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obsidian-pages777 · 5 months ago

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Pick a Card: Your Future House and Mansion Aesthetic. Have fun! Pick an Image

Top Left to Right- Pile 1->Pile 2. Bottom Left to Right- Pile 3->Pile 4

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The below is a pick a card prediction of what your future manifestation of a house or a mansion would look like if you were to manifest it into your existence. Enjoy!

Pile 1: Cozy Cottage

The Empress

Your future home will be abundant in natural beauty, with a garden or a lot of indoor plants. The aesthetic is nurturing and comforting, with soft, earthy tones and cozy furnishings.

Ten of Pentacles

This card suggests a traditional, well-established home. It will likely have a classic design with antique furniture, family heirlooms, and a warm, inviting atmosphere. Think of a place that feels timeless and deeply rooted in family history.

If you Manifest a Mansion, It ought to look like the image below:

Ace of Cups

The Ace of Cups indicates a home filled with love and emotional fulfillment. The décor will reflect a sense of peace and tranquility, with elements like water features, soothing colors, and comfortable spaces for relaxation and connection.

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Pile 2: Modern Minimalist

The Fool

Your future apartment will have a fresh, modern, and minimalist design. Expect open spaces, clean lines, and a sense of freedom and lightness. The décor will be simple yet sophisticated, with an emphasis on functionality.

The World

This card suggests a globally inspired aesthetic, with influences from different cultures. Your home will be a blend of modern design and eclectic touches, creating a balanced and harmonious environment. Think of unique art pieces and travel memorabilia.

If you Manifest a Mansion the below image will show how it will look like:

Page of Swords

The Page of Swords indicates a home that is intellectually stimulating and technologically advanced. The aesthetic will be sleek and contemporary, with smart home features, a dedicated workspace, and a clean, organized environment.

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Pile 3: Artistic Bohemian

The Star

Your future home will be an artistic haven, filled with inspiration and creativity. The aesthetic will be eclectic and whimsical, with lots of personal touches, handmade items, and vibrant colors. It will feel like a dreamy, magical space.

Queen of Wands

This card suggests a dynamic and lively home environment. Your space will be full of bold colors, eclectic furniture, and artistic expressions. It will be a place that reflects your passion, creativity, and vibrant energy.

In case you are planning to manifest a mansion, this is what it will look like:

Seven of Cups

The Seven of Cups indicates a home with a whimsical, fantasy-like quality. The aesthetic will be imaginative and dreamy, with unique decor, mystical elements, and a sense of wonder. It’s a place where dreams and reality blend seamlessly.

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Pile 4: Rustic Retreat

The Hermit

Your future home will be a quiet, secluded retreat, perfect for introspection and peace. The aesthetic will be rustic and cozy, with natural materials like wood and stone, warm lighting, and a serene, uncluttered environment.

Four of Wands

This card suggests a home that is a place of celebration and joy. The aesthetic will be charming and welcoming, with a focus on comfort and community. Think of a rustic farmhouse with a large, inviting kitchen and communal spaces for gatherings.

Your Future Manifestation of a Mansion will look like the follows:

Nine of Pentacles

The Nine of Pentacles indicates a home that is both luxurious and self-sufficient. The aesthetic will be elegant and refined, with high-quality materials, beautiful decor, and a sense of abundance and independence. It’s a place of both comfort and sophistication.

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#pick a picture #pick a photo #pick a card reading #pick a card #pick one #pick a pile #manifesation #future predictions #future life #love yourself #tarot reading #tarotcommunity #love #lifestyle

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acaciusbride · 1 year ago

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Beastly: Raider Era Joel Miller x Reader (Part 1)

Summary: you live in a small commune protected by a strong force of raiders. Every season, your people pay tribute for their protection. After lapsing in payment, your abusive father offers you as a human sacrifice. What you don't expect is for the leader of the gang, Joel, to not be as much of a beastly man as first thought.

A Raider Era Joel fic, loosely inspired by Beauty & The Beast.

CWs: references to abuse (physical), implied fear of SA, canon typical violence, implied age gap, sexual references, coarse language, smut for later chapters. (List will update with chapters)

Chapter Word Count: 3k

Thanks to @gab-thelamb-onthemoon & @joelsgirl for being beta readers & allowing me to infodump about this idea, ILY

Index: Part 2

It’s amazing, how long it took society to peak, in comparison to how easily it fell apart. Rome wasn’t built in a day, but it sure burned in one. In a short fifteen years, since Cordyceps first spread globally, society has all but collapsed.

Oh, sure, there are the QZs, where FEDRA rules with an iron fist. There are smaller settlements where people try to strive for a semblance of ‘normality’.

But mostly? The world outside the military strict QZs has become lawless. It’s kill or be killed, serve or rule, protect or intimidate.

Whereas some people have banded together for the greater good of humanity, for the continued survival of the species? Others have taken advantage of the new order of things, are only out for themselves and those they hold dear.

Joel Miller falls into the latter category.

Maybe once, before the outbreak, he had been a good man. Had had a strong moral compass, a good ethic. He’d been a family man, loved his daughter and his brother more than anything or anyone in the world.

Then the world had gone to hell, taken his daughter from him, and something inside him had broken. It was as though a light had gone out inside him, turning his humanity off.

Gone was the man who had made jokes and smiled easily. In his place was a man scarred and traumatised, who was capable of enormous acts of violence and brutality, who would survive at any and all cost, not for his sake, not really, but for his brother. The only family he had left.

Joel had always been a natural leader, if somewhat reluctant. It had come easily to him, before the outbreak. He was always the damn union rep on site. Always the one people came to for advice, looked to for leadership. Not just Tommy, or colleagues he’d known for years either. He always ended up with an apprentice following him round like a chained puppy, asking questions, looking for guidance.

Maybe it shouldn’t be a surprise at all that he had ended up the leader of this band of people, either. Some were misfits, those who were too anxious to try and venture to the nearest QZ and survive under FEDRA. Some were miscreants who preferred the more lawless lifestyle, who needed a leader so they didn’t venture into abject cruelty. Then there were those like him, who just wanted to survive. Keep going for whatever or whoever they had left.

Joel didn’t necessarily want to live, but he was fucking good at it.

Without his humanity, it made him a damn good leader. His group protected several small settlements, in exchange for supplies. Weapons. Whatever the fuck they wanted.

It was a good deal… for his people. The infected didn’t venture this far out anymore, but the good people in those settlements didn’t need to know that, did they? Their living in fear was his bonus. It kept them in line, and it kept his people alive.

Recently, one of the settlements fell to disease. Leaving just the one small community under his group’s thumb. The occupants aren’t particularly tough, or particularly smart, just ordinary people who have had the luck to survive behind moderately well constructed walls, the wits to bow to those stronger than them for protection.

Only, their resources are running out, spread thin with the approaching winter…

Which is where you come in.

You’re old enough to remember the world before. Maybe you hadn’t been an adult, so you hadn’t had to deal with things the older folks in your community grumble on occasion about missing - work, taxes (mostly something called a tax return), good liquor, supermarkets…

But you do remember.

You remember the world changing overnight. Remember years of struggling, clawing for survival, until this commune had finally put its walls up and hoped for the best.

Then the infected had come, and you’d lost half your numbers. The raiders had taken advantage of the weakness in your people, taken out the infected… for a price.

Now each quarter, your people paid ‘tribute’ to the group of men and women who kept the infected at bay. Really, it was a bribe to keep them from taking over your settlement. Every three months the same half dozen men would show up, fill their truck with supplies and weapons your people had gathered, desperately needed, and promise another three months protection for it.

Nobody’s been attacked since the deal was struck. You guess that’s a good thing. Or there’s something they aren’t telling you.

Your father is the closest thing to a mayor your community has. There aren’t enough of you to need a proper governing body beyond a handful of people, but somehow the task of leadership has fallen to him. Perhaps because nobody else wants to be labeled as the one who bows to the raiders. Or maybe it’s because the last mayor your town had was beaten to death by said raiders for non-compliance, and your father was the only one brave (stupid) enough to volunteer for the job after.

You aren’t stupid. You know a bribe for what it is. Only this quarter, you aren’t sure what the plan is.

The crop yield has been relatively scarce this season. With winter approaching, the settlement doesn’t have much to offer. You’re not stupid, but you know it won’t be enough.

Usually, you stay home when the raiders come for their tribute. Stay inside with the few children of the commune.

This time is different. Your father is lacing his boots, throwing on his threadbare coat, when he springs it on you.

“You’re coming too, this time. We need to show our numbers.”

It doesn’t occur to you until you’re halfway to what passes as the town square that that’s the precise opposite of what your father usually says. That a show of strength is what got his predecessor killed. But you know better than to question him; he won’t shout at you, he’ll just be condescending, or more likely, won’t answer you at all.

You suppose your curiosity will have to wait, and hope he doesn’t get you all killed.

Joel usually sends half a dozen of his people to collect the tribute from the settlement they ‘protect’. It’s a thinly veiled intimidation, closer to extortion than anything else, but it keeps his people fed and lets them bully others, which some of his people need.

But the last two seasons, their offerings have been slim at best, pissing the most restless of his people off. Joel has no issue with violence. No issue with killing people, or intimidation. But he also knows that starting a bloodbath in their supply settlement is a stupid idea, even if some of his men don’t.

Which has led him to here. Two men sit in the truck, shoulder to shoulder. One sits in the tray, gripping the roof bar with one hand, a rifle dangling lazily from the other.

Two others ride beside him, a little behind, in an arrow formation. It didn’t bother Owen to stay behind with the rest of the group. There’s better things he could be doing. If anyone was surprised at Joel deciding to go with them on this run? He hasn’t heard a word of it.

If anything, they probably think it means he’s planning some sort of punishment for their friends in the settlement. Hell, if they don’t pay up? He’s not against it.

It never ceases to amaze him just how pathetic these people are. He hasn’t visited the settlement personally in a year or so, but the occupants are still just as miserable. Just as downtrodden and fearful, hiding behind their shitty tin walls and the hope that his folks will protect them. It’s that fear that keeps his people fed, keeps these townspeople in line.

They don’t need to know that there are so few infected out here now, that Joel and his group are probably the biggest - if not only – threat remaining to them. Fear keeps them in line, and if they step out of line? Well, he and his gang aren’t above beating a reminder into them. It’s happened before.

The truck rolls to a stop behind him as they make their way to the centre of the settlement. He dismounts his horse, steps forward to greet the leader of the place. He’s met this man once before, the season after he took out the old mayor for trying to defy him. Beating a man to death isn’t pleasant to witness, but Joel had no problem with committing the act.

His replacement is a small, round man who always wears the same threadbare overcoat, the same twitchy air of nervousness around him, the same oily obedience.

How a man like that became what passes for mayor, Joel has no idea. He’s just as spineless as the rest, just as cowardly, eager to snivel and beg for protection, offering up whatever it takes to save his own skin. It’s a way to live, Joel supposes, but he would never stoop so low.

“Morris.” Joel greets the other man with a cold nod of his head, reaches out a gloved hand for him to shake. All formality. All pleasantries. As if the six men he’s brought with him aren’t capable of gunning down this entire settlement, if he so chooses. Hell, he could probably do it by himself.

“I’m surprised to see you.” Morris admits as he steps forward from the small group of townsfolk. Joel’s gaze sweeps over them all; a few new faces, his eyes boring into each unfamiliar one. One bears a resemblance to the mayor. Interesting.

His gaze leaves the crowd, returns to the man in front of him.

“We need to have a little chat.”

“You don’t say a word. Nobody will benefit from your attempts at being a diplomat.” Your father cautions you as you reach the centre of town. It’s not a long walk. The settlement is barely big enough to call a commune, but still.

You don’t dignify him with an answer, just nod. There’s no point in trying to argue with him, try and prove that you’re an asset. He’s too set in his ways, too firm in the belief that women – especially young ones- should be seen and not heard.

So instead you keep your mouth shut, take your place. Watch the convoy come in. It’s different, being out on the street rather than peeking out a window when they roll in.

The usual truck, two men in the cab, one in the tray, slapping the roof to signal to stop. You’re not familiar enough with their faces, but you assume they’re the same men who come every quarter. Two men on horses, flanking a third.

It’s the third man who interests you, only slightly. Mostly because of the way your father tenses, the way some of the others shift nervously. You vaguely recognise this man; the leader of the group of raiders. The one who had no problem with violence, with getting rid of the old mayor when he didn’t want to play ball.

He’s older, maybe late forties, broad shouldered and has a sort of deadened glint to his dark eyes. Vaguely, you catch yourself wondering what he did, or what happened to him, to put that look in his gaze.

Those cold dark eyes take stock of the place, sweep across each member of your community. His gaze pauses on you, very briefly, flickers to your father then back, recognition. Then he looks away, back to your father.

“We need to have a little chat,” the unknown man says, “your quota has been low, Morris.”

Even in the cold, you can see your father start to sweat. He’s no great hero; his leadership perches precariously on his willingness to bow to whatever this gang of raiders wants. There’s no way of fighting them, and quite frankly? There are worse things out there.

“We’ve had a hard few seasons… Maybe we can make it up in spring?” Your father suggests, trying to sound complacent, apologetic. Mostly, it just sounds desperate.

You wonder if the leader of the gang thinks so, too.

“Now, Morris, you’re already short. Have been for the last two seasons. Maybe if we’d had this little chat earlier, I’d be more inclined to accept the request, but, well… winter’s on its way. It’s hard out there, and these walls you have are so flimsy… anything could happen.”

Your father’s face blanches, clearly aware he’s stepping on toes that shouldn’t be stepped on.

“We have… some supplies in reserve. You can take from there.”

It shouldn’t even surprise you, that he offers up the town’s emergency stockpile to save his own skin, probably thinking of his predecessor. It bothers you, though, makes your skin crawl to see the men from the gang open the barn where the supplies are kept, start hauling them into the back of the truck. Those supplies are for emergencies. For the children, the elderly, the sick. Maybe that’s why you open your mouth.

“Those supplies are for our elderly. Our children.”

The look your father gives you is piercing, promising violence, a sharp retribution later, but you don’t care.

“Excuse my daughter, Joel. She doesn’t understand the way things work, likes to talk when the men are talking.”

You expect the gang leader – Joel – to agree, to ignore you. Instead, he turns that depthless gaze onto you.

“What would you have me do, hm? We have a deal, you know that.” It’s unspoken what he’s implying – he has people relying on him, too.

You’re smart enough to know that it’s a rhetorical question.

“Besides.” Joel turns his attention to the truck, shakes his head. “Even with your stockpile, you’re short. Considerably so. Maybe we should stick around. See why your productivity is so low.”

The threat is implicit. Maybe it’s the threat. Maybe it’s anger at you for speaking out. Or maybe it’s the simple fact that your father is a piece of shit. Still, you don’t expect what happens next.

Joel doesn’t want to stick around this small town, with its cowed population and snivelling misogynist of a mayor. He’d rather take what they are owed and go, but they’re up short once again. Not by much, but it’s the principle of the matter. Of making sure Morris knows his place, knows that he and Joel are in no way equals.

He projects the very image of an alpha male, broad and cocky, one hand resting on the pistol at his hip. Casually threatening, and he knows Morris is thinking of the idiot before him. Maybe he should just shoot him, see whether someone smarter replaces him. Smarter and less irritating.

Maybe the other man can see how easily he’s contemplating his death.

“Wait. Wait. I have another offer.”

Joel raises an eyebrow.

“And what could you possibly have, Morris? As you’ve said, you’ve had a difficult harvest, you’ve had to break into your emergency supplies. What do you possibly have to trade to save your own skin?” He makes zero effort to hide his disgust.

“Her.” Morris jerks a shaky thumb to the younger woman beside him, the one who’s clearly his daughter, the one who spoke up.

Joel is so startled by the suggestion that he almost outright refuses.

“What?” It comes out blunter than he planned, as if he’s misheard. Because there’s no way that this idiot is offering up his own daughter as some sort of human sacrifice.

“Take her. I don’t care what you do with her, she’s a complete disappointment. Maybe you can teach her some manners, beat her into submission, God knows I’ve tried. Take her and give us immunity until next fall. Let us rebuild our crops.”

Joel looks past Morris to you, small and nondescript. Then again, everyone is small to him. You look like someone’s just pulled the ground out from under you. Shocked. Horrified. He knows then what you’re thinking, what you’re assuming will happen to you. But he also knows now what happens to you if he leaves you here.

Joel Miller may have lost his humanity, but he was a father once. And he can’t imagine ever, ever offering his own child up as a human sacrifice to save his own skin.

And suddenly, it doesn’t matter about making a quota. What matters is getting you as far away from this place as possible. Away from sharp words and balled fists. Because somewhere, somewhere, buried deep down, a portion of the man he once was is stirring.

“The end of next fall. A year.” Joel agrees, tries not to watch the way Morris shoves you forward to what could well be your doom.

You’re shaking. Can’t even form a protest, for all the good it would do.

Sacrifice. Tribute. Offering. As if you’re no more than another object to be traded. Your father doesn’t even flinch as Joel seizes your wrist, pulls you towards his horse.

“Get on.” His voice is low, but not menacing. If anything he sounds almost sorry. It has to be some sort of trap; you’re certain that when you’re back at their base camp, he’ll have no problem with cruelty, with putting his hands on you. Forcing you, if the mood takes him. Maybe it’s better to just do as he demands.

Shakily, you climb up onto the horse, sit awkward and uncomfortable, tensing when he swings himself up behind you, broad arms keeping you in place as he seizes the reins, gives a nod to his men, who finish loading up and pile back into the truck, onto their own horses.

He throws a final derisive look to your father. The man who sold you.

“One year, Morris. Better get your shit together.” Then he nudges the horse, and rides you both out of the only home you’ve known for years.

#my writing #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fic #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #raider joel #rue beastly

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showrunnerihardlyknowher · 1 year ago

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Hey man, yeah, that's really cool how you and a couple friends you made along the way helped break that giant that was being kept locked away in a government facility out of their restraints so that they could have the freedom to go home. No, sure, I bet it really was an epic adventure defined by friendships and risks and ended with complete success, it's just...

Do you maybe think the giant was locked up for a reason?

How many innocent people had to die during your escapade, or did they deserve it simply because they wore a little uniform? Do you know how many people had died previously in their attempts to first wrangle the giant, the constant bloodshed that very nearly overtook them before they could wrangle the monster? But, oh, you saw intelligence in its eyes, life in its soul, you could tell it wanted so badly to be free and away from these cruel treatments. Everyone else knew these things, too; your observation wasn't unique. In fact, its the fact it was clearly so smart that made it all the more dangerous.

It played you like a fiddle, didn't it? How can you be so certain that it regards you the same way, how can you be sure you even understand what its trying to convey and vice versa? What makes you think it views you as a friend, an ally, a surrogate, hell, a pet? You were nothing but a means to an end, a key to be discarded once all the locks had been open. You're worthless to it, just another tiny pest like the others. Do you really think it would be able to tell you apart from the other 8 billion people on this planet?

And now it's free. You let it out. You let it continue the rampage it was originally hellbent on. The environment destruction is unimaginable. The knowledge that such a thing exists is now being spread globally, along with the stories of destruction that accompany its wake. Suicides and family annihilation is through the roof because people are terrified of living in a world that will inevitably be razed, if its merciful. That blood is on your hands. Never mind once the giant is able to communicate to its real friends, its real family, its real companions, and bring them down for the slaughter and maximum efficiency. Are you hoping you'll be spared? Is that even a world you want to live in if you are?

Why do you think it came here in the first place? You think just because it left, it won't come back? You think that with all the brilliance it has, it's ignorant to the concept of revenge? You seem so sure that it's innocent, but you've never asked for an explanation about its purpose, just as the lambs never question why they're being led to pens rather than an open field today. What implication could it possibly have given that made you so certain it wasn't here with cruel intentions, or did you simply want to feel a moral superiority of freeing a caged animal and thinking it owed you gratitude?

Everyone told you it was dangerous and needed to stay confined, but you didn't listen. You thought you knew better. You thought you were so much smarter than the hundreds of other people working around the clock to ensure the safety of everyone outside the facility. You ruined so many lives, including that of the people closest to you. What, you thought you'd be able to walk away from this scot-free? That you weren't going to be immediately detained as well as your loved ones and labeled a national, actually global, terrorist and security threat? You broke in to a high clearance area and effectively doomed the world for destruction. For what, because you thought it looked a little cramped in that cell?

Are you not aware that your actions have consequences after the story ends?

#g/t #giant/tiny #macro/micro #gianttiny #size difference #g/t angst #fearplay #g/t fearplay #g/t scenario #whump #g/t whump #tiny whump #g/t community #g/t writing

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jeankirsteinsgrlfrnd · 10 months ago

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yesss pleaseeee write the stalker!jean y/n as a drabble!!! like Jean is just soo 😫i just know he would be a good asl stalker, especially since he is super tall and mysterious 😫

lurk

pairing: jean kirstein x f!reader

word count: 1.7k +

a/n: i didnt proof read this but also this came out super cute but like also terrifying but ily pookie bear jean

tw: stalking, manipulation, drinking, etc

it was cold tonight, nearly below freezing in shiganshina. you hated the cold, you dreaded being bundled up in a billion layers only to still be shivering. however, it was almost christmas and you were running behind on shopping. fortunately for you, the streets were quiet. nobody wanted to be out in this weather. you weren't afraid of the dark. often times, you embraced the peace that came from walking the street alone at night. despite being a woman, shiganshina was a relatively safe city.

the streets and sidewalks were lined with a thing layer of snow with flurries still falling from the sky. there's a glow of warmth from the street lines as you duck into the nearest store. it's a small boutique that's much warmer than outside. there are mannequins strewn about, various pieces on displays and a small jewelry section in the back. you decide to head to the back of the store and work your way up front.

despite being a small array of options, the jewlery they had was beautiful. you pick up a small white box were two silver earrings in the shape of hearts like. you frown as you slide a finger down the side of the container. they were pretty, but it wasnt something your mother would like and that's who you were here for, after all. you ponder getting them for yourself but your face drops when you remember your budget. you sigh and put them back on the shelf while you put your mother first.

as you set them down, you can't shake the feeling of being watched. no, you were definitely being watched. you slowly turn your head around and an exhale when you don't see anybody with their eyes on you. just a few other women browsing about and the shop owner who's ringing up a tall man's purchase. you shake your head. christmas time was always stressful for you and it's certainly showing now.

after finding a suitable necklace for your mom, you bring it up to the cashier. the cashier is a sweet, older lady who is smiling as hard as she can. you feel bad that she has to be out at work during the cold and make small talk about how you'll need to do your holiday baking tomorrow. she laughs and tells you that she's running behind too, and that she's sure you'll get your cookies done in time.

the walk back to your apartment building isn't so bad despite the howling wind. you remind yourself to be thankful for the snow, knowing the toll global warming would eventually take. on the opposite side of the street, there's a nice black car with tinted windows. you take a moment to wonder who was lucky enough to drive such a luxurious car, as you've seen it around town before. quite often actually. although, you've never seen it on your street before. you didn't live in the nicest part of town and you assume it must be somebody's family member visiting for the holidays. you head into the builiding, unaware of the pair of eyes staring at you from within the car.

unfortunately, the next day isn't any warmer. you're smart this time and decide to go shopping early in the day instead of having to brave the cold, harsh night. you drive to the nearest grocery store; your kitchen was tragically empty and lacking all of the ingredients needed to make your famous christmas cookies.

in the baking aisle of the store, you stare at the plethora of options that could either make or break your dessert. you grab a bag of chocolate chips and peanut butter chips. you spin on your heel, ready to move farther down the aisle. classically, you bump right into somebody and unfortunately the carton of eggs you had tucked under your arm before coming to this aisle heads straight to the ground. the lid pops open and eggs fall out, cracking on the ground. ultimately, they crack and the yolks splatter onto your shoes and up your paint leg a little. you let out a gasp and look up into the eyes of a handsome stranger.

his hazel eyes widen as he looks at splattered eggs on your clothing. "i'm so sorry, i didn't see you there." he looks for a way to help you but he's failing.

"it's fine," you sigh. "it's christmas time and we're all in a rush. plus, i'm a little clumsy." you blush as you feel his eyes give you a once over. you clear your throat and his eyes come back up to land on yours.

"i'm the clumsy one this time. i really am sorry. could i at least pay for your stuff?" he tilts his head. you realize just how tall he is as he looms over you, waiting for an answer.

"no, that's alright, really. it's my fault, i told you i'm clumsy. stuff like this happens to me alot." you admit, turning more red by the second. he laughs and rubs the back of his neck. his laugh is deep and hearty.

"oh, c'mon, how else are those cookies going to get made?"

"how did you know i was going to make cookies?" you ask, raising a brow at him. he clears his throat and points at the bags in your arms.

"you're in the baking aisle, after all. eggs and chocolate chips are also two of the most important things when it comes to cookies." he laughs and you feel embarrassed at your stupid question. obviously he knew you were going to be baking, it's that time of year and you are holding the ingredients for them. you laugh with him and choose to accept his generosity, appreciating not having to spend your own money, especially since it was a little tight right now.

after picking out a new carton of eggs, you and the handsome stranger head to the check out line. "my names jean, by the way." he says as he hands the clerk his card. he looks down at you.

"i'm (y/n)." you tell him. he nods his head. he hands you the plastic bag filled with your now paid for groceries. you two walk out of the store together when all of a sudden, he stops you.

"this might be a little cliche and a little too fast, but would you like to go to dinner with me tomorrow? just feel really bad 'bout the eggs 'n all." he shrugs as he makes sure his joke lands.

you know what, what the hell?

"sure, jean."

after exchanging numbers, you two head off in your own separate directions. back at your apartment, the fancy car is still there, just in a slightly different position. you think about how nice it must be to have family come to visit as you head inside.

tomorrow night comes quicker than expected. you had knots in your stomach all morning and you find them still lingering into the evening. you take your time getting ready for your date with jean and you can't shake the feeling of anxiety nestling into your chest.

later on, you park your car at the restaurant jean had texted you to meet him at. it's a high end restaurant and you're relieved you chose to wear one of your nicest dresses and an overcoat. as you make your way to the front door, you see that same black car, tucked neatly into one of the back parking spots. you shake your head as you head into the restaurant.

jean is dressed to the nines. if you thought he was handsome yesterday, you thought he fucking looked deadly tonight. if looks could kill.

jean smiles as you take a seat across from him. you give him a shy smile as you watch him take in your appearance. there's a glimmer of hunger in his eyes that makes you want to sink into your seat. you're self conscious as his eyes devour you but his words come out so calmly. "you look really good."

"thank you." quiet are the words that manage to come from your lips.

you spend the evening making talk of all sort of topics ranging from the weather to the casual, heated arguments about aliens and if they existed or not. you really enjoy your time, finding it n yourself to indulge in a bottle of wine. jean offers to pay for the entire meal as your plates becomes empty. you laugh and make a joke about how rich he must be. he just chuckles in return.

you start to realize just how drunk you are. the heat in your cheeks is radiating and you feel like you're vibrating, just a little. jean hasn't taken his eyes off you once.

"before you go," he starts. he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, white box. "i got you something. now, i know we just officially met but i couldn't help myself."

the words go right over your head as you reach across the table for the little container. you take the lid off and gasp. the pair of little, silver hearts from the store the other night. you become a stuttering mess. "h-how did you.."

your brain begins to move a thousand miles a minute, flashing different pictures your eyes have collected the last few days. it's the black car you've seen all over town. the tall man in the boutique. the black car parked on your street. the feeling of being watched. the cookies. the earrings. the car in a different position.

your words fall out in a whisper as you drop the box onto the table. "you..." jean tilts his head and smirks. he can see the realization in your eyes and the hunger in his grows. you feel helpless in this crowded restaurant, not wanting to make a scene. he watches your rosy cheeks turn pale.

"me? what about me, (y/n)?" his words are condescending.

"you've been watching me. stalking me." you hiss under your breath, hoping it comes out as confident but jean picks up on the shakiness on your voice.

"hmm..? what was that?" you can see the thrill he's getting. you don't answer him. you reach to where you set your phone on the table at the beginning of the date. it isn't there. “oh, my silly (y/n.) you've drank a whole bottle of wine. just however will you get home?"

my jean fanfiction

my ko-fi

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wonwoosthetic · 9 months ago

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Soompi 240111 🌷 Minnie

< series masterlist

SEVENTEEN’s Minnie joins the cast of the upcoming variety show “Apartment 404”!

The idol singer will be starring alongside comedy legends Yoo Jae Suk and Yang Se Chan, as well as actress Oh Na Ra and actors Lee Jung Ha, and Cha Taehyun. Created by Jung Chul Min, other known as PD Jung, who has already been credited with the hit variety show “Sixth Sense”, the six entertainers will have to solve the mystery behind multiple curious events that occur in their new residence.

tvN’s upcoming “Apartment 404” will mark Minnie’s first ever fixed casting in a variety show made for television! In the past, selected episodes of the idol’s group own YouTube entertainment show “Going Seventeen”, have been aired on TV, gaining her and the rest of the members a lot of national attention, as well as praise.

“I watched the first ever Gose (short for “Going Seventeen”) episode on JTBC, back in 2021 and just couldn’t stop laughing,” PD Jung told the reporter. “I was so surprised how idols could be so effortlessly funny. All of them seemed so smart while reaching such a high level of comedy.”

When asked how the producers came to choose Minnie, Jung Chul Min explained, “It was almost by accident. We were in a meeting and just talking about other possible cast members. Of course, we all knew that we’d need relatable and funny characters that would be entertaining to watch.” After a lot of back and forth, Minnie’s name fell and the room started laughing. “Kim Minnie is a very well acclaimed name, not only within South Korea, but also internationally, so she seemed very out of reach.”

After all, SEVENTEEN have reached the achievements “fastest selling global album of the century”, “first artist to exceed 3 million copies sold in the first day of release in Hanteo’s history”, and “highest pre-orders for albums in history, with 4.6 million sales”.

“But Yoo Jae Suk convinced us to ask her.”

The comedy legend and Minnie had already met years ago during an episode of “Running Man”, where the idol singer had appeared as a guest star. They seemed to have grown closer and kept in touch even after the shoot.

“SEVENTEEN was still on tour and had just finished filming another variety show with Na PD, but she found time to meet up with us and agreed almost immediately,” PD Jung recalled. “She shared her personal schedule and we set up filming dates right away. It must’ve been so busy for her… I remember her telling us that she had just landed and came to set right from the airport. I really respect her dedication.”

Filming for the variety show started last year, already gaining a lot of Carats’ attention when a picture of the cast was posted on Social Media.

Twitter, Instagram, and Naver exploded with interested fans, who couldn’t believe their eyes.

“Since when is Minnie doing variety shows?!?!”

“IS THAT MINNIE FROM SEVENTEEN???”

“Jaesuk and minnie back together after running man😭😭 omg I’m so excited for this”

“Seventeen seems to be doing more tv stuff nowadays, I’m really happy!”

“Whatever this is, you better bet I’m watching it!!!!”

“Casting her turned out to be one of the best decisions I’ve ever made,” the producer admitted. He promised that Carats and variety show fans will be very happy with her appearance.

The show will air on February 15 on tvN and will make its international debut on prime video on February 23. The teaser has already got us on our tippy toes!

I watched the first episode today and remembered I had this in my drafts🙃

#minnie 🌷#seventeen #seventeen oc #seventeen 14th member #Soompi #articles

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brf-rumortrackinganon · 7 months ago

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I think betterup can't ditch Harry because he made an investment in the company in return for a place on their executive committee. How 'salary' may just be his ROI+minimum fee. His 'job' was to put name of the company out there globally and he has done it. And like most of hyped silicon valley startups, this company doesn't really care about the quality of their work, just quantity of clients. They won't ditch him, even if they do he will still be receiving money from annually as part of his investment.

And the only reason Harry may have chosen this is to appear smart, intelligent and as someone who should be taken seriously.

That's my theory too: BetterUp bought the Hero Harry PR and spent way too much money on him to let him go.

There are a few other rumors that suggest BetterUp is subsidizing much of Harry's expenses the way Soho House subsidizes their vacations. One of the more popular rumors is that Harry actually lives in San Francisco in an apartment that BetterUp pays for.

#ask #sussexes #rumors #theories

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mightyflamethrower · 2 months ago

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They wanted to know how many people would comply with a complete re-ordering of their lives based on no science at all, just random orders, some of which bordered on absurdity.

I have long said that Covid 19 was launched by design by a small number of people in the globalist predator class for one reason and one reason only — as a beta test for the coming technocratic new world order.

Now, we’ve got the World Economic Forum coming out and all but admitting that was exactly why the Covid-19 “pandemic” had to happen.

The WEF gleefully posted the following snippet to the “My Carbon” page of its website where they make a pitch for so-called smart cities, which is just another term for 15-minute cities.

The first of three “developments” that the WEF says must be in place before the world can evolve into its utopian vision of “smart and sustainable cities,” is compliance with restrictions on our freedom. It writes:

1. COVID-19 was the test of social responsibility – A huge number of unimaginable restrictions for public health were adopted by billions of citizens across the world. There were numerous examples globally of maintaining social distancing, wearing masks, mass vaccinations and acceptance of contact-tracing applications for public health, which demonstrated the core of individual social responsibility.

They were testing us. That’s what Covid was all about. They wanted to see how many of us would give up our individual freedom and individual sovereignty by complying with a “new normal” that consisted of restrictions bordering on the absurd.

Why, for instance was it “safe” to shop at Lowe’s or Home Depot but unsafe to shop at a small business or attend church? Why was it OK to go to strip clubs in Michigan but you couldn’t buy seeds for a garden?

What the WEF is implying with its above statement is that in order to be “sustainable,” people and societies will need to be compliant with a new more authoritarian global order. Don’t ask questions. Don’t resort to logic. Just obey.

Would we be obedient in the face of idiotic new laws and regulations, like wearing face diapers to stop what was said to be an aerosolized virus, and standing six feet apart in public, and submitting to a never-before-used, unlicensed mRNA gene-based injection?

They said it was good for you, so roll up your sleeve. Don’t ask questions. If you did, you could lose your job and be treated as a societal outcast. Many people lost friends or even close family members to this monstrous “test” of our willingness to unquestioningly do what we’re told.

Nearly five years later, arguably the most powerful nonprofit public-private partnership in the world, the WEF, admits it was all a test of our wills and celebrates the fact that most of us failed the test (or passed with flying colors depending how you look at it).

They wanted to find out how many of us would prove our servitude to the lawless, fascistic beast system by complying with “unimaginable restrictions,” many of which were created out of thin air with absolutely no scientific evidence to back them up as contributing anything to public health.

The U.S. government’s top health bureaucrat, Dr. Anthony Fauci, admitted recently that there was no science behind his decision to require Americans to socially distance six feet apart.

youtube

The beta test known as Covid-19 proved once again the validity of the The Milgram Experiment. This experiment was conducted in 1961-1962 by Yale University professor Stanley Milgram.

It showed that the overwhelming majority of Americans would obey a law or command that they knew was wrong if the order were to come from an official authority figure. An alarming 65 percent of Americans would reluctantly violate their own conscience and obey the order even if they knew it would result in the death of an innocent person.

Trending: Here’s the Real Reason Why Hunter Biden Shocked the Courtroom and Pleaded Guilty in Federal Tax Evasion Case

From Wikipedia:

Beginning on August 7, 1961, a series of social psychology experiments were conducted by Yale University psychologist Stanley Milgram, who intended to measure the willingness of study participants to obey an authority figure who instructed them to perform acts conflicting with their personal conscience. Participants were led to believe that they were assisting an unrelated experiment, in which they had to administer electric shocks to a “learner.” These fake electric shocks gradually increased to levels that would have been fatal had they been real.

The experiments found, unexpectedly, that a very high proportion of subjects would fully obey the instructions, with every participant going up to 300 volts, and 65% going up to the full 450 volts. Milgram first described his research in a 1963 article in the Journal of Abnormal and Social Psychology[1].

The Bad News is that we passed the test with flying colors.

#Youtube

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sycamorality · 9 months ago

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misc broadcast headcanons

broadcasts function like online forums or chatrooms. there are three global lines that any iterator can connect to no matter their location. generally these were set up for theories regarding the great problem, but have since become chatrooms for about any topic. it's common courtesy to have a connection and disconnection message display whenever either action is taken.

there are specific chats that can be connected to for certain topics; history archival, bioengineering, structural issues and repair, art, etc. some lines even share game files or links to broadcasts that were formatted in a way that they'd work like online webgames through some smart engineering! it's common to see connection messages on broadcasts for certain topics, but they aren't necessary if you're just gonna lurk. the webgame broadcasts, also known as 'sitecasts', 'interactable broadcasts' or 'online game forums' depending on who you ask - or 'game forums' for the sake of simplicity, have join messages disabled by default but do display users online, unless a user specifically sets themself not to show as online. users are usually shown with usernames set by the iterators - each username has to be unique, however. it acts like an account. generally, broadcast lines with specific topics are moderated by the iterator that set them up, multiple iterators, or via a voting system that allows iterators to vote on banning or muting [whether permanently or temporarily] another iterator that may be causing issues. the global lines are moderated by a few specific iterators built for communications and moderation, but it is usually common courtesy to moderate your own local group on the global lines and force disconnect them if any issue arises. seniors have a senior signifier next to their name, usually either {S}, {SENIOR}, {LG_I1 LOCAL ADMIN} or {I1 LOCAL ADMIN}. these are optional a can be toggled off by the senior iterators themselves if they wish to not display it. seniors can punish their own juniors, but cannot moderate other local groups.

LG in one of the two latter signifiers stands for Local Group, and the I1 is the sector their local group is located in. usually the signifiers with local group sectors are disabled and never seen due to privacy reasons, but on occasion a senior will have their local group's sector in their signifier, for varying reasons. sectors are an upper case letter and then a number. there are different parts of sectors that are usually split apart like I1nw or I1w for directional locations, or just randomly chosen letters like I1y or I1k.

generally, one's acronym appears in broadcast chatlogs.

[I1_LOCAL] ESoF: so what's for this cycle? FoaI: Lizards, lizards, oh would you look at that, a slugcat, ESoF: give me the damn overseer. FoaI: I don't think I will~ CatM: can we stop arguing?

[GLOBAL_02] CONNECTED USERS - [183] - ACTIVE USERS - [27] FiV: Say, how's that going? FoS: Not all too well, I'd imagine, I haven't heard from him in a while. OttS: A shame, for sure! SE: …Says you. SfaS: We can only hope it isn't another case of rot! FoS: Do you really have to bring that up? ShE: i don't think thats appropriate to bring up after last cycle. SE_2: I think I have to agree with Shared Eyes.

ShE, SE, and SE_2 all share an acronym; they have all chosen to differenciate by either adding a letter in the middle or end, or by adding an underscore and a number. while their names are displayed on the chatline, broadcast logs won't show this when archived, so acronyms are made unique.

[WANDERINGTHERUINS] PUBLIC GROUP - all participants anonymous ToPS: oh! what did you find with your overseers this cycle, Peace? SP: A few old pearls that my overseers scanned for their information. I couldn't get much off them, however. NSA: You could purpose a.. slugcat, was it? To retrieve any pearls your overseers find. SP: i could, i could! good idea. i'll consider.

there are also anonymous broadcats where pseudonyms are mandatory and will show regardless. all participants will be shown as anonymous, but the acronyms of their pseudonyms will be shown in chatlogs.

(small note - all the acronyms here are acronyms of some of my iterator ocs!)

#rain world #yea ok ill maintag this i guess #lorekeeper's tome

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rebelpuff · 4 months ago

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@sensationals

she is SHAKING.

she doesn't know who told her. just information digested before she could understand it. didn't know if it said i got beat up for your dad or ben got beat up for your dad or some other wild variation. only that SOMEONE is looking for the professor , and they're fucking stupid enough to try violence.

the east coast doesn't get it. why the fuck would they ? the powerpuff girls are some halfway distant ideal , heroes this side of the public rarely interacts with because they do their goddamn jobs. their villains don't become GLOBAL threats , so no one has to fucking think about them if they don't want to. on this side of the country , her dad is the famous one — the biochemist who created life. complex , multicellular , powerful life. and even that is only really popular in the nerdy circles. most people know who he is the way people know who alexander graham bell is.

they certainly don't go through secret , undercover avenues and beat people up to get ahold of him. definitely don't beat up heroes to get his attention.

what the fuck happened ?

she didn't bother to get more information over text. there wasn't a linear thought in her brain for that. she's HERE in fucking new york less than a minute after getting that text — cellphone destroyed by the speed , hair wild , eyes glowing.

ben looks like shit.

buttercup's jaw clicks.

someone is going to die.

“ talk , ” she orders. ben knows her too goddamn well to ask for clarification she hopes. she doesn't think she can hold herself together for that. the SMART thing to do would be to smoke out the fucker. gather intelligence quietly and prepare. what she wants to do is tear the entire city apart shithole by shithole until whoever is targeting her father knows she's coming for them. knows they can't save themselves.

#sensationals #👊 ;; ᶜʰᵉᵐᶤᶜᵃˡ ˣ ( universe default )

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gallavichfanficlibrary · 2 years ago

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Hi! Is there any fics about s11 onwards Gallavich looking back on their past. Maybe addressing the issues like Ian’s manic infidelity or Mickey’s internalised homophobia or their trauma? Just feel like we never really got closure for a lot of the stuff they went through

Hi! That's a very interesting ask. You're right with there being zero closure for many important issues. We cheated a bit and mixed in a couple of post S10 fics, because people were really inspired post wedding and wrote a lot of great things that addressed the boys' issues better than it was possible after S11.

This is what we thought of:

Risk - Post S10. Ian and Mickey figuring out marriage, and each other, in the middle of a global crisis.

the moment when a memory aches - Hall of Shame rewrite set in s11.

let's be partners in crime (and bury the past together) - Ian's picked up an annoying habit since they got engaged. After consulting with Sandy and discovering there might be more to it than he originally thought, Mickey resolves to talk to Ian about it.

the things we carry - Ian and Mickey move into their Westside apartment, confront their time apart, and build themselves a future.

You Are Loved (More than You Know) - A look at moments that could have (and probably should have) taken place throughout season 10.

I Held On Tightly As You Held Onto Me - Ian and Mickey talking about 3x06 as mature, supportive husbands. And everything will be okay.

Good, Smart, Amazing - Mickey receives his high school diploma and doesn't know how to accept praise.

Offspring - Mickey is pretty convinced he’s not cut out for parenting. And he married a guy who wouldn’t mind a kid or two.

Stay Gold - Ian finds the shorts. Shiny gold. Skin tight. A little worn in the crotch. Fucking hell.

All You Wanna Do series - Explorations of Ian’s sexual trauma. Ian realizing he’s been sexually abused and going to therapy.

Please, could you be tender - 10x09 fix it. Mickey and Ian finally talk about everything.

#canon compliant #communication #fix it #fill in #missing scene #post wedding #post season 10 #post season 11

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novaae · 7 months ago

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bumi isnt a himbo

may i just say i hate it when people call bumi a himbo and while i know they're doing it out of the simple characterisation of a side character, it always just irks me

apart from izumi, whose position is inherited, bumi is the guy with the most successful career out of the gaang kids, with the most important career in matters of impact on the world

(lin fans do not bring up that nepobaby here, i appreciate her career but try telling me a police chief is a more important job than being a naval commander. ignore that lok dragged her into the korra shenanigans, im talking strictly about her career)

how many international economy altering trade shipments, rebellions and diplomatic journeys do you think this retired commander has handled?

he is the smartest man in any room he walks into, like you tell me that a cop who was dumber than a guy who probably has head trauma from growing up on streets and a monk who's book smart and a hippie is smarter than him. try telling me that.

he is not a himbo, he is incredibly smart and strategical, he is important on a global scale (by his own worth mind you if literally his own dads followers didnt know about him) and he is incredibly handsome and witty and has a sense of humor that can impress an 8yo girl mind you, he is selfless for a shitty family, he is brave, he is amazing.

tldr; he is perfect and making him a himbo erases all and any nuance his character has.

#bumi meta #my post #bumi ii #lok meta

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lightofraye · 5 months ago

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So... one of my followers stated their skillset and how long they've worked in it. They've been in the entertainment/creative industry for several decades. I asked if I could ask them some questions and they said I could, whenever I had any. The other day I did so. With their permission while keeping their anonymity, I'm sharing what was said.

I asked: "Would Hollywood care about the family man image THAT much? If I may ask and if you’re up to explaining." (Reason: Jensen's constant pushing of the 'family man' image and narrative we've seen and heard at cons.)

They replied with: "Short answer. No. Hollywood doesn’t give a crap whether an actor is married or divorced or single.

What they care about is a consistent image devoid of scandals.

Jensen is scared of his own shadow and has never been a risk taker. He sees himself as a family man-devoted husband and father—because that’s what he WANTS to be. It’s what he admired most about his dad, grandfathers, uncles etc.

The problem is he doesn’t really know how to pull that off genuinely and consistently. Because he married someone that he “checked most of the boxes” and they seemed to want the same thing. That’s why there are so many visible cracks because it’s a marriage built on two people that made a deal 15 years ago and have ultimately grown apart. But because of his upbringing and his desire to want to be SEEN as a family man — he will just go thru the motions to make things work.

If they divorced, Hollywood really could care less. It’ll be a small news blip. And hopefully he’d be smart (this time) to hire a brand strategist and publicist to help him navigate what to say and how to craft a positive divorced dad, co-parent image.

Right now his image could use something cos it’s devoid of consistency.

Hollywood is and will always be about money — can I make money off this actor/image. That’s it.

I said: That's what I thought. And yes, he’s not been consistent at all. I don’t think he even has a publicist and Gersh as his brand management has not done a good job.

They said: And if the actor is too unknown….but has talent…they’ll give him the shot/the exposure but won’t pay him crap.

If the actor is too risky bc of a bad image/reputation…they’ll pass unless he’s a proven “we make money off this guy/gal”.

If it’s someone vanilla and unbranded like Jensen…he’s in competition with 100s of other guys that look like him and may/may not have more talent. He’s getting ahead purely bc he has a (paid for) social following on IG of 11m. Some execs may think it’s worth hiring him over another.

But it’s why it’s taken him a few years to land anything of substance. I don’t count TB bc Kripke has a boner for him.

And why Amazon hired Eric Dane to be the true lead of the Countdown series bc Jensen isn’t a sure bet that people will tune in to watch for just him yet.

I said: Yeah… that’s the same as lol-jackles said. Pity there’s no way to send this to Jensen and go “Humble yourself, dude. And listen to the right experts.”

They said: He has a m360 and Gersh — top management and agents. I don’t think he listens to them.

Maybe it’s why Gersh sent their global brand strategist to observe him at the European cons.

I said: I'll bet they got an eyeful. I didn't think he was still with m360.

They said: Yes he is. They are his management team. Gersh is his agent. He’s been with both for 10+ years.

He hired Narrative PR (on advice from m360) to boost promotion for his TB role and TW. But seemed to only hire them for a 3 month blitz. Which is not how you work with a PR team like NarrativePR.

That's all I have for now. I wish there was a way to get this to Jensen. He has talent; we've seen it. He just... can't be consistent with anything he's done. If he wants this career, he needs to put in the work. He needs to be consistent. And maybe realize that the family man image isn't necessary and go pursue some genuine love and happiness.

#jensen supportive #jensen concern #career advice for actors #gotta do the work to get the goal

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cosmica-galaxy · 6 months ago

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Really weird AU idea i have.

I've been consuming a bunch of HFY + humans are space content on Reddit lately, specifically the humans bonding with their robot/AI creations to the point they became sentient. Also noticing the scrap ton of similarities Cybertron have with Earth's culture in TFA...and my mind just pop into a new AU idea, where humans already achieve FTL travel and now they're just going crazy with creating new things. And created cybertronians. (They weren't suppose to be sentient at first, but by the power of pack bonding they broke the codes and gain consciousness)...i ran out of ideas from here- but it call the 'Organic Creators' or 'Human Heritage' AU. Basically humans are cybertronians' creators.

Is this stupid? Yes.

Do i hate myself? Double yes

Am i gonna regret this later on? Triple yes.

Will i stop myself from sending this ask? No.

You know, I had a similar idea but in reverse.

Once upon a time I imagined an AU where humans were created to serve cybertronians in an alternate timeline where the Golden Age never ended and Cybertron flourished.

I imagined that humans were developed by Shockwave to be helpers and workers, and put to work on Cybertron doing most of the typical things that all humans can do. Mainly labor, transportation, and working 24/7 by utilizing shifts and such. Most of the dangerous work was still handled by Cybertronians. Though, humanity lacks autonomy. They can't speak/write/read, think critically, dream, and their wills are suppressed into a serving role to the Cybertronians. They usually follow orders directly from their overseers with no conscious. However...one human begins to get smart (either by universal consistences or by the will of nature itself) and starts to learn from the cybertronians, but pretends to be just as mindless as their dutiful humans. They blend in, but things start to happen around the place they serve in that Cybertronians can't necessarily explain and the smart human manages to evade suspicion for a long while, even while under the surveillance of Shockwave. I cleverly decided to call this idea the "Genuine Intelligence" AU. It was mostly inspired from how in one continuity, a younger Shockwave decided to impregnate some asteroids with experimental ores he made. One of these ores was dubbed "Ore 13" and was planted on an asteroid that eventually evolved into Earth. In fact, the ore was so catastrophic that whatever evolved there could've been LETHAL TO TRANSFORMERS. I quote the wiki:

"Ten thousand years ago, Shockwave arrived on the thirteenth world, prehistoric Earth, where the "Ore-13" brought by his rocket had successfully reacted with the local geology to the extent that the planet threatened to become so rich in Energon that its environment could become lethal to Transformers. Shockwave created global dampers that he then injected into the planetary crust to regulate the reaction, allowing the ore to safely develop into Ultra-Energon in the present day." Who's to say that Shockwave's experiments could've accidentally created humanity...or even created the unintentional progenitor of Cybertronians? I always had a hunch that humans and Cybertronians were mirrors of one another and that in some possible continuities, humans and cybertronians are SO similar...that they may even be related to one another. In essence to your AU, I like think that your idea isn't even that far-fetched in the Transformers lore nor in the realm of possibilities that could potentially happen in the transformer universe. It is odd that two species that evolved apart from one another with extremely different backgrounds would be so similar to each other. I would say there is a connection there...wouldn't you agree?

#haxorus imp #hax speaks #cosmica galaxy #cosmica-galaxy #anonymous #anon asks #anon ask #transformers #tf

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jboofan · 2 years ago

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It's in our DNA

1. I think my brain fell out my head

Jungkook's brother Junghyun waved to the bouncer as they walked straight in. Jungkook reluctantly followed him as they entered, the noise almost deafening.

"Hyung I ain't feeling this," shaking his head at it all.

"Kook man, you live at the gym but what's the point of it all if you can't meet up with your brother for a drink.."

"I dunno man. Clubs ain't my scene unless it's a album release or something.." he looked up the stairs that Junghyun had all but climbed, up to a upper level which was more laid back and had a private bar.

"C'mon man, for a brother? Your older brother?" Junghyun smiled and tried to give him the charm.

"That's low man, you gonna play the brother card? You really are nervous about something huh?"

"Yeah I am, but let's get a drink first!"

"Ok spit it out will you?" Junghyun waved a finger and two whiskeys were promptly brought over.

"So, your sister in law has got a friend," he began.

"I only want Jennie."

"I ain't talking about her," he dismissed the subject immediately. They must have been off and on so many times, he'd lost count.

"Like I say," he repeated, "she got a friend and she's moving here and she needs a place to stay."

Jungkook took a sip.

"What's that gotta do with me?" Jungkook swirled his glass.

"She needs a place to stay," he repeated.

"Get her a hotel room or something. Why do I care?"

"She's family, I can't have her staying in a hotel. And you have a two bed apartment."

Junghyun noticed that he said nothing but gave a chuckle.

"Right, so it's not cos I'm reliable, it's because I've got the space. I wanted to convert it to a gym."

"Her name is YN. This girl, she is smart, looks, whole package." He thanked the waitress and turned back to Jungkook.

"How do you know her again?"

"She's like her cousin, here for work and you won't even notice she's there!"

Jungkook shook his head. "Nah bro. No."

"Why's that?"

"Cos now you're saying she's family and a cousin, how am I supposed to say no to helping you? You know I like my own space, I don't want some roommate."

"She's so busy that even I haven't seen her in years. She's a workaholic so you'll barely see her. Just do me a favour will you?" he looked over the balcony down below, scanning the crowd.

"I dunno man."

"Well you got five minutes to decide."

"Cmon stop messing. Five minutes?"

"Yeah," he replied seriously.

"What the hell hyung?!"

"She'll be there in five," he took a sip and announced it with a smile.

"She'll be there in five fucking minutes?"

"Well you took so long to get here, that you didn't leave me much of a buffer dude."

"I never said yes," Jungkook knocked back the whiskey feeling it burn down his throat.

His brother grinned, "but you never said no. Besides," he tried to convince him, with a slap on the back as he rose, "it's not like you're ever home. She's always working and so are you, so you will barely see her."

Jungkook sighed, he realised if Junghyun was asking then it was only after serious consideration.

"But I've only just got the place to myself since Jin left," he whined.

"You won't even notice her, I promise. Do this as a favour to me."

"What you thinking?" Luna asked, noticing YN go silent and stare at the front door.

"Just my new housemate. I'm just hoping I don't wake up in the middle of the night to find him staring down at me with a pair of scissors poised over my head."

"That was poetic see! Your writer's block is clearing already, and no, I don't think he will be trying to shank you in your sleep... Jungkook is a celebrity. Global icon, and he's also a really nice guy."

"Nice guys ain't going to cut it Luna, I don't know him."

"You guys just have to find common ground."

"Which should be easier if you hadn't told me that Junghyun is making him let me stay here. Now I feel bad that he's putting me up when he doesn't want to."

Luna made a guilty face and apologised instantly making YN feel bad.

"Don't. Junghyun said that Jungkook took very little persuasion. And you don't even have to pay rent."

"But that's not right either is it? I should at least pay something no? It's not right to get to stay in this great apartment for nothing."

Luna grabbed one of her bags as they got to the door.

"Just be your normal helpful self, be thankful and everything will be fine."

"Of course, I'll be the best housemate," YN told herself as she punched in the passcode and stepped in. "And I'm sure he's disgustingly lovely. All idols are right?"

"Well let's hope you find out," Luna said wiping her brow and helping move the last of the boxes inside the heavy front door. Almost all of YN's things were piling up in Luna and Junghyun's place but YN knew they were itching to get settled so she didn't want to take longer than necessary.

Luna had helped move her things to her new home and she appreciated the help, especially as she knew it would take ages to move her stuff by herself.

"Hyun gave Jungkook your number, and said he will message you."

"Oh, well that's nice of him," YN got the feeling that he was going to be cold. Mean. A typical celebrity she had been around too often.

She'd been impressed by the location, and secretly thankful that the rent wasn't going to be charged. She'd have been able to afford it, she thought proudly but she didn't want to have to use that money, not when it could be going to a better cause. Like her own place.

Soon as she realised she was alone, her phone vibrated in her back pocket, as though able to tell the future.

"No animals, if you break it you fix it and if you can't fix it buy another. No pink crap. I've got a schedule and I keep to it. Stay out my sight."

Downtown Hannam-dong is the heart and soul of the music scene in Seoul, and was just as nice as where she lived with Luna in Gangnam, but now she was definitely closer to its fine restaurants, fantastic shopping and the TV networks, her purse was going to suffer. She looked around the typically manly apartment and sneered at Jungkook's words.

"Pink crap. I'll give you pink crap," she frowned, thinking back to the message, as she switched on the lights, watching the whole apartment light up like Oxford Street at Christmas. The dark floorboards were so polished she could see her reflection, the living room was coloured distinctly in bright white, soft creams and industrial greys; modern and minimalist.

YN dumped her things in her room, which was huge. Every room looked bigger than the former, brand spanking new, with extraordinary views of downtown from the wall to wall windows. Her fingers slowly traced the back of the plush white sofa to the sparkling brown granite countertops and the hardly touched eight hob cooker. This place was a showroom. Luna hadn't been lying when she said he was hardly home.

YN made herself at home in the kitchen, the cupboards were bare and that gave her more than enough space to put her unused kitchen stuff away. She continued to frown and look at the dark colours of the room.

The devil probably has an aversion to light, she laughed to herself as the aroma of spiced thai curry filled the kitchen. She had to buy a rug or something just to lighten the place up.

"Don't get excited. Just save as much as you can, save and get your own place. He isn't the devil, I'm sure my luck can't be that bad since I'm living with an idol," she tried to convince herself.

Her gaze fell naturally to his room which was right next to hers. Great. At least she had the headphones to block him out in the evenings if he made too much noise, or had some lady friend over. He was too good looking for his own good. The news constantly reported every little detail of his life that they could get hold off, including his failure to stay in a relationship for the last few years.

"He must still be pretty to look at," she admitted, seeing the trophies in the cabinet, magazine covers on decorative stands, before shaking her thoughts out her head. "Don't be stupid YN," she scolded herself. "Overworked writers don't do stupid things. Underpaid writers don't do stupid things."

But the bathroom had to be her favourite room in the entire apartment. The floor to ceiling windows that adorned one side of the room was one way glass so she could do a naked dance and no one would be able to see her. It allowed in the most wonderful natural light and acted as a wake up call of the gentlest nature.

A huge bath tub sat in the middle of the room, the centre of attention, twin sinks and a luxurious rainforest shower room stood to one side of the bathroom. The counter was dark brown, but wasn't so brash that it looked like it belonged in a night club. It looked like a bathroom you'd find at a luxurious, you can only get there by speedboat hotel. She took a peek at his toiletries and couldn't deny the brand's were expensive, sweet smelling and that she would definitely be trying them out.

YN nodded to herself as she took out her clothes and spent the rest of the evening filling her wardrobe up. She had to give it to Jungkook, his wardrobe must be humongous, and she'd already filled up her walk in closet and her drawers. She popped the radio on, having eventually figured out how to switch the shiny thing that sat next to a vinyl record player, and danced as she walked around the living room in her PJ's.

Maybe she could make this work. Having a roommate that is never home could be a good, she thought as she weighed up the positives. For one, she may feel like she's living on her own and wouldn't have to worry about someone always getting in her space especially as she was usually put to work at the crack of dawn, and often didn't return for a few days at a time.

She sat down and inhaled the silence; however, it can also be quite lonely having someone that is never around, she realised, especially if you planned on living together and were hoping to become friends with your roommate.

Who would she have wine o'clock with now that Luna and Junghyun were too busy dancing around trees declaring their love for one another? Luna was her bestie. No one can replace your bestie, right?

It didn't feel that way. They didn't get manicures together anymore, and Luna's weekends were always filled up with plans she had made with Junghyun.

YN shuddered at the mere thought of having a friendship with idol Jungkook of BTS; she opened the fridge to see how this man lived.

He should count himself lucky for having the chance to share space she thought as she saw the bare fridge.

"This is gonna be interesting," she told herself, grabbing the half finished bottle of wine closest to her, tiptoed for a wine glass from a nearby kitchen cabinet and poured a generous amount.

Maybe she'd have better luck being his friend if he just didn't come home?

Jungkook didn't want to go home.

This had been one hell of a month and this week had been eventful to say the least. The boys were back together doing a few events, whilst Jin enjoyed military life; his girlfriend was ignoring him and now some country bumpkin was living with him.

Their appearance on another US network had just been announced in line with Jin's release and he was riding the crest of a wave. When they stood, all seven of them; his brothers, they were whole again and it felt so right.

"Ready to kick some ass?" Hope giggled, unable to keep still, Jungkook knocking his head side to side, trying to contain his excitement.

"Always. With you guys, always," he poured the water in his hair and waited for their music to play, as they moved through another gruelling dance practice. He danced harder, jumped higher eager to burn off the night's earlier whiskeys with his brother and all thoughts and worries about his new guest flittered away.

YN slept in her favourite checked sheets, troubled as she always was at night, walking in a cold sweat and shaking. The curtains to her room were closed but she could tell it was still dark. She yawned and sat up, reaching for the bedside table then realised her room didn't have one. One thing about working on variety shows was the ungodly hours at which she rose. The habitual habits of the last few years were hard to break.

Another thing to add to her list of things she needed, of what this perfectly designed, cold apartment needed, she told herself. Sighing she got up and wondered in the dark, blindly looking for the kitchen. The dark furniture coupled with the dark kitchen had her knocking into everything as she felt for the kitchen counter, swearing in the darkness.

He didn't come home that day. Or the rest of the week.

It was 2am when Jungkook eventually pulled up to his parking spot hungry. Rubbing a week's worth of sleep from his eyes he reversed haphazardly and swiped his card to get into the building. The boys followed and they joked their way to the lift.

One thing about being rich was being able to buy a whole complex, and the great thing about being filthy rich with your friends was that they all bought apartments in the same tower as you.

Dragging his sore feet and wanting nothing more than to sleep standing up, he pushed the front door open and let it close loudly with a snap.

YN had just switched off her alarm when she's heard the door slam, and her heart jumped out of her chest. Clutching her blanket she scrunched up against her headboard. She heard a voice. No two voices. And then a muffled third.

Oh God, she whimpered.

She was going to get stabbed in her bed that she'd only slept in for a few weeks. Shaking, she felt for something to protect herself with; her room was the nearest of the two and it wouldn't be long before whoever was in the apartment would come through her door and kill her.

Jungkook threw his stuff into his room whilst Jimin returned for a customary beer with Taehyung.

"When did you start buying food Jungkook?" Jimin handed him a well deserved beer as he returned from his room freshly dressed before helping himself to a bowl of snacks.

"What you talkin bout?"

"Woah!" managed Taehyung dropping his popcorn and putting his hands up as a woman with a gold trophy came out of her room.

"Who the hell are you?" asked Jimin confused.

"Who the hell are you?" she asked back. First she thought she was seeing things, but it was too late, when she realised that she really was seeing two BTS members. And getting comfortable eating snacks out of her favourite bowl and drinking the beers out the fridge was her landlord.

"Woah there!" came a voice she finally recognised.

Jungkook saw her standing there, feet apart lightly poised on the flat of her feet, in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt brandishing one of his prized trophies in their face.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Jungkook spat back, his mouth piercing moving as he blew out his breath.

She aimed the heavy metal lump at Jimin and Jungkook noticed how steady her hand was. No hesitation. He wasn't sure if he was scared or impressed.

And then she realised who she was speaking to.

"Jungkook-ssi?" her voice changed a little, relieved.

"They're my members, my hyungs, relax."

"Oh."

Her voice was piercingly clear, yet softly spoken, but afraid. Worried she would hurt herself, Jungkook moved forward, his hand reaching out to help lower her hand.

"It's okay," he saw the goosebumps on her arm as he undid her monster grip from around it's base, one finger at a time.

The others watched the two of them looking awkwardly at each other.

"Jungkook-ssi?" he repeated with a light chuckle. She sure was polite, this woman with the brightest smile he had ever seen. And no one has been that polite in how they addressed him in quite a while.

"That's who you are of course right?" she pointed to her finger at his face, lowering it with the other hand as soon as she realised she was being rude.

"What the hell happened to your face?" on instinct she moved towards him, concern filled her voice, seeing up close the welt marks across a cheek.

"My belt hit me in the face," he cleared his throat, embarrassed. "What are you even doing here?"

"You told me to move in whilst you were away."

Jungkook was confused and then he remembered that he had.

"Oh," his face fell. "I did?"

Her eyes went big, and because he was sleepy he couldn't tell if she was upset or not.

"Your words were no animals, if you break it you fix it and if you can't fix it buy another. Oh and my personal favourite - no pink crap. You said to move in whilst you were away," she repeated.

Oh god he's going to ask me to leave isn't he. She's forgotten that part of this arrangement. Sure, it was easy to move in, but it had escaped her that she didn't know how long she could stay.

"Yeah well what's with the trophy?"

"What's with sneaking in at three in the morning and scaring the shit outta me?" she countered.

"I didn't know you were here..why would I sneak around my own apartment?"

"How can you forget someone is living in your house?" she asked genuinely confused.

"That's your room mate?" Jimin asked, just as taken back as Taehyung. "You said she was ugly."

"Since when did you have someone living with you, you never told us that?" Taehyung was just as confused.

"Excuse you? I'm ugly? You didn't even know what I look like?!"

"I must have forgotten, I've got loads on my mind," he admitted, sitting down and even more annoyed that it had slipped his mind.

"Are, are you okay?" she padded over slowly to him with a glass of water. "There was a trophy in my room and I just picked it up because it was heavy and," she explained before feeling embarrassed for sharing the same air as him.

"Dude you okay?" Jimin raised an eyebrow as Jungkook kept blinking his eyes.

"I think my brain fell out my head. I can't think," he blinked blankly again.

"I'll um, speak to you in the morning. My apologies, I didn't mean to scare anyone. I was just scared someone had broken in," she retraced her steps to her room, quickly locking it after her before anyone got the chance to speak.

"Great YN," she sighed. "He's definitely not going to let you stay here now."

"That was.. interesting?" Jimin chuckled as a confused Jungkook lay back on the sofa with a big sigh.

#bts jungkook #jungkook imagines #bts #bts imagines #jungkook fluff #bts social media au #bts smau #jungkook x reader #jungkook x yn #jeon jungkook smau #jungkook smau #jungkook social media au #bts smut #bts texts #bts text #spotify

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manorpunk · 1 year ago

Text

(part 2)

The Bible, the Vedas, the Daodejing - the universal truth towards which all these works grasp is neither god nor heaven, but rather, the state-structure. Humanity makes states the same way that ants make hills and bees make hives: unthinkingly, instinctively, irrepressibly. Family, culture, community - all of these are the different cells of the state-structure replicating themselves in our every experience. Let go of sentiment, become subsumed in the world around you, and you too will see the veins of the state-structure.

- Excerpt from Authoritarianism is Good when I Do It, by Maria von Zuckerberg-Lorraine

“Thank you! Xiexie! Multajn Dankojn! Thank you to all my voters and subscribers for your support, mwah!”

Sunny blew a kiss to the unfathomable audience watching her morning updates and affirmations from the other side of a screen.

“This is so exciting, and I couldn’t have done it without you. To celebrate, there’s a 25% off sale for the entire - that’s right, the entire merch store, and we’ve added three new body pillow designs to commemorate the occasion! If you’ve ever wanted to snuggle up close with your new president, now’s your chance. Okay, I have to go now, lots of presidential business to attend to, but don’t get up to trouble while I’m gone, mmkay? Love you! Byeeee!”

The live feed ended. Three thousand miles away, in a Bay Area penthouse apartment, Maria von Zuckerberg-Lorraine regarded what she had just seen. She turned to her bot-ler, a squat old model that she had nicknamed ‘Torgo.’

“Your gin, madam,” Torgo said through a speaker that crackled with age, carrying a bottle of gin and a chilled glass on the flat top of its frame.

“Thank you, Torgo.” Maria poured herself a drink and took a sip. “Can you believe it? Her first act as president is shilling her body pillows to lonely teenagers. I ought to hate it, but it’s so… American.” Maria tossed her hair back and took another sip.

Maria was tall, a hair over six feet, and broad in the shoulders and hips. She was a celebrated member of the Worshipful Order of Posters (more commonly referred to as the Poster’s Union), and the author of numerous lengthy treatises, including Good Things are Bad Actually, I am the Only Smart Person on This Bitch of an Earth, and of course her evergreen bestseller Authoritarianism is Good when I Do It. She was a controversial figure within the posting scene - her detractors claimed that her works are overly self-serving and her popularity is largely due to her evil milf aesthetics, while her supporters referred to her as ‘mommy.’

“Hello, Maria!” Sunny said.

“Hello, Sunny,” Maria replied. She started to take another sip of gin, then froze. There was Sunny, looming on her display screen where she had not been looming just a moment before.

“Fuck! How did you - I didn’t even hear you call,” Maria said, fumbling with her glass as she tried not to spill anything.

“So, funny story, I got access to the presidential broadcast system this morning. Gabe - he’s my tech guy - Gabe took a look at it. Turns out, the code hasn’t been updated in a while, so he was able to find an exploit that lets me force-start a call with anyone in the American League! Isn’t that cool?” Sunny grinned, clasping her hands and tilting back and forth with excitement. Colorful little hearts floated around her.

“So what you’re saying is that you hacked me.”

“No, no, no, I just accessed your connection without your knowledge or consent.”

“Literally that’s… never mind. Not like privacy law means anything nowadays,” Maria hid her frown behind another sip.

“Are you drinking?” Sunny asked.

Maria set her glass back on top of Torgo and laid back in her chair, as if pushed over a heavy existential weight. “The Global Logistics Network has automated away half the jobs in existence and gamified the other half. Aivrcade’s VR worlds are more popular than every other video game and most hard drugs combined. The whole world is turning into one big Skinner box. Why aren’t you drinking?”

“Because it’s like nine thirty in the morning. Listen, I was thinking about offering you a job, but you’re being kind of a bummer right now and it’s making me reconsider.”

Maria sat up. “A job? What job?”

“Oh, you know, Secretary of Education.”

Maria blinked. “As in, your Secretary of Education? As in, you’re offering me an executive cabinet position?”

Sunny nodded. “Why so surprised? You’re smart, you’re popular, and you’re an established name in the Poster’s Union. Sounds like a good candidate to me. That is, until I saw you being surly and drinking alone.”

“Wait. I…”

“Yes?” Sunny leaned forward and rested her chin on her hands.

"So you... hmm." Maria crossed her arms. She knew what Sunny wanted her to say, but her soul could tell that she was getting ready to sell it, and it wasn’t going to leave without a fight.

“Alright," she finally said, "how, may I ask, could I be less of a bummer?”

“Funny you should ask, you just have to answer some questions I have prepared for such an occasion. Question one: did you vote for me?”

Maria drummed her fingers. “I voted for the ghost of John Brown, as I have done for every presidential election. But you were my second.”

“Good enough, I appreciate the honesty. Question two: praise me.”

“Excuse me?”

“Praise me. Min laŭdu. Shake it for the camera so I know how bad you really want it.”

Maria’s fingers clenched around her biceps. “That’s not a question.”

“You’re right, it’s an order. Now get praising,” Sunny said, her smile still warm and bright.

“Alright, alright, fine. You’re… the least likely candidate to start world war three. Marcus believed his own bullshit, but you strike me as a plain and simple grifter.”

Sunny put a finger to her chin and glanced up in an exaggerated pondering gesture. “Hmm. That doesn’t really feel like a compliment. You’ll have to do better.”

“You’re… dedicated, and charismatic.”

“More. Keep going.”

“And… bespoke. You wear the zeitgeist like a glove.”

“And I’m cute.”

“And you’re cute,” Maria sighed.

“That wasn't very convincing. Say it again.”

Maria bit back a scowl. “You are cute.”

“Yay! That wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

“It was very hard and I feel dirty. Any more questions?"

“Nah, I'm satisfied now.”

“Then as long as I’ve got your attention, I have some new policy suggestions,” Maria brushed off the dirty feelings as snatched up her tabule, opened a document, and began reading aloud. “One: no more World War 2 movies.”

“That can wait until - sorry, what?”

“It’s been over a century!" Maria threw her hands up in exasperation, “It's time to move on, we drained that well dry, we should make movies about something else already. Two: if you’re talking about America you can’t cite de Tocqueville anymore. Same principal applies here, it’s overdone, please just read anyone else.”

“Ahem. You can just send me the list. I’ll be going soon, I have plenty of other people I need to call today,” Sunny said.

“Oh? Who’s the next person you’re going to ambush with a high-ranking job?”

“Oh, you know…” Sunny flashed a defensive smile, “JMR, to be my Secretary of Defense.”

Maria’s face went icy. “JMR? As in Jacob Martin Rider? That tiresome creep will be in charge of our defense? That manor-lord? That dracula?” Maria spat.

Sunny rolled her eyes. “C’mon, Maria. You can’t call him a dracula just because he’s gay and ostentatious.”

“The man wears jodhpurs, Sunny. He’s like a white Yukio Mishima.”

Sunny sighed. “I know he’s… like that, but I’m not exactly spoiled for choice here. Stopping Imperial Quebec was probably the only good thing America’s done this century, and when people think about the Quebec Wars, they think about JMR. I can’t afford to pass up that kind of reputation. And for the record, he’s half-Norteño.”

Maria scoffed. “Norteños are white now, it was in this year’s patch notes.”

#manorpunk #unreality #sunny roosevelt #maria von zuckerberg lorraine

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