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sneakyparsnipslicer · 1 year ago

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The Disappearance of Bobby Krauser

[Another transformation story, I've been having a lot of ideas, so there could still be a lot more stories coming in the following days]

Today might have just been the worst day for Bobby, certainly the worst for a good while. The day had started like any working morning did. Alarm went off at 4am, went to his kitchen to make a coffee, sort out his backpack with food and tools he'd need for the 12 hour shift. He'd been in this routine for 2 and a half years, work was at a factory that made food products for some Belgium-based brand. 48 hours a week he worked per block, four days on, four days off. The pay was good too, even though he was still a temp worker after so long. He'd managed to finally move out of his mother's house at the age of 27 thanks to the money he was earning from the constant work. In many ways it had made his life better, but as a side effect it had made him into a bit of a workaholic.

Bobby had gone to work, same as usual, started working in his section of the factory at 6am, his job was to watch the conveyor belts and set the machines right if something went wrong and the alarms sounded, like a carton getting stuck on a diverter or a cardboard box not being taken off the pile correctly. It was easy since he'd learned all there was to know about the job. Only trouble was he'd tried applying for a full time job over the past year, three times.

During his first work break he sat in the canteen, he was approached by one of his co-workers Kyle. 'Morning Bobby, how are things?' Kyle asked. 'Hey Kyle, I'm good thanks, what's up?' Bobby asked, looking up from his phone. 'So I know you've been wanting that machine operator job for a while now' Kyle began. 'Only for about a year now mate' Bobby chuckled. 'Yeah, see I told a friend of mine about the job… and they've taken him on' said Kyle. Bobby's smile fell at the mention of this. He looked at Kyle. 'I'm really sorry Bobby' stammered Kyle. Bobby sighed and shook his head. 'That's fine I guess, I've only been passed over 3 fucking times now' said Bobby passive-aggressively, looking to his phone. 'Look man, my friend really needed a job and I mentioned it to him' said Kyle nervously. 'And that's fine, really. I'd probably have done the same. Well I can't really do anything about it now can I, this has to be fine' grumbled Bobby, not making eye contact with Kyle. Kyle looked down sheepishly. 'Anyway, I've gotta go. See you around' said Kyle hopefully. Bobby waved his hand and watched Kyle as he left. Bobby sat back in his chair and sighed. 'Fucking hell' he breathed, looking at the ceiling. He looked over at the clock and saw he was needed back in the factory in the next 5 minutes. He packed his stuff up, washed his hands and returned to the factory. The rest of the shift went as average as it could be, around 3pm his team leader, Luke entered the factory and asked Bobby to come with him to one of the meeting rooms. In the room was one of the ladies from the agency he worked for. Bobby and his team leader sat down.

'Right, Bobby. Long story short, we're letting you go' started Luke. Bobby's face sank. 'Why?' asked Bobby, sitting up in his chair. 'We've come to realise you're not happy here' said Luke. 'Luke, I've been here 2 and a half years, I've never been late, if I didn't like it here I'd have found work elsewhere long ago' said Bobby firmly. 'We've also had another applicant for the job you applied for and we've got a really good feeling about him' stated Luke matter-of-factly. 'So you're just going to throw 2 year's training down the toilet for some guy off the street?' asked Bobby, trying not to get over-infuriated. 'Bobby, we're grateful for all you've done for us, but we just don't need you anymore. You can leave straight away, we'll give you a week's pay' said Luke. Bobby looked to the agency lady and back to Luke. This was unbelievable. 'Well can I at least finish my shift today, we clock out in 3 hours and I'd hate to leave my team in the lurch' said Bobby. 'No Bobby, you can leave right now' said Luke firmly. Bobby got the hint, they really were kicking him out the door. 'Susan here will help you find other work, I'm sure you'll be fine at your mother's for now' said Luke. 'I moved out of my Mum's 2 years ago Luke, how do you not know this? You're leaving me in a flat with no secure job future' argued Bobby. 'Oh… well, you'll find something better' said Luke. Bobby rolled his eyes. 'Well, guess I'd better go get my things from the locker room then' said Bobby, getting out of his chair and leaving the room. On his way to signing out, he saw Kyle and decided to busy himself with the clocking machine. 'Bobby, I just heard, I'm really sorry' said Kyle. Bobby looked to Kyle, he really wanted to say what he thought of him, but shook his head. 'It's alright, I just hope your friend's as good as everyone's making him out to be' said Bobby. 'But it's just you have your flat and all' said Kyle. 'And the agency will find me other work, don't worry about me Kyle. That's my job now' said Bobby, and he proceeded to leave the factory building. On his way home he checked his phone, a few of the other factory workers had caught wind of what happened and had messaged him on Facebook. It cheered him up, being asked to keep in touch and them passing on their anger about how Bobby had been handled. But he put his phone away, he needed to do something about this predicament.

Arriving home his first thought was to fire up his computer and print off some CVs, then head into town and look for work. So he put the kettle on and got to work on doing that. He popped a handful in his backpack and headed into town. It was funny, his work life had just vanished, 4 hours ago he had a job, and now here he was keeping an eye out for shop windows that said 'Staff Wanted'. Maybe he could've just gone online and saved some trouble but he just needed some fresh air to clear his head. He stopped by a few shops and supermarkets, those that would accept CVs got one, but most places told him to apply online. It really was a sign of the times, back when he'd started his work career it felt a lot more normal to meet someone in person at a shop and hand them a CV. Approaching one alleyway, he came across a small building that used to be a café that he used to frequent before it shut down about a year ago. The windows were darkened and a sign above it read 'Enrique's Escapist Emporium'. Bobby reckoned this place can't have been open all that long, but there was a 'Staff Wanted' sign on the door and the sign said 'Open' so he shrugged his shoulders. Why not.

Walking inside, he heard a small bell ring as he opened the door. The room beyond was dimly lit, and he could faintly hear a radio playing near where the serving counter was. Squinting, Bobby could see someone sitting there and began to make his way over. The person sitting at the counter was caught up in a crossword, funnily they looked as if they belonged to a gym more than a dainty little shop. They put down their reading glasses and crossword and smiled at Bobby. 'Good afternoon, how can I help you?' they asked. 'Uh, hi. My name is Bob, and I'm looking for a job' said Bobby, smiling. The guy smiled and chuckled. 'Well if that's not the most Quentin Tarantino thing I've heard all day' the guy remarked. 'Have you got a CV on you, Bob?'. Bobby paused for a moment and then took off his backpack, rummaging through it and handing one to the man. Who took it and looked. 'Bobby Krauser' said the man, reading the top of the paper. 'Oh yeah, that's me' said Bobby. It was strange, this person seemed well-mannered and decent, but something was making him feel nervous. Maybe it was the lack of light in the room. 'Have a seat please, Bobby' said the man, gesturing to a small wooden chair. Bobby took a seat and waited in anticipation. 'Oh please, make yourself comfortable. I'll begin your interview shortly' said the man. Bobby took off his backpack and coat and tried to calm his nerves.

'Tell me about yourself then Bobby, you from around here?' the man asked. 'Oh yeah, I was born at the hospital on the other side of town' said Bobby. The man smiled and nodded. 'And you're… 28, 29 maybe?' he asked. 'Yeah, 29. Reaching the big 30 next year' said Bobby, chuckling. The man looked at him and smiled. 'So, you've been a cleaner, a kitchen assistant and a factory worker then?' asked the man. Bobby nodded. 'Oh I also worked at a game shop for a few months, so I did retail for a while' added Bobby. The man nodded and placed the paper down, putting his hands together and taking a good look at Bobby. 'So then Bobby, do you have any questions for me?' he asked. 'Uh, well is your name Enrique? It's just I know the shop sign says Enrique's Escapist Emporium' said Bobby, pointing to the front door. 'Yes that's correct' Enrique smiled. 'Ah, have you had this place long?' Bobby asked. 'We opened a couple of weeks ago, moved from up country but I rarely stay in one place' Enrique answered. 'I see. So what is it you do here exactly?' asked Bobby. 'Here we sell whatever the customer wants' said Enrique vaguely. Bobby looked on confused. 'That seems to be a broad range then' chuckled Bobby nervously. Enrique shook his head. 'Not at all. May I ask you a question, Bobby?' asked Enrique. Bobby thought for a moment. 'Sure, go ahead' said Bobby. 'What do you want?' Enrique asked calmly. 'Well I want a job if you've got one going' replied Bobby, shrugging his shoulders. Enrique chuckled softly. 'I like you Bobby, you're funny. I mean what do you really want, out of life?' he asked. Bobby thought for a moment. 'Take your time' said Enrique reassuringly. 'I… I want to be happy again' said Bobby, looking to the ground. This response made Enrique raise his eyebrows. 'How do you mean, Bobby?' asked Enrique.

'Well, I think in recent years I've become a bit cranky. My last job just let me go a few hours ago. I moved out of my Mum's after years of her telling me I needed to get a proper job, then I needed to get myself a place to live. I just wasted 2 and a half years as a temp worker at a factory, my friends that I have tell me I've become passive-aggressive. I've got a lot going on in life and… I just wish I could be happy, like I was back in school' Bobby lamented. Enrique looked at him sadly. 'Well from what I've seen Bobby, you're funny, friendly and kind-spirited' smiled Enrique. Bobby smiled. 'Thanks Enrique, but you've only just met me. I was here to make a good first impression' said Bobby. 'But you've been genuine. I can tell you've been through a lot, but you seem to bottle that away well' said Enrique observantly. 'So do I qualify to work here then' asked Bobby, trying to bring the conversation back around to the reason he came in. 'I suppose I could take you on, but I feel you're more in need of your happiness first' said Enrique, standing up. Bobby came to realise that Enrique was a pretty tall guy, easily 6'3, towering over his standing height at 5'2. Bobby had the chance to see he had a very muscular build, biceps and triceps galore, he wondered for a moment if Enrique had to turn sideways to get through the front door when he entered the shop. Enrique walked off to the back room, Bobby could hear him rummaging through the shelves. He wondered if he should get out of there, he began to feel nervous again. Their conversation had gone unexpectedly deep. What exactly did Enrique mean by 'giving him his happiness'.

Enrique returned with a small box. 'Sorry to have kept you waiting Bobby, it's still pretty cluttered back there' Enrique chuckled. He placed the box on the counter and sat back down. Bobby and Enrique looked at the box, then Bobby looked to Enrique who was looking at Bobby searchingly. 'Bobby, I'm going to give you a choice and I really want you to think hard about this' warned Enrique. Bobby nodded nervously. Enrique sighed and began. 'Think of this as Pandora's Box, Bobby. Your happiness lies within it, however it comes with a price' said Enrique. 'Oh, just let me get my wallet-' began Bobby jokingly, but Enrique shook his head. 'Bobby, for the short time I've known you, you strike me as a lovely, wonderful person. You are probably loved and cared for by so many people. Even if you don't see it yourself, there are those that genuinely care for you. You open this box and Bobby Krauser ceases to exist. You'll become someone new, you might be happier, but you won't be beloved Bobby anymore' said Enrique ominously. Bobby looked to the box, then back to Enrique. 'And what's the other choice Enrique' asked Bobby, sweating nervously. 'You remain Bobby and continue as Bobby. You may even work here and travel as Bobby. The choice is yours'

Bobby considered his options, a fresh start at life as someone else. He could leave his old life behind, leave everything and everyone he knew. He'd sometimes thought about how if he'd died, he'd love to know who would mourn him. But on the other hand, him actually vanishing would make that thought a reality and he thought of his family, his friends near and far. The alternative was to live as himself and just pray that life magically got better over time. Bobby looked at the box, looked to Enrique and placed his hand on the box. Enrique sighed sadly but nodded in acceptance. 'Very well then, you'd better open the box' said Enrique. Bobby curiously lifted the lid and peered inside. There was a single, dusty purple bottle with a cork in the top. He picked it up, there was no label on it. He looked back to Enrique. 'What is this Enrique?' Bobby asked. Enrique folded his arms and looked to it sadly. 'It's a gel, it'll help you become who you're going to be' said Enrique. He stood up and went to the front door, turning the sign to say 'Closed' and locked the door. 'You'd better come to the back room' Enrique said. Bobby stood up and followed Enrique.

Inside the backroom was a bizarre sight. There were shrines lining the walls with pictures of various nameless people, surrounded by candles and garments that presumably belonged to the framed people. 'People come here seeking escapism, Bobby. Much like yourself. They may not wish to be remembered, but I never forget them' said Enrique, looking around. 'So, when do I stop being me?' Bobby asked. 'That bottle. Remove your clothes and rub it's contents all over your body' said Enrique. Bobby shrugged and did as he was told, removing his shoes, socks, trousers and t-shirt. He opened the bottle and began to rub it's contents all over him. Soon he was all lubed up and glistening in the candle light. He turned to Enrique who had also removed his clothes and gelled himself up. They both looked at each other for a moment. 'Such a beautiful soul. Farewell Bobby Krauser' said Enrique. Bobby looked at him confused. The next thing Bobby knew, Enrique's big, slimy hands grabbed his jaw and prised his mouth open. He moved his right hand into Bobby's mouth and pushed down, to Bobby's surprise, his neck began to expand as Enrique's fist and forearm slid down into his chest. Bobby's knees buckled and he was kneeling on the floor before the giant man. Bobby looked into Enrique's eyes as he placed his left arm into the gaping void that was now Bobby's mouth. The sound of stretching elastic filled the room as Enrique raised a foot and lowered it into Bobby's mouth. The foot and leg snaked down, to fill out Bobby's skinnier leg, making it bloat out three times it's previous size. Bobby was amazed, this was a crazy way to go out. But if he was going to become Enrique, he just knew he was going to love it. Enrique lifted his second leg into Bobby's mouth and moved him around to align with his own body. By now Bobby's feet and legs were darkening, expanding and squeaking, becoming massive. Bobby already had Size 11 feet, but with Enrique invading them, they shot to a ridiculous 18. His legs thickened like tree trunks and Enrique began to pull Bobby's body upwards. As Enrique continued to slide into Bobby's body, everything just got bigger. Bobby's relatively flat ass become like two big watermelons and his already six inch dick became an absolute monster of a serpent with two basketballs hanging below it. His belly compressed against Enrique's impressive washboard abs and his arms became enormous. By now Enrique was nearly entirely inside Bobby, all that was left was to match up the chin and lift his head over his, completing the transformation. Enrique stood in the middle of the room, huffing and panting, an absolute hulk of a man. Skin still bubbling and contorting, Enrique grabbed his dick and began jacking it hard. Picturing Bobby's kind face in his mind, he roared the most animalistic roar as he shot a huge load worthy of several giants. The cum pooled on the floor and began to shape as a new form emerged. A new man was birthed from the warm sludge, he stirred and gasped as he took his first breaths. Enrique stood against the wall panting and sweating as the new man began to explore his tanned body. He was a bit more built than Bobby had been, dare he say even more handsome. The man's eyes were bright with new excitement and amazement. He looked at Enrique, who was starting to look more like how he did before he slipped into Bobby and gave him a hug.

'Enrique, thank you, thank you so much' he cried. Enrique smiled. 'Here is your happiness, as promised' Enrique said. The man smiled at Enrique. 'I think from this day forward I'll go by Gabriel. Always liked that name' said Gabriel. 'Well Gabriel, the world's yours now. Be who you want to be. Go start your new life' said Enrique. He found some clothes out for Gabriel and put back on his own clothes. They both left the backroom and Enrique unlocked the shop door for him. Gabriel felt the wind on his new face and sighed with contentment. He sauntered off and Enrique returned to his shop. He looked to the counter and saw Bobby's backpack and coat. He sighed and picked them up, looking towards the back room. They were mementos now, belonging to a man that no longer existed.

A few months have passed since the strange disappearence of Mr. Bobby Krauser. Many have suspected suicide, but no body can be found. Those that remember him hope that he may one day return and remember the best of times they can recall with him. Police managed to find his phone inside an old and long-abandoned café shop that closed a year ago, why it was there is a mystery, though no other leads can be found in this investigation. It has been discovered that Mr. Krauser's bank account had been emptied around 7pm the day he lost his job at a cashpoint within his hometown. It is unknown where Mr. Krauser went following his unjustified suspension from his previous job, but if he's out there still, we hope he has found peace. -DCI G. K. Ralser

#transformation #bodysuit #rebirth #giant #male transformation #male tf #racial change

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magicshopaholic · 2 years ago

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Unfinished Business (Jungkook x OC)

Summary: You hate leaving things unfinished - something Jungkook knows a thing or two about.

Pairing: Jungkook x OC

Genre: Fluff, angst (but not the kind you think)

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 5.4 K

Warnings: language, tattoos and needles, a lot of ambiguity

A/N: Writing for the OG couple after a long while. Highly recommended reading (or re-reading) The Fifth Part 1 and 2, or at least Part 2 for sure. Contains a lot of references to the past. Takes place post-military enlistment, a few months after Honey.

Tagging: @bbl32 @ggukkieland @bangtannoonalvg @pb-n-juju @juciu @jeoncookie-bts @quarter-life-crisis2 @dreaming-with-happiness @meirkive @kflixnet (italics cannot be tagged. If you want to be added to the taglist, drop a comment or ask)

Listen to: "suspicious minds" by elvis presley

jungkook masterlist | main masterlist

It’s only seven am, but Lia’s focus has already been stolen.

Clutching a cup of hot coffee and dressed in nothing but Jungkook’s t-shirt, she leans against the kitchen doorway of his new apartment, pensively surveying the last remaining boxes that need to be unpacked. They aren’t too big; all the major work was done yesterday, including unwrapping, decorating and cleaning up. The three cartons left in the corner of the living room, one of them marked Fragile, can’t take too much time or effort.

But Lia can’t handle things left unfinished.

Draining her cup, she places it on the kitchen mantle and retrieves a pair of scissors, getting to work. The first box is living room utilities; a key holder, fridge magnets, a few chargers. She moves them all to their correct locations, trying to make as little noise as possible so as to not wake Jungkook.

A lot of the heavy lifting yesterday had been done by him; even though he’d seemed to enjoy it, he’d been exhausted by the end of the night. As determined as he’d still been, by the end Lia could tell his energy was declining, especially as his hints to get her to move in with him began becoming less and less subtle.

She’s rummaging through the second box, filled mostly with other knick knacks, when Jungkook emerges from the bedroom, squinting sleepily and pulling on a t-shirt.

“You don’t have to do that,” he says, voice thick with sleep. He clears his throat.

“It’s no problem,” she replies absently, glancing up at him. “There’s coffee in the machine.”

The sound of his feet padding into the kitchen fades away slightly as she continues unpacking. The second box has only the dregs of a bachelor’s past in it, including a remote that seems to belong to nothing and a half-empty box of condoms. Deciding to let Jungkook deal with it, she reaches for the last box just as he joins her on the floor.

“Okay, I don’t know where to place these,” she tells him, gesturing to the carefully bubble-wrapped photo frames. “I mean, I can try, but -” She scans the entertainment unit around the television, noting space for at least eight or ten frames. “This seems like something you should decide.”

“You can, too,” he offers, picking out a frame and unwrapping it. “Half the pictures are of you,” he points out, flashing her a toothy grin.

“They’re with me, not of me,” she corrects him, even as she takes the frame from him and admires the picture. It’s of them seated on the edge of a go-kart, in racing overalls and with breathless grins. “This was a fun day.”

“Yeah. The cars were faster than I expected.” Jungkook is quiet for a moment before placing the picture down and tilting his head towards the box. “How many are there in total? I’m not even sure all of them will fit.”

“Sure they will.” Lia drags the box closer and they begin unwrapping the pictures one by one, the memories making them chuckle occasionally. Despite the fact that a large number of them don’t include her, it’s strangely endearing to view glimpses of Jungkook’s youth, his friends and his success.

“This one should go right in the middle,” he decides, holding up a framed picture of the day he’d taken Lia home to meet his parents for the first time. Jungkook had dragged her to the centre of the group, his parents on either side of them, and his brother behind them right after he’d set the timer on the camera.

“It’s cute,” she agrees, “but shouldn’t you put this one up there, too?” she asks, holding up a picture of him with his group members. “Wasn’t this your first award?”

“Oh, yeah…”

“There’s probably space for both.”

“What about this one, though? This was in Wembley…”

They continue debating between what must be at least fifteen frames, eventually standing up to start arranging them on the shelf.

“Wait, you want to do them all now?” he asks a bit incredulously, eyes wide.

“It’s not that many, Kook,” she tells him, patting his shoulder encouragingly. “We’ve unpacked everything else - do you really want just one box to lie around in the living room?”

“I don’t mind.”

“Really.”

“Let me say that differently: I don’t mind.”

Lia struggles to suppress a smile at his cheeky response and picks up another handful of frames from the box, moving to the shelf. “You got me. I don’t like loose ends. Now can we do this? Come on, you’ve always said you wanted one of these in your living room,” she reminds him. “You finally have it.”

Jungkook sighs dramatically but joins her, for she’s not wrong, and picks up a picture of himself and Namjoon at the United Nations. “Okay, let’s see…” Filled with concentration, he scours the shelf and finally picks a spot near the top. “There,” he says, carefully placing it at an angle and turning around with a flourish. “Okay, what’s next?”

She chuckles and hands him a picture of BTS on stage, and they get back to work. Eight more carefully arranged pictures later, both of them stand back to admire their handiwork.

Lia nudges his side gently. “It looks good, don’t you think?”

“It does… but I’d imagined a lot more pictures, to be honest.” He looks down at her inquiringly. “We have more, right?”

“At least ten,” she assures him. “Any particular events you want to put up? People or birthdays or anything…?” She rummages through the box and retrieves a few more frames, moving to arrange them on the sofa so they can both look at them.

“This one for sure,” says Jungkook after a moment, pointing at a picture of himself and a couple of his band members. “It was after Coachella - such a fun night. This one, with you in Incheon,” he adds, like it’s obvious. “This one, backstage.”

“Was it a special concert?”

“No, but I think I look good in it,” he admits sheepishly. “Or is that too conceited? You know what, forget I said -”

“I agree, completely,” she interrupts him seriously, swiping the picture up from under his nose and placing it next to a frame of Jungkook with Seokjin. She pauses at the sight of her boyfriend in the first one, looking dapper in a suit at the engagement party she’d attended as his date. In the second, Jungkook’s hair is thick and lush, falling onto his forehead with ease, his face shiny and alight with post-concert adrenaline. “Looks good, no?”

Jungkook grins. “If you insist. What about those?”

Lia takes stock of the remaining. “This one is nice… oh, this one is, too - but it might become repetitive… why do you have so many pictures with Namjoon? Okay, wait - this one, for sure. Oh - and this group picture.” She hands half of them to Jungkook and starts arranging the rest.

“Perfect.”

At his proclamation, both of them step back again to survey their progress. “Looks great, babe. We can get rid of the box and finally clear -” She breaks off when she sees a few frames still in the box. “Wait, what about these?”

“No more space.”

Lia frowns. “Huh,” she utters softly, tucking her hair behind her ears and reaching for the pictures. One is of Jungkook and Bang PD, but there’s already another one of them on the shelf, so she lets it go. The second is a slightly unfocused one of him at dinner with a few friends, while the third is the group picture she’d handed to him a couple of minutes ago.

She holds it up to show him. “You’re not putting this up?”

“What?” He glances at the picture and shakes his head. “No… it’s really crowded and you can’t see anyone in it. Besides, it’s not even a special event,” he adds.

She looks back down at it. It’s clearly taken at someone’s house - and at a party, judging by the attire. There are definitely a lot of people, but crowded might be a bit of an overstatement. There are about ten or twelve people at most, some sitting on a sofa and the rest standing behind it, almost everyone clutching glasses with varying levels of drink and smiling into the camera.

Even through the motionless image, the air of mild intoxication and friendship and fun is palpable. Almost all the members of BTS are in the picture, but the rest are a mixture of unfamiliar boys and girls, most of whom Lia doesn’t think she’s ever met. Jungkook is towards the side of the sofa, looking younger than she’s ever known him, with his friend Mingyu on one side and a girl on the other, perched on the arm of the couch.

Lia’s gaze lingers on Jungkook; this picture is pre-military, clearly, before the group went on hiatus to enlist. His eyes are shining, his hair thick and long, the lip ring glinting in the dim light. She spots various members of BTS; Jimin’s infectious smile, Namjoon’s dimple, Taehyung’s arrogantly handsome expression. All the other pictures with the group members on the shelf are at events - tours, shoots, engagements, the White House. This one is the most candid - the only candid one.

She bites her lip; she knows reuniting for a comeback wasn’t the cakewalk Jungkook tried to pass it off as. From the snippets she’s picked up from him and the way her marketing team at Hybe has been working on it since before she and Jungkook even met, it’s been clear that the members have been approaching it with different states of mind - and it’s no surprise that Jungkook might be struggling with it the most.

She watches him saunter into the kitchen and duck behind the fridge door. She’d never wanted to push him, especially about a part of his life she didn’t really know, but maybe that wasn’t the right way to go about it.

“Maybe we can fit it next to the one of you and Namjoon at the UN,” she suggests. “There’s space there. Or we can replace the one of you and your boxing instructor?”

“I like that one,” replies Jungkook without looking up, now busy assembling breakfast. “Do you want ham?”

“Sure, thanks,” she says absently. Glancing down at the picture again, she shakes her head slightly. It looks like a still from a movie. “It’s a really nice picture, Kook.”

“They’re all nice pictures, but something or the other would get cut,” he says reasonably. “These three are the least nice ones, I guess.”

“It was nice enough to get framed,” she points out. She knows she’s being persistent but it’s most unlike Jungkook to deliberately exclude a picture with his friends, especially the members of BTS. “Even the colour palette would look great with the rest. I think you should consider it.”

Jungkook sucks a bit of sauce off the tip of his finger. “It’s my shelf,” he says simply.

There’s a line, a line beyond which she’s sure her sweet and patient boyfriend can snap. Lia doesn’t think she’s there yet but a part of her is curious to see how far she can take this - and how concerning the situation is.

“Jungkook,” she begins, her tone gentler than before, “is something wrong? Because I thought everything was starting to go back to normal.”

He pauses before sighing softly. “You’re right,” he says finally, looking up but not quite meeting her eyes. “Everything’s okay now. You should put up that picture.” He gives her a small smile and goes back to the sandwiches.

Lia obliges, but something continues nagging at her. Jungkook is an open book, but this topic feels so out of reach to her that she can’t even begin to know where to start. As their comeback rehearsals and studio sessions have increased in frequency, he’s started to reach home later and later, looking more relieved and happy each time. She wonders if it’s still not enough for him, if something has changed so irreversibly that things aren’t bad - they’re just different.

But there are other things to do today.

“This might be the coolest thing we’ve done together,” says Jungkook excitedly. He slows the car, searching for a parking spot. When Lia doesn’t answer, he frowns. “You don’t agree?”

She winces. “I don’t think it’s the coolest.”

“Can you name a cooler thing we’ve done?”

“I can name, like, twenty.”

Jungkook huffs. “Do you really not want to do this?” he whines, his shoulders slumping.

“Of course, I do,” she answers immediately, squeezing his arm, her fingers pale against his dark tattoo sleeve. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

“Are you sure? Because it’s really not a big deal, we don’t have to -”

“I know that, Kook,” she interrupts him patiently. “I want to, I promise. I mean, it was kind of my idea,” she adds.

“What?” He glances at her incredulously. “I suggested couple tattoos, like, one month after we started dating.”

“Yeah, that probably wasn’t the best strategy,” she mutters wryly. “But, I meant, the design of the tattoos was my idea.”

“That’s true,” he allows. “And it’s a nice design. Very…” He breathes in dramatically. “Very us. Our core. A lot of history there,” he points out, grinning.

“And the least cheesy design I could think of.” She pinches his cheek as he slides into a parking spot, unable to resist. “Also one where if we break up, mine won’t look strange.”

“Wow, way to ruin it, Lee-lee,” he mutters, scowling as he switches off the car. “That’s it - we’re switching. I’m getting the basketball, you’re getting the basket.”

“What? Absolutely not,” argues Lia as she climbs out of the car. “I’m the one who came up with it; I’m getting the ball.”

“No, now I don’t want the basket. Why can’t you get it?”

“Because it’ll make no sense, an empty basket,” she points out, walking alongside him. “You have enough tattoos that it won’t stand out. Oh, and also - I actually play basketball?”

“That doesn’t sound fair.”

“That’s tough, Jeon,” she says shortly, patting him on the shoulder as they climb the stairs to the entrance of the tattoo parlour. “But we’ve already got the sketch and placement and everything done, and we’re sticking to the plan.”

“God, you’re bossy.”

“And you’re bratty,” she retorts, squeezing his shoulders and kissing his left one. “But I love you anyway.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook grins as they enter the reception, trailing slightly behind her. The low hum of the air conditioner takes over from the traffic outside as he follows Lia to the desk, keeping barely an inch of distance between their bodies and leaning over her shoulder. “You mean that?”

“Sure.”

“God, I love it when you talk dirty to me,” he mutters, pulling out his wallet for his ID and placing it next to hers, flashing a smile at the receptionist. “Fine, I’ll get the basket.”

He pinches her waist gently and she gasps in surprise, swatting his hand away. “Good. Because we’ve pushed this appointment enough times and I just want it to be done. I hate that it’s just unfinished and incomplete and just hanging there, waiting for us to get on with it.”

“Huh.” Jungkook is quiet for a moment. “What if the artist isn’t available today?”

“Then I will physically pick up the tattoo gun and draw the tattoos on us.”

“You’d really draw a tattoo on me? You? I mean, I love you,” he quickly backtracks, “but… you?”

“Exactly,” she says as they walk inside together. “So you better hope he’s in today or you’re going to end up having my artwork on your skin forever.”

“Point taken.”

Fortunately for them, not only is the artist available, but he’s prepped and ready to go. Two reclining chairs have been placed next to each other, the tattoo guns are plugged in and kept on the table, sterilised needles still in the packets, and a tray with small bottles of water.

“Ah, my favourite customer is here,” he greets, his lined face lighting up when he sees Jungkook. “And my second favourite customer by association,” he says to Lia, chortling at his own joke as they bow slightly to each other.

“Thank you for making the time,” she says, while Jungkook genially hugs him.

“Of course, of course. Ah, this is Eunbi,” he remembers, turning slightly and gesturing to a young woman who steps out of the staff room, “my apprentice.”

Eunbi gives them a small smile, smoothing her short blond hair self-consciously. The roots have begun to darken but it gives her a nice, rustic look.

They get settled after that, Lia and Jungkook on one chair each, while Eunbi and her boss take their seats on revolving stools, sketch pens in hand and tattoo guns on standby.

“It’s a really cute idea,” says Eunbi, carefully drawing the basketball on the inside of Lia’s wrist. “Jungkook oppa, you’re getting the basket?”

“That’s right.” He takes Lia’s free right hand from beside him and squeezes it. “I’m taking one for the team,” he says dramatically.

She rolls her eyes but squeezes his hand back anyway. “You’re the one who wanted couple tattoos. If anything, I’m taking one for the team.”

“Same difference.”

“Why basketball?” The tattoo artist, who Lia realises has yet to mention his name, peers at them from above his dark glasses. “Is it some new meme I’m not aware of?”

“Oh, no, it’s not a meme,” says Jungkook quickly. “We met while playing basketball.”

Eunbi looks up. “Really?”

“Playing is a bit of an overstatement,” says Lia.

“I didn’t know you played basketball,” says the tattoo artist skeptically to Jungkook. “Are you any good?”

“I’m getting better,” he mumbles, while Lia snorts.

“It’s true, he is,” she adds, grinning at Jungkook’s increasingly annoyed expression. “The first time was… not great. But he’s been practising since then.”

“Good on you, kid. You know, I used to play basketball in high school.”

“Really?” Jungkook turns to him excitedly. “Which position? Do you follow the NBA? I’ve started recently…”

Lia bites her lip as she watches him prattle on about his favourite team, about the last match he’d watched. It was one of the most endearing things he’d done: diving into her favourite sport with interest, learning the rules, watching the matches and following the players on social media.

She squeezes his hand absently, also glad that his strange mood from earlier seems to have disappeared. He’s cheery as ever, all the way from flirting his way into her shower, to proclaiming how he was willing to get the basket tattooed to prove how, much like the basketball filled the basket, she filled him with happiness.

Then she’d groaned and cringed while he’d laughed his arse off, turning the volume up in the car and singing along angelically to whatever song was playing.

“Lia.” Jungkook tugs at her hand. “You want to take this one?”

“Huh?” She turns apologetically to Eunbi. “Sorry, what was the question?”

“Oh, I - I asked how you two met.”

“Oh.” Lia glances at Jungkook, pursing her lips in amusement. “I think you should probably take this, no?”

He shakes his head and mock-glares at her. “Uh, okay. Well, long story short: we went on a date, I was a bit of a douche, but she decided to give me a second chance anyway.” Despite the humour of the situation, the relief in his voice is audible.

Heart warm, she nods. “He worked pretty damn hard for it.”

Jungkook nods. “Basketballs to the face notwithstanding.”

“Aw, that’s cute. And so are the tattoos,” adds Eunbi. “I wish my boyfriend would agree to one - but he’s terrified of needles.”

“I was terrified of basketballs for a good week there,” notes Jungkook. “But you’ve got to face your fears to overcome them,” he says wisely.

“You’re right. I wish he’d been a douche on our first date,” she jokes, “then I could’ve asked him to get a tattoo for me.”

“He’d have to be a really big douche for that,” says the tattoo artist, before lightly smacking Jungkook on the shoulder and ignoring his gasp. “And why were you a douche, huh?”

“I wasn’t - I didn’t -“

“His friend set him up and he was in a bad mood,” supplies Lia, reaching over and pinching her boyfriend’s cheek as he scowls.

“A really bad mood,” he clarifies. “Because he kept texting during dinner and asking for updates - I could’ve hit him, I swear.”

The tattoo artist responds reproachfully to Jungkook, but Lia barely hears it, for it brings back another memory she doesn’t dwell on too often.

She likes video games.

It’s the only aspect of their history she would rather ignore. Everything else - his apology, his attempts at getting to know her better, riding home on his motorbike in the rain, basketball with Dal - makes her reminisce with fondness, more often than not leading to an increased amount of affection for her boyfriend for the rest of the day. This one part of it, though? Not ideal.

She feels Jungkook clutch her hand tighter then, and she realises his tattoo has begun, the hum of the gun cutting through her thoughts. She squeezes his hand back automatically, endeared and exasperated at his wincing despite hundreds of tattoos, and pushes the unwanted detail of their history aside.

“I love it,” he says later, once they’re almost back at his house. He peels off the plastic from his shoulder a little bit before hissing.

“Don’t take it off yet, come on,” she tells him, pressing it back into place and stroking the reddened area. “It’s still fresh. And it does look great,” she acknowledges, lightly tracing the basket that’s wedged peacefully between two bigger tattoos on his tricep. “Do you think the fans will notice a new tattoo?”

“Doubt it. Or maybe they will,” he says after a moment. “You never know. They won’t be able to tell it’s about you, though,” he assures her.

“I’m sure,” she agrees, observing her own basketball tattoo. It hurt more than she expected but somehow, having Jungkook there doing the same thing helped. She won’t admit it to him without some eye-rolling, but she finds herself happy with their decision to get the tattoos after all.

“Do you want to get lunch?” Jungkook asks, unlocking the door and gently steering her in first.

“I’m good with ramen, honestly,” she says, taking off her shoes and padding through the living room. “Could you get a couple packets from the pantry? I’ll put the water on.”

Jungkook nods and disappears, softly humming a tune. Lia glances at the entertainment unit, his Playstation and neatly stacked DVDs, mildly satisfied that after an entire weekend’s worth of work, his apartment is properly set up.

Her gaze falls on the pictures, scanning Jungkook’s handsome face in each, before landing on the same group picture they’d argued about this morning.

And something falls into place.

“Got it!” When Jungkook returns a few minutes later, arms laden with no less than four packets of ramen, it’s to see Lia standing in the middle of the carpet, one of the photo frames in her hands. Even from here, he can tell exactly which picture it is.

She doesn’t look up at his entrance, and he takes the opportunity to dump the ramen on the kitchen island and slowly approach her.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“It’s her, isn’t it?” Lia seems to tear her eyes from the picture to meet his eyes. To his relief, she doesn’t look angry or hurt. She simply looks curious - and confused. “This is - this is her.”

Jungkook bites his lip. “What are you talking about?”

She turns the picture towards him. “The girl you had a crush on. Back then.” She deliberately doesn’t elaborate and for that he is thankful. “This is her,” she says, pointing and tapping her finger on the glass.

It’s barely a question. After a moment, he nods. “Yeah, it is.”

She raises her eyebrows in surprise, as though she wasn’t expecting him to admit it so quickly. “And this is clearly the boyfriend,” she mutters as she gazes at the frozen faces, seemingly to herself, not being able to tell how his heart jerks. She looks up at his again, frowning. “Is that why you didn’t want to put this picture up? Because she’s in it, too?”

Jungkook sighs, his shoulders slumping. His gaze briefly falls on the picture, on her face, and he immediately looks away. “It didn’t feel right,” he confesses. “It felt like I would be… I don’t know. Disrespecting you.” He shakes his head and looks at the floor. “Especially if… someday, you decide to…” Here, he trails off, unable to find the nerve to finish his sentence.

“But… why?” Lia still just sounds confused. “She was just a friend, right? And you said it was over.”

“She was. And it is.” He shrugs, ignoring the old, dull pang in his chest. “I haven’t seen or spoken to her in years.”

“Did you think I would be mad?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbles, now wishing he’d just agreed to put the picture up when she’d handed it to him in the morning. This isn’t a topic he ever wanted to surface, and not with her. “When I first told you, you seemed… kind of mad. And then a bit sad.” He shakes his head. “You’re the most important thing to me now. I don’t want to ruin it.”

After a moment, he hears her sigh. He knows this sigh; it’s the same one he’d heard when he’d confessed to her that he didn’t know a lick of basketball, when his meticulously-planned drive-in movie date had gone to shit, when he’d inadvertently revealed that he was afraid she’d think he was too young for her.

“Kook…” She comes up to him, placing the frame on the coffee table on the way. Gently holding his hand, she tilts her head to meet his eyes. “I can’t be mad at you for something that happened before we met. Everyone has a past.”

“Yeah, but I’ve told you about this particular past before,” he reminds her, feeling wretched. “And it didn’t go very well.”

“Well… yeah. It didn’t come up in the best way, I guess,” she murmurs, and he knows she’s remembering their conversation in the Hybe copy room. “But now that we’ve moved past that… I can’t hold you to a crush you had years ago. Especially when it seems like you were friends,” she adds quietly.

Jungkook’s chest starts to feel heavy again. “You just… you sounded kind of mad. I think. Maybe I was imagining it,” he mutters, shrugging tiredly.

“I wasn’t mad… I guess I was a little thrown,” she admits. “I mean, I know you said she had a boyfriend. I just didn’t think it was one of the other members.”

He says nothing. He appreciates her understanding, although he should’ve always expected her to rise above petty jealousy or insecurity. It occurs to him for the hundredth time how lucky he is to have her; how, in the midst of a truly despondent time in his life, she’d been the beacon of light he’d been fortunate enough to stumble upon. He hadn’t looked back since.

But the moment his gaze lands on the picture discarded behind her, his heart creeps up his throat again.

“Is that what it is?” Her voice brings him back. “Do you feel guilty because she was dating your friend?”

For starters. There’s no point, he realises. As mature and understanding as Lia is, Jungkook doesn’t think he can find the words or the courage to relive his regrets, the ones that still catch him unawares when he hears her name in passing, or when he goes to rehearsal and inadvertently locks eyes with his hyung.

“Kind of.”

Lia nods slowly. “It’s okay, Jungkook,” she murmurs, tugging at his hand again. “No one can control how they feel.”

Jungkook can’t bring himself to respond to that. He makes a non-committal sound, his gaze flickering to the ground.

“You told me you were over her.”

“And I meant it.”

She squeezes his hand. “Good.”

He wills the heaviness in his chest to go away, and forces a small smile onto his face. “Sorry.”

She returns it, holding his gaze before reaching up and pressing a quick kiss to his mouth. “We don’t have to put it up,” she reminds him.

But Jungkook shakes his head. “No, you’re right. It is a nice picture,” he allows, picking it up. “And it was a long time ago.”

Apparently satisfied, Lia smiles back radiantly. “And you look very hot in it.”

“If only you’d known me then.”

“You would’ve learnt to play basketball a lot sooner,” she agrees, chuckling.

“So you forgive me?” he asks after a moment.

Lia’s smile fades slightly. “For having a crush?” she asks, reaching up and touches his forehead with hers. “You have nothing to be sorry about. Not even to your friend,” she adds. “I mean, nothing happened, right?”

She’s beautiful. A beacon of light in a period of darkness he couldn’t see beyond. She saved him, more than she would know.

Jungkook brushes a lock of hair off her forehead. “No,” he lies.

After lunch, Jungkook volunteers to clean up the living room and kitchen while Lia goes to do the laundry. Collecting their clothes from his bedroom, she chucks them in the washing machine, loading it with detergent and softener and turning it on.

She stops by the pantry on her way back, looking for a chocolate bar or any other candy, something to officially clear the air with Jungkook. She searches along the shelves, passing by ramen, boxes of Caffetta coffee, and a lot of protein powder - only to come to the conclusion that his house is hopelessly understocked with sugar.

“We can get low fat,” she murmurs to herself, preempting his response as she makes her way back to the living room. She stops abruptly at the doorway when she spots him, his back tilted towards her, framed picture in hand.

Lia’s heartbeat feels louder for a moment. She takes a quick step back behind the doorway; it’s unnecessary, though, for his focus is on something else entirely.

She ought to have seen it before. It wasn’t until they returned to Jungkook’s apartment that she even noticed the most important detail in the picture. Mingyu sat to Jungkook’s right while a girl sat to his left, perched on the arm of the sofa. One hand hung loosely around Jungkook’s shoulder, so casually, so harmlessly, that Lia hadn’t even registered it this morning.

On her other side was her boyfriend, clearly. The way she leaned into him, the way his arm rested confidently on her waist, his fingers brushing the bare skin between her light blue jeans and striped crop top, the way their bodies fit perfectly - it looked like they’d known each other forever. There was no doubt as to who he was, especially since he was someone Lia had definitely met.

In light of how intensely close the couple looked, the girl’s hand around Jungkook’s shoulder seemed unimportant. It was almost like a habit, or convenience, her dark nail paint and the small cigarette stub between her fingers looking like they belonged there.

It’s her, isn’t it? There was no one else in the picture it could be, not any of the other handful of girls in the same frame. It’s her; the one who likes video games, the one with a boyfriend - the boyfriend who Lia now knows is one of Jungkook’s best friends, a big brother he loves.

She bites her lip, continuing to watch him until his shoulders relax slightly and he places the photograph back on the shelf. He gathers the empty bowls on the centre table and heads towards the kitchen, and Lia feels the seed of uneasiness sink in her stomach.

She can believe he’s over her. She can believe it’s in the past, that Jungkook is with her in the present.

Whatever it is, though - it’s definitely not finished.

—

Thank you for reading. Don't forget to leave a review :)

#jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #thebtswritersclub #btshoneyhive #bangtanwhq #bangtantheatrenet #bangtanbathhouse #k-vanity #wkcnet #bangtanoasis #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook angst

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ralfmaximus · 1 year ago

Text

You realize it’s been over a year since your last eye exam so you take advantage of a coupon for $50 exams at this new place that just opened.

You call the number on the coupon and a rough, heavily Russian voice answers.

“Eye Exam.”

“Yes, I’d like to make an appointment to get my eyes checked?”

Moments pass. You hear typing on a keyboard, a pause while the typist takes a long deep drag from a cigarette. More typing. Just as you are about to ask if everything is okay the Russian returns.

“Appointment is made.”

Click. The phone goes dead. Frantic redials to the same number are met with constant ringing – no answer -- thereafter. You give up after a few minutes.

You feel unsettled, worried. Vaguely threatened. You wonder if you should call the police. But… what would you tell them?

Days pass without incident. Soon you forget about the strange call. You make an appointment with LensCrafters for next Thursday at 6pm, after work.

It is 2:10 am that very night the Russians come for you.

You are woken from a deep sleep by a rough hand covering your mouth, muffling any screams. His other hand surrounding your wrist. You jolt awake, heart pounding, legs thrashing but they are prepared for that – another man leans in on the bed and presses his weight onto you, grasping the other wrist with unyielding strength. Defeated, you sag.

The first man leans in close, eyes searching yours. He nods. It is understood you will not scream if released.

“Time for eye appointment, da?”

You nod slowly. Both men let go. You sit up, but before you can get a really good look at them the second Russian produces a black sack and cinches it over your head. It smells faintly of onions.

You are lifted from your bed effortlessly and marched, blind, still in your night clothes, out of your bedroom. There is a brief pause in your living room during which one of your captors makes a phone call. But it is only twenty seconds of rapid-fire Russian and you are led out of your apartment and downstairs into a waiting van. The floor is cold metal and you feel flecks of rust under your bare feet as you are forced down into a sitting position in one corner.

The van drives for 45 minutes.

When the doors open again, you smell salt water and rust. You are lifted and dragged. Your legs are an explosion of crawling pins-and-needles, useless for the time being, scraping across the metal floor and then cold concrete outside the van. You scream but are shaken to silence.

The first Russian leans in close and says, through the hood, “Shut up. Do not speak. You will see many things, but do not speak.”

Your legs slowly come alive and soon you are able to stand as the men lead you forward over concrete and then a wooden ramp, leading up to what feels like tile under your bare feet. The place reeks of diesel oil, fried fish, salt water, and gym socks. Eventually you are led into a place of carpeting and air conditioning and the smells diminish a bit – or perhaps you are becoming used to them.

You are forced into a chair as the hood is whipped off.

Before you, on a table made from a plywood sheet and two saw-horses, is a spanking new Charops CRK-1P autorefractor machine, all smooth curves and sleek plastic. Behind it, on the floor you can see the carton it was unpacked from: plastic sheets, white foam inserts, and pink packing peanuts piled into the empty box. A single pink packing peanut clings to the machine via static electricity.

A hand shoves you from behind.

“Look in machine,” you are told.

You lean forward and press your head against the black forehead bar, triggering the machine. It shows you letters, numbers, images of balloons floating in 3D. You respond to grunted questions about what you see and the clarity of images.

Click! The session ends, the viewer goes dark. A hand yanks your shoulder back and the hood goes on again. Onions and darkness. You are dragged to your feet and led to another room, another makeshift table, another machine.

This happens twice more.

By the third reapplication of the hood (onions, darkness, and now, sweat) you have become numb to the routine. You have always been on a Russian cargo ship, you have always been taking tests, you have always been yanked around by monosyllabic Russians.

Therefore it is a surprise when you are dragged into the same van as before and shoved back into your familiar corner. The van door slides shut again, and the engine revs.

45 minutes later you are back home, standing in your apartment.

The hood comes off for a final time, revealing your original Russian abductor. He holds out his hand: “$100 dollars please.”

You stand there, blinking. Unbelievable.

“What? $100 for what?”

He scowls at you. “Eye exam. $100 for eye exam. Pay now.” He glances meaningfully at his waiting palm.

“I don’t think—“

He rolls this eyes at this, pushes you aside and grabs your wallet off the coffee table behind you.

“Hey! That’s—“

Your wallet is tiny in his huge hands, but with surprising delicacy he extracts two twenties and a ten -- all the cash you have -- holds them up to you accusingly. He does not look amused.

“I, uh… have a coupon.”

He frowns, tasting the word. “Coupon? Coupon. Coupon…”

Further digging in your wallet and he produces the EYE EXAM $50 coupon that started this whole mess. He sighs in defeat, pockets the cash and throws the coupon & wallet back onto the table. Turns to go.

“Wait!”

The Russian stops, turns. Glares at you. This better be important.

“My prescription?”

For the first time, he smiles. A goofy, eye-rolling, head-smacking D’oh! of a smile. Reaches with massive, filthy fingers into a front pants pocket and produces a crumpled sheet of folded copier paper. Throws it at your feet.

“Eye exam,” he nods before leaving your life forever.

#me #writing

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digital-corruption · 1 year ago

Text

This is just a little two-part story for an idea I had while working on my original story. I hope you enjoy it. 😁

Infiltrator - Part 1

MC walked into the large, spacious lobby carrying a large cardboard box, holding her head low so the baseball cap on her head would cover her eyes from the cameras as she entered. The first thing she noticed was the ostentatious use of marble. The floor, walls, reception desk, even the benches for waiting visitors were all marble. She contemplated ditching her plan of getting upstairs and instead just faking a fall and injuring her back instead, then suing the corporation for an obscene amount of money for their hazardous use of marble instead. Maybe the client would be happy with a generous payout instead. Then again, to make it stick she would actually have to be injured to some degree, and someone would absolutely lose his mind if she went that far. No, she had to stick to her plan of sneaking upstairs to their highest levels and find their most sensitive secrets. Somehow.

“How can I help you? Is that a delivery? I can take that for you,” the female receptionist reached for the carton in MC’s hands.

“Ah, no ma’am. I’m under strict orders on this one. It must be delivered to the big guy upstairs, and only him,” MC smirked confidently, then pointed to the top of the box. “See? Says ‘Sens-i-tive’.”

“I’m afraid that’s just not possible. We’ll take it to him and make sure no one else sees the contents of the package,” the receptionist frowned. MC could tell she wasn’t buying her excuse.

“But I could get fired for it!” MC raised her voice. “Please, my boss will have my head if I just hand it to the downstairs reception!”

The receptionist glanced over at the large, male security guard who was now walking over, “And my boss will have my head if I let you upstairs.”

“Is everything ok here, Marcy?” the security guard rested his elbow on the reception desk next to MC.

“Yes, we’re ok here, Ralph,” Marcy waved her hand.

“I have a super sensitive, top secret, for the boss’ eyes only package here. I must deliver it upstairs,” MC pushed.

“Uh-huh,” Ralph raised his eyebrow. “I’ll tell you what - I have a super sensitive, top secret, machine with X-ray eyes here,” he gestured to the security gate before the elevators. “Why don’t we let the machine decide?”

“And if it passes, you’ll let me up?” MC questioned.

“No, your package will be allowed up,” he shook his head in disbelief.

While they were talking, the internal phone on the desk rang and Marcy answered it. “Yes, sir? Ah, yes, it is. Are you sure? Ok, I’ll send her up.” Marcy turned her attention back to Ralph. “Um, he said to let her up.”

“What? Really?” the guard did a double take.

Marcy shrugged, “He’s been expecting this package.”

It was MC’s turn to do a double take. Surely the target had no idea she was there. Hell, he didn’t even know she was there. Because if he had known, he would’ve tried to stop her. He told her to wait, but waiting was taking too long. She couldn’t wait any longer, not when she knew the information they needed was right there.

“So I can go then?” MC’s voice squeaked as it got caught in her throat.

“After you are cleared by us,” Ralph frowned and motioned for her to head to the security checkpoint.

MC nervously put the carton down on the conveyor belt, feeling all eyes on her. She had nothing to worry about though, the box was full of random irrelevant papers and files, most of them blank. There was nothing that would concern security. She watched as the carton moved up the conveyor belt and into screening before stepping forwards to go through the metal detector herself.

The detector beeped loudly, catching MC by surprise, but then she remembered she still had her phone, earphone and keys in her pocket. She dashed back to dump the contents of her pockets into a tray, then hastily pushed it onto the conveyor belt, before going through the detector again. This time she came up clean. MC glanced to Ralph who gave her a begrudging nod of approval before she moved to pick up her belongings again. As she picked up her phone, her phone buzzed. A notification popped up on the screen that she had missed call. Shoving her phone in her pocket, she held her earphone between her fingers as she collected the carton and moved onto the elevator.

“You’ll want to go to floor 44,” Ralph said as she walked past.

“Thank you,” MC nodded shyly, then quickly jumped into an open elevator before the doors closed.

The elevator was rather full, but MC was the only one heading to the top floor. She made her way to the back corner as the elevator stopped several times on the way up. As soon as she had some space, she leaned the carton against the handlebar so she could shove the earphone into her right ear just in time as her phone was ringing again.

“Um, hi. What’s up?” MC said meekly. A few of the other passengers turned to look at her, but rolled their eyes and went back to what they were doing.

<<Just wondering how it was going. You know, that thing with you family. What was it again?>> there was something about Jake’s voice that unnerved her.

“Uh, my cousin’s engagement party. Yeah, it’s good. It’s, you know, boring,” MC winced as she lied.

<<Uh-huh. And the aunt you haven’t seen in ages. She’s good too?>> he asked.

“Oh, yes! She’s great! Yeah, she’s great,” she nodded subconsciously. “Wh-what you up to tonight? I really miss you. Would’ve been nice to have you here to save me from this boredom.”

<<I’ve spent most of the afternoon getting into this mainframe,>> he explained vaguely.

“D-did you manage to get in?” MC started to panic as the elevator passed the 40th floor.

<<You could say that,>> he said flatly, giving her goosebumps.

MC glanced up at the CCTV camera in the corner of the elevator, unsure of who she was more afraid of watching her right then and there.

<<Don’t worry. Only I can see you right now,>> his voice dripped with anger.

“Hi,” MC grinned as the elevator beeped. “Oh, it’s my floor!”

<<MC!>> Jake tried so hard to not yell at her in that moment.

MC stepped out on the floor to yet another reception area. This one though had wide, sweeping windows behind it, overlooking the city. She couldn’t help but notice a familiar looking drone hovering in the distance.

“Um, can I help you?” the receptionist stood up in complete shock over the stranger in cheap, brown overalls walking towards her. “How did you get up here?”

“Your boss let me up here,” MC shrugged. “I have a package for him.”

“My boss? What package?” the receptionist shook her head. “Has that been cleared by security?”

“Yes, of course it has,” MC insisted.

“I don’t know how you got up here, but just leave it here and go,” the receptionist glared.

<<MC, this plan isn’t going to work. Give it up,>> Jake interrupted in her ear.

“Afraid I can’t do. It must be delivered to his office,” MC pushed.

<<MC! Don’t push your luck!>> he snapped. <<Get out of there before you get caught!>>

“Ugh, he’s not even in at the moment,” the receptionist pinched the bridge of her nose.

“That’s ok, I’ll just leave it on his desk,” MC smiled.

<<MC…>> he sighed. <<That’s not going to work.>>

“Can’t you just leave it in his personal meeting room or something?” the receptionist waved her hand. “I can’t let you into his office.”

“Uh, where’s that?” MC glanced around.

“In the back there,” the receptionist gestured. “I’ll take you.”

<<No way,>> he muttered.

“Oh, thank you! I feel like I would get lost if I tried to go by myself,” MC humoured as the receptionist came to the other side of the desk.

“It’s literally straight down the hall,” the receptionist pointed to the hallway in front of her.

“And I would still get lost!” MC laughed to herself as she followed.

“Um, ok,” the receptionist shook her head. She took out her security key card and unlocked the electronic lock on the meeting room door. “Here you are. Please leave it on the table.”

“Sure,” MC nodded and went into the room to put the carton on the table.

A strange thump sound caught her by surprise. She jumped and snapped back around to see the receptionist unconscious on the floor and a drone dart out of sight into an open air vent.

“What did you do!?” MC gritted her teeth.

<<Gave you an opportunity. You’re welcome,>> he said blandly.

“You could’ve killed her with a fall like that!” MC rolled her eyes and ran over to check the woman.

The receptionist was still breathing, but soundly asleep with a dart sticking out of her neck. MC snatched the dart and shoved it into her pocket before dragging the woman into the room. She grabbed her security pass, then quickly left the meeting room and closed the door behind her. With the security pass in her hand, she made a mad dash for the executive’s office. Hearing the door successfully unlock left a smile on MC’s face.

“And he said it couldn’t be done,” she whispered as she closed the door behind her.

<<I didn’t say it couldn’t be done,>> Jake corrected. <<I said you’re going to get caught. You’re not in the clear yet. And besides that, exactly how were you planning to lose your escort?>>

“Tell her I need to use the toilet?” MC thought out loud as she made her way to the large, mahogany desk in the middle of the room.

<<Please tell me you’re joking,>> MC could’ve sworn she heard him slap his palm onto his forehead over the microphone.

“I would’ve worked it out,” she insisted as she shuffled the papers on his desk.

<<Yes, of course,>> he sighed. <<Please don’t try to infiltrate a giant corporation without me again.>>

MC pursed her lips but couldn’t hold back the smile. “Ok, I promise.”

<<Good. Now please find something of value so this isn’t a wasted opportunity. Try the drawers. He’s not going to leave anything out in the open,>> Jake suggested.

"Right," MC tried to open the first drawer to no avail. "It’s locked."

<<Then pick it,>> he responded plainly.

“I couldn’t bring my picks past security,” she shook her head.

<<There are paperclips everywhere in that office. Find a couple of thin ones and get to it,>> he instructed.

“Yes, yes,” she rolled her eyes and picked a couple of clips from the documents on his desk. “Do you need me to do anything with his computer?”

<<No, your phone is close enough,>> he explained.

As MC straightened the clips enough to use as picks, she asked, “Are you in his machine?”

<<Yes, there’s nothing on here. Or if there is anything, it’s in heavily coded messages. It would take me weeks to make any connections,>> he sighed.

MC knelt and stuck the clips into the lock on the first drawer. After a minute, she finally managed to open the lock. She jumped up and tore it open. Rummaging through the plain documents, she couldn’t work out why anyone would keep them locked up.

<<Anything?>> Jake pushed.

“These are just invoices and random company notices,” she shook her head. “Why does he keep them locked up?”

<<Invoices for what?>> he questioned.

“Uh, this one is an invoice for rent paid,” she shrugged.

<<Rent for where?>> he pressured.

“Some warehouse downtown,” she commented as she looked it over for the third time.

<<Lay everything out on the desk and photograph it all. It’s going to be important - we just need to work out why,>> he confirmed.

MC took all of the documents and spread them out like a deck of cards across the desk, then pulled out her phone and started photographing them one by one as quickly as she could.

“You think this could be the break we need?” MC thought out loud while snapping the photos.

<<MC! Get out of there!>> Jake yelled over the microphone.

“I’ve got two more,” she objected and continued.

<<Now MC!>> he screamed.

The office door burst open abruptly and armed guards rushed at MC while she still had her phone in her hands.

“Get her phone!” the head of security ordered from behind.

One of the guards came around the desk and forced her to bend over, slamming her head into the desk. Her phone was knocked out of her hand and picked up by a second guard.

“Wait, please let me-“ MC began, but she was interrupted by the butt of an assault rifle hitting her head.

To be continued...

#duskwood #duskwood jake x mc #duskwood jake #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood fanfic

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sisitrip · 1 year ago

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For the @gallavichthings event A.U.gust 2023 prompt "Cyberpunk", I offer "B8ted Breath."

Thank you @gallavichthings and the people behind that tag for hosting! I don't know what this is, but whatever it does turn out to be, I had fun.

Housekeeping:

Funerarium - Funeral Home

Gravecodes - Condensed data containing video/audio of the deceased that can only be viewed in my dystopian funerarium.

Rig-mech - A terraforming machine technician who works on rigs used to make inhabitable outposts, habitable.

_____________________

Ian heads into the funerarium’s Reflection Room, a glass encased dome filled with fake flowers and a dry fountain sitting in the middle of its large space. He’s made coming here a habit after a gravecode visit. A sort of cherry on the morbid cake of his self flagellation.

He takes a seat on the ring of the fountain and pulls out a small, collapsible metal cup and a mini carton of milk. As always, he feels dumb doing this, but it comforts him after a rough viewing.

He’s pouring the milk into the cup when a B8 CL-WS unit glides noiselessly into the room. Boxy and sitting atop soundless rubber wheels, it rolls around cleaning non-existent dust off the floor. He smiles, thinking not for the first time that this particular cleaning unit looks a little like a robotic military tank.

“Shit,” he curses softly as he overflows his cup and it spills on the floor. The B8 immediately makes a beeline for him. He lifts his feet as the unit’s small, microfiber pad swipes through the liquid then blows heated air to dry what's left.

He laughs knowing he must look ridiculous with his feet hanging above the floor and his dumb collapsible cup raised in an awkward toast. The unit goes on blowing warm air, unmoving. This is the longest wipe and dry he’s ever seen. He couldn’t have spilled that much.

“Uh, I think it’s dry now,” he says.

The B8 just continues blowing air and he can feel it sliding uncomfortably up his pant legs. Great. It’s malfunctioning.

“Area sanitized. Retract.”

The unit doesn’t move.

“Um, retract,” he tries again, legs starting to ache in their raised position. “C’mon, retract dopey.”

Nothing.

Ian notices the code on the unit’s exterior has been altered. An ‘A’ has been scratched over the dash between the CL and WS. Despite his irritation, he laughs. It’s probably been done before, but for some reason, seeing that silly CLAWS etched into this broken cleaning unit is what he’d needed.

“Claws my ass, you box of junk. I should give you a kick,” he chuckles.

“I wouldn’t do that. She's been retrofitted with a mini-flame thrower.”

The voice startles him so badly, he falls backward into the fountain, cup flying. He bounces his head off an ornate cherub and sees stars.

“Jesus fuck!” he shouts, flailing as he tries to get out of the fountain without kicking the stupid B8 unit that was now whizzing back and forth over the newly spilled mess.

A hand braces itself on the rim of the fountain, bearing faded knuckle tattoos that spelled “FUCK.” He stares at it dizzily, fascinated by how menacing that hand looked despite its small size.

“If you’re thinking of taking a bath in this thing, it ain’t gonna happen, Cherry.”

A man, sporting a black military cap atop longish dark locks, peers down at Ian with the bluest eyes he’s ever seen this close. The looming man’s expression was equal parts amused and irritated as he held out his other hand.

Ian takes it and lets himself be hauled to his feet to properly look at his rescuer. This man was no more than 5’7” with a small, but compact frame and not the hulking menace he thought he was. Not usually Ian’s type, but those eyes. They were something.

He stares a little too long and the man snaps his fingers in front of his face.

“How hard did you ring your bell, man?”

Caught without an excuse for gazing longingly, Ian's face warms.

“That thing almost burned the hairs off my legs,” he complains, reaching down for his cup only to have the B8 snag it with a hook and toss it into a compartment on its back. “For Christ’s sake!”

The man rubs a finger across his ridiculously kissable mouth, chuckling quietly. Despite his irritation, Ian finds himself fighting an answering smile.

“The fuck you expect a cleaning unit to do?” the man scolds. “You drop shit, it picks it up.”

Ian rubs the small lump that’s starting to swell on the back of his head, anger flaring at the less than contrite attitude.

“I didn’t drop a damn thing. It flew out of my hand when you ninja'd out of thin air.” He glares at the man, noting his uniform, an all black jumpsuit bearing the name of the facility. “You work for Obriad?”

“That’s what the jumpsuit says.”

The man leans down, presses a series of buttons on the underside of the B8 and it takes off, zooming away towards a black door partially obscured by two huge, fake palms. The unit stops at the door, waiting patiently, like a dog.

“Then you might want to take that unit out of commission until it can be repaired,” Ian suggests, drinking the milk and taking in the tattoos on the man’s other hand. He snorts. Fuck U-Up. This one's a walking, talking poet.

“There’s nothing wrong with that B8. You spilled milk and it kept cleaning until it was dry. No use crying about it,” the man says, as if he's addressing a child.

Angry and at a loss for words, Ian drains the milk, taking in the man’s half smile that could be flirtatious or condescending. It feels like both. He regroups.

“I'm not going to argue about a faulty B8. Just try not to have it burn the hair off anyone else’s legs.”

He turns to walk away and is stopped by the snottiest intonation he’s ever heard.

“Sir, yes sir. Obriad extends its sincerest apologies, Mr. ...?”

Ian allows himself a quick grin before turning to look haughtily over his shoulder. Yeah, that smile he’d been confused about earlier? Definitely flirty.

“Gallagher. And you’re …?”

“Devastated by your displeasure.”

Ian laughs and that seems to please this exasperating man who continues.

“It's Milkovich. I run operations here and rest assured, your leg hair will be safe from now on.”

Ian gets a smile that eclipses every light in the room. Hell.

“Uh, yeah. Thanks, Mr. Milkovich.”

He gives a short, weird wave, suddenly unsure of how his hands work. Neck burning, he walks quickly to the e-lifts, silently cursing his inability to ever play it cool.

“It's Mickey.”

The softly called name reaches him at the doorway of the Reflection Room. He turns and Mickey is walking backwards toward that palm framed door, hands in his pockets. Ian considers for less than a second before offering his own name.

“Ian.”

Mickey touches the bridge of his cap and salutes him in an exaggerated farewell worthy of a sultan. Ian huffs a soft laugh and heads to the e-lift. After depressing his thumb to the location pad, it opens.

He spends the quick descent and vertical shifts to his transport thinking about how Mickey seemed less like a funerarium operations director and more like a rig-mech. Gruff and teasing, his demeanor was better suited for that kind of rough outpost work. Ian should know. He'd bedded more than a few of them.

The transport calculates the best route home and it's only halfway there that he realizes he's left his cup. He tells himself that he has to remember to ask Mickey for it on his next visit. It was everyone's duty to keep waste to a minimum, right? Retrieving a perfectly usable cup was the responsible thing to do. Honor demands it.

He looks at his reflection in the impenetrable plexishield of the window and the smile he wears is unique if for no other reason than it's a first on many levels.

It's the first time he's smiled in months. The first time he's smiled in this stupid transport he'd inherited from Monica.

More importantly, it's the first time he's ever smiled after a gravecode viewing.

He stares unseeing at the dry, rundown landscape of the approaching outpost and can't decide if this development is a good thing or cause for concern.

He shrugs. It doesn't matter. It feels good and that’s so rare for him, he savors it.

Maybe finding something to smile about in a funerarium is sacrilege. Maybe it’s not.

Whatever it is, he’ll be back next month if only to see those blue eyes again.

#a.u.gust 2023 #gallavich #my fic #ian x mickey

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stilemawillow · 2 years ago

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Impossibly Perfect [Levi | Reader | Modern AU!]

"The perfect guy. Say, if you could build him, what would he be like?"

"Building people isn't exactly proper, but I guess I'd want him to be strong."

An empty meeting room and a single cup of steaming tea sitting at the edge of the long mahogany table. You were facing the blue wall by the door, having opened the blinds two minutes ago, attempting to lift a box from the corner so you could put it in the middle of the table for your boss's presentation. It was a new kind of machine your company would be funding and the least of your concerns despite the urgent thorough report on its statistics and possibilities you'd filled out on your boss's command less than a day ago. The device's weight was mentioned nowhere along the lines of the ten pages you'd printed in a hurry the previous afternoon, subjecting your unsuspecting dainty hands to a painful lot of strain as they attempted to lift it now.

Only when you felt a bead of sweat trickle down your temple did you let out a heavy sigh, head hanging low in shame over the box and its inconvenient weight. You crouched in your pencil skirt and clenched your jaw in determination. Eyes shutting tightly as your brain prepared itself for the incoming struggle, your frail fingers gripped onto the edges of the carton box on the floor and pulled upwards, muscles of your whole upper body flexing with the alleged effort you were exerting. You were suddenly standing up on your feet with nothing whatsoever in your arms and no clue as to what had just happened. Your open eyes were met with the stoic expression of your ebony-haired boss as he held the box so effortlessly he almost made it look like it wasn't there at all.

You pointed at the table when his quirked eyebrow questioned the intended location of the box and he moved towards it soundlessly - much like how he'd entered the room - slender fingers nimbly softening the carton's thud as he placed it atop the wooden surface. You watched his shoulder blades move under the grey suit he had on (Monday) and the apples of your cheeks were quick to heat up once he caught you doing it. His dress coat deserved more respect than any other piece of clothing for not ripping at the seams as he folded his arms across his chest in disapproval prior to your hardly professional-sounding "thank you", but when the mild reproach gave way to his usual disinterested austerity you gave a warm smile and prompted him to try the Earl Grey you'd made for him.

"Strong only? What about something physical?"

"Pretty eyes and a good set of hands sound tempting, to say the least."

He sat behind his desk, writing the last few lines of his business proposal when you knocked on his office door, disturbing the peaceful silence on both sides with your sharp voice. Once you were allowed entrance, you stepped inside, a big stack of clipped papers at your hip as your eyes observed his tired visage. You stepped forward, announcing you'd finished everything he'd asked of you before gently sliding the stack on top of his desk. He nodded in understanding, ebony locks swaying with the gesture as he put his pen down and reclined in his chair in a manner most would call oddly unprofessional - a side of him you were exclusively allowed to witness contrary to most employees in the company.

Your suggestion to make him a cup of tea was declined with a tired groan as his pale fingers scratched the back of his head and his other hand ushered you to take a seat across from him. You sat on the chair by his desk, worriedly glancing at his worn-out features; the lilac crescents clinging to his skin made your brows furrow in pity and the constant frustrated way in which he pinched the bridge of his nose caused your lips to pout, reproach sitting at the tip of your tongue on the topic of his workaholic habits. You were about to adapt your voice to a stern one when his eyes fluttered open and graced your scrunched-up nose with a quizzical look. You dismissed the questioning quirk of his thin brow and he gazed at you, straightforward and austere.

You were about to avert your eyes but his hues commanded the opposite, keeping them rooted to their endlessness. If you were to compare your boss's eyes to anything it would've been a peculiar kind of canvas nobody could afford no matter the money he would offer - an emotionless grey that could convey things way beyond your comprehension. Pain would be a dull kind of grey that would call for compassion and understanding, happiness - a glimmering silver meant to make you smile as well, anger would be a stormy hue capable of making you shiver, care would take the form of an ashen colour causing your knees to wobble, sadness would be the cloudy weather on a rainy day and frustration would be sharp like a knife and scary, similar to a ticking bomb you wouldn't want to near.

His eyelashes were long and curly - a frame every woman would want for her eyes yet one your boss out of all people had acquired for his beautiful canvas. They drew you in with their murkiness so you could fall through an eternal sky full of grey and melted silver, with specks of blue being visible from time to time if you paid enough attention to your surroundings instead of the fall's intensity. You would hit the ground soon, you'd think every time as you got lost in his orbs, but it never happened. You always landed softly, gently, brought down upon a grassy field with the help of his deep gaze as it manoeuvred you just right. This time the landing was abrupt and painless as he moved away, standing from his spinning chair and reaching over to grab the stack of papers you'd left on his desk.

You blinked at the buttons of his navy blue suit (Thursday) as he looked over it and clicked his tongue in satisfaction. He diligently aligned it with the other papers lying on the wooden surface of his desk before reaching out his hand and making you stare at it with confusion. You traced the form of his soft fingertips and perfectly clipped nails up to the sharp edges of his pale knuckles and the comforting outline of his big pale palm. Your digits tentatively ghosted over his warm skin as he stood there, patiently waiting and gazing down at your visage. You watched his thin wrist and the countless blood vessels circulating round inside the veins visible beneath its pallor, then you grasped his hand and let him help you out of your seat.

He let you go first as you left his office - gentlemanly behaviour you'd gotten used to some time ago after figuring it only applied to when you were alone together. You took the elevator and stood close to one another as he instructed you regarding tomorrow's business meeting and you absentmindedly listened, too busy admonishing your thoughts for drifting off in an inappropriate direction to pay proper attention to the commands he was listing. The naughty notion of him utilizing his hands' dexterity in ways different than the everyday ones he performed prevented you from noticing the multiple glances he threw in your direction but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing - had you taken notice of them you would've gotten so red in the face he might as well have had a good chance at figuring out what you'd been thinking.

"This is starting to sound good."

"... I guess I'd want him to be kind, too. I tend to fall for the little things."

It was torrential rain and you were drowning in today's sudden bout of bad luck. Your heel had given up on you as you were crossing the street, calling for a taxi. You tripped and almost sprained your ankle, causing your skirt to rip at the hem up to the middle of your thigh. A pained gasp left your lips as the first drops of rain started hitting the ground at the exact moment your phone's impact with it was heard on the vacant street. It was six in the morning and nobody was out to witness your misery and laugh at it. Your panic increased as you lifted your phone from the pavement and saw its screen wouldn't light up no matter how many times you tried to turn it on. Raindrops were sliding down your neck, dampening your clothes and making your body shiver.

You considered going back home and changing your clothes but that would result in you being late since you had no means of contacting your boss besides your obviously broken phone. You'd have to go straight to apologising to him instead of making him his usual cup of tea so you hurried towards work after taking both your heels off and stuffing your broken phone back into your purse. It took the rain five minutes to become a torrent and drench your clothes completely but you kept walking, knowing you'd arrive at the office in about twenty minutes. You were sploshing through mud and puddles resembling whole lakes barefoot, feeling your (h/c) hair as it stuck to the sides of your face and the back of your neck.

When you stepped into the lobby of the company the first to greet you was the sound of water dripping onto the marble floor. Then the elevator dinged and its doors opened to reveal your smartly dressed boss and his tight khaki suit (Friday) as he blinked at your trembling form. The following scolding you got was beyond your comprehension but the warm hold of his fingers on your wrist as he dragged you into the elevator and then his office stopped you from paying it too much attention. He pushed you into his big spinning chair and you were dumbfounded, enveloped by his scent as he left the room after strictly commanding you to stay put. His return was accompanied by the smell of peppermint and cologne, and you were trembling so hard you could barely open your mouth to explain the situation to his scowling self.

Your stoic ebony-haired boss, who adored to come across as the meanest person in the universe, dropped a neatly folded pile of clothes on the desk in front of you and put a steaming cup of tea next to it with a half-hearted glare and a pair of pursed lips. He told you to get rid of your wet clothes and call him back inside when you were dressed, then left the room before you could even object to his intentions. You stared at the spare suit for the overall of a minute before deciding it would be best if you didn't go against your boss's better judgement. You changed clothes as fast as you could and called his name, hearing the click of the door and the thud of his polished shoes against the floor prior to seeing his handsome face, frowning yet worried.

He proceeded to scold you for walking to work in the rain before listening to your story and concluding, on his own of course, that the best course of action you could take was have him drive you home and let you rest. That now, you couldn't live with letting him do. So you argued, you argued so much other employees started showing up at the office and peeking curiously at their boss's closed door, eager to understand what the ruckus was about. This time victory was yours as you were allowed to stay and proceed to work as per usual only if your boss was constantly notified of your state. The moment you felt the least bit of unwell you'd tell him and he'd drive you home, that was his one condition.

The day passed by slowly and uncomfortably due to all the weird glances you were being thrown since you were tending to your boss's needs in clothes that were very clearly his, but it ended on a high note, with you two sharing the usual cup of tea late into the evening after most employees had left the building. Being CEO Levi Ackerman's personal assistant was something gratifying - a feeling not wholly borne of your generous monthly paycheck but also the relationship you'd built with the businessman over the years. Tradition was everything when it came to your duo: the morning tea, the evening tea, and the small lunch break exactly at twelve o'clock every day. The pattern of his suits was also something you'd accustomed yourself to with time. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday - grey, black, white, navy blue, khaki; Saturday and Sunday - dry cleaners for you and a casual T-shirt for him.

You told him you'd make sure to show up at his house at seven a.m. sharp the following day, but he rejected the idea and announced he'd be running his own errands for the weekend. You were quick to object to that statement of his, knowing he was overly worried because of something as small as the sneeze during your lunch break and the germs that had come with it, but he didn't buckle quickly, surrounding the matter with conditions you had to fulfil if you wanted to run his errands for him this weekend. You agreed to them all, one of which being not to take the risk of riding in a taxi the same night and letting him drive you home instead. The considerate act of kindness made you bite your bottom lip bashfully as he drank his tea and looked over the last of documents laying on his desk.

You proceeded to apologise for all the trouble you'd caused for the entirety of the ride but he kept silent and clutched the steering wheel, eyes not once leaving the road to look at your pitiful profile. He parked in front of your apartment complex and walked you to your flat before stoically reminding you of all the conditions you'd agreed to, much like a last attempt to discourage you. Your will, however, was made of steel and care - care for this person who'd always been too kind for others to notice and yourself to ignore. Too kind for his own good actually, to animals and people both. To anybody he dared let into his office and his life, anybody he thought deserved it. In your personal opinion, you didn't deserve it, but you hated going against his judgement so bringing it up was seldom done.

The same night you set the old alarm clock you hardly trusted for six in the morning, only to miraculously be woken up at that exact hour by its annoying ring. Stunned into silence by the timely efficiency of the clock, you went to brush your teeth and get dressed. You opted for a pair of trusty converses instead of high heels and headed out, arriving at the male's doorstep less than half an hour later. You used the spare key to enter and make him a cup of tea before waking him up and enjoying the sound of his husky voice as he thanked you. His brief instruction to go fetch him a report from his desk was met with a nod and a smile, but when you entered his study said report's presence was substituted by a brand new phone with a small sticky note by its side. "Take it and don't annoy me by arguing," your boss's pretty handwriting said, "you know this is an order."

"Basic stuff, all that you're spilling. Give me specifics, as many as you can. This is your perfect guy we're describing."

"I'd want broad shoulders and a body that's equally mouth-watering in smart and casual clothes. I'd want soft hair and a strong jawline that flexes when he gets angry, also white teeth that show when he smirks and a ringing laugh that makes my knees wobble. Satisfied?"

It was Tuesday (black) and you were cooking in your boss's spacious kitchen as he changed in his bedroom. It took you an hour to make him a proper meal and when you were finally ready he was waiting for you in the living room, having turned on the TV and annoyedly requested you finally changed out of your clothes as well. You were glad to get rid of the pencil skirt so you didn't complain and when you were back he'd served dinner on top of the coffee table and chosen a movie for you to watch. You directed a pointed look at his austere countenance before he grunted in exasperation and began eating, watched by your sharp gaze still. Then he gently nudged your stiff shoulder with his finger and you buckled, grabbing your own fork in hand with a small sigh of defeat.

Once dinner was over you reclined in your seat, enjoying the sight of Levi's back as he watched the movie playing on the TV screen, oblivious to your silent worshipping. The attire he'd chosen for himself tonight and its pleasant lack of long sleeves perfectly outlined the many hours dedicated to the fitness he had set up in his house, along with the heavy lifting he'd done up until a certain accident a month ago that hindered his training for a while. The shape of his muscles as they rippled under the white T-shirt he'd put on made your mouth subconsciously water - a reaction quite similar to the one of a starving person looking at a banquet. Your frail fingers gingerly ghosted over his shoulder when his deep chuckle made them flinch in surprise and withdraw with the speed of light.

He turned back to look at you, a crooked leftover smirk sitting on his thin lips as it bared his white teeth and made you blink at the sight stupefied. Goodness, you could feel your whole being calling forth every ounce of self-restraint it had and applying it to the situation to prevent you from jumping your very attractive boss. The mesmerizing curl of his mouth was something you didn't get to see daily so you stared at the spot it'd occupied even after it faded, several very indecent thoughts swirling around in your head as you did so. Levi only leaned back against the couch with a smug snort, knowing very well what you were thinking of. You sat there, contemplating all sorts of things and how to get them without being too annoying but then he laid his head in your lap and you knew it was the green light you'd been waiting for. Your fingers were impatient to get to work.

Another tradition, founded back in time, around your fourth month of working for Levi Ackerman. You had come around his house to make his morning tea and your hand had brushed his hair by accident. You'd pulled it back with an apology, horrified by how firm to the touch it had been. Your appearance had turned out rather timely because your boss had been about to shower and that'd given you time to rush to the convenience store only to return with a bottle of conditioner you'd requested he immediately used. He'd come out of the bathroom questioning its purpose so you'd told him to dry his hair and touch it. That day Levi Ackerman learned of how soft his hair could be and, as a way to thank you, he'd granted you a wish, which was rather simple - let you feel the result as well. It turned into a tradition when he started purposefully letting you touch his hair after a shower just to watch the smile on your lips.

Now he rested with his eyes closed and his chest rumbling with a hum of satisfaction so close to a cat's purr it made your knees wobble while you slowly ran your fingers through his soft ebony locks, dying of inward ecstasy at the chance to observe him so beautifully serene. You fell asleep like that, only to show up to work the following morning in the same clothes you'd worn the previous day. Another tradition you and your boss had established after your first year as his assistant ended - keep private and professional separated. Or, in short: not at work. No touching his hair at work, no grabbing his hand at work, no giving him a kiss on the cheek at work, no throwing him eloquent looks at work, no showing you wanted him to take you into his office and do things other than drink tea and discuss his schedule at work.

You made his tea and told him today's meeting was delayed due to a representative's abrupt leave whilst he looked over some papers. His face was impassive as you brought him the usual sandwich when it was finally time for lunch break and he almost didn't react when a male coworker showed up at his office door asking for a minute of your time. You sensed your boss was tired when his sharp hues dug a hole into the male's eyes and he suggested whatever the guy had to say could be said right now which translated as an indirect but definite command. The male got a hand through his auburn hair and awkwardly insisted the topic to be discussed wasn't work-related. It ticked your boss off even more and you could see it in the way he rolled his eyes while saying he didn't care one bit about the topic of the discussion, only that it ended as fast as possible.

The male stood at the door and locked gazes with your smiling self, and then he did something that made the atmosphere in the room tenser if possible. He asked you out on a date. It was subtle, with your boss being there and all, but it was noticeable enough and neither you nor Levi Ackerman were idiots. That being said, you could see the ebony-haired male's jaw clench in visible anger as he fixed his perfect tie and proceeded to narrate the situation by prompting you to answer the date invitation. The rejection out of your mouth that followed came as unexpected for the suitor and not that much for you and your boss, but none minded enough as to voice it aloud. The male left after giving you a small smile but you certainly didn't enjoy your alone time with your boss.

Nothing was said in the span of the next few minutes so you resorted to eating in silence and going straight to announcing you'd immediately go back to your duties right after. Your boss nodded and finished his sandwich before leaving to wash his hands. By the time he re-entered his office, you were gone, walking around the different floors to collect paperwork from branch managers and monitor their subordinates. You saw your boss after seven hours when you knocked on his office door with two cups of tea in your hands. He granted you entry but you stood stiff in your chair and he seemed a tad bit calmer despite the many commentaries regarding his strange attitude you'd heard in the restrooms in the afternoon. After you finished your drinks with little to no dialogue taking place, he stood up and you figured he'd bid you a brief goodbye before taking his leave, professional as always.

Instead, the ebony-haired male stood at the side of his desk and grasped your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles so gingerly it made your lips purse in bashfulness. You were staring at the polished surface but the warmth of his skin made your cheeks heat up. A small huff left your nose and you broke the main rule; (not at work) you told him he shouldn't have bothered getting angry over such a small thing when he knew it meant nothing to you. He snorted, sensing the border between private and professional grow blurry, and withdrew his hand - just as you suspected he'd do. You gave him a radiant smile and got up yourself, knowing this had been an exception that wouldn't repeat, a special occasion if you will. Only later did you realise that Wednesday had also been Valentine's Day.

"We're getting there. Now give me character specifics. I'm curious."

"I want a caring guy who doesn't necessarily show it 24/7. I want somebody whose actions speak louder than his words, who's open and frank when there's a problem. Somebody who's not afraid of his feelings."

You sat quietly, observing your fidgety fingers, and your boss was having a hard time breaking the silence. Not because he didn't have anything to say but because he had no idea how to say it. Today had been especially hard for you and not in the 'I tumbled down the stairs and broke a nail' way. Your father had called during work and your boss had been reluctant to let you pick up, making you wonder whether he came to regret it even more after the news you received made you cry all over the report you were editing at his desk. You'd gone to the restroom with an apology that sounded more like a sob and come back to announce you wanted to take the next day (Saturday) off because you were attending your mother's funeral. Your boss saw how hard it was for you to say it so he instantly gave his permission, going as far as to suggest you also take the rest of the night off. You refused.

The car stopped and the ebony-haired male's eyes prompted you to move, do something, say something. Your orbs fled from your lap and you blinked owlishly at the street you were on. Upon voicing your confusion and stating this was his house he nodded, confirming your simple observation before stating this is where you'd be staying the night. Not in the mood to argue, you gave a small nod and exited the car. Once inside, you took a seat on the couch in the living room and waited for Levi to show up. Five minutes later he did, a cup of tea in one hand and a blanket in the other. He gently guided your fingers around the warm cup before draping the blanket over your shoulders and sitting next to you, a conflicted look making an appearance on his handsome face.

When he started talking you listened carefully, hues pinned to the steam coming off your peppermint tea as Levi's deep voice lowly spoke of his mother and his uncle with a strange tinge of care you interpreted as the love he rarely showed for anybody. He didn't know whether he was making you feel better or worse but his main priority had been to distract you from your thoughts and he considered it a mission accomplished when you didn't cry at any point during his little speech. Having picked up on his intentions, you gave a light chuckle as Levi told you the story of his uncle prioritizing curse words to basic etiquette during his early education and your fingers left your tea on the table so they could cup his face, successfully shutting him up. You smiled at him and though it was a sight overwhelmed by fatigue he could see the sincerity behind it.

Levi sighed in defeat and pursed his lips at the affectionate expression on your face. Then his arms wrapped around you and your tense muscles melted against the warmth of his body. He whispered gently in your ear that it would pass as you burrowed your face in the crook of his neck, stubbornly suppressing the tears pushing at the corners of your eyes. You clung to him with twitchy fingers, voice cracking as you thanked him for everything and making his eyes narrow in pity while his hands pulled you even closer to him. When you calmed down and finished your tea he suggested you both went to sleep and while the ebony-haired male insisted you take the bedroom and he - the couch, you both ended up cuddling on the king-sized bed upstairs.

You woke up at seven a.m. the following morning and Levi wasn't by your side so you concluded he'd gone to shower and the only thing you could do was get started with breakfast. As it turned out he'd beaten you to it, having made tea and breakfast for both of you after showering. Guilt settled into the crevice of your mind but the kind gesture made your heart melt. You sat at the dining table and discussed work-related topics that would do your relatively good mood no harm but the funeral had to be brought up at one point and you preferred to be the one to do it. You briefly explained the situation in greater detail than you'd had the heart to do the previous day as Levi nodded and hummed along in understanding before clearing the dishes from the table and telling you he'd drive you home so you could change clothes.

You were waiting for him by the car with fake serenity that came apart once you saw him exit the house dressed in all black. Questioning his attire and objecting to the intentions he might've had in mind before even hearing them, you stubbornly refused to get in the car. Your boss needn't accompany you to the funeral because he had better things to do. You didn't want to bother him and you certainly didn't deserve his company, but those were arguments you kept to yourself. Levi, however, was adamant and you didn't manage to make him change his mind. You got into the car with a pout and an hour later you were at the funeral, greeting your relatives with polite nods as he held your hand and silently gave you the power not to break down crying in front of everybody. His reassuring hold was the only thing that prevented you from sobbing your way through the speech you held.

"And in bed? How's your perfect guy doing there?"

"Like a god. Rough hands, soft touches. Romantic but passionate. Makes me scream so much the neighbours file a complaint. He'd be able to go for hours and I'd need a wheelchair the following day."

"Mr. Ackerman surely wouldn't be happy to see you crippled like that."

It was a Sunday and the setting sun could be observed through the window of the bedroom where you were too busy getting pushed onto the bed to pay attention to its beauty. Levi's hungry kisses distracted your fingers during their quest to unbutton his shirt but nothing could hinder his own as they ripped yet another pencil skirt off your body. Your coworkers had a tendency to ask why you always wore the same skirt when, in actual fact, the only time you'd worn the same pencil skirt to work more than four times was back at the beginning of your employment. Tonight's victim of Levi's impatience was tossed in the corner of the room as the ebony-haired male's fingers deftly got rid of your blouse and proceeded to make every bare inch of your skin tingle pleasantly under their touch.

Once all clothing had left your bodies, you kept scolding him for picking a Sunday to do this on as he growled in mild annoyance and sucked on your neck, not in the mood to grace you with a coherent retort. Of course, before you could start a whole monologue on the topic of how unsuitable today was Levi made sure to satisfy you to a point you had no time to speak inbetween moans and chants of his name. Hands gripping your thighs with sweat trickling down his temple, Levi Ackerman was the only person who could make you scream so much you often lost your voice the day after. His gentle touches after a rough set of thrusts drove you crazy, not to mention the way he huskily whispered in your ear in the meantime, promising seemingly impossible things he always managed to give you.

The following morning you got up earlier to make tea and fish a skirt for yourself from the spare clothes you kept in his wardrobe. Levi greeted you in the kitchen, bare-chested and dishevelled. You vouchsafed him a smile after your vocal cords betrayed you, making his eyes twinkle in amusement at your funny waddle. He wrapped an arm around you and kissed the top of your head as you snorted in exasperation, knowing you'd be getting questions and weird looks at work today. On mornings after such mind-blowing sex, Levi didn't mind it when you kissed him without brushing your teeth first and you didn't complain when he drove you to the office. The same Monday he requested you do the monthly statistics at his place and when the neighbours showed up with a complaint regarding yesterday's ruckus they could distinctly hear your laughter in the background as Levi answered the door.

"Everything you've said sounds pretty impossible, (Y/N)."

"You asked me for a perfect guy, I gave you my definition of one." A shrug, followed by an amused chuckle.

"And does your perfect guy have any flaws you'd like to share?" A pointed look and a crooked smirk. Your female coworker was having fun.

"Actually, he's a workaholic and his face is pretty scary when he's being professional. You'd never gue---"

"Miss (L/N), cease your gossiping and get to work. You're not at a café and I'm not here for your order, you're here to follow mine." Your boss cut into your conversation, making you look up at him with a sheepish smile and your coworker - with a frightened pair of wide eyes.

"Understood, sir. I apologise for my tardiness." A sincere smile, a half-assed apology and a sceptical Levi Ackerman deciding this wasn't something he wished to waste his precious time on.

"As far from flawless as one can go, huh?" An oblivious question meant to hurt the powerful man's pride which would never be said to his face. You gave your female coworker an incredulous look.

"What, Mr Ackerman?" A glance in the direction of his retreating figure and its broad shoulders. A knowing smile curled the corner of your mouth as you shrugged, thinking of how unaware of the truth she was. "... if you say so."

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman imagine #levi ackerman fanfiction #x reader #snk x reader #reader insert #levi ackerman #office romances be my one true dream #with levi of course #idk why but the forbidden stuff are so tasty when they're not unhealhty in any way #secret dating is such a trope i'm frothing at the mouth #anyway enjoy?

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foundinfantasy · 1 year ago

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Not a Modder (Just like to think creatively)

THE SIMS 4 HORSE RANCH

These were ideas I had before the pack came out with just knowing we were getting horses, nectar making, and mini-goats and sheep and just thought of how much more they could've done.

Tabletop dancing -> broken arm, leg, drunken antics, ie consequences

Bulk -> sell to bars, shipping, packaging, (carton of eggs, wine, boxes of apples), (personally would like to see cat and dog food as a purchasable item, cans and bags and tupperware)

Scouts update - > fundraising, bake sales / cookie drive, and horse camp

Lasso -> toddler to elder, child+ competitions

billiards -> social activity for teen+, random outcome, betting, pool hall

motorcycles -> we have bikes, wouldn't this basically be the same animation without the moving feet.

Rodeos - > with zero pixel animal abuse - social event and competition (using mechanical bull riding) at a saloon lot type with saloon doors

glasswork, ironwork, stones -> gold or stones from river, mining, making horseshoes, glassblowing, bead-making

any indigenous gameplay?! Sage harvestable, burnable, craftable sage, weaving skill, dreamcatchers, totems, blankets, books/conversing with sim about culture - > beads, jewelry, knitting addons - > crafting table

horse plow -> attachable wheel barrow to mass harvest all

mischief and politics -> new protests, new policies, and the urban legend of cowtipping

petting zoo - > update to barn to free llama and cow, ability to lock bunnies in, employee a fox, [just adding snakes and lizards]

nectar making - > should've been in mws - winetasting, order bottle during meal, blends, nameable, snob interactions and/or moodlets about the notes, make box wine [low, get drunk quick quality],

stare down - > rude introduction

pianola - > upgradable to play on its own [even though not historically accurate] - > ability to play piano drunk

MY IDEAS AFTER THE PACK WAS RELEASED (and I've spent like two days in game, not bored just drawing out that single drop of gameplay) - this is mainly where the "not a modder" comes in as I have no idea how easy or difficult it would be to add these things.

First off, lock that dance behind a skill or something

A Wandering Cowboy Mod - a cowboy NPC shows up randomly at my doorstep, is he hurt, is he friendly, is he a burglar, is he here to start a quest???

^^^ same concept but Alien Crash landing

Horses that steers goats/cattle back.

Ability to lead horses

Horse betting / mini game (make my rich sims poor)

Obvi, wild horses

Ability to brush teeth and/or an actual horse bath

Horsegirl books, toys, interactions,

Holster gun match with chances of misfire, with either possibly dying, etc, (historic version of this too)

Gunslingers and Bounty Hunters

obvi, Unicorn things; could be cool if used to cure all sickness/alignments from other mods and/or resets their age and/or work like Father Winter.

Bank Heists

A fiddle or banjo.

Ability to craft all the furniture with woodworking table.

Falling off the horse -> consequences

Replace in-game harvestable grapes with debug grape vines

Dual riders, teach to ride for children, romantic kiss where one sim is on the horse and the other is standing below them, lift onto horse to kiss, thrown over the horse and taken, watching stars together while sitting on horses

Nothing to do with westerns but the rocking horse mod made me want a rocket ride coin machine mod

Add with more thoughts later.

#also where are the trailer townies

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kaileeandag · 2 years ago

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Saya’s Collection

-Meet Outfit (navy blue Pokemon t-shirt,black blue jeans,and pink and white sneakers with white socks) -Meet Accessories (Giri Giri Girls Pretty Wolf single CD,blue and silver portable CD Player with headphones,pretend lemon snow cone,and Limited Too ‘S’ initial purse) (the CD plays 30 seconds of the song)

School Collection: -Saya’s First Day Outfit (pink short sleeve blouse,hot pink skirt,black bike shorts,and pink flip flops) (the bike shorts are so nobody can look up her skirt) -Saya’s Backpack (customized blue L.L. Bean backpack reading ‘Saya’ containing these items: Spongebob pencil box with two pencils,6th grade Science textbook,red FiveStar notebook,and a 6th grade Math textbook) -Saya’s Lunchbox (a Mystery Machine lunchbox containing these pretend items: pepperoni and cheese wrap,Handi-Snaks Cheese & Crackers,a Granny Smith Apple,and a pouch of Grape Kool-Aid Jammers juice) -Saya’s School Lunch (comes with these pretend items on a red tray: pepperoni french bread pizza,chef’s salad,fruit cocktail,and a carton of chocolate milk)

Holiday Collection: -Saya’s Christmas Present (copy of The Simpsons: Hit & Run for the Gamecube. Case only,comes with screenshots from the game) -Saya’s Pajamas (light blue Spongebob pajama top and pants) -Saya’s Christmas Breakfast (contains these pretend food items: stack of 3 blueberry pancakes with syrup and butter,two bacon strips,a sausage patty,and a large cup of apple juice) -Saya’s Nintendo Gamecube and games (console is Indigo purple,same for the Game Boy Player attachment. Cases only,comes with screenshots from these games: The Simpsons Road Rage,Pikmin,Animal Crossing,Super Smash Bros. Melee,Metroid Prime,Crash Bandicoot:The Wrath of Cortex,Billy Hatcher and the Giant Egg,Backyard Baseball,and Resident Evil 0) -Saya’s Caboodle (Limited Too GirlCare Caboodle,sparkly purple)

Birthday Collection (from her summer book): -Saya’s Birthday Cake (gold cake with chocolate frosting and a Pokemon decal reading Happy 12th birthday,Saya! on it) -Saya’s Japanese Jr. High Girls Uniform (belonged to her older sister,wasn’t worn much so it’s in like new condition) -Saya’s Gym Bag (for Jr. High next year,which begins at the end of her summer book,is Limited Too branded) -Saya’s Birthday Outfit (black and white polka dot skimp dress,navy blue leggings,and white and blue sneakers and white socks)

Summer Collection: -Saya’s DisneyQuest CD (the song she made was called When I Rule The World) -Saya’s Disney World haul (Disney World 2004 handbag,Lilo & Stitch plushie,and a Mickey Mouse hat) -Saya’s Splash Mountain picture (got after going on Splash Mountain. Her parents are in back,while she is sitting next to her brother. Her older sister is absent,as she couldn’t make it on the ride in time) -Saya’s Jaws the Ride Drawstring Bag (got this when her family went to Universal Studios in Orlando)

Winter Collection: -Saya’s Coat and Mittens (the coat is blue,the mittens are green) -Saya’s Snow Boots (the boots are pink and black) -Saya’s Sled (red sled) -Saya’s Cheering Uniform (long sleeve top and longer skirt,but close to knee length. The uniform is red and white and has Sanford on the front of the top)

Bedroom Collection: -Saya’s Bed and Bedding (twin bed with Pokemon bedding) -Saya’s Pajamas (silky Limited Too pajamas,purple) -Saya’s TV (Emerson TV with built-in DVD player. Her Gamecube can be attached to the front of the TV. TV does not function,has screenshots from these shows: The Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy,Spongebob Squarepants,Codename Kids Next Door,and Evil con Carne) -Saya’s J-POP collection (comes with these CDs: Morning Musume First Time, Morning Musume Second Morning, Morning Musume 3rd: Love Paradise, Morning Musume No. 5, and Ayumi Hamasaki I Am...) (she was sent each CD from a friend in Japan) (the CDs play these songs: Ai no Tane, Memory Seishun no Hikari, Koi no Dance Site, Hey! Mirai, and Evolution) -Saya’s Boombox (blue,can play music from CDs she has) -Saya’s Game Boy Advance SP (navy blue,does not function,has Pocket Monsters Midori in the slot. Comes with screenshots from these games: Pokemon Red, Pokemon Yellow, Pokemon Silver, Pokemon Crystal, Pokemon Sapphire, Harvest Moon: Friends of Mineral Town, and Tanbi Musō Meine Liebe)

Extra Clothes: -Saya’s Kimono (red kimono with flower blossoms and geta sandals)

Extra Accessories: -Saya’s “Big Day” Food Selection (food items are pretend,comes with these items: Sekihan red beans and rice in a bowl with chopsticks, Omurice, Tamago Kake Gohan in a red bowl with blue chopsticks, and a cup of water) (this was to celebrate Saya getting her first period,which happened in the middle of her Holiday book)

#american girl #american girl doll #American Girl dolls #american girl oc #american girl fan character

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starspangleydorito · 2 years ago

Video

youtube

Dog Carton Beds Selection Made Easy

Dogs will very much want to be in their box on the off chance that a legitimate dog case bed is selected. Dogs have a natural yearning to be in a cave climate. It makes them have a real sense of reassurance and secure. In the event that you have a dog, you will tend to see that they love to sleep under work areas, tables or whatever else they can find to snuggle up under. On the off chance that they can't find a comfortable location, they tend to twist up close to a wall. They have a solid click here to learn more sense of safety than being out in the open in a room. This is why choosing a comfortable box bed that works for your dog's variety and personality is important.

All dog carton beds are not made equivalent. One sort or brand isn't really better compared to another. However, there are definite contrasts in bed materials (all around), thickness, quality and sizing varieties. Each maker has a different arrangement of guidelines that they accept makes for a quality dog bed. Since a bed is expensive, doesn't imply that it is awesome available to address your dog's issues.

While making an internet based buy, attempt to track down a store that boats for nothing in light of the fact that these are significant burden things. In light of your dog's variety and disposition, there are many elements to consider while choosing the right dog carton bed for your dog:

1) Material (all around): Is the external coating removable and machine launderable and dryable? This is particularly important assuming you have a drooly dog or one that sheds a great deal. Is the bed water or dampness safe? Focus on the actual material. Certain materials, for example, Sherpa keeps dogs cool in warm climate and warm in cool climate. Many pet owners don't understand that there are pet container beds out there that have launderable stuffing.

2) Dog Breed: A dog's variety should be thought about while pondering a bed's thickness. Bigger varieties might have a more troublesome time entering and leaving their container with a thicker bed inside.

3) Dog Age: Younger dogs will tend to chew on things. Putting resources into an expensive bed for a youthful dog might turn out to be substantially more exorbitant than anticipated. Each owner requirements to choose if it is better going with a more affordable dog box bed for a younger dog. Old dogs could profit from a muscular dog bed or a bed that is level with the carton entrance.

4) Dog Personality: A hyper dog will go tossed a lot a larger number of beds than a more quiet dog. Disposition can be breed explicit or age explicit.

5) Box Size: Make certain to gauge within aspects of the case that the bed is intended to head inside. Measure width, profundity, and level of the entry edge. Attempt to get the best fit without going enormous than within aspects. Likewise attempt to coordinate the carton bed's thickness with the level of the entry edge for most straightforward entry and exit.

6) Variety: Numerous sharp dog owners definitely find it satisfying that there are so many variety varieties and plans accessible to match practically any decor. Matching the decor of the room the is an or more. This will assist it with mixing in with the rest of the room.

7) Value: There are such countless different brands of dog beds that come in different varieties, sizes and costs. In light of the above factors and a dog owners taste, the cost of your pet's bed should be thought of. Remember that specific bigger sizes are more earnestly to find and might be more expensive.

#youtube

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meleanorsslave · 1 year ago

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there isn’t anything i wouldn’t do for this woman. i would even take off my clothes and give her a private show to the tunes of her soul cause she’s all that i need and more. i would give birth to ten of her children without using any drugs to ease the pain, and then i would give her one more just because our love is that insane. there is not one thing that I would not do for my lover my best friend my honey my boo my mosh mosh my babygirl my pookie bear my discord mod my master my mommy my queen my princess. i can’t wait to meet her. there is no way levan pulled this queen, she's just everything the way i would bow down and kneel many times just for her is insane. hey, sorry i saw her profile and i just thought she looked cute in her picture. i really wanted to tell her that)) It's really rare to see girls dominating their loser husbands haha! I don't know why it's a lesbian thing honestly im like really against misogyny and like ill be the one in the kitchen making sandwiches. We should really play l4d2 sometime its a really cool zombie game with a lot of scary moments, but don't worry ill be there to protect her ;) sorry that wasnt flirtring i swear im just trying to be friendly i really like her profile picture sorry was that too far? Really sorry i'm really shy i don't go out much haha add me on skype we should talk she looks really nice and fun xxx *jaw drops tongue rolls out* WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF *tongue bursts out of the mouth uncontrollably leaking face and everything in reach* WURBLWUBRLBWURblrwurblwurlbrwubrlwburlwbruwrlblwublr *tiny cupid shoots an arrow through heart* Ahhhhhhhhhhh me lady... *heart in the shape of a heart starts beating so hard you can see it through shirt* ba-bum ba-bum ba-bum ba-bum ba-bum *milk truck crashes into a bakery store in the background spiling white liquid and dough on the streets* BABY WANTS TO FUCK *inhales from the gas tank* honka honka honka honka WHOA MAMA! HUMMINA HUMMINA HUMMINA! BAZOOOOOOIING eyes bulge out of head and shoot forward at 120 mph AROOOOOOOOOOOOGA jaw drops to the floor, tongue rolls out a foot forward HAWT MAMA! punches self in face with boxing glove five times HOOLEY DOOLEY pulls on train whistle that has appeared beside head as steam blows out EEE-AW EEE-AW pulls out comically large carton of milk, drinks all of it spilling it everywhere GUHGUHGUHGUHGUHGUH wolf whistle AROOOOOOOOOOO AROOOOOOOO tiny cupid shoots an arrow through heart ARF ARF ARF ARF rubs ass on ground like dog WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF eyes turn into slot machine slots WOWZA! tapdancing sounds, running in a circle JEEPERS HEEPERS pants like dog, rips off pants, heart in the shape of a heart starts beating so hard you can see it through shirt BA-BUM BA-BUM BA-BUM BA-BUM BA-BUM slams fists on table rattling any silverware or plates DUUUUUUHHHH bashes own head with hammer 5 times BONK BONK BONK BONK BONK slams chair on table BWOOOAAGHHHH old-timey car horn sound, tongue straightens out like wooden board, eyes go out of skull and back in like paddleballs CHUGGA CHUGGA CHUGGA CHUGGA fireworks shoot from top of head PHWOAARRR sniffs air loudly, nostrils become comically large HONKA HONKA HONKA HONKA sound of mouth harp as body is straightened out, floating a foot above the ground JEEZ LOUISE propeller spins on hat comically WOWEEE gets massive erection, tries to aggressively push it back down into pants OINKA OINKA pulls out massive drum, starts beating it excessively HUBBA HUBBA HUBBA HUBBA jumps on table, smashes through table and ground, springs back upward at an incredible velocity HOOOLY MOOOOLY pupils fly away from eyes, eyes snap forward towards them OOOOOOH I'M DYYYYYYYYYYIIN' fucking dies, ghost goes out of corpse with a lyre, body pulls ghost back into body WHADDA DAAAAME starts foaming at the mouth HUUUUUUUURRRRRR furiously turns crank on machine that hits hands on table GRRRR BARK BARK BARK head unscrews and starts rotating BUH-DOOIIOIOIOING starts rattling like a jar of coins, suspended half a metre in the air

dragon princess of my heart

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland spoilers #twisted wonderland episode 7 spoilers #twisted wonderland book 7 spoilers #meleanor draconia #diasomnia #twst spoilers

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gigglymovers · 5 days ago

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Must-Know Tips for Moving With Appliances

You’re moving to a new place with Packers and Movers Gurgaon to Bhubaneswar , and you need to take steps to protect your investments. Refrigerators, washing machines and dryers likely are some of the most expensive items you own, and they deserve special attention when you’re moving with major appliances.

Before you move these appliances, make sure to clean them thoroughly. You’ll also want to leave time to ensure they dry properly post-cleanse before they go on the moving truck.

Moving appliances

Besides cleaning and drying, there are tips specific to each appliance in your residence. Here’s a quick guide to moving with major appliances.

Dishwasher

Disconnect the hoses and drain them.

Leave the dishwasher door open for a few days prior to your move to facilitate drying.

Wrap the dry hoses in towels and packing paper and then place them inside the dishwasher for safety during the move.

Washing Machine

As with your dishwasher, disconnect the hoses and drain them.

Wrap the metal connector ends of hoses in a towel and place them inside the washer.

Secure the tub following the manufacturer’s guidelines to prevent damage.

If you don’t have the manufacturers guidelines, purchase a washer kit with instructions on how to secure the tub by tightening down the tub-using screws.

Movers may be able to arrange a third-party service provider for these tasks.

Upon arrival to your new home, have your washing machine installed by a qualified installer.

Clothes Dryer

Clean the lint screen.

Prior to plugging in your electric dryer at your new residence, make sure the power supply is proper for the appliance.

If you are moving a gas dryer, have a qualified technician disconnect it and cap off the gas line. Your moving crew isn’t qualified to perform this service.

Stove

Cleanliness is paramount!

Grease left on a stovetop will catch dust and dirt—and leave spots on anything it touches.

Detach all removable parts and pack them safely in a box.

If you are moving a gas range, have a qualified technician disconnect it and cap off the gas line (see above note about your moving personnel).

When arriving at your new residence with your gas range, you will need a qualified gas installer to check your gas supply, connect the gas line, seal any openings, light the pilot and handle any other hook-up requirements.

Refrigerator and Freezer

Dispose of all perishables.

Unplug the power cord to wash and dry all removable parts thoroughly.

Allow the parts, including the interior of the refrigerator and freezer, to dry thoroughly.

Pack all loose parts, including bins and shelves, in a secure container.

Vacuum the condenser or compressor to remove dust.

Empty and clean the evaporator pan and allow time for it to dry.

If you have a cold water dispenser or automatic ice maker, turn off the water and disconnect the water line.

Empty the water reservoir.

Have a professional reconnect the icemaker and water dispenser to the waterline in your new home.

Additional equipment including copper tubing, a shut-off valve, and fittings may be required at your new place.

Microwave Oven

Remove the glass tray to wrap and securely pack it separately in a well-padded box.

The microwave should be packed in a well-cushioned carton.

If your microwave is large, ask your moving professional if it can be pad-wrapped on moving day.

Don’t place cardboard in the door opening because it can spring the door during transit.

Don’t block the exhaust vent when installing the microwave at your new home.

0 notes

momentum2024 · 5 days ago

Text

Must-Know Tips for Moving With Appliances

Before you move these appliances, make sure to clean them thoroughly. You’ll also want to leave time to ensure they dry properly post-cleanse before they go on the moving truck.

Moving appliances

Besides cleaning and drying, there are tips specific to each appliance in your residence. Here’s a quick guide to moving with major appliances.

Dishwasher

Disconnect the hoses and drain them.

Leave the dishwasher door open for a few days prior to your move to facilitate drying.

Wrap the dry hoses in towels and packing paper and then place them inside the dishwasher for safety during the move.

Washing Machine

As with your dishwasher, disconnect the hoses and drain them.

Wrap the metal connector ends of hoses in a towel and place them inside the washer.

Secure the tub following the manufacturer’s guidelines to prevent damage.

If you don’t have the manufacturers guidelines, purchase a washer kit with instructions on how to secure the tub by tightening down the tub-using screws.

Movers may be able to arrange a third-party service provider for these tasks.

Upon arrival to your new home, have your washing machine installed by a qualified installer.

Clothes Dryer

Clean the lint screen.

Prior to plugging in your electric dryer at your new residence, make sure the power supply is proper for the appliance.

If you are moving a gas dryer, have a qualified technician disconnect it and cap off the gas line. Your moving crew isn’t qualified to perform this service.

Stove

Cleanliness is paramount!

Grease left on a stovetop will catch dust and dirt—and leave spots on anything it touches.

Detach all removable parts and pack them safely in a box.

If you are moving a gas range, have a qualified technician disconnect it and cap off the gas line (see above note about your moving personnel).

Refrigerator and Freezer

Dispose of all perishables.

Unplug the power cord to wash and dry all removable parts thoroughly.

Allow the parts, including the interior of the refrigerator and freezer, to dry thoroughly.

Pack all loose parts, including bins and shelves, in a secure container.

Vacuum the condenser or compressor to remove dust.

Empty and clean the evaporator pan and allow time for it to dry.

If you have a cold water dispenser or automatic ice maker, turn off the water and disconnect the water line.

Empty the water reservoir.

Have a professional reconnect the icemaker and water dispenser to the waterline in your new home.

Additional equipment including copper tubing, a shut-off valve, and fittings may be required at your new place.

Microwave Oven

Remove the glass tray to wrap and securely pack it separately in a well-padded box.

The microwave should be packed in a well-cushioned carton.

If your microwave is large, ask your moving professional if it can be pad-wrapped on moving day.

Don’t place cardboard in the door opening because it can spring the door during transit.

Don’t block the exhaust vent when installing the microwave at your new home.

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pharmamachinerys-blog · 5 days ago

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The Essential Role of Automatic Carton Erector Machines in Pharma Packaging

In the fast-evolving pharmaceutical industry, efficient packaging solutions are crucial to ensure that medications are handled, transported, and stored safely. With advancements in technology, machines like the automatic carton erector machine have transformed the packaging process by significantly improving efficiency, accuracy, and reliability. These machines not only boost productivity but also streamline workflows, making them an indispensable part of pharmaceutical packaging lines. In this blog, we will delve into the importance of automatic carton erector machines, their benefits, and their integration with other critical machinery like shrink sleeve machines and high-speed labelling machines.

Understanding the Automatic Carton Erector Machine

An automatic carton erector machine is designed to take flat-packed cartons, open them into box shapes, and seal the bottom flaps so they are ready for product insertion. These machines ensure consistent quality and speed, which are critical in the pharmaceutical industry, where precision is essential. Automation in carton erection minimizes the need for manual labor, reduces errors, and allows companies to handle large volumes efficiently.

The machine works by first erecting the carton, then securing its base using glue or tape. This process makes it possible to prepare a high volume of boxes per hour, with some machines reaching speeds of up to 30-40 cartons per minute. As a result, automatic carton erector machines are a popular choice for businesses handling large-scale packaging operations, especially in sectors like pharmaceuticals, where speed, consistency, and reliability are paramount.

Benefits of Using an Automatic Carton Erector Machine in Pharma Packaging

Enhanced Efficiency: Automatic carton erectors can operate at high speeds, which boosts overall productivity. With fewer interruptions, pharmaceutical companies can meet demand and improve delivery timelines.

Consistency and Quality: Consistency is a major advantage of automation. The automatic carton erector machine ensures that every box is correctly and uniformly formed, reducing the risk of product damage during shipping and handling.

Reduced Labor Costs: With an automatic carton erector, manual labor for forming boxes is minimized. This allows companies to reallocate human resources to other essential tasks and lowers labor costs in the long run.

Minimized Product Contamination: Since the machine handles the cartons, there is reduced human contact with the packaging, which is especially critical in pharma packaging to avoid contamination.

Adaptable to Different Sizes: Many automatic carton erector machines offer flexibility in carton sizes, making them suitable for various pharmaceutical products, from bottles to sachets.

Integrating Carton Erector Machines with Other Pharmaceutical Packaging Machines

To maximize productivity, automatic carton erector machines are often integrated with other essential machines in the pharma packaging line. Here’s a look at some complementary machinery:

1. Automatic Cartoning Machines

Automatic cartoning machines are typically connected to carton erectors in the production line. After the carton is erected and sealed, the cartoning machine loads the product into the box, then seals it for distribution. This integration creates a seamless workflow where cartons are formed, filled, and closed efficiently, ensuring speed and accuracy.

2. High-Speed Labelling Machines

High-speed labelling machines are essential in pharma packaging, where accurate labeling is crucial for product identification and regulatory compliance. Once the products are packed into cartons, these machines swiftly apply labels that contain critical information like batch numbers, expiration dates, and handling instructions. This step in the packaging line is crucial, as mislabeled products can lead to costly recalls and potential health risks.

3. Shrink Sleeve Machines

Shrink sleeve machines are commonly used to apply tamper-evident seals to products, enhancing safety and compliance. In pharmaceutical packaging, these machines apply heat-shrinkable labels or sleeves that wrap around the product, ensuring that tampering is easily detectable. When used in conjunction with an automatic carton erector, a shrink sleeve machine ensures that each product in the carton is tamper-evident, further enhancing consumer safety.

Key Considerations When Choosing an Automatic Carton Erector for Pharma Packaging

Selecting the right automatic carton erector machine involves considering several factors specific to pharma packaging:

Speed and Capacity: Choose a machine that matches the required output of your packaging line. High-capacity machines for pharma packaging can form dozens of cartons per minute, ensuring that the production line runs efficiently.

Carton Compatibility: Make sure the machine is compatible with the sizes and shapes of cartons you need. Some automatic carton erectors offer adjustable settings for different dimensions, which is ideal for packaging diverse pharmaceutical products.

Integration Capability: Since pharma packaging lines often use various types of machines, the carton erector should be easily integrated with high-speed labeling machines, automatic cartoning machines, and shrink sleeve machines.

Ease of Operation and Maintenance: Look for machines with user-friendly interfaces, so operators can quickly adjust settings or troubleshoot. Regular maintenance is essential for long-term performance, so machines that offer easy access to parts for cleaning and repairs are a bonus.

Final Thoughts

In the competitive world of pharmaceuticals, reliable packaging is a must. The automatic carton erector machine is a cornerstone of this process, ensuring that cartons are formed with precision and speed. When paired with other machines like automatic cartoning machines, high-speed labelling machines, and shrink sleeve machines, these machines form an efficient, automated packaging line that meets industry standards.

Investing in an automatic carton erector machine can streamline operations, reduce costs, and minimize product contamination risks, all while enhancing output and accuracy. For pharmaceutical companies striving to meet high production demands, these machines are an essential asset that ensures their products reach the market safely and efficiently. With advancements in automation technology, the future of pharma packaging is set to be faster, safer, and even more reliable.

#automatic cartoning machines #high speed labelling machine #shrink sleeve machine #machines for pharma packaging #automatic carton erector machine

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