment bathe him in an ethereal glow. A smile graces his features, and the current that threatened to pull you under has settled into gentle ripples. “Night, John,” you reply, waving goodbye.

A smug grin stretches his smile, and he winks at you. “See ya later, Love.”

You skip to your apartment. The door behind you doesn’t click shut until you disappear from sight. You head to the fridge first to store the leftovers. You find a note when you put away your groceries. Fishing out the paper, it reads: ‘Rose’s bedtime is 10 pm.’

The clock on your stovetop tells you it’s 9:50.

Where did you put that expensive bottle of whiskey you bought years ago?

Bonus Scene:

John tucks his daughter into bed, pulling the blanket to her chin. “What else did you wish for, Rosy?” he asks. It’s become a tradition to figure out her Christmas present. He makes sure to ask her right before bed when he’s certain she won’t remember the conversation in the morning.

Rose snuggles into her pillow, hugging the stuffed bear close to her chest. Her voice is muffled and thick with sleepiness, but he hears it crystal clear. “A little sister.”

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

End Note:

Happy early Valentine's Day! I can't wait to consume the Valentine-themed content for all the fandoms I'm in. Not related, but I saw a cowboy ghost render on IG and I think I'm going to have to go back to writing something for him ¯\_( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)_/¯

Time to drop off the face of the Earth for a month or two again.

I'll see you guys at my next hyperfixation! (。・∀・)ノ

Reblogs are appreciated!

#john price x reader #captain john price x reader #john price #captain john price #cod x reader #cod mwii #single dad price #gender neutral reader #no y/n #And they were apartmentmates!#I will update the tags with something funnier once my brain isn't mush

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lookismfanfics · 1 year ago

Text

𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐀𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞

Jake Kim Fic.

Notes: I will give you no warnings and I fully expect you all to question my mental stability. (Y/N) is AFAB

Something was different about Jake’s mornings now. He had a new mattress, set an alarm, and did live in a small apartment. That’s not what he meant though. It was a different feeling. A sudden jolt in his stomach and a slight panic whenever he awoke. It only lasted a few seconds before he returned to his numb state of consciousness. A sight panic. It wasn’t immediate… in fact a few minutes into his morning routine always passed before he felt it. Suddenly he’s come to the realization that he was alone, but not completely.

He wasn’t used to waking up, glancing over his shoulder, and discovering a warm bundle of… a person… laying beside him. It still weighed on him. He wasn’t looking after just himself anymore. He had bigger responsibilities than just Big Deal. He’d avoid it like the plague at first. Slip out of bed as quietly as he could. His feet heavily padding against the floor as he stumbled into the kitchen. Make breakfast, style his hair, get dressed, and then wake the kid. That was the routine.

Jake would help him into his high chair. A high chair Jake hadn’t bought and still struggled to use. He fumbled with the bib, but eventually the kid had it on and he could give him whatever breakfast there was. He knew, deep down, helping a toddler wasn’t that hard. Especially when he was sleepy still. Jerry could strap him into that high chair in a heartbeat. Somehow Jake couldn’t. Everyone else seemed more capable of caring for the little tyke except for Jake. And he wasn’t sure how to feel about that, especially since the kid lived with him. Even if the kid didn’t have much stuff to begin with, Jake was happy some items around the house gave him comfort. Items lying around that normally only added to the clutter.

Samuels old jacket; Golden Age pictures; Samuel’s old cigarettes; magazines of women’s clothes; some of Jake’s cologne. The kid loved those things, and Jake knew why. He missed the kid’s dad, too.

Strapping the kid into the car was difficult, too. Jakes fingers fumbled with the baby-seat-straps. Sinu’s car held a lot of memories, especially in the back seat. It smelled of cigarettes back there. Just a little though. Stale cigarettes- Jake didn’t smoke. “Smells like daddy.” “Yeah, it does,” Jake smiles.

Jake smiles a lot for the kid. The kid does make him smile… naturally. Jake walks around, feeling numb and hollow. He goes through the motions. He leaves the kid with the ladies of Big Deal street, and naturally that lifts some weight off his shoulders. There’s only one downside. “Jake! Today we was… folding clothes. And they said ‘just like… yer mama!’ And I said ‘yes!’” The kid slurs his words together before waddling up to Jake and wrapping his chubby arms around Jake’s legs. “Mama mama…”

Another thing that leaves Jake feeling empty, maybe even confused. He never fuels the topic. On the ride home he’ll listen to the jumbled, mumbled words of the toddler, nodding and smiling, giving soft “wow”s in reply. The baby mentions his dad and Jake stops smiling. The baby mentions his mom and Jake asks him to be quiet for a minute. Politely of course. The kid stares out the window.

Jake could ghost the hallways of his apartment for hours. He can spend the rest of eternity clawing for some warmth and wondering why he feels so lonely. He could dodge phone calls for months, not speak to anyone for years, stay by himself for as long as he needs until he’s healed. In reality, he can’t do any of that. Not when he crawls into bed at midnight, then turns in the covers to see the kid already in there. Warm little guy, wearing his pajamas already, pudgy cheeks smushed into the pillows. Jake can’t process anything when he’s a godfather. He didn’t even know it until the parents were gone. He wishes he could hear Samuel’s bitter voice asking, gruffly, reluctantly, if Jake would accept the position. Jake would have said yes. He would’ve done anything for him, especially if it would’ve filled this void of confusion and emptiness he feels right now. When did Samuel ever decide he still trusted Jake? When had he ever agreed to (Y/N)’s insistent arguments? Jake wanted to know so badly. He wanted to hear their voices, in person, asking him. Telling him. He wanted to feel their presence. They didn’t have to touch him… he just wanted to feel that they were really there. Something, anything, because Jake was goddamn lonely. He felt so sick; so empty; so horrible. How could he be expected to heal? How could he move on. How… when that little Samuel lay beside him in bed? How… when that miniature (Y/N) tried his hardest to please him, tried his hardest to make Jake smile.

How was Jake supposed to heal, when instead of the kid wailing about missing his parents, it’s the godfather sobbing into his pillow in the middle of the night. How can he teach the kid to walk on his own, when Jake himself can hardly crawl? Jake doesn’t want to participate in this kid’s life when all it seems to do is drain his own. When did he become such a pity-party? When did Jake Kim become such a sour wuss? Maybe it was the moment his hands went numb. His body tingled and his stomach dropped. His mind shut off. But he was crying. He was crying a lot. The moment when everyone froze… everyone panicked, because their boss was crying.

Jake didn’t want to be alone in this apartment. He didn’t want to have to wake up, eat some breakfast, and then realize he had to make another serving for someone else’s kid. He didn’t want to sit in silent solace, waiting for some form of comfort to come to him. He didn’t want to be alone. He wished he wasn’t so adept at hiding his emotions. He wanted help. He wanted Jerry’s help… maybe; or else Lua’s help. Or maybe he wanted a long talk with Jason or Lineman. Maybe he just wanted to sit quietly with Brad. It all sounded so nice. Nostalgic. The only activity that actually excited him… made him feel warm inside… was being with Sinu. But not just Sinu. Of course, Jake wished for the impossible. He would kill to stand, just the three of them on the pier. Sinu, Samuel, and Jake.

He wanted to hug (Y/N) again. He wanted to feel their touch, smell their hair, listen to their voice. He loved (Y/N). The way they laughed, the way they whispered. The way they confided in Jake about everything. About Samuel… about being pregnant.

Jake wanted Sammy. He had stopped using the nickname in his head… but he realized that it was the only name that felt right.

Jake didn’t even realize he was crying until he felt the teardrops on his pillow. He felt two little hands shaking him. He heard a trembling voice. “Jake…” Iseul sniffled. (Y/N) had picked the name out. Jake loved it. He sat upright, wiping away at his tears hastily. It was hard to get toddlers to stop crying… he had no idea how the kid would react to seeing him cry.

”Y-Yeah, what is it buddy?” Jake wipes his nose and smiles serenely. Like plastic. Iseul crawls into Jake’s lap, lighter than expected. His head leans against Jake’s chest and the kid’s little hands attempt to grip onto his shoulders. “Please don’t cry… please. I’m sorry I make you cry.”

“You don’t make me cry,” Jake assures, his brows shooting upward in surprise. “I was just feeling a little… it’s nothing kiddo.”

Jake is a bad parent. He’s a bad parent to Samuel’s kid. In his head he knows he could do better, yet his body doesn’t seem able to function like a proper parent. “Yeah I do…” Iseul nods, his face rubbing up and down on Jake’s sleeping shirt. “Cuz I look like daddy.”

Jake feels his throat tightening. “Yeah you do.” His voice feels hoarse. Lips trembling, he plants a soft kiss against the kid’s head. A miniature best friend. The person Jake has been craving for. He smooths back Iseul’s dark head of hair. If they styled it a bit he’s look exactly like his dad.

“I miss my mommy and daddy.” Jake feels wet droplets on his shirt. He has to close his eyes to steady his breathing, not at all prepared for this conversation.

Tiny, pudgy hands form fists. Iseul pounds his hands against Jake’s chest, screaming and begging to have his parents back. His little body shakes as he demands for his parents. A feeble voice shouts for them back, and Jake can’t answer.

This goes on for a couple minutes. Jake forgot to breathe. He didn’t realize all his replies were muddled by his own sobs.

The kid calms down, eyes red and bloodshot and tiny body heaving for air. Jake wraps his arms around Iseul tighter. “Iseul I’m so sorry… that I can’t do anything about that. Really. If I could I would bring your parents back. But they’re de… they’re d-” he pauses for a few seconds.

“Your parents are gone. And I know neither of us are really yet but… I’m as good of a dad as you’re gonna get.” He apologizes in his head if he sucks at it.

The kid sleeps. Jake does too. Tired from crying, tired from hiding his feelings. He doesn’t feel ready to move on. But… he’s got a kid now.

Sorry

#This is the biggest angst brainrot EVER #Sorry Jake 🤧#Jake Kim #lookism webtoon #lookism #lookism manhwa #samuel seo #Jake Kim angst #Big Deal #Big deal angst #Lookism AU #Death AU #Samuel Seo angst #Lookism angst #Lookism fanfic #(Y/N)#afab reader #Unedited af

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fanficfanattic · 1 year ago

Note

for the ask game! 🗣 & ❤️

🗣

1) “Okay, okay. So the art competition at my school? I won!”

And he was up on his feet, lifting her into the air to spin while cheering “What’s this, Phoebe the artist, took on all of Year Three and beat every last one of them back!!!”

He set her on her feet before she could get dizzy and so he could see what she’d chosen.

“And what did you go with, Phoebe?”

“A unicorn dragon!” And she squealed again, bouncing on her toes, before holding her paper out for him to look at.

With only a little bit of extra drama, he clutched his heart before staggering back to sit on the bench. Every chance he got, he liked to put himself on the same level as most any kids. But Phoebe especially.

Her dad was apparently a piece of shit, different kind than his but still. So he didn’t want to be another adult in her life looming over her. Or failing to give her the praise she both needed and deserved.

“This is, hands down, the best unicorn dragon I have ever seen in me life!”

“Jamie, it’s the only unicorn dragon you’ve ever seen in your life!” Her adrenaline had to be through the roof because she said that while running her tiny little feet in place. Hopping from one foot to the other quick quick.

“Tell me where I’m lying, then?”

And she stopped wiggling so she could just have a giggle at him. Which meant the both of them were finally still enough he noticed what he’d missed at the first glance.

“What’s this, a second ribbon? Did you also win best pigtails?”

“No! Look at it!”

“I am Phoebe. Tell us what we’re looking at, though, yeah?”

“I won the whole school!”

“What!” And he jumped clean up at that, glad she didn’t flinch or startle. “All of primary? Even the big’uns?”

“Yes, Jamie! Yes! Only two of the Year Fives even used cross hatching.”

2) But then Dani was beside her, having just came in, and smiling his big beautiful Rojas smile.

“Hello, Keeley.”

“Hi, Dani,” she couldn’t help but smile back.

“Hi, baby.”

“Hi, Dani,” Jamie returned, also helplessly smiling back.

Keeley took a few extra seconds to register that exchange, before whispering “bloody hell”. She looked from Dani to Jamie and back to Dani again.

“If you could let go of my boyfriend now, we can all join the table.”

Roy had just gotten close enough to hear Dani say that and wouldn’t have kept his volume down even if he could have.

“Boyfriend?!” And the team once again turned to stare at Jamie.

“Yes, Captain. Jamie’s my boyfriend. I already told you this.”

“No. No you fucking didn’t. And actually, also, no he’s fucking not. He’s the prince prick of pricks and we’ve finally been rid of him. So you can’t bring him right back!” He panted a little at the end, not used to saying that many words when a good grunt would do.

“Captain, yes, I told everyone that I was bringing my partner. Jamie. My partner Jamie.”

“Er, Dani? I told you, yeah, me name is used by men and women. So. Unless you said Tartt or something specific like about playing with me. They probably assumed you were gonna bring a lady friend.”

❤️

1) After a third count, now that Ted seemed to be syncing up, it was time for him to start showing by example.

“Okay, doing good there, gaffer. I’m gonna start breathing with you.” He took Ted’s lax hand from his knee and placed it on his own chest. Kept it in place with his cold fingers. “Need to get some of those breathes deeper.”

And this time he didn’t count for in and out. Couldn’t help himself with hold and wait though. Now he was taking deep breathes, loud, and if he’d focus any less on Ted than he was, he’d have maybe been able to tell that all the lads were doing it with him, all syncing to his breath, to help Ted.

Ted’s breathing stabilized, and some color came back into his face, but Jamie didn’t let go of his hand when Ted gently tugged it.

“If we stop now, are all those bad thoughts gonna come winging right back?”

“No, uh, no Jamie. I’m fine now.”

“Well fine is a relative word, ain’t it?”

And Ted laughed, though this one also wasn’t entirely meant to be funny.

“Right are you, Jaymaroo.”

“No, I say no to that one. Gonna have to try again later.”

2) “Do you know the funny thing about glass houses, Mr. Kent?”

He didn’t bother to respond, just glared sullenly at her.

“Most people would say its that they are so easy to break. But that’s just the nature of glass, innit? No, the funny thing, is that people forget how easily you can see right. through. them.”

That got Roy’s attention.

#jamie tartt #phoebe kent #phoebe o'sullivan #dani rojas #dani/jamie #dani x jamie #danijamie #keeley jones #roy kent #roykeeley #roy/keeley #roy x keeley #ted lasso #afc richmond players #jamie’s mum georgie #panic attacks

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slunch · 1 year ago

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The beach was crowded when I went yesterday. I don’t think anybody saw me.

I didn’t do much there, though. I just walked up and down until I got tired. I was mostly looking at my phone. My friends were getting into an argument about the different kinds of cereal and which ones were better. There’s a small brand that I like, but they only like the big ones.

On the train, a homeless man went down the aisle asking for money. Nobody saw him either. I was reading about a new game that was coming out next year, and my friends were telling me it looked really good. I didn’t think so myself but tried to understand why they thought so, and I think I succeeded, which I felt pretty good about. I like to think I’ve gotten better at empathy.

When I got back to my apartment, I wasn’t sure what to do with the rest of my evening. I didn’t want to think about work tomorrow, so I watered the plants according to the schedule and stared at my cat, who glared back at me. She ran away when I tried to pet her, but I think by this time next year she’ll be better around me.

I debated it for a while, but eventually downloaded a new dating app while I waited for my dinner to warm up. I was surprised that I got a few likes from some attractive women, but then again I have been taking better care of myself lately. I got an app that tracks my sleep patterns and rings my morning alarm at the optimal time to not disrupt my sleep cycles, and I recently put a little light on my water bottle that will flash and remind me to drink from it while I work.

None of the women on the dating app seemed very interesting. I chatted with them a little bit, but they either barely said anything or said a lot about nothing.

Then I read some of a textbook I’d downloaded onto my tablet. Higher education always intimidated me, and I liked the stability of my job, but I liked to also see what else is out there sometimes. I was currently in the middle of a linear algebra textbook. Tonight I was skimming the section on linear transformations - a way to translate something in one vector space to another vector space. I had forgotten what vector spaces were because it’s been a while since college, but, confident that I’d learned something new, I turned off the light and got into bed.

Before I slept, I looked through some more dating profiles but didn’t see any that interested me. After a while, people started to look the same. Maybe it was the new makeup trend some of my friends were talking about. I tried to find it in our chat archives, but it was too far back and the search wasn’t working. I told them good night and placed my phone under my pillow so it could listen to me breathe and decide when to wake me up.

The next day at work, my team got a new project. We talked about it over video call and then standard messaging for a while afterwards, because it seemed like we were pivoting to something new and there were a lot of little details to discuss. I didn’t mind, because I always like to broaden my skill set. The department’s priorities were shifting this quarter, which must be good.

My coworkers' teeth were all really white on camera when they were talking, which was really interesting because they've told me how much coffee they go through in a month. I use the same brand, and it’s pretty weak but tastes good. I'd have to ask them what whitening treatment they used, since I was a little self conscious about mine. I remembered in college when my friends were studying early AI, they said to count teeth and fingers because those were the hardest to generate accurately.

My manager's smile glinted on the screen.

I had some moments last month where I privately wondered if what we were working on really mattered, but my coworkers were really invested in this new project and I tried to mirror that energy. There might be some way to get promoted working on it, too. Sometimes it just seemed like we were working on things that nobody would use in the real world. But it takes all sorts. I looked at my phone case and wondered how many engineering hours went into it. Maybe we could linearly transform our work into something more concrete, take a feature we made and translate it into something that would write a book. Or at least just tell me what to say to my cat to make her finally like being around me.

I was a little distracted that afternoon because they were coming out with a new version of a laptop I had. I wasn’t sure when the news would drop so I kept checking my feed, but I had some good conversations with my friends about whether it’d be worth the upgrade. It turned out that most of them were planning to pre-order it, so I might do the same. I felt like I’d earned it.

I was having trouble focusing, so I checked out of work half an hour early. That’s one advantage of working remote, my teammates are all spread out between different time zones so nobody notices if I leave. My manager says next year we’re going to arrange a conference and meet each other in person.

After work, I played some video games with the guys. The in-game voice chat wasn’t functioning due to some server outage somewhere, so we just played in silence, which was kind of boring. Someone on the other team called me a bot and we got into a pretty heated argument in the match chat. It’s always the worst when they don’t listen to anything I say and keep tossing the same insults.

I left early and let them play the new DLC my friends all had (despite their protests), since I was still on the fence about buying it for myself. I was a little distracted during the game since a woman I’d connected with on the new dating app was messaging me a bit more. She was pretty and seemed interesting, even though she didn't actually say much. I didn’t mind talking about my job though. With some people, you have to carry the conversation for a while.

Around sunset, I decided to go on another walk. I passed the library, which reminded me again that I should apply for a library card and work on my backlog of books I’d been meaning to read. A bunch of my friends on Goodreads were really into this new series about a guy fighting to save an empire.

There was a restaurant I’d heard was good that had just opened a few blocks over, but I had the new subscription meal box coming tonight and wanted to have the first meal from that when it arrived.

A woman wearing headphones at a bus stop caught my eye, just for a moment as the last of the sun lit her hair gold. She was okay, but I had seen prettier women on the new app. I guess that's where all the attractive people are these days. She looked tired, plus her face was slightly asymmetrical. She had nice headphones though, I recognized them from the video calls with my coworkers. They were the old model of the noise-canceling ones they wore. I made a mental note to check out that model when I got back, since it was probably popular for a reason.

My cat hissed at me when I got back. I might have been petting her wrong. She doesn’t like being in the apartment all day, but it’s not like I can let her out. Plus she has me for companionship, since I get to work remotely. Not like she takes advantage of it. I asked my pet-owning friends how to approach her more, but they didn’t have much advice for body language that I couldn’t find with a web search. Maybe I would switch her food to the nicer brand.

I lay in bed trying to sleep, but had the eye twitches that came from staring at a screen too much. I checked out a new app that one of my friends had mentioned to see if that would relax me a little bit. It used AI to turn your face into a landscape.

I played around with it for a while, trying different angles, and they all produced different types of generated landscapes. The AI was really good, but there were just constant ads. It was okay though. I’ve gotten pretty good at ignoring those.

#fiction #short fiction #mine #i remember writing this one winter weekend i just felt super depressed #touched it up a bit tonight and here we are

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stxrshxpxd · 1 year ago

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a regret of yours

pairing: brett anderson x reader

word count: 1.039

warnings: age gap (20s/40s)

prompt: roadie reader has fallen for brett and tries her luck with him but it doesn’t end so well

* * *

I had barely noticed when Mat and Simon left together but suddenly Brett and I were the last ones standing, in the corner of the third pub of the night. I had never been out like this with Brett before, but it was a special night. It was the end of the tour and a big group of us had gone out for drinks to celebrate. It wasn’t always bands mixed with roadies too much but Brett and I had connected early on, for whatever reason.

Over the last few months I had grown really fond of him, which felt odd. I wasn’t the type to usually fall for older men, Brett being in his mid forties and me in my early twenties, but there was something between us. Looks across rooms and silly inside jokes were the main pillars of our friendship. The last couple of weeks he had even begun giving me sweaty hugs after coming off stage. Granted, he was riding a high of various pleasure hormones, but it felt quite special every time. His hugs always gave me a sharp stab of tingles through my stomach.

“You were insane out there tonight,” I stated and placed the side of my face on top of my fist, facing Brett. We were sitting quite close in a booth, our knees grazing every other moment.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Brett laughed and I assured him it was. He twirled his half finished pint around on the wooden table a few times and then mindlessly wiped his cold, damp fingers on his black jeans.

“I, uh.. I like it when you take your shirt off,” I mumbled, actively grazing his knee with mine now. He had done exactly that tonight towards the end of the set and proceeded to engulf me in a big hug with his nude torso tightly pressed against my clothed one. He had laughed into my ear for a second before letting go. Thinking about it now made my insides buzz.

“I think that girl who caught your shirt would agree,” I added light-heartedly because Brett hadn’t said anything. He had only laughed and looked down at his beer again.

“Do you know how many damn shirts I’ve lost over the years?” he asked rhetorically, laughing softly. He had that pretty, white smile on and those twinkly eyes that made my chest ache. I thought of all those fans tearing his clothes off and wished I too could wreck one of his shirts.

“Well, I can see why they might want to undress you,” I said in an ambiguous tone of voice. I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to think I was joking or to know I was serious. My inhibitions were leaving with every sip of my drink though.

Brett kept laughing gently and he gave me a look I couldn’t decipher. He licked his bottom lip and ran it softly between his teeth. It was more than likely just something for him to occupy himself with while the silence built between us, but I got a strong urge to kiss him. We were already so close. I could just lean in a little bit and my lips would have no trouble reaching his. So, I did. I leant closer to him, placing my hand on his thigh for stability just as much as seduction. I felt his hands too, but not how I wanted to feel them. He held me back gently by the shoulders and a tortured sigh fell from his mouth.

“This is not a good idea.”

“No, I think it definitely is,” I chuckled but there wasn’t much happiness left in my laughter. My heart sank closer and closer to my stomach with every beat.

“I’m much too old for you.”

He was composed but there was some pain in his voice. I was almost certain a part of him wanted me too, maybe even a big part.

“I think that’s for me to decide.”

“Listen, you’re… a dream,” Brett spoke quietly. “But you will grow up to regret it if we give in to this. I can’t abuse my power like that.”

“I’m an adult,” I claimed, but I felt more and more like a fourteen year old girl when tears began to form behind my eyelids. I blinked them away but my chest and throat were burning with agony. All I wanted in that moment was him.

“I know you are.. But you’re more of a kid than you think. You’ll realise that the older you get… And I don’t want to be a regret of yours.”

I sat in my misery and couldn’t move.

“I’d rather I regret not getting with you than you regret getting with me. Do you see what I mean?”

I refused to see what he meant and I felt like throwing up now. Finally my legs worked and I shimmied out of our booth and headed for the door.

“Y/N!” Brett called after me in a steady voice. He caught up with me out on the street but made a point to not touch me.

“I’m sorry if I’ve led you on. I shouldn’t have done that.”

I was marching down the street in the direction I thought the hotel might be, with Brett close behind me.

“Yeah, you have,” I responded and turned around suddenly, bumping into his chest and him catching me with his arms around my back. I was sad and angry and felt stupid, and the alcohol was only adding fuel to the fire. I was right there in the middle of his scent and warmth and I felt weak in every part of my being.

Brett’s arms had fallen to his sides again and he stood with his lips parted and breaths falling down on my face. His dark fringe hung to cover most of his eyes. The top buttons of his shirt were open and his two thin chains were all tangled in one another around his neck.

“I’m sorry,” he said and took one step back. The tears were still threatening to spill down my cheeks, so I turned my heel and kept walking. Brett didn’t follow me this time.

#there’s something about an older man maturely and respectfully turning down a younger girl #who he actually wants deep down and he like battles with himself internally #idk but !!#brett anderson #suede #fic #imagine #angst #brett anderson x reader

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jade-everstone · 11 months ago

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Art Goals for 2024

This post is a mirror of a post on my website (here)

It’s a few days into the new year. While the feelings of uncertainty from 2023 still lingers, I set myself a handful of goals going forward to give myself some sense of direction, 8 in fact, though I’ll mostly be focusing on my art-related goals here.

Technical improvement isn’t a major focus this year (I mean, I just did 4+ years of that lol). I think it’s time to focus on more external factors of art, like gaining some stability, pouring more focus into doing it part-time while maintaining the personal side. As well as strengthening skills not directly related to illustration. It’s something that’s fell to the wayside until senior year of college, and now that I’m out of school I think at least for this year I can let these factors overtake direct art improvement.

Finish PC-Mania!

My short webseries! This was launched as part of my senior thesis, but has had multiple hiccups in terms of production. This year I want to smooth out those bumps & be able to wrap it up by the end of this year. The reason I say by the end of this year? My drafts are roughly 40 pages, and even with my other plans for this year I’ll have more time on my hands to focus on comics. So I’m pretty confident I can wrap it up regardless of how it happens.

Launch Support Streams related to my art

This one was inevitable. Even if it’s a goal of part time vs. full time, I want to be able to do art as a career. Meaning I have to have some form of income to be able to continue doing it comfortably. This one will need time to sort-out though since there are hurtles; Notably my overall lack of reach, as well as inflation times.

Lack of reach is likely due to struggling with consistent posting (even reposts & WIPs slip by me), not wanting to completely bend my practices to algorithms, and migrating between platforms. So that one may be harder to sort-out while keeping it fair to my self & my limits. Inflation is tricky. Art is a luxury afterall, and when the cost of living has skyrocketed across the board I don’t blame people for choosing food and rent over art. I’m likely going to keep it to one-time payments & tip jars indefinitely since I don’t want to launch subscriptions in a time where people looking to cancel them to make ends meet. Plus, with my issues with consistent posting, I’m not in a position to be doing subscription-based works & would also like to better sort out my boundaries before even considering (ie: I don’t want anything that could potentially lead to people feeling entitled to my attention).

I still want to try pushing for commissions & freelance, even with a lack of success over the past few years. Though I also want to look more into online shops & tabling since last year, all of the money I made from art was from IRL sales. So it’s a matter finding those events that are original-art & zine friendly (I’m uninterested in monetizing fanart beyond commissions. Fanart to me = Personal art & I’d like to keep it that way). As well as researching more into online shops as a means to get things out there outside of the convention space.

Better-establish OC Lore & Worlds

This one is likely gonna be harder than it sounds. Because on one hand I am excited about these project, but I’ve always struggled with getting ideas-to-paper. While I don’t want to claim much since I don’t have an official diagnosis as of writing, I’m very sure I have ADHD meaning getting down schedules, and getting projects done before I jump to another interest has been a long-term struggle. It’s part of what hampered PC-Mania & reach, and hampers my ability to put more info about the projects I’m working on & are excited about (hell last year, I think I ended up drawing Io way more than art for said projects…).

I don’t know if there’s any “ADHD-friendly guides to maintaining projects before you forget them” out there (I’d argue most project guides & tips I’ve seen don’t consider it), so I’m pretty sure I’m on my own in this department. Currently I’m thinking about leveraging my website for this since it’s meant to be a work archive as is, and even if progress is inconsistent it’ll at least give me a central hub to link back to.

If you are curious, the main one I want to establish is Doverhill! It’s where a PC-Mania takes place for reference, and it’s set in modern times in the fictional town of Doverhill MA. Perfectly normal, except for the occasional paranormal encounter. The main cast that has to deal with them are a group of friends & neighbors who live in an apartment complex together. Story-wise it’s an episodic comedy about the sheer absurdity that is life. Even if it’s not a hard world-building project, it deserves a central hub to link back to.

The other one I’m debating on is Fang and Iron, a dark-sci-fantasy world building project about demon-hunting androids. But I think it needs more time in the oven, and I don’t plan on making it a main focus for a long time.

Learn Blender for making assets & Blocking

I’ve thought about the other skills I’d like to strengthen & learn for future projects, notably writing skills, drawing mecha, desktop publishing software, and 3D. But I picked learning 3D, since I feel like this one will have a ton of versatility in terms of making references for myself. If you’re wondering using 3D assets for references is extremely common, especially within the world of comics where you need to re-draw backgrounds and props. So having knowledge on how to block out scenes in blender will help massively in the long run, especially when my schedule starts filling up again.

(now I just need to finish that donut)

Shorter Comic Project?

I’m considering this one optional, but if I can squeeze in another smaller 8-16pg comic or zine along the lines of 9:15 Slushie I’d like to. I have an Idea I want to do for it (an idea that existed before 9:15 slushie did!) so the next step is carving out time to make it happen

Those are my main art goals of 2024. For the other 3 main resolutions of mine, I’ll list a short summary of those instead:

Get a job alongside art (I’ll need it. Bills be upon me + even with help from family members, I’d like to transition into being self-sustaining & be able to front the costs for my supplies & projects going forward)

Get my Drivers License (Also needed, especially if I want to continue tabling & other hobbies, and for getting to whatever job I end up at)

Get better at IIDX (and by extension BMS) so I can say I suck at normal 7’s vs normal 4’s lol (my only “hobby” goal of this year. I’ve wanted to get into IIDX for a long time too, so since I’m planning on getting my license & income anyways, I’ll see if I can squeeze this one in)

#rambles #2024 #art goals #new years resolution

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ninjastormhawkkat · 2 years ago

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The Strange Case of Wordgirl and Miss Crimes: Chapter 3

He showed Wordgirl the information on the paper as he explained the meaning of the contents to her. “I have been studying the genetic makeup of Dr. Two Brains closely and compared it to his DNA before the accident which I was able to require thanks to some friends in the medical labs. Unfortunately after analyzing and comparing the two sets of DNA, I have discovered an unknown purpose of the mouse brain that I don’t think even Dr. Two Brains realized himself yet.” Tubing paused before flipping a page and showing Wordgirl more data. “During his accident, the electrical impulses not only fused Professor Boxleitner’s human brain with Squeaky’s mouse brain, but it also spliced his human genetic code and infused it with mice DNA.” Wordgirl, who knew the meaning behind each word Professor Tubing spoke, but not fully understood the context of those words together, interrupted the man. “I am sorry Professor Tubing, but I still don’t comprehend why this will cause a problem in finding a cure for Dr. Two Brains?” Tubing frowned a bit, reluctant to continue and ultimately break Wordgirl’s heart but deciding he needed to get it out of the way and that it was better to share the truth about the possible fate of her dear friend. “The mouse brain not only forces Dr. Two Brains to steal cheese as well as make him act on mouse instincts from time to time, it operates, controls, and stabilizes the mouse DNA inside of him while his human brain handles the human half.” Wordgirl and Huggy’s eyes widened at this revelation but neither of them yet knew the full truth of the matter. “Dr. Two Brains’ human DNA and mice DNA are not fully compatible with each other.” Professor Tubing continued. “They are only able to be stabilized at 100% together due to the mouse and the human brain being fused together and working in some type of balanced, symbiotic relationship with one another, keeping his mouse and human hybrid DNA body at full stability.” Wordgirl now looked horrified at Professor Tubing, now beginning to understand his reluctance to perform surgery on her dad. “So if you try and perform surgery on Dr. Two Brains right now..” Wordgirl barely uttered out. Tubing nodded grimly at her attempted conclusions as he spoke. “If we try to perform surgery on him now, the consequences could be bad for both his physical and mental health, very possibly on the verge of becoming lethal.” Wordgirl could not help but to release a terrified gasp from her mouth. She couldn’t think, she didn’t want to think that her dad might end up…” “Professor Tubing please!” she begged the scientist. “There must be something you can do, a way to hinder or reduce his mice genetics so the surgery can be done safely. Please I don’t want to lose my d..my dear friend.” Wordgirl blurted out, nearly stopping herself on revealing her true relationship with Dr. Two Brains along with her secret identity to Tubing. Tubing frowned at Wordgirl with a sympathetic glance, not noting her slip up. “I’m sorry Wordgirl.” Tubing apologized. “But I believe it is strongly best to leave Dr. Two Brains alone and let a few more years pass which would give his body enough time to stabilize so that surgery can be possible. I am not skilled enough to successfully remove spliced DNA from someone. And..” Tubing sighed with hesitation, “I am afraid Steven Boxleitner was the only scientist I truly knew who had much success in the field of Genetic Splicing.” Wordgirl looked defeated, devastated even to the scientist. She couldn't believe that her last hope of saving her dad was practically nonexistent. Nothing what Professor Tubing said provided any comfort. Either she had to wait how many more years to cure her dad, or she could risk the surgery and possibly lose her father forever. Neither choices sounded good to her. Wordgirl wanted to cry right now, tears were definitely threatening to flow down her face. She wanted to yell at Professor Tubing, get angry at him for not trying hard enough, but she knew it wasn't his fault. No one she knew was brilliant enough to save her dad except himself.

@melodythebunny

@drtwobrainsstuff

#wordgirl #wordgirl au #steven boxleitner #dr two brains #becky boxleitner au #professor robert tubing #bob/captain huggy face #tw: implied death #tw: surgery #angst #tw: implied body horror

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exploresmallworlds · 1 year ago

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The Nuance of Social Cohesion

I’ve always wanted to explore Sydney as part of a blog called Explore small worlds but as I was writing my last piece in which I discussed social cohesion and it did give me serious (traumatic) flashbacks to belonging for HSC.

The previous piece talks about the reality of macro social cohesion, something that is evident in the micro scale. After a spike of social cohesion over the period of the pandemic, rates of social cohesion has dropped below 2019 levels. I think that it doesn’t consider the micro experiences that make up the wider macro trend. Although that piece identified that economics.

Sydney has always existed on some version of segregation, being a colonial outpost first and then nexus of that colonial empire and finally resting in it’s current state as the global city rife with the stashing of expensive properties of foreign nationals. A friend quipped that Sydney isn’t a fruit salad but rather it is is fruit bowl. And that rang true. Telling somebody where you live is built in with assumptions about your place. And often describing unfamiliar places is accompanied with quips like “that’s where x lives”. And the discussion that Melina Marchetta makes in Looking for Alibrandi where people live in Sydney and they never interact.

I’ve come from a small world and its one that I didn’t fit in. My beliefs eventually made me more different although it was ongoing trend. The straw that broke the camel’s back was the treatment of women in that place. And although I know many strong women, they were not acknowledged in leadership and that showed me their patriarchal underpinnings. Although some were able to square the circle of this I was not able to. This world was stifling small, although I acknowledge very comfortable for others.

When I left I was so keen to find new bigger worlds, and in the seven years that I have left this world I have been reminded that although this is small and I didn’t fit in, there are many small worlds that exist in similar ways. I’ve come to understand that the world is small and Sydney is even smaller as I find mutuals in the most disparate of places. I’ve been given a unique perspective as someone who has explored more a than few small worlds, and I have concluded that the problems that have been identified as problems of small religious communities are found in many different small communities. And similar processes about effectively shielding those with serious concerns.

There is a underlying fetishism that with the ongoing crisis, small communities are the way that we support our out of these. It’s one that I still believe with caveats. Although I know that in times of crisis there is increased social cohesion as reflected in the increase over lock downs, when the immediate crisis goes away like it has now, then we are left without similar levels. The problem is that the affects of climate change are evident but they aren’t being felt in the small communities that most Sydney-siders reside in. Although with the outer rim of Sydney being more prone to bush fires there is less necessity overall.

The segregation in Sydney is now pushing its residents to be pushed out, and this dispersal of real options for younger people is fueling their lack of social cohesion. The reality of needing any kind of intergenerational wealth is becoming more and more relevant. And those who set policy controls are those who have benefited from stability and security in housing and work in a way that we can only aspire to.

I think that sitting on the marginal space, although now I am an adult I now have a solid network and community. For people like me who have this marginal experience I think that there is implicit exclusion that doesn’t allow grace or any kind of space for difference. Although some of those who reside in those small worlds, are not terrible people but the cultures that are preserved in those small worlds are ones that need to retreat harder in the face of insecurity and instability. Although an understandable position, its one that doesn’t seek difference and diversity of though to expand the resonance chamber. Often the only time that people interact with people with people who are different would be in a fleeting way and when it goes negative, it is final. Although, my generation has been traditionally understood to popularise the concept of “if it doesn’t serve you, leave it”. And that kind of attitude doesn’t sit in the discomfort, despite the understandable concerns that it responds to. There is a space in the middle that establishes good boundaries and expects them to be firm but also is concerned with developing stronger cohesion by allowing a greater communal experience.

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derireo-galge · 1 year ago

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Your Hand In Mine | 3k | yoonmin✍🏼

Once chosen the safety of career instead of a relationship, Yoongi faces changes of his system of values as years passed.

Is it too late for him and Jimin to become each other's happiness again?

Will he be welcomed back?

[ ex lovers yoonmin | angst with a happy ending | canon compliant | pov change ]

Warning: at some point Jimin is not satisfied with himself and detaches from his stage persona. Vaguely mentioned unhealthy habits

Disclaimer: everything that happened in this story is between two consenting adults who knew what they were doing and assessed their options before agreeing to anything.

Just in case my wording will be misinterpreted.

Happy reading!

♤○♡

The freezing cold wind was blowing harshly in his face.

He could easily imagine tear tracks turning into bits of ice but could it really compare to the burning cold inside him? Jimin was standing in the balcony with a stunning view of never ending rows and rows of window lights.

He could hear hustling and bustling below, reaching his high floor of the complex.

How could he break down like that? He's all set in life, he's in his lane with stability in this urban chaos.

He's thriving as an artist.

Yet here he is, crumbling down stupidly.

How could he do this to himself? Just a few minutes ago they were all having fun there in the lounge.

Sharing pics and bickering, the usual.

His hyung’s earrings were dangling and glinting in the soft light of the lamps. Skin bathed in their glow.

He zoned out and let his facade slip. Just for a millisecond. He has to grit his teeth and stay focused no matter what.

Breathe in and slowly out.

They have important shedules coming up, so many things to prepare. No time to battle with his stupidity, his unprofessionalism.

Stay composed. You got this. If he's not careful, then everything is going to crumble.

His well-schooled routine, his jolly face, his no-less-than-two meals a day, friendly hangouts, gym sessions, you name it.

And then they will find out he's still head over heels for...

- Jimin-ah? Every time it feels like a stab wound.

Hearing his own name coming out of those lips. In that voice.

He flinches and turns around, trying to quickly put on his cheerful mask.

- Suga-hyung! - he exclaims and beams at the person that just came through the balcony door.

Breathe. The said person walks in and leans on the railing. The silence feels palpable.

When was the last time the quiet pauses between them brought comfort? Calm? Content?

- How's practice doing?

Yoongi's out of the blue question startles Jimin.

Since when he's in for a small talk? - It’s alright! I think I got the hang of the new choreo already.

The younger hunches his shoulders and hides the lower part of his face in a big collar of his sweater.

He's tired of looking between the lines only to find nothing but his own broken hope. And pride. - I think I'm going to have an early night. Don't mind me, have fun! - he speedwalks back to the apartment, throwing him a grin - Goodnight, hyung!

He leaves without waiting for any response from Yoongi. If the other questions it later he can just say he'd had too much to drink. But Jimin doubted he would.

He resolved to a sleepless night consisting of walks down memory lane.

Images full of warmth, attraction, understanding fill his mind. A whirlwind of joy and content.

And tears, of happiness and relief.

It's all that's left to him now. Right? *(then)*

They've always been attached like a twig that grew two branches.

Back when there wasn't much room for anything apart from hard work, sweat and tears, somewhere along the road to their debut, Yoongi noticed Jimin. Their first two years as Bangtan will always be one of the best times in the younger’s life. His Suga-hyung started giving him subtle attention.

Their tight-knit group cared for one another surely, but there was something else in his careful gestures and late night talks.

Jimin was mesmerized.

He was a level-headed person, and he realized, for the first time ever. He wanted to equally adore and be adored.

Many things and days awakened these urges. And finding balance between the two wasn't that easy. His hyung was so mature for his age and seemed to know many things about this world.

Probably then Jimin developed this strong desire to give, to pay back, to dedicate time and energy to something else except fighting obstacles on the way to the top of music industry. The only possible free time they had was after schedules, after lessons and practices, before bed.

Even then Namjoon would be out working on his tracks, Jin quietly studying in the kitchen, Hoseok in the dance studio, perfecting his moves.

Jimin often joined the latter there. But when he didn't, he'd be in the studio next to Yoongi, whose work drive seemed endless.

He'd sit quietly, revising lyrics, looking at his hyung switching things around, creating a weapon to tear down the walls that seemed to rise around their band. Sometimes they'd talk if the elder felt like it.

And sometimes they'd talk in hushed whispers. About things that don't normally come up in conversations.

Yoongi confessed he liked the way Jimin looked, defined muscles and ripped abs. The younger didn't share the same sentiment. He felt like whatever is happening with his body wasn't happening to him.He tried to detach himself from the way he acted in front of the teachers and cameras, he's never felt so small.

But Yoongi's words brought him some sort of comfort he badly needed. He advised therapy too. So when one night they ended up in the studio again, sharing one of those whispered talks, he didn't shy away when the elder's lips covered his own for a moment.

And then for another moment.

And then for a minute too long.

Or maybe not long enough? He wasn't sure what it was exactly anymore.

It was surely physical attraction. Admiration. Desire. Inspiration. Comfort.

In yhe end he only knew he wanted to keep close to his hyung and not let go ever. However confusing these new feelings might have been. They started meeting up more often while still being careful.

The initiative wasn't elder's all the time.

The first time Jimin dared to lean in he was scared to be rejected. But the other just accepted it, slightly moving his lips and hugging him tightly.

It was pure bliss. Their new development didn't interfere with their day to day work and maybe that's why it kept going for such a long time.

They still shared their worries and doubts with each other but gradually they all became about their professional side of things.

Less personal, maybe. He knew Yoongi didn't want a relationship because he called it inappropriate, damaging for their career. But he made sure Jimin knew it was exclusive and the younger consented to it.

And the dancer agreed.

His hyung is older. He knows better about the industry.

It was mutual. Things got more complicated when they filmed their first season of bon voyage.

It's the first time Jimin saw his hyung abroad, walking around the city, in this settings, so unlike their schedules.

It made him long for impossible things.

Things that were not for Park Jimin. What if they met like this?

Two strangers checked in in the same hotel.

Two strangers that met in a cafe or on a bus.

Two strangers that were not who they were now.

Two young men with ordinary lives, just like so many others. He first noticed it in Chicago during filming Now.

He's lost a lot of weight then.

Lost his bulky muscles although still remained idol-appropriate.

His heart screamed "nice", "dainty", "pretty", "graceful"!

He loved it.

Is it bad though, that he wants to be Suga-appropriate? It was all rushed during now but with the more relaxed nature of bon voyage it felt more intense - the closeness in a limited space, the domesticity, the silent care of the elder.

Shared meals, sitting close, fleeting glances, back hugs.

And he couldn't help but imagine things. How would it be to stroll along these sidewalks, among the tall buildings and bustling cars not caring what anyone would think?

Be two among thousands, just vague figures.

Will he ever have this chance, of holding Yoongi's hand without fear and calling him /HIS/ to his face? Sharing a room came both as a blessing and a curse.

Jimin was nervous but they talked about it enough times.

Now when the opportunity presented they were going to take it. Jimin was ready to take this step no matter the status of their relationship.

He deserved that. The dancer felt nervous energy coursing through him as he pulled Yoongi on top of him, arms locked around his neck and their legs intertwined.

The kisses grew hotter by the minute and soon there wasn't a single layer of clothes separating them. There was no stopping after that.

Just as he always fantasized, Yoongi was patient with him, looking closely at his face, inspecting every reaction.

He asked questions, touched gently and eased the tension with his dry humour that the younger loved. The morning came too quickly but he couldn't complain.

His hyung was laid beneath him and it's the most complete and content he felt in a long while.

"When you think you're going to crash then accelerate, you idiot"

He will do just that.

He is going to enjoy everything that his hyung is willing to share and give everything he can to the elder.

The crash though came both unexpectedly and not so much. Around the release of Serendipity Yoongi started growing distant. Bit by bit like sand slipping between fingers.

First Jimin took it calmly.

His hyung would have such periods of time where he didn't want to socialize much or get touchy with the younger. With anyone at all. It's like a tidal wave, he just needed to wait and his Suga-hyung would come back to him. And share what's on his mind.

Then the elder asked to put everything on hold.

The end of year shows came and went by. And just before their comeback with Fake Love it finally crashed. They talked. And talked.

Yoongi confessed he didn't have those feelings he used to have anymore.

The infatuation has gone, he said.

That Jimin and him changed so much they don't fit together no more.

Jimin agreed.

If someone isn't willing to work for it, he won't either. As much as it hurt to admit, he was tired of giving. He, once filled to the brim with all those amazing feelings and grand plans, felt like he's emptied all his reserves.

Waiting for more was exhausting.

So Yoongi asked him to stop waiting for the moment he could give the younger what he wanted.

It was the end. Jimin wanted to leave.

But they've all been through too much together. And they were friends as well as colleagues.

By the end of 2018 he pulled himself together.

For the greater good. For his found family.

For himself.

It was time to heal and piece himself back together. *now*

Yoongi feels like Jimin is slipping away.

Not only because he pushed him away then, in favour of doing better at his job and artistry, to reach higher and higher.

To be successful.

To be safe, to make sure they won't slip and drag them all down.

It wasn't worth it. He was too greedy, lived fiercely but failed to see the bigger picture.

New heights surely opened new horizons, expanded his views, taught him things, got him learning even more.

He got to the top.

But recognition and flying so high came with a bitter aftertaste. Jimin was slowly disappearing from the mental space they shared.

He used to be his lover, but also a great friend. A muse. A shoulder to cry on or hold onto and lift up from the pits of despair.

It used to be his safety. His anchor. His sunbeam in the dark, warmth of the day. He no longer knew what little things he enjoyed now.

What books he has been reading lately?

What made him smile?

What did he listen to when he was happy? Sad?

What was his new favourite perfume?

What was the last thing he wrote or painted?

What was the meal he liked now? He felt how slowly, gradually, Jimin's hand disappeared from his.

Where there were his silly stories now laid heavy silence.

As cliche as it sounded but the hole in his chest he's felt for years grew exponentially and turned Jimin-shaped. But maybe, just maybe he improved enough to approach the younger again?

He became more mature, less impulsive and set his priorities straight.

He's tasted what he wanted and had enough of it.

Time has eroded the edges. He noticed that in his precious little one as well. After contemplating for a while he decided to do his best and have no regrets. He started paying more attention to him.

Went out of his way to make more time for him.

Bugged the he'll out of Taehyung and Jungkook so they spill at least bits of insider's information about what Jimin was up to in his free time. He asked for advice, sincerely and eagerly.

Expectedly, he got some mistrust and doubt. Maybe even anger.

And unexpectedly got lots of support and even more cuddles. He volunteered to cook more often, bluntly including Jimin's new favourites in dinners menu.

And he felt like maybe,

somehow,

very slowly

the dancer started to warm up to him, sometimes unconsciously dropping his happy mask and gazing at him with a forlorn look in his eyes. It only made him try even harder.

Yoongi thinks Hoba has a boyfriend.

No, now he's certain of it because they both sit at the table with the rest of Bangtan, having dinner and sharing funny stories, most of them to fluster the dancer and put the important guest at ease.

To make him seen and welcome. And he's miffed to accept this, but he couldn't help but wishing to have the same thing. He couldn't help but compare the way they were and the way these two are like.

First and major difference - he never told about him and Jimin to the rest of the group.

Maybe he shouldn't have been trying to hide the younger, like he didn't even matter.

Like he was nothing. He raised his eyes and saw Jimin looking at him.

Not at his face but at his hands.

Oh, so he has noticed.

He couldn't believe his luck. His soul was overwhelmed with a strong surge of hope.

Please let it be real, he prayed, palms sweating. The rings they once bought, first as a joke and then started wearing as a promise.

He found it in one of the jewellery boxes and couldn't recognize it at first.

Until he saw an identical one on the younger’s finger that day at studio.

And the next day.

And the next week too. Dinner wad over in a flash.

The rest of the guys dispersed to do their own things one by one.

Until it was just them two at the table, quietly sipping on their respective drinks.

Inhale, exhale slowly. - Yoongi-hyung, - he said in the sweet subdued tone of voice, - I have a favor to ask.

The elder hummed questioningly and Jimin continued:

- This might seem like a strange request. But could you please not wear this ring? You probably don't remember about it already but I'm asking you to please stop wearing it.

The dancer's voice was shaky now.

- Don't... if you don't mean it. Yoongi slowly slid his palm on the table and carefully took Jimin's hand.

When the other didn't protest he rubbed his knuckles with his thumb trying to gather his thoughts. - I've been thinking a lot lately, - he admitted, - and I came to realize that I never came around to thanking you. - What for? - his Jiminie was tense but didn't look like he was going to flee.

Their hands seemed to have travelled on their own and were glued together now but noone seemed too eager to separate. - For staying. With us, and with me then. For giving everything I asked for with no questions, no hesitations. For inspiration and for always being there. No matter how much I hurt you, you still treated me with kindness I'm not sure I deserve. - You deserve only good things coming your way, hyung, - was his immediate reaction. Yoongi's head hung low.

- I'm not promising anything right now. It wouldn't be fair to you. I'm not sure you'd accept that right now anyway. I'm not trying to hurt you even more than I did. All I'm asking is for a chance, Jimin-ah. The younger shifted uncomfortably but still didn't retract his hand.

- A chance as in...what?

Both their eyes got filled with unshed tears. - A chance to get to know you better. To re-learn things about you, to discover you. To talk like we used to but to communicate better. To move forward but holding each other's hand-

Yoongi couldn't get any more words out past the growing lump in his throat.

Jimin stood up slowly and went around the table, their hands still connected, only to tentatively sit on a chair next to his hyung.

Their thighs were touching now and it felt familiar, grounding. - I see, hyung. - he got quiet for some time, gently playing with the elder's fingers. - I won't promise anything either then. But I'm open to what you said. I missed you, - here his tears finally fell, - My only regret is that I didn't fight harder for you. For that, I'm sorry. - Hyung? Yoongi shook his head and then suddenly hid his face in the crook of Jimin’s neck.

- I'm sorry Jimin-ah, hyung is sorry. And I missed you too, terribly so. They stayed like this, half hugging each other, feeling the weight of their words, partly letting go of the hurt, letting the tears flow freely.

The air didn't feel suffocating to Jimin as it usually does.

He decided to let himself feel hopeful.

*still now*

The wind was blowing wildly as the ferry was moving smoothly along the river channel.

It was empty except for them, their security and the staff of the vehicle. Yoongi and Jimin sat huddled together, hats sitting how, masks and hoods pulled up.

They had long puffy coats and chunky scarves on.

- How is it, Jimin-ah? Do you feel the romance yet? - Yoongi's hands were wrapped around the younger’s arm tightly. - Maybe, but just because you're here! - Jimin replied eagerly. - Almost summer, hyung, aren't you excited?

The elder nodded and clung to his lover tighter. - I want more, - he murmured in his ear.

- You always do, hyung. - the dancer's head rested on his shoulder now.

He looked content. - What if I want more days like this. With you, with others. Want more places and our home. Nights where we're busy and when there's just us two. I want it all, if it's with you. Jimin turned to him and cupped his reddened cheeks with warm palms.

- Then I say, it's all yours. You have it. And you have me. They sealed that promise.

The kisses never tasted sweeter among the gusts of wind and the sounds of tinkling laughter.

~the end~

#ai-ee au #ai-ee au sfw yoonmin #bts au fic #bts fanfction #yoonmin #yoonmin au

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candorsky · 2 years ago

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You’re moving way too fast

Last night and some of today I continued to read those old blog posts, until I couldn’t find anything more on the wayback machine — by the end, I wasn’t even sure what I was looking for in them. A certain feeling? Like whatever I felt when I originally read them in my 20s, in the years around when my mom died, and nothing felt stable. I imagine that reading about someone’s life in the South of France sounded exciting and romantic at the time, but I don’t have a specific memory of that. It’s not a stretch since I had barely gone anywhere in my life. (Arguably, I still haven’t ventured very far.)

The obsession could just be a distraction from my own sadness, looking for some kind of milepost for my current emotional location. A certain smile, a certain sadness. I should know online records of any kind are far from complete. Yet I still want some kind of answer from them, if I can just search the right thing. I feel like I’ve had a few moments of nostalgia recently, tied to different eras and interests. The desire to revisit feelings from the past may be more of an obstruction than a lighthearted recollection.

I’ve been at the country house for the weekend with the dogs, the first time I’ve been here without my ex since the summer, when I was so desperate to leave. I’ve felt largely powerless to make true change in my life since then; we are in a protracted separation that keeps feeling clouded. This weekend, I feel myself being pulled into old patterns again. Even coming up to check on things after a big snowfall last week was something I absolutely didn’t want to do at first, and it felt like a familiar manipulation of my time. But the anxiety spread to my psyche, and then I wasn’t going to hope for the best over a cold weekend. I've made the most of it. Even when I managed to leave both physical and digital books currently reading behind in the city, I downloaded a pdf and used the phone app instead. I got my tax documents together — this happening so late in March is a sign of how things have been with me, not usually a procrastinator on that front. I closed my rings by shoveling snow. I soaked in the hot tub, even though it needed more shocking. I feel like I’ve been productive. Not sure that I've slept any better, but I’ve at least not stayed up late every night.

Maybe it’s the lack of stability that is the commonality. If reading blogposts by people who were at the time a little more adult than me (in age and practice) made me feel hopeful for the future then, is that kind of hope still possible for me, even if I am now older than they were then? There are pieces of it that are familiar to me now, like I’ve already lived the experience of moving to the country (though not in another country). Am I looking for aspirations?

More likely it’s just that I keep returning to the desire to really start writing regularly again, even if it’s just banal details of my life. (I set this up last year for that purpose, after all.) Reading twenty-year-old banalities could be a misdirection of the impulse. And I’m trying to relearn the confidence in writing things down and not caring if anyone reads it. Because paper journaling just feels too laborious for a regular practice and typing seems to open more. Well, I will try to be more active in this regard.

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ovaruling · 10 months ago

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no secrets!

so, foremost, nutritionally, im vegan, and i get lots of protein and carbs/fiber. i won’t bore you w the details of my diet (i will, if you want… i love talking abt the food i make and eat…) but i will say that diet is a majority player in muscle building, obv. especially if you have autoimmune issues/chronic fatigue/chronic pain like i do. you can do all the lifting you like and not see a difference (beyond severe injury prob) if you’re not paying attention to nutrition. and, tbh, if you’re not nurturing your gut microbiome. huge difference in my stamina after focusing on gut bacteria! maybe my absorption of nutrients improved. either way, plants are ya friend, especially beans! finding the sweet spot for your macros based on your activity level takes a bit of time, but that time will pass anyway.

exercise-wise—i have never set foot in a traditional gym, never worked with a trainer. not yet, anyway.

for about 1-2 years (i can’t even remember anymore) i did Pahla B Fitness workouts on youtube, which are low-impact but high-intensity. that was perfect for what i needed for my disabilities. i began with her seated workouts and progressed to her standing workouts. i can’t recommend her workouts enough. they’re free, they’re 20 minutes, and they gave me my life and my strength back.

then i started crossfit last spring, 3x a week. that in itself was a game changer. olympic lifts and plyometrics put more muscle on me in a few months than i’ve ever had in my life.

and then on non-crossfit days i do workouts at home. i actually don’t think i’d be fit enough to do crossfit if not for my home workout routine. bc i’m still technically disabled from a long history of damaging cosmetic surgery, i’m not able to sustain crossfit lifting every single day (i would if i could tho). i do conditioning workout programs at home that challenge me and keep taking me to the next level in fitness.

my favorite so far is Jillian Michaels’s 90 Day Body Revolution series (i have all the episodes on my google drive—drop me a msg if you’d like a link!). i’ve done it twice all the way through and i’m on my third round. she has you using 3, 5, and 8lb dumbbells for the program, but by my second round i upgraded to my 10, 15, and 20lb dumbbells and so i use those now. you just keep progressing according to your level of fitness.

i also like to mix it up with her other workouts too. i’ve been very happy w her Killer Arms & Back series and her Lift & Shred series. those 2 are where my latest upper body gains have come from, using my heaviest dumbbells with both.

i like that she provides modifications, both for beginners and for more advanced exercisers. and if there’s a move i can’t do—i recently injured my back and right side of my abdomen so i’ve had to stay away from targeted ab work—i substitute with something of hers i know i can do (in my case i do jumping lunges or single leg squats anytime there’s something i can’t do).

i also HIGHLY recommend isometric exercises. i was just talking about this to someone yesterday—bodyweight resistance and stability is extremely underrated but so, so, so effective. it’s very simple to modify moves. i suggest looking up “isometric workouts” on youtube to get a taste of where you personally are at as far as stability. if you can’t hold a lunge, modify by decreasing your range of motion—bring your legs in closer together, and don’t sink down as low into the lunge. hold on to furniture to steady yourself if you need to.

if you can’t plank, modify the plank, and rest on your knees so that you’re on all fours. practice holding your shoulders and back and neck in a straight line position, keep your butt low. try one or two seconds of a full plank and then go back to your modified knee plank. do this again. and again. and again. increase into a full plank on your toes as you get stronger.

same with push-ups—start on your knees. practice the proper form again and again and again until it becomes easy to do on your knees. eventually, try one on your feet. if it’s still too hard, stay on your knees. you can do knee push-ups forever and still see serious gains. you don’t ever have to do a “real” push-up to see gains. play around with your arm position while you’re on your knees—can you do a “wide” push-up, with your hands placed outside of your shoulder width? can you do a narrow push-up, with your hands closer together than shoulder width? can you do a tricep push-up, with your hands positioned at your ribcage, and elbows kept close to your body as you lower down? can you do a one-handed push-up? if not, how far down can you go on one hand? even if it’s only half an inch, do it, and remember that range of motion. work within that safe space. you can endlessly challenge yourself with push-ups on your knees.

ok now i’m getting off track! sorry, i get swept away babbling about all this stuff. there’s just so much information to convey! anyway. i’m happy to answer any specific questions, please don’t hesitate!

i started from less than zero, with muscle atrophy and osteoporosis and cosmetic surgery complications and no fitness whatsoever, so i’ve had a long journey of trials and errors and am happy to share any details that might help others.

oh p.s. electrolytes after each workout! my favorite brand is Dr. Berg’s, in the cherry-pomegranate flavor. i think potassium and other electrolytes are seriously ignored in favor of the cheaper sodium-heavy electrolytes like Gatorade or Liquid IV or whatever the trendy brands are now etc. electrolytes depend very much on a proper ratio of sodium to potassium, etc. the ideal ratio of sodium to potassium intake is roughly 1:3—per day, your potassium intake should ideally be around 3x your sodium intake. invest in a good oral electrolyte solution that has a balance of potassium, magnesium, calcium, and chloride, wrt to sodium. it will help you recover and reduce cramping, fatigue, and soreness.

also, of course, water. for my (substantial) height and my weight, and for the amount that i sweat, i drink 128oz of water per day and find that i feel very good on that, as long as i keep up with my balance of electrolytes from food and from my post-workout Dr. Berg powder.

not quite ripped but perhaps a little torn

#i sound 5 but i just woke up sorry lol

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phnmnt · 2 years ago

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Shen Yuan shixiong AU - Part 23

Letter to Ning Yingying - On the way home [Shen Yuan & Luo Binghe’s letter]

Ning Yingying sat excitedly in front of her shixiong and shidi’s room, a thick package cradled to her chest. She had just finished cleaning the room behind her, a habit she had taken after they had both set out to travel. She opened the package in her hands quickly, grabbing at the familiar small stack of rice paper. The first page was full of ink blotches and smudges. Who knows what kind of shenanigans those two were up to when writing this letter. The first lines were refined and elegant, Ning Yingying recognized her shidi’s handwriting right away and smiled.

“Dear Ning Shijie,

This shidi greets shijie! The mid-autumn festival is fast approaching and we are currently on our way back home, just like we had promised everyone we would. We've had an amazing time on our travels, but it is time to return before shixiong misses you all too much… or does something stupid. He’s always been a bit reckless but I discovered that he truly is a danger magnet. Just the other day, he nearly fell off two cliffs... just trying to look at plants. I swear I’ve grown white hairs in the last few months.”

Ning Yingying giggled, imagining the scene. Shixiong truly had no regard for danger when he found something that interested him. She moved her eyes to the next lines that took the bottom of the page plus a good portion of the next one. The penmanship was different, this one being livelier while being just as graceful as the previous one. It was Shen shixiong’s. More ink smears could be seen, there were even a few black fingerprints staining the right side of the second page.

“Alright, I’ll admit: Shixiong does miss Yingying and the others. A long time has passed… We’ve been gone for more than a year and Binghe is already taller than I am. I fear everyone will have grown so much that they will not need shixiong anymore when I come back. Such a terrifying thought!

To tell the truth, Binghe and I were going to surprise you all by returning earlier than we originally planned, but we encountered a small “problem” during our last night hunt. In the middle of hunting a particularly annoying yao that was causing trouble in the region, Noodle entered a kind of meditating state. The problem was that it happened right in the middle of fighting the yao and Noodle got hurt. After taking care of the night hunt, we took him to a nearby sect to heal him, hence why we pushed our return back. After a full week, I was finally able to stabilize his condition and I was able to settle him in his qiankun bag before hitting the road once more. I will study his condition further when we get back. At least now, the danger seemed to have passed.

Also, don’t listen to Binghe, I was perfectly fine when I was cataloging and gathering herbs. And his head looks completely fine to me, you don’t need to worry about him.”

Ning Yingying grinned. Those two really grew close while traveling, didn’t they? But Binghe seemed set on never telling their shixiong his feelings for him. How silly. She shook her head with a smile. She would have to sit her shidi down upon his return so he doesn’t take a weird oath on his own.

Ning Yingying was also glad that Noodle wasn’t too hurt. She never felt at ease with the spiritual creature, but she knew just how much that dusu snake meant to her shixiong. The latter would be inconsolable if anything happened to his scaly friend.

The letter continued on in Luo Binghe’s handwriting.

“I am convinced shixiong enjoys seeing me worry and wouldn’t mind my whole head turning white because of it-”

A big smudge nearly masked the entirety of the last characters of the sentence. Ning Yingying could picture the smack Shen shixiong gave Luo Binghe while reading over his shoulder as the latter wrote. The message resumed on a completely different subject.

“This shidi included a perfected version of the martial technique shijie has been practicing in the package. Shixiong and I have taken your notes into consideration and adapted the technique to suit your swordstyle better. Hopefully it will be easier to blend it in now. We will soon be able to give you better pointers as we’ll be back to train all together.

We’ve made good time and are currently more or less a 4 day ride away from the sect. Shixiong and I can’t wait to see you again!”

The correspondence ended with both their signatures squeezed together at the bottom of the third page. Ning Yingying couldn’t help but let out an excited noise. Both of her favorite people were about to be back! She gathered the package they had sent her and ran to announce the good news to the other disciples.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 8.5 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 -Part 14 - Part 15 - Part 16 - Part 17 - Part 18 - Part 19 - Part 20 - Part 21 - Part 22

#svsss #scum villian self saving system #luo binghe #shen yuan #sy shixiong au #phansdraws #took me a while lol #bon appetit everyone

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averagewriter-inthedark · 3 years ago

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To Infinity & Beyond ♾ | Doctor Strange Imagine

My Marvel Masterlist

Pairings: Doctor Strange x female!reader/enhanced

Content warnings: fluff, mentions of violence and death. Set after the events of Endgame | Female reader (she/her)

Premise: Having gained powers to conjure illusions after being exposed to the reality stone, Y/n L/n never thought she would ever find purpose in the world—even after being recruited to the Avengers. But after the mad-titan Thanos wiped away have the universe for five years, the aftermath grants her not just her wish, but something so much more.

——————————

“I always thought I’d be alone,” her soft voice rang out in the darkness. “Wouldn’t find purpose or even friends.”

“Why is that?” he asked gently from beside her where they laid on the roof of the Sanctum, watching the stars sparkle in the sky. The constellations appeared to be dancing after she gave a flick of her hand shortly after climbing up. He felt her shrug underneath his arm—the gentle brush of her head against his shoulder from the movement.

“It just didn’t seem in the cards for me. I was always on my own since I was a teenager—having been raised in the foster care system my whole life. Those types of connections never felt they would work for me. School was the only escape—and it wasn’t until I started working for Jane and Selvig that I felt some stability,” her voice lowers as the memories started to fill her mind.

“Then this power came,” the red-ish gold glow emitted from her fingers, causing him to turn him head. “—and I thought it was it for me. I was scared what it meant—not understanding even after Thor tried his best to explain. The way it affected Jane before I absorbed it made me believe I would die—cause she was dying with it in her. Even after they removed it, a piece still lingered and I didn’t know how my life would be.” She paused to sigh, “—but then the Avengers came and changed that.”

“And how was that—in the end?” The glow subsided from her hand and she set it back to her side.

There was a moment of silence before she spoke again, “It was good,” a sad smile took over her features. “I enjoyed my time with them.” She looked up so she could meet his eye. “If I hadn’t stayed—if I hadn’t helped,” she corrected, tone becoming soft, “I wouldn’t have met you, Stephen.”

Stephens eyes twinkled when they looked down at her, his hand coming up to stroke her hair. He pressed his lips to her forehand, letting his mouth linger for a bit while saying, “All because of some gems with power beyond anything we’ve seen.”

2018 was the first time Y/n L/n met the Master of Mystic Arts, Stephen Strange.

It would be a point in time that would change the trajectory of her life. Never did she think a simple meeting regarding Thanos would lead to the outcome they endured.

“Ms. L/n?” The voice startled had her jump from her spot on the couch when a glowing orange ring filled the room and a man stepped out from it. “You’re the one they call ‘The Illusionist’ correct?”

“Uh yes,” Y/n squeaked out, “who the hell is asking?” She did not recognize the man in blue and red—not having been part of the Avengers.

“My name is Doctor Stephen Strange,” he introduced himself before nodding his head to the portal, “I’d like you to come with me please—it is very important.”

Y/n was about to question the reason for urgency when two men stepped from behind Stephen making her eyes widen. “Tony—Bruce!” She hadn’t seen Bruce since Sokovia and for Tony it had been few months. After the Accords fiasco Y/n kept to herself and stayed at the tower.

“Hey, Houdini,” Tony greeted, ignoring her small glare at the nickname. “Sorry for popping in without calling first, but we’re on the clock apparently.”

Bruce gave a wave, “Hey, Y/n. Tony’s right— you gotta come with us.” So that’s how Y/n found herself in the New York Sanctum for the very first time. And it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

Strange and Wong explained the origins of the Infinity stones—which gave Y/n some answers to questions she had wondered considering her power came from the reality stone. Strange had noticed her curious expression, “Your power comes from the reality stone from what I hear.”

“Yes it does,” she confirmed without looking away from the projection Wong had conjured. “Was an accident. Still don’t understand it much—I just call it illusions whenever I use it—hence the nickname.”

Strange comes to stand beside her, hands clasped in front of him. “I would say you’re manipulating the reality around you,” he says then adds, “seems more fitting don’t you think?”

Y/n looked at him, brow raised. “Hmm, never thought of that. I guess you’re right—you would be the expert about this I assume.” She let out a small laugh, crossing her arms while turning back to the others. Wong finished telling the origin of the stones and then the topic of Thanos was brought up.

“So Thanos already had the mind stone and gave it to Loki in hopes of collecting the space stone,” Y/n put the pieces together, “—but Loki failed. Now Thanos is after them all.”

“Yes,” Strange agreed, “there are two stones on earth. The others are out in space somewhere but considering the information Dr. Banner has told us, Thanos has more than enough resources to get all six in a short amount of time.”

Y/n couldn’t help but let out an exhausted sigh—pinching the bridge of her nose, “Ross is so going to put me in the Raft.”

Everything seemed to happen so fast Y/n could barely blink. One minute Tony is about to make a call to Steve, the next they are in the city streets fighting two of Thanos’ children. She used her powers to distract them by conjuring multiple versions of the group so they were unable to detect the real ones.

Ebony Maw, however, had powers just as strong and managed to erase her illusions with a flick of the hand. Y/n did her best to combat the alien while helping Strange since Tony was busy with the bigger guy. When the sorcerer became incapacitated allowing Maw to take him, Y/n used all her might to conjure a stairway to the ship—surprising herself when she was actually able to ascend them.

It was something she had never done—bending reality to form physical matter. Although it worked, each time she stepped on a stair it would disappear so Y/n had to run up them before the illusion completely disintegrated.

When she snuck onto that ship, she had no idea she would not be retuning to Earth for nearly five years.

It was one fight after another when the fuzzy feeling went away after consuming for what felt like five seconds. The last thing she remembered was Tony telling her to stay and her crying out for him. So when she opened her eyes and saw Tony was not there, but everyone else was confusion filled her veins.

“Y/n,” a familiar voice called out and she spun around to be met with Stephen.

“Strange,” she breathed in relief. “Where—Where’s Tony—what happened?” The Titan they were on looked similar yet different and Tony was nowhere to be found.

“It’s been five years,” he continued before she could interrupt—seeing the look of shock on her face. “It was the only way—they succeeded and now it’s time to finish the job.”

“What?!” She exclaimed, watching him start to wave his hands. “W-what the hell do you mean it’s been five years? What did they do?”

He just looked at her with sympathy, “I’m sorry, but there’s no time to explain,” with another circle of his hands, the orange ring illuminated and a portal showing destruction opened. Y/n stepped in front, hands glowing while looking around the scene in front of her. When her eyes landed on Tony, seeing the look of shock on his face mixed with relief she knew something had to have happened.

She didn’t want to believe Stephens words were true and it had been five years—but the distinct aging from Tony told a different story.

After blood and chaos, the battle came to an end—and Y/ns lost a piece of her heart. Tony was gone—as was Natasha. Yes they were victorious, but was it really worth all the loss?

Following the funeral Y/n found herself seated at one of the benches on the lake house patio. Her eyes were closed—but her mind was elsewhere because when Stephen found her there was an illusion playing out where Tony and Nat were seated in front of her. It stopped him in his tracks. The images of the two looked so real, Stephen felt it was if they were really there.

His eyes fell on Y/ns tear stained face and his heart clenched. “Y/n,” he softly said, making her stop the projection. She let her shoulders deflate, opening her eyes to stare out to the lake while he slowly moved toward her. “Mind if I sit?”

“Go ahead,” she replied, turning away to wipe her face. “I thought you’d be gone by now.”

“I was heading out,” he nodded, clasping his hands in his lap as he sat down beside her. “—thought I’d pay one last respect to Pepper before leaving.” He waits a moment before adding, “And I wanted to see you as well—see how you’re doing. I know you and Tony were pretty close.”

Y/n let out a tired laugh, “We had our moments. I cared for him—he helped me after everything happened with the Accords and Thor was gone. I didn’t have a place to go, and Ross was hesitant of letting me out in society because of my powers. Tony managed to convince Ross I wasn’t a threat and could stay at the Tower.” She looks down, heart swelling at the memory. “He was a good man—despite the mistakes he made.”

Stephen agrees, taking a moment to let the words linger before speaking again. “Are you going to be okay?” She turns to look at him before shrugging.

“I was on my own long before I met the Avenger. Being alone is not something I’m a stranger too. I’ll manage—see where life takes me.”

Stephen places a hand on her shoulder, waiting for her reaction before saying, “You’re never alone, Y/n. Look around,” he gestures to the various people around the lake house. The Bartons were still there—Clint having a conversation by the lake with Wanda, and Thor was with Banner. Peter and his aunt were with Harley, Rhodey, Happy and Pepper while Morgan clung to her leg.

It was bittersweet.

“I may not have been an Avenger,” Stephen begins, capturing her attention again. “But I saw the way you all share a special bond. It’s unbreakable—and you will always have them even if you don’t realize it.”

Y/n processed his words, feeling a sense of hope fill her veins and a smile soon made its way on her face. “Thank you, Stephen. I really needed to hear that.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied genuinely, “and if you ever need anything the Sanctums doors are open to you.” He’s surprised when her hand comes up to take his, feeling the warmth of her palm.

“I might take you up on that,” she told him, glancing back at the lake briefly, “—and you don’t be a stranger either.” She squeezes his hand. He laughs, promising to not be and she put her hand back in her lap. “Things are gonna be different now.”

He follows her gaze to the lake, smiling at the sight of Morgan on Peters shoulders and Harley chasing them. “They will, but we’ll get through it,” he briefly looks to her adding, “together.” That seemed to make her smile.

“I know I shouldn’t make those illusions,” Y/n then said, letting her eyes flicker to the floor. “It’s just—It’s just nice to see them like that. To remember how they were. I never got to say goodbye to Nat, you know.”

Stephens face turns solemn, remembering Tony wasn’t the only one she lost. “I’m sorry. I wish there was—.”

“No,” she stops him with a soft voice, “There was nothing we could do—you saw the possibilities and what needed to be done. The universe was saved because of Nat and I know she’d be proud to know we were victorious—that her sacrifice was not in vain.” Y/n thinks back to her time with the amazing woman, “And although I’ll miss her, I know she’s at peace.”

A silence takes over between the two and he waits a moment before speaking. “You shouldn’t feel bad about your illusions.” When her tilts in confusion he continues, “—if remembering how they were helps you cope, then you should do it. You have a gift, Y/n—and you shouldn’t feel guilty of using it. Especially if it helps you.”

She leans back against the bench, a little shyly, “I wouldn’t call it a gift—.”

“But it is,” Strange interjects, surprising her more, “It’s not everyday someone comes in physical contact with an infinity stone and survives, let alone is given a power. Wanda and her brother were the only ones to survive the exposure of the mind stone—,” he nods to the redhead talking to Clint. “—It chose them.” He looks back to her to see Y/n already had her eyes on him. “Just like the reality stone chose you. You’re special, Y/n.”

Gratitude erupts in her, and Y/n smiles once again at the man. “You know, for someone who says he doesn’t have a way with words, you really know how to make someone feel better.” The statement makes him laugh.

“I was someone who would take everything and anyone around me for granted. Didn’t really see the value in things,” he gives a shrug, “—but I’ve realized that isn’t how one should view life. I needed to do better, and I hope saying it also helps others.”

“Well it does,” she tells him. “And someone should tell you that everyone in awhile.”

Stephen raises a brow, an idea coming to mind. “Maybe you can be the one.” Y/n didn’t know what exactly he was implying, but it was enough to cause heat to rise. She turned away when he started to smirk, biting her lip to stop the smile from peeking out.

Funny what life brings you—even in the strangest of times.

“You know something came to my mind,” She suddenly says, making his brow, “All of us had some contact with these stones at one point—none of us having known each other prior,” she pauses glancing at the new friends she called family. “But these little gems with power beyond anything we’ve ever seen, managed to bring us all together,” her eyes meet his, bittersweet emotion filling them.

The corners of his lips curl up, “I guess the universe had a plan for us.” She mirrors his expression, mischief twinkling in her gaze.

“What’s that thing Buzz Lightyear always said?” she paused, laughing when Stephen already started to chuckle at the joke she was implying. He took her hand again and together they said the words.

“To infinity and beyond.”

#doctor strange #stephen strange #doctor strange imagine #doctor strange x reader #doctor stephen strange #doctor strange x y/n #enhanced!reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel #avengers #marvel imagine #avengers imagine #benedict cumberbatch #doctor strange headcanon

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