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fandom-imagines-stories · 3 years

Text

Learning Teamwork

Josh Lyman x Reader

Words: 2184

Summary: Two colleagues that usually butt heads are forced to play nice when the President sends them to attend to a Governor's Ball in his home state.

Notes: I have so much Josh angst I wanted to write something a little fluffier that I could still capture his signature snark in. (For the purposes of this, I made up a Governor that would fit the story so if there was one discussed in the show, they aren’t in this one.) I also wrote this in two days so… bare with me.

If you hadn’t been in the presence of the President, you might have thrown something at him.

“If the President addresses this now, the Republicans will stop at nothing to get back at him for it.” He spoke in that smug, know-it-all tone that drove you insane.

“This is about real people, Mr. Lyman, not the little politics games that you play all day.”

“Okay, everyone, I think that’s enough.” The President’s order may have halted your argument, but you could still feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you stared Josh down. The rest of the team made a very quick exit, hoping to avoid becoming casualties in you and Josh’s on-going battle. But when the two of you started for the door, President Bartlet’s voice called you back. “Not. You. Two.”

You grimaced and turned back around, reveling a little in the fact that Josh looked just as uncomfortable as you did. One stern look from Jed Bartlet, however, was enough to diminish that.

“Is it physically impossible for the two of you to let me get through one meeting without going at each other’s throats?” He urged, his irritated gaze switching rapidly between the both of you. “Not only are you both a part of this team, you are adults for Christ sake!”

“Sorry, sir.” You gulped.

“My apologies, Mr. President.”

God, even apologizing, he had to try and sound smarter than you.

“I’m not finished yet.” The President walked around his desk and grabbed an envelope from under a pile of other papers. “The Governor of New Hampshire is hosting a ball on Saturday to celebrate something that I can’t even remember. Frankly, I think it’s because his wife enjoys parties a little too much, but who am I to judge?”

You and Josh exchanged a look that consisted more of confusion than anger.

Bartlet continued, “Well, seeing as I used to be Governor of my home state, he’s been kind enough to invite me, though I also think this is more of a way to get more Democratic backing for his next election. Nevertheless, while I am unable to attend due to this whole mess with possible terrorism, I know just the two members of my senior staff to send in my place.” He looked pointedly at both of you.

The excuses tumbled over each other as you and Josh blurted them out, desperately pleading to find something that would change his mind. You hated political gatherings in general but the idea of being forced to go with Josh? It twisted your stomach into so many knots you thought you’d throw up.

“There’s going to be political fallout from all of this and I should really be around-”

“C.J. and Toby are going to need me to-”

“Y/N could go by herself.” Josh said suddenly, making your jaw drop. That little snake. “I’m sure there are plenty of young men that’ll be thrilled to see you.”

“Says one of the White House’s most eligible bachelors.” You fired back, forgetting who you were standing in front of.

“Enough!” The President slammed the invitation down on the desk in front of the two of you. “This isn’t about who is more desirable than who. This is about you two learning how to work as a team and not biting each other’s heads off every time you’re in the same room together! Now, I am calling Governor Thompson and telling him you’re going and the two of you are going to be the picture of grace and maturity. If I hear one word of anything else, so help me god, your careers will be so buried, it’ll take years before they see the light of day.” His voice echoed through the Oval Office, rattling you down to the bone. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Mr. President.”

“Good. Now go do whatever you need to to free up next Saturday.” He sat down, putting on his glasses to look over other documents. “Oh, and find something nice to wear. Mrs. Thompson has always been a bit of a stickler with the dress code.”

With that, you were dismissed and you felt the dread settling in your chest. You were going to a ball. In New Hampshire. With Josh Lyman for a date. As you shouldered out the door together, you cast glowering looks.

“I hate you.”

“I hate you more.”

If the snickers from Sam and C.J. weren’t enough to drive you crazy in the week leading up to your flight, scrambling to find a dress was not something you originally had on your schedule. Even when you had found one you liked, there was the matter of rescheduling everything you had the weekend you would be gone.

At least Josh seemed to be having as difficult a time as you were. Any time you saw him in passing, he looked frantic and disheveled- which would usually bring you a small amount of joy, but for some reason, knowing you were in the same boat actually made you feel better about going with him.

“Hey.”

You looked up from the piles of work from your desk, surprised to see your unfortunate date standing in your doorway. It was the day before you were set to leave and you both had mountains of work to try and finish.

“What can I help you with, Josh?”

“I just came to say that this might not be such a bad idea.” He moved from the door to the chair, but he didn’t sit down. He just stood anxiously behind it, leaning on the back. He actually looked sincere- and a voice in the back of your head pointed out that, without his usual cloud of arrogance that always hung around him, he was actually very attractive.

No. Definitely not. You hated him.

“Which part? Going to a ridiculous dance so that Governor Thompson can get more clout with Democrats or the fact that we have to go as a bonding exercise?” Your tone was cold, even more so than usual. Call it overcorrecting for your brain’s traitorous thoughts.

“I think the President is right.” Josh’s posture changed, standing up a little straighter as his tone grew defensive. “If this is what it takes to get us to work together, then I guess we deserve it.”

“Funny, since when he first proposed the idea you suggested that I go alone.” You stood up, crossing your arms.

Josh mimicked your stance, his brow furrowing with anger. “Look, I came in here to make some kind of peace with you, and I don’t understand-”

“I know what you came here to do, Josh. You want to show me that I don’t understand Bartlet the way you do while you play some kind of martyr for going on this trip.” You leaned forward with your hands on your desk and he did the same. Your faces must have only been a few inches apart.

“Fine!”

You’d never wanted to kiss Josh Lyman more than you did in that moment and couldn’t hate him more for it.

Your seats on the plane were right next to each other. Because of course, they were. Josh got the window seat despite your protests, sticking you in the middle between him and a rather obnoxious businessman who was speaking loudly on his phone.

“Sir, I need you to turn that off as we prepare to take off.” The flight attendant instructed.

“Yeah, just give me a second.”

“Now, sir.” Her voice was a semi-irritated monotone that left little room for any argument. The man gave her an annoyed look and ended his call. “Thank you, sir.” She continued down the aisle to berate somebody else. Without the distraction of work, he sought out a new way to pass the time- you.

“What takes you to Concord?” He leaned a little closer to you than you would have preferred, but leaning back would basically put you in Josh’s lap so you stayed put.

“My coworker and I have an event to attend.” You motioned to the seemingly oblivious man on the other side of you.

“Just coworker?” His casual expression turned into a suggestive smirk and you felt his fingers run up your knee. You jerked away from him.

“Husband, actually, so how about you keep your hands to yourself?” Josh snapped suddenly, giving Mr. Handsy a death glare. You stared at Josh with wide eyes and forced your mouth shut to keep it from gaping in shock. The man beside you must have been as surprised as you because words came out as a whispered stutter.

“Sorry, I didn’t- she said- and I thought-”

“Yeah, well you thought wrong.” He stood up. “Here, honey, why don’t you take the window seat?”

You sat there, without moving, for a few seconds before he nudged your leg with his foot and you climbed over him to get to the seat by the window. Once you were both situated, the other man got suddenly very interested in the papers from his briefcase.

You leaned over and whispered in Josh’s ear. “Honey? Really?”

“Don’t start.” Though his voice sounded irritated, there was almost a small smile playing at his lips. You shifted awkwardly, trying to keep a smirk from your own lips.

“You really didn’t have to do that.”

“Do you want the window seat or not?” Now his smile had grown into a snicker, making you laugh lightly.

“Who would have thought you were such a gentleman?”

“Well, I’m a married man now, apparently.” He teased. You rolled your eyes.

“In your dreams, Lyman.”

After an hour of shaking hands and dancing with the Governor’s persistent son, you were ready to knock your head against the wall until you passed out. Oddly enough, you had yet to see Josh. Mrs. Thompson invited you to come early for tea so you hadn’t arrived together. You were beginning to think he’d bailed when you saw him across the room.

Pushing your way over to him, his eyes widened when he finally saw you.

“You look amazing.” He gasped, his eyes scanning your silky blue dress before settling on your eyes. “I mean… wow.”

You felt blush tint your cheeks as a smile spread across your lips. He cleaned up pretty well himself and you found yourself checking him out for what you wished you could say was the first time ever. What could you say? The man looked good in suits.

You must have stood there, staring at each other, for a few minutes before Ned Thompson came into view. Without a second to think, you grabbed Josh’s hand.

“Dance with me.”

“What?”

“Just do it.” You yanked him with you onto the dance floor, losing sight of the Governor’s persistent son.

Josh looked around, trying to see who you seemed so desperate to avoid as the two of you began to sway to the music. “What was that about?”

You checked one more time to make sure the coast was clear. “Ned.”

“The Governor’s kid?”

“Yes.”

“Isn’t he, like, ten years younger than you.”

“He’s only eight, but yes.” You rolled your eyes, annoyed by his pestering. On the bright side, he was a pretty good dancer. “If I dance with him one more time, I think he’ll propose.” You couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation.

“Just tell him you’re married to me.” Josh smirked. “Worked the last time.” You both chuckled and continued dancing. For a while, you forgot why you were here to begin with. You were enjoying yourself more than you cared to admit. In a room full of people, the only one you wanted to dance with was the man you loved to hate.

Maybe it was the other way around.

You sat up in bed, sipping coffee and reading the paper while the sound of the hotel’s heater droned on. The fluffy white robe enveloped your body perfectly, but the real warmth came from the sleeping form beside you as he turned over, swinging his arm so it was around your waist and pulling you closer to him. You smiled in both amusement and complete bewilderment as to how you got here.

“I don’t think this is what the President meant by ‘teamwork’.” You noted, folding up the paper and setting it aside.

Josh peeked up at you, half his face still smooshed against the pillow.

“Goodmorning.” He greeted groggily, rubbing his eyes as he slowly sat up.

“I made you coffee.” You handed him the little Styrofoam cup and waited until he’d had enough to wake up a little more. “What are we supposed to tell him when he asks how everything went?”

He thought for a moment. “You know, we didn’t fight at all last night.” He was right. Between the ball and, well, everything after that, not a single argument was had.

You shrugged and held out your cup of coffee for a cheers. “To teamwork,” Josh smirked and tapped his cup against yours.

“To teamwork.”

#josh lyman x reader #the west wing #bradley whitford #jed bartlet #the west wing imagines #josh lyman #c.j. cregg #sam seaborn #joshua lemon lyman

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ellewords · 3 years

Text

coffee conversations

summary : your roommate has a habit of coming home late from work. you have a habit of staying up late to finish yours.

word count : ~1.6k

fic notes : kuroo tetsurou x gn!reader, fluff, roommates au, lowercase intended

from elle ! this ended up being longer than i originally planned. it was supposed to be just a drabble then it ended up spiralling into whatever this is ;-; regardless, i had a lot of fun writing it bec my kuroo brainrot is pretty strong now sigh anyways, thank you for reading and i hope you have a lovely day ! <3

midnight.

it’s when the darkness finally settles in, but the city’s just bound to come alive; especially on a friday night, or was it saturday morning? but did that really matter? kuroo leans his head on the window, the cab ride home has always been a scenic root. multicolored lights from the buildings and billboards reflecting on his skin, the several bodies that crowded the sidewalks as they trudged their way to the nearest bar. if he asked the driver to turn down the radio, if he listened hard enough, he could hear the dull thumping of bass from each flashy establishment they passed. and he supposes he could be one of those people, an arm lazily slung around a stranger, ordering them their next drink, dancing with them until sweat covered every inch of their bare skin. he could be, and it wasn’t too long ago that he was. but recently, he’s found a reason to head straight home.

kuroo knows exactly what he’s about to come home to, maybe that’s what excited him so much. why he nervously taps his foot on the tiled floors of the reception area, wondering if the elevator doors could open any quicker. why he speed walks his way along the carpeted hallways, the soles of his shoes barely making a sound as he made sure to keep his steps as light as possible. why his hands shake as he turns the key, opening the front door as quickly as his heart beats. all of that because he knows it’s you waiting for him.

you’re seated upright along the length of the sofa, typing away at your laptop. face illuminated by the screen’s glare, and he lets out a quiet tsk; he’s reminded you more times than he can count to turn down the brightness, you nod but never listen. your brows are furrowed and there’s a tiny crinkle in the space between them, kuroo wonders what it would be like to press a kiss right there. he shakes the thought away immediately, knowing that it would only do more harm than good to let his mind wander away like that. he watches the way your fingers move from one key to another, fast and precise, not leaving any room to breathe. you never notice when he comes home, gaze travelling from one end of the word document to the other, making sure each word is in its rightful place. kuroo knows you don’t really wait up for him, you’re just trying your best to finish the mountain of paperwork your boss had so graciously left you to do over the weekend. but for a brief moment, he lets his heart believe that you do. only for a little bit, never too long.

he has to cough to get your attention. it doesn’t get your attention the first time, having to cough maybe thrice before you remove the earphones that blasted at full volume.

“i see you’re home from work.” you comment, already making a move to stand from the couch. but not before stretching your arms upwards; you had been sitting there typing for way too long.

kuroo smirks, stepping aside as you stood and made your way over to the kitchen. eyes glancing at the stack of paperwork you left on the coffee table, “and i see that you still haven’t escaped yours.”

“i know. how unfortunate. the usual?” you frown, placing your laptop on the kitchen counter.

he places his work bag on the couch, taking off his coat and loosening his tie, “do you even have to ask?”

it’s like clockwork at this point. he sits on one of stools by the counter, elbows on the countertop and hands on his chin, watching you work. his eyes follow you around, mesmerized even by the simplest things: from the way you measured the coffee grounds to simply putting the coffee pot on the stove to brew.

“why can’t we be normal and just have breakfast together or something?” you sigh, crossing your arms and leaning your body against the wall, finally making eye contact with kuroo — unaware of the fact that he had been watching you the entire time.

he chuckles, there’s a light amusement that flashes across his features, “because i’m still asleep by the time you need to leave for work.”

“fair point,” you nod, closing your eyes in slight frustration as you’re reminded of all the things that you needed to accomplish by the time the sun rises. you have reports to write, presentations to prepare; wondering if any of this was even worth it. “why do i even need to work? is it not enough to lounge around the apartment all day watching tv?”

“you need to pay your half of the rent.” kuroo jokes, shaking his head. he waits for you to laugh, or at least come up with some clever retort. but you stay silent, finally opening your eyes to look at him, and he sees it. there’s tiredness, there’s stress — emotions he’s sure is evident in his own. “you alright?”

you shrug your shoulders before they return to their slumped position, gaze briefly flickering towards the coffee pot before placing them back on kuroo, “there’s nothing i can do.”

“you know you can quit, right, yn?” kuroo speaks before he thinks, eyes widening at his own question, “i don’t mind shouldering the rent for a little bit until you find something less exhausting.”

it’s your turn to laugh this time, “and have you working overtime even more? no thanks. you’re sweet though.”

sweet. kuroo notes, you think he’s sweet? heat rises to his cheeks, a faint flush coloring them in the process. never had he been more grateful for the dimness of the lights, the room just dark enough to not make it noticeable. “for your information, i work overtime because i actually like my job. and how else am i going to have these conversations with you?”

you raise a brow, he had a point there. despite sharing the same space, you and kuroo had a habit of missing each other for most of the day. you leave early in the mornings and he still hasn’t arrived by the time you get back in the afternoon.

“didn’t expect that you look forward to these.” you smile, turning off the stove once you notice the dark liquid boiling, signalling that it was ready. the scent of freshly brewed coffee fills the air as you grab a couple of mugs from the cupboard. “which one do you want?”

you hold two different mugs towards him. one you had gotten him as a souvenir from a business trip to kyoto, the other he had gotten you while on vacation in osaka. kuroo points to the one that you had gotten him, “of course, i look forward to these. it’s the highlight of my day.”

“your days must be terribly boring then.” you comment, placing the mugs on the counter and taking a seat on the stool beside his.

“no,” he protests almost immediately, a little too sudden actually. kuroo blinks back once he’s realized that he’s startled you, a sheepish smile spreading across his face as he rubs the back of his neck in embarrassment, “i just like spending time with you.”

a sigh leaves both of your lips at the first sip of coffee, the warmth spreading across the entirety of your bodies. it’s quiet for these few moments, where you and kuroo just sit back and take everything in. the chill in your apartment, the heat from the mugs, the distant sounds of city nightlife, the almost yellow glow of the light fixture that hung above you, the way your elbows accidentally brushed the other’s. there’s silence, but there’s a ringing in your ears that neither of you could avoid. your hearts beat uncontrollably fast. but that must be the caffeine. at least that’s what you try to convince yourself.

but kuroo liked to think that he knew himself better, that he was actually honest with himself. it isn’t the caffeine that made his heart race past midnight, when all you had to do was look at him in the way you usually do. head tilted to the side, hanging on to every word that left his lips, nodding along to whatever he ranted about, eyes travelling over his face like you were memorizing each and every feature, the corner of you lips flicked upward. it’s like looking in a mirror, he knows he looked at you like that too. and maybe, just maybe, he allows himself once more to believe that you could possibly like him back.

“if it means anything,” you speak, cutting through the silence as you recalled the last thing he said before you took your first sips, “i like spending time with you too.”

and it does mean something to him. to kuroo, it meant the world. he’s aware that there are other ways he could be spending his time. he could be dancing it up in a club, on his seventh shot of whatever the bartender decides to hand him, arms around some stranger whose name he was going to forget when the day breaks. he could be in bed, asleep, finally letting exhaustion catch up to him as he crashed face first into the soft pillows. but no, he’s here with you. your arm accidentally grazing his every now and then, resting your head on his shoulder as you rant about the day you’ve had, or placing a hand there to steady yourself when you laugh just a little too hard at his jokes and stories, knowing that his attempts of making you feel better are slowly beginning to work.

there’s nowhere else he’d rather be past midnight than in the kitchen of your shared apartment, complimenting you on making the best cup of coffee he’s ever had.

taglist : @haikyuutothetop @crystal-lilac @tobioespresso @sushijimawakatoshi @itsmeaudrieee @pantherhappy @jesssobs @mysticstrawberryballoon @cloudedsky_29 @sakusasimpbot @aoirohi

join my hq taglist here. <3

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hephaestiions · 3 years

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i saw this game going around and my excitement was out of bounds because i essentially thought that all of my favourite authors were being given a chance to celebrate themselves by creating a self rec list of the works they would most love to receive flailing comments on. i never expected to be tagged myself, but the people in this fandom are so wonderfully kind and sweet that despite being relatively new as a participant to the drarry side of tumblr, i have been given the same wonderful opportunity to celebrate the works i am most proud of.

thank you ever so much @sitp-recs and @tackytigerfic for thinking of me. everything the two of you have done this year have played a special part in maintaining my spiralling sanity.

i would love to tag each and every creator on this site for their wonderful work and their contributions to the love, light and creativity within this fandom, but since i can’t, here goes: @shealwaysreads @triggerlil @prolix- @spielzeugkaiser @maesterchill @gnarf @fw00shy @lqtraintracks @bixgirl1 @quicksilvermaid @dragontamerdame @cibeewastaken @l0vegl0wsinthedark @firethesound and anyone else who wants to do it! (feel free to ignore if you’ve already done this!)

as for my works:

top 5 of 2020

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 (ish) favourite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

My Hands Are Of Your Colour (7.9k, E) written for the delightful Hp Suds Fest 2020, (and the prompt given by the wonderful @sitp-recs ) this work occupies a special place in my heart. while i adore writing from the perspective of both boys, harry always allows me to explore the depths of my thoughts better. some part of me echoes the same wails of self imposed desolation that his does. i’ve realised that the work i am most proud of is always born of some kind of personal pain– this one is no different. writing a heavy fic with elements tinged with dark themes that was mainly about hurt/comfort felt cathartic. it was difficult for me to leave certain questions unanswered (i like letting my readers know everything) and even more so to simply hint at backgrounds and reveal nothing. but as a writer, this was a creative step forward in storytelling because the finished product felt richer and more multidimensional somehow.

Though Your World Is Changing, I Will Be The Same (15.9k, E) i make it a point to sign up for the H/D Wireless Fest every year not only because the mods are some of most accommodating and talented people i have had the good fortune of working with, but also because i believe musical inspiration draws out the best in me. this fic, about infidelity and love, was one i wrote while working through removing the shards of a broken relationship from my heart. while i don’t necessarily think this is my best work in terms of plot exploration or even character exploration, i do think i will have a hard time retelling a story with the same personal standard of prose. i scavenged the deepest parts of me for all the pain and heartbreak and loss i could feel and converted it into words. i still cannot bring myself to read this fic in its entirety, but sometimes when i go through the document and chance upon certain descriptions and certain emotions, the work feels like a desperate love letter to someone who will never read it, signed off with the happy ending i was hoping for but wasn’t offered.

Every Breath You Take (19.2k, M) written for the Unhappily Ever After Fest, this fic was something that broke all the boundaries and limits i generally set for myself as a writer. i tend to write young!drarry, in their early twenties, or at best early thirties, but this one had me writing about draco and harry as parents to a teenage boy. what’s more, while i love writing angst, i usually can’t find it in myself to write tragedies, finding that they break my own heart more than they could break a reader’s. this fic however, was based entirely on the premise of death, terminal illness and the gradual destruction of a relationship that could have ruled the world. when i was writing this, my personal agony was fresher and hope was absent almost entirely. i am actually proudest of this fic for the magical theory i came up with, simply because i usually don’t explore much of that at all in other fics. i especially love that i thought to personify death in this, because i think, in some inexplicable way, that decision changed how i view death even in this world.

i unfortunately have only three to offer as this nightmare year draws to a close. but this year, i have written, explored, loved and been loved more than ever. the feedback i have received has been so warm, so welcoming, like an embrace that holds you close and doesn’t let you go. i have met some of the most astounding people this year, within and without the fandom, whose talent and kindness are unparalleled. while i am not sad to see 2020 go, i am incredibly fortunate to be one of the few who have the energy to welcome 2021 with open arms and hope for the best. thank you for being the best companions i could have asked for on this journey i have undertaken to understand myself better through the lens of a messy haired boy who wears his heart on his sleeve and a grey-eyed angel who is learning, with me, that being human is painful, gritty work with just enough pay-off to make it all worth it.

#drarry #drarry recs #drarry rec #drarry fic rec #drarry rec list #fic recs #self rec #tagged #draco malfoy #harry potter #hp

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hayjeon · 4 years

Text

You Set My Heart on Fire 01 [M] ft. Namjoon

→ fireman!namjoon and paramedic!y/n au (warning: drunken sex, oral, etc.) → 10k words, part 1 | part 2 | fin. → As a surgeon forced to volunteer as a paramedic in the Seoul Fire Department during an unfortunate probation incident, your one and only goal was to get to work, do your thing, and get the hell home and back to your original high-salary job. But when the SFD’s Chief is the incredibly attractive, cocky, and persistent Kim Namjoon, things start to get heated.

Hi! this is a reupload, and i figured i’d vamp up the title and the header in the meantime! Thank you to the user who managed to save this just in time, after I accidentally deleted it T___T I am forever indebted to you, and I lost your username, so if you see this pls dm me i’d love to write something for as a token of my appreciation!

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms and leaning back in your chair as the lawyer continues to lay out the demands.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you huff, glaring at the idiot gangster who’s at the other side of the room. He cringes a bit at your glare, nursing an ice pack against his bruised cheek.

“I swear, he slapped my ass! I was just retaliating!” You cry, frustrated. Your surgery chief huffs angrily at your behavior and you settle back, clenching your fists on top of the table.

The lawyer snarks back, “You also managed to cause damage to the victim’s body in the process. He’s demanding full reparations. Let’s see,” she muses, flipping through the documents spread out on the table between the both of you. “A broken nose, bruised cheekbone, fractured wrist from when he fell, and muscle strains on his lower back, and psychological damage from framing him for sexual harassment and from the physical assault. In total, it would amount the hospital to about $50,000 to cover the hospital costs and the time he would need to talk off from his job, and the continued physical and mental therapy sessions to follow for around 6 months.” She closes the file with a grin. “So, Dr. Y/N, what’s it gonna be?”

“Chief, I can’t believe we’re just losing to him!” You cry, following after Dr. Kim, who’s seething as he storms down the hall outside of the conference room.

He screeches to a halt, turning around with a glare. “Well, what do you wanna do?!” He throws his hands up in defeat, “You want to cause a whole legal issue? You know that there’s really nothing else we can do in this situation! It’s your word against his, and the video cameras only show proof of him passing by you, and then you throwing a big ass punch in his fucking face!” He cries, taking off his glasses and rubbing his temples.

“Look, Dr. Y/N, you did the right thing. The fucker deserved the punch, and you threw a good one. But,” he continues, placing his glasses back on his nose and patting your shoulder, “giving him the money is the best thing we could do for both the hospital and for you. So, just, take this next month off, get the community service done and then come right back. Alright? I’ll even let you head all the interesting cases that come into the operating room.”

He sighs, and walks off, leaving you behind. You roll your eyes and run a hand through your hair, fist clenching on the brochure of community service options for doctors.

The fucker had brought his girlfriend in during your shift at the emergency room, and while she was getting stitches for a cut that she got from a building collapse, in the craze of the emergency room, he was going around touching asses. You’d heard the nurses complaining about it, about how it was just a swipe of the hand that seemed like an accident, but multiple had the same experience from the same seedy-looking jerk.

When it was your turn to go up to the patient and explain that her stitches were done and she was alright to go home, he’d come up next to you and his knuckles grazed the skin of your ass. Sick of everything, you’d pushed him back and socked him straight in the face.

Later, from the cameras though, there was no visible evidence of him touching anyone, and it was your word against the clear security camera shot of you socking him right in his big ass nose. So you open the brochure and plop down at your desk to see what options there were. There were the general ones, where you could serve and clean up at a park or volunteer at a soup kitchen, and then there was a separate page for doctors who probably just wanted to maintain their skills in the field they volunteered in. You pick up the phone.

“What?” Yugyeom asks, “Chief seriously ended up giving you a probation period for community service?” He sighs over the phone, and you roll your eyes too.

“Yeah,” you huff, “which one should I do? I should sign up today, since it might take a bit to get approved and might as well start early so I can go back to work as soon as I get all my hours finished.”

He muses, probably scanning the picture you sent him. “Hm...well look, you can go travel to Africa or Cambodia or something. It’ll be like that one drama with Song Joong Ki in it. Maybe you’ll meet a hot military general. What do you think?”

“Too far,” you complain, taking a red pen and drawing a line through it. “Also, they don’t cover air fare or housing. Maybe something more local.”

“Okay, well then what about teaching kids in elementary and high school about general first aid and health? You can maybe meet a single teacher who’s good with kids. That’s kind of hot.”

“I fucking hate kids, Yug, you know that,” you sneer, rolling your eyes and crossing out that option. “Also, why are you trying to get me laid, you should be worried about your own empty gay love life.”

He huffs, “Well, bitch, if you’re gonna be so picky why’d you call. Just take the second to last one, the medic for the fire department! It’ll be fun, I know a friend who works in the one that’s close by to the hospital, so you can just commute from there and if you guys ever end up coming to the emergency room, you’ll see all of us there too.”

You hum, scanning through the brief description: Medic for the Seoul Fire Department. In-department housing and meals provided during both on-call and working hours. Needs basic EMT and paramedic skills. Must be able to handle emergency situations calmly and communicate with safety officers.

You purse your lips, scoffing a little bit at the emergency part. “Well, if there’s something I can handle, it’s emergency.”

He laughs, “What a downgrade...from a cardio surgeon to a paramedic. Jeez, you better get out of this one quick. Just make sure not to punch anyone during duty, and you’ll be fine.”

“Shut up bitch. Let’s go clubbing tonight. I need to let some of this stress out before I get trapped in there.”

The night was lively and the drinks kept flowing. Jennie and Jackson from Health and Nutrition, Sana from pediatrics, Yugyeom and Seulgi from Cardio, and even the oh-so-popular Jaebom and Jinyoung from general surgery came out.

You were dressed in the hottest dress you could find in Seulgi’s closet, and according to Yugyeom’s apparently “gay and therefore superior opinion,” your outfit and hair and makeup were basically a “straight guy’s ticket to bonertown.”

“Legit, how could you be so gay but also talk like such a frat boy at the same time?” You sneer, taking another shot of vodka.

He sucks on his lemon, and then flashes a smile. “It’s the best combination. I pull.”

He cocks his chin to a direction behind you. “Also seems like I was right, because you’ve been pulling too. That guys been staring ever since we got to the bar.”

You turn, blurry vision settling on a handsome, leather jacket clad guy that’s sitting with two other guys at the table. He’s looking now, eyebrow cocked and lip between his teeth. He’s not usually your type, but you feel it. This, was the guy you were gonna fuck tonight.

You get up, patting Yugyeom on the arm. “Thanks, I’ll take myself home tonight.” He whistles behind you as you try your best to make your way to the guy, but suddenly your drunk ass hobbles on your Forever 21 heels, and you topple to the side. All of a sudden, there’s a strong hand gripping your upper arm and pulling you up, and an arm wrapping around your waist to offer support.

“Oh shit, miss, you alright?” A low voice sounds right next to your ear. You look up, expecting to see the leather jacket guy, but this...this was much better. This guy was dressed in only a black t-shirt tucked into blue jeans. But his simple ensemble didn’t matter. He was tall, way taller than you in your tallest heels, and he smelled so damn good. His hair was slicked up and his skin absolutely golden. He wasn’t biting his lip or doing anything to try and hook up with you, but in seconds, you were sopping wet.

No, this was the guy you were gonna fuck tonight.

“I will be,” you answer him, straightening up and pressing yourself up against him. “when you buy me a drink.”

He seems to understand what you’re getting at. He chuckles a bit, eyebrow quirking and you think it’s the hottest shit you’ve ever seen since waterproof scrubs. He helps you straighten up. “I think you’ve had enough drinks already. Can I get you some water?”

“Yes,” you breathe, but not letting go. “But only if you stay with me until I’m finished.”

He smiles, and keeps his hand on your waist as he guides you the bar and orders a cup of water. You sit on the single empty bar stool, and he stands, and you revel in the fact that even on this tall bar stool, he still stands taller than you.

You sip the water, and he leans an elbow on the bar, inches from you.

“So, what brings you stumbling into this bar?”

“I’m here with some coworkers,” you say, and he leans in closer to hear you over the loud music.

“Won’t they be looking for you?”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” You pout, and he laughs, shaking his head.

“Hell no, I’m just worried.”

“Wow, and they say chivalry is dead.” You fire back, and he laughs again.

“You gonna keep laughing at my jokes or are you gonna ask me to come home with you?” You raise your brows as you sip your water, looking at him over the rim. His expression darkens, but the corner of his mouth sexily turns up.

“I might laugh a little more just to tease, I suppose. Helps build up for later.” He leans up, hand on the bar, but steps a bit closer to you this time. If you leaned up a bit, you’d kiss. He chuckles again, and you can feel his breath on your lips.

You roll your eyes, “Shut up and kiss me already.”

He smiles and leans down, other hand cradling your waist as you reach up and tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling harshly when he slides his tongue into your mouth as soon as you open up for him.

He’s a good kisser. He knows how to move his lips, knows when to pull back to leave you wanting for more, and does that thing where he stops kissing to just peck wetly at your lips before sinking in for more. Hook, line, and sinker. You’re done. “Let’s get out of here, please,” you whimper against his lips, and he smiles, straightening up.

“As you wish. Oh, also what’s your name?”

“Y/N,” you shout over the music. “What about you?”

“You can call me Joon.” He smirks.

The ride to his apartment is blurry, because all you remember is a lot of giggling and trying not to moan at how his hand is so big around your thigh that you have you physically restrain yourself from jumping him on the highway right there. The tires screech as he parks and you both laugh as you stumble into the elevator, giving the security guards watching the cameras a show when you straight up make out with him in the corner of the elevator, his hand up your dress and your hand up his shirt.

He pushes you against his closed door, dropping his keys and jacket on the ground as he undoes the zipper on your dress. You tug at his shirt, “Off,” you whine, and he smiles, stepping back to whip his shirt off with one hand behind his neck.

“Fuck, that’s hot.” you whimper, and he kisses you breathless. “You’ve been saying that all night. Creative, much?”

“Fuck off, I don’t do hook ups much and I’m just telling the truth,” you say, as he gathers you in his arms and literally picks you up and heads to his bedroom. His hands squeeze your ass as he makes his way over, and you catch a glimpse of a neat, tidy living room. His bedroom is clean too, especially for a bachelor. Navy blue sheets, sleek, black furniture, expensive looking place. He was literally so fucking hot.

He drops you on the bed and immediately drapes over you, his jeans rubbing against your soaked panties. He slides his splayed palms up from your waist up to your breasts, mouth following the motion as he laves his tongue over your nipple, palm gently cupping the weight of your breasts in the grip between his thumb and the rest of his fingers. You preen at the sensation, back arching off the bed. “Pants off,” you pant, squirming underneath the warmth of his hands and mouth.

“So bossy,” he comments, smirking as he leans up on his knees to undo his belt. “I dig that.”

You lay back, taking the time to wiggle out of your soaked panties. You thank the gods you chose to wear your new set of lace undies because the rest of your drawer was basically an ocean of white granny panties. He finally drapes back over you, hand gripping your thigh to open you up as he mouths at your neck.

You retaliate by reaching down and gripping his cock, hand squeezing at his base. You can’t really see it because your face is nestled in his shoulder, but you can feel how hard and big he is. He groans at the sensation, nipping at the sensitive skin behind your ear, sending tingles down your spine and your core clenching around nothing.

He props himself up as he looks down at you and slides a finger between your folds. Your yelp dissolves into a drawn out moan. “Oh my god,” you pant, as he slides the flat of two fingers over your bundle of nerves, “please don’t stop that.” You also work your fist over his cock, mouth blubbering nonsense into his neck. He moves the fingers down into your pussy, sliding in with practically no resistance and slowly drawing them in and out your wetness. You don’t really have much time to be embarrassed by the wetness you can hear, because Joon closes his eyes and bites at the soft skin at the top of your breast.

“Shit,” he grits, and he looks down to see the way your wetness glistens on his fingers, “I don’t think I can wait. Are you good?”

You nod eagerly, and you let go of him as he gives you a hard kiss on the mouth and slides a condom on while still fingering you. Its probably not porn-worthy whatever sounds you’re making, but it seems to do the trick because he kisses you even harder and then flips the both of you over so that you’re sitting in his lap. He cradles your waist and descends on your breasts again, tongue circling your sensitive nubs as you sink down on him inch by inch.

When you bottom out, you clench around him. He’s so long and thick, and it’s been a while since your last hook up. It borders on soreness, but the sensation of him moaning with your nipple in between his lips is enough of a distraction for you to work up the nerve to start moving.

It’s embarrassing how turned on right now you are, but Joon seems to be at the same level of deliriousness because he doesn’t stop touching you. From gripping your thighs, to groping your ass, sliding his hands from your waist up to your ribs, tangling in your hair, gently curling around your neck and tightening slightly, he’s literally everywhere.

“Fuck,” you cry out when one of his hands are around your neck, squeezing lightly. You slow down, grinding instead of bouncing, and the new rhythm puts your clit in that perfect position to get stimulated by his pelvis, and his cock hitting that perfect spot inside of you that you find yourself hurtling over the edge much faster than you’d imagined.

He mouths at your cheek and ear, hand still around your neck when you cum, and suddenly he grips your thigh and presses you down against his pillows as he kneels in front of you and begins fucking you hard. The bed knocks against the wall, but you can’t care because the new position has your orgasm prolonged to a point that you’ve never felt before and your mouth just stays open in a mouthless cry against his chest as he tenses and finishes into the condom, mouth panting hoarse compliments into your ear. “Holy shit, your pussy feels so good. So tight, fuck.”

He pulls out and rolls over so he’s not crushing you, and you let out a final breath. “Wow,” you say, chest heaving as he ties the condom and throws it away. He props his head up on an elbow, grinning at you. “That good?” He says cockily, and you turn to lightly punch his chest.

“Don’t get too cocky. It was just one orgasm.”

“But also seems like the best you’ve ever had.” He adds. You roll your eyes and retort, “Well, that’s what you think--,” but your laugh dissolves into a moan again when he reaches over and pulls you underneath him to press a long, wet kiss to your mouth.

“Shut up,” he whispers between kisses, "and kiss me back already.” You smile as he kisses you, fingers tangling in the hair at his nape, and scratching lightly at his shoulder blades. He growls, and moves to your neck. You sigh as he draws more open-mouthed kisses down your neck and torso, and again when a big hand splays over your thigh to hook it over his shoulder. He presses a peck against your folds and looks up at you, and you mewl as he draws the flat of his tongue thickly through your pussy all the way up. You’re a goner.

“I’m gonna make sure you never forget my name.”

The walk of shame isn’t so bad when you basically have no time to waste as you gather your things and glance once back at Joon who’s still sleeping before running down to his lobby. You don’t really care for the disapproving looks you get, as you rush to get into your uber, and immediately thank god that this particular driver offers you a tiny complimentary water bottle. You chug it down, and try not to throw up.

You literally hurtle out of the car when he gets to your place, making a mental note to tip him heftily, seeing the way he booked it when you asked him to hurry a little. You step into a hot shower and don’t even have time to pick up the dirty clothes off the floor as you quickly dress in a white shirt and navy skirt and run out of your apartment to the bus stop.

Thankfully, you make it on time to your interview, and even though the captain gives a small disapproving look to your wet hair tips, he gives you a huge, bright smile when you tell him you’re a cardio surgeon “taking a break.” When you told him that you used to work as a paramedic before medical school a few years ago, he basically hired you on the spot, babbling on about how much he loves people with more experience.

“So, miss Y/N, what are your interests, your hobbies?” Hoseok trails like a little puppy after you as you walk down the hall from the Fire Captain’s office to your team’s multipurpose room. You frown at him. “Eh,” you brush him off, “not much.”

He smiles, pushing his hair back from his face and trying to stand up tall, “Well, doctor, I love lifting weights and saving damsels in distress. What are you doing later, say, around 5?” You turn on your heel, and he bumps into you, scuttling backwards at the glare you have on your face.

“Look, honey,” you sneer, stepping towards him with a scowl, “You’re cute, but I’m hungover.” you say, scanning him up and down, “And I’m only here for a month and I swear if I have to spend the entire 30 days having you chase me down like a little pet, then I’m probably going to just jump off a building. Okay? So do me a favor, and stop asking me out.”

He gawks at you, and then recovers. “Wait...you’re only here for a month?”

Rolling your eyes, you resume walking towards the wait room. He wasn’t going to stop. “Yes, I’m here just to serve a short community service sentence.”

He hums, following your footsteps again, grinning. “Okay, fine. I won’t try to ask you out. I’ll just keep replaying the part where you said I’m cute over and over again in my head.” He winks at you lightheartedly.

“Here, let me introduce you to the guys.” He walks a bit faster than you as you approach the room, and creaks the door open and lets you in.

As soon as the door swings open, your eyes grow wide as you take in the sight in front of you. In the room, theres a half naked guy digging through the refrigerator, his firefighter’s outfit hanging around his hips. A pair of muscular large ones are wrestling in the corner, also only decked in sweatpants low on their hips. One lounges on the couch in a pair of glasses and a plain white t-shirt and navy uniform pants and boots, while a similarly dressed shorter one is asleep. A tall one is in the corner playing with a tiny puppy. All six of them swivel their heads towards you when you enter.

You wave awkwardly and take a step back to leave when Hoseok bounds in after you and throws an arm around your shoulder, announcing proudly, “Hey guys, this is the new medic hire! Dr. L/N!”

The one closest to you gives you a smile, taking off his glasses and setting his book aside to reach out a hand. “Hey, I’m Seokjin, captain. Nice to meet you doctor!” He smiles and you make a note of how hot he looks in glasses and how broad his shoulders were.

“You can just call me by my first name, y/n,” you shake his hand, “Likewise.”

Another one that was digging through the fridge approaches you with a piece of gummy candy hanging from his lips. His face is sharp, but he breaks out in a huge smile that lights up his face. “Taehyung! Hi y/n, welcome to Unit 55!”

You shake his hand too, “Thanks. Do you have any firewomen?” You glance around as the pair who were wrestling stop their antics and approach you shyly. The taller one shrugs, his muscles rippling as he does and you make a huge effort not to stare. “No, honestly it’s really hard to find a firewoman these days and they probably don’t like spending time with all guys like us either.”

Taehyung leans over. “That’s Jungkook by the way.”

His partner punches Jungkook’s bicep and turns to you with a show-stopping smile. Oh. The girls would swoon for both of them, you note. They’ll have no problem finding firewomen who want to spend all day with them. “I’m Jimin. And even though this idiot makes us sound like a bunch of goons, it’s just rough being around 7 guys all the time for girls probably. But we’ll do our best to help you get comfortable around here. We’re really fun, I promise!”

You frown, glancing around the room and counting the people you’d met already. Hoseok, Seokjin, Taehyung, Jungkook and Jimin. Which left just the one still asleep somehow through all the commotion on the couch. Seeing your eyes trail over him, Seokjin looks at you over the rims of his glasses, pointing at the sleeping figure with his chin. “Oh, yeah. That’s Yoongi. Good thing he’s not awake cause he’s really grouchy, but he’s also a really good driver so we keep him. You should meet him later when he’s done with his nap.”

You laugh a little, and nod. “And the 7th?”

Jungkook throws on a shirt as he talks. “Namjoon, our unit Battalion Chief. He’s not here right now, but you’ll be able to meet him later. He basically runs this whole thing.”

“Oh I see,” you muse, and give a tight-lipped smile. “Well, maybe I’ll start moving my things in soon. Can you show me my room?”

“Bitch,” Yugyeom sneers as he watches open-mouthed as the guys help unload your car at the station. “You didn’t tell me that all your co-workers were single, hot guys that walked around shirtless all the time.” He frowns at you, ignoring your eye roll, and then switching 180 degrees and laughing and smiling when Taehyung walks by with all your heavy trunks in his arms.

“Hahahaha, Y/N, you’re so funny,” he fakes, and then turns to you with a glint in his eye. “Maybe I should’ve punched that idiot in the face too and I would’ve been here instead.” He hisses, gawking at the way Jungkook and Jimin both easily haul your mattress up the steps. Shirtless, by the way. Again.

You sigh. “It’s only for a month. And honestly, you’re such a fake ass little bitch. You were the one trying to find me a man, and now that I’m surrounded by them, you resent me for it?” you huff. “Oh, Jin, those drawers just go in the closet, thank you.”

“No problem Y/N,” Seokjin grins, pushing up his glasses as he walks past you two easily, holding up the chest of drawers that took both you and Yugyeom an entire twenty minutes to shove in the moving truck. You give him a smile in return and turn back to Yug with a snort. “Wipe your drool.” You laugh, and he closes his mouth with a clack.

“I’ll literally visit you, like all the time, Y/N,” he whispers.

“Please don’t.”

“Oh also,” he turns to you inquisitively. “What happened last weekend? Did you end up going home with that hot guy?”

You pull him closer. “Keep your voice down,” you hiss. “Yes. I fucked him.”

He whistles lowly. “He wasn’t that good?”

Sighing, you check to make sure all the other boys aren’t in the vicinity. “No, that’s the problem. He was too good. I can’t stop thinking about it. Haven’t had a proper orgasm since.”

He looks unsurprised. “Well, when’s the last time you got laid. College?”

“Shut up, asshole,” you frown, “It’s only been like...a few months.”

“Okay, so I guess we’re calling last year’s during our we’re-not-interns-anymore-party a ‘couple months’ ago. It was like 13 months ago.” He points out, and you glare at him.

“Fine,” you snap, “okay? It’s been, like a year. But he was really good, no matter how deprived I’ve been.”

Yugyeom still looks unimpressed, so you pull his sleeve down to whisper in his ear. “I had five orgasms that night.”

He straightens up, turning to you with wide eyes, “FIVE ORGASMS?”

You wince as chief walks by with a stern look, and you pinch Yugyeom in the side as you laugh, “Oh hahahaha, Yugyeom, you’re such a hilarious guy. Why would a patient even talk about those kinds of horrible things in the waiting room?!”

That seems to help as the chief’s expression lightens and he smiles as he grabs a cup of coffee and ascends the stairs again. You drop the smile as soon as the chief is out of earshot and punch Yugyeom hard.

“Little bitch,” you hiss, “are you trying to get me fired?”

He rubs the spot that you punched. “Ow, and no. I’m just shocked. Did you even get his number or something?”

You sigh, watching as the boys come back down to retrieve a couple more things. “No,” you say forlornly, “I literally had to run out for my interview. I only know his name, and I’m not even sure if its right.”

Yugyeom sighs, watching Jungkook and Jimin banter as they come back down.

“Well, at least you have guys like them to keep you company. Did you bring your vibrator along?”

You pinch him again.

With the help of the boys, moving in wasn’t a problem. Surprisingly, the bunk rooms aren’t at all what you’d expected. It was less of a college dorm room style, and more of like a communal housing unit. Apparently, the Seoul station had updated their housing recently, so the inside looked like a newly furnished office hotel, basically.

Jimin was nice enough to move into Hoseok’s room so that you could have the corner room all to yourself, with a private bath attached. It was adequately sized, but there was a nice closet and twin size bed attached, which was an upgrade from the dinky communal on-call room bunk beds that the hospital provided for the residents to sleep in.

There wasn’t even much to unpack, besides a few articles of clothing, a desk and computer for you to do some catching up on hospital paperwork, a mattress so you could sleep on without knots in your back, and your toiletries. You had a uniform anyway, and you were pretty low maintenance. The hospital shifts didn’t really give much space or time to pay attention to your fashion sense or your looks, and it wasn’t going to change now, either.

You make your way downstairs after finishing, with the stairs of course. The boys had kept trying to convince you that you won’t die if you try the pole, but honestly you weren’t down to break your ankle, especially when you were expected to help during an emergency situation. The stairs were fine. You were only on the second floor anyway.

The boys are already eating in the large lounge, and you see that the sleepy fireman had woken up and had starting to cook.

“Y/N!” Jungkook calls, scooting his chair over to make room for you at the center of their table. “Here!”

You smile and set down your phone, taking a seat as Taehyung brings you a tray. Its pasta and steak, with a huge side salad and green beans. You gape at the cook who’s still engrossed in tasting and perfecting the sauce for the pasta.

“Yoongi hyung’s a really good cook,” Jimin says, with a mouthful of salad and steak. With that, the man in question appears behind the younger firefighter and hands him a cup of water. “Don’t eat and talk at the same time. It’s disgusting.” He says with a curled lip, and then gives you a nod.

“You’re the new paramedic hire right?” He asks.

You nod, “Hi, yes. I’m Y/N.” He shakes your hand, nods, and turns away. “Not much of a talker, is he?” You say, and the boys chuckle.

“Yeah,” Hoseok says, “Yoongi’s not really an extroverted type. But he’ll warm up to you, just give it time.”

The rest of the day goes by smoothly. You have to sit in your room for a couple hours though, watching boredly through the instructional training online lessons you had to complete before starting your first day. You’re close to dozing off when a soft knock sounds.

“Yes!” You sit up and turn, and Jungkook appears, smiling sweetly. “Hi, Y/N! What you doin’?”

You stick a thumb at your computer, “Training videos,” you sigh, curling your lip. “Why?”

“Oh, hyungs and I are gonna watch a movie. If you wanna come sit with us in the lounge and do your training or just watch with us, you’re welcome to!”

You pause. “Won’t it be loud? I probably won’t be able to get anything done.”

“I’m pretty sure Seokjin hyung has done basic training before. He can probably give you all the answers to those end-of-lecture quizzes.”

Now there was your incentive to go. You smile, standing up and closing your laptop. “Why didn’t you say that sooner? Let’s go.”

He guides you down to where the lounge is and all the boys chime a nice “hello” or “y/n!” when you appear in the doorway. You can see that a new episode of Game of Thrones is on. You pad over to Seokjin and he smiles when you ask him for the favor, and moves seats to the couch behind so you can sit with him and watch at the same time.

The night goes smoothly, you tapping Seokjin everytime you finish a lesson and him pausing to quickly finish the quizzes, and you joining in with the debates about the show occasionally. Yoongi brings out some snacks, and eventually Jimin brings out a blanket for you, and by the end of the episode, your training is finished and you’re sipping on soda and eating pizza.

It’s nice, you think, a lot nicer than the hospital. You were used to the competitive nature of medicine. It was always competing against the other residents or interns to get a spot that had ridiculously low acceptance rates. There was always no time to relax. This wasn’t bad at all.

But you shake your head. This was temporary. A break. No need to get attached. They’re just being hospitable. You give a tight lipped smile as the episode ends and you take your laptop and blanket with you as you stand. “Thanks, guys, for inviting me. I’m gonna turn in tonight.” you say, slowly shuffling away. “Good night!” Taehyung yells, and the other boys chime in one by one.

You set your stuff down in your room and get ready for bed. Laying in your single bed, with no one else snoring or sleep talking, and with no post-surgery fatigue to get you straight to sleep, it’s hard. You end up staring up at the ceiling of your room, sighing as you try to think of the most boring topics in the world to try and get to sleep.

“Just a few weeks, y/n.” you murmur, turning onto your side.

You’re finally dozing off when suddenly, the intercom you had no idea was located right outside your door bursts to life. “Code 904B Building Fire. Code 904B Building Fire.”

You scramble up, throwing your covers back as you stick your head out into the hallway. The lights are flashing brightly, but you can hear the sounds of the boys in each room getting ready. The first one out into the hallway is Taehyung, and he jogs up to you. “Put on your uniform, y/n,” he pants, “and meet us downstairs as soon as possible. We gotta go, and since it’s a building fire, there might be a few injuries you can help us with.”

“Okay,” you nod, as the rest of the boys begin appearing in the hallway with navy shirts on and their firemen overalls already on. They one by one disappear down the pole and you scramble to get the paramedic bodysuit on. You pull on your boots hastily and then sprint down the stairs, and see the chief addressing everyone.

“Alright, Yoongi and half of you in car 1, and the rest of you in mine. Namjoon is already in his way from his meeting, so he’ll meet us there. Let’s go!” The boys break out into jogs as they hurriedly begin packing the hoses tightly and jumping into the cars. “Chief,” you call out, “Where can I go?”

“Go with Yoongi!” He yells, and drives off, sirens wailing. You jump into the first car and immediately you’re surprised when Yoongi, usually lethargic and slow, slams on the accelerator and your own truck bolts into life. Stumbling into a seat, you ask Hoseok, “So, this is how it always happens?”

He nods solemnly, his usual playful smile gone. “24/7. We gotta stay alert.” You nod. He points to a large, bright orange utility box in the corner of the bus. “That’s your medic kit. You can look through it now if you want, we’ll be getting to the site in a few minutes.”

You nod, perching the box on the seat next to you and digging through it. It was pretty basic, syringes, bottles of lidocaine and epinephrine for stitch jobs, synthetic thread, scalpels, bandaids, alcohol, gauze, and more. You were used to working with the minimum at the emergency room. And seemed like whoever was in charge of this box had kept it neatly and pretty well-stocked. You lock the box when the truck begins to slow, and look out the window to see the commotion.

A large building has caught on fire, and already there are two other trucks unloading at the site, their firefighters already hooking up their hoses onto the fire hydrants and assembling into position to enter the building for any remaining people. The whole area smells like smoke and through it, the glow of the orange fire against the night sky is barely visible.

Immediately as the truck parks, the boys in the vehicle spring to motion. Their uniforms are already on, helmets, gloves, and oxygen tanks and all. One by one they jog out the door of the truck and do the same, unloading the hose from the side of the firetruck and linking it easily to the fire hydrant and getting ready to spray down the building.

You pull your hair back into a ponytail and look around for anyone who might be in need of help. There’s already a few survivors out around the area in the grass, and you run over to a woman laying down.

“Ma’am, are you okay?” You say as you approach her and kneel next to her. Her husband is crying. “Sir! Is she okay? What happened?”

“P-please! We were just picking up our son and then the burning piece of wood fell on her leg. No one has been able to h-help her yet! Our son is still in that building, too!”

You unlocked your box and reassured him, “Okay, sir, I need you to calm down and help me. Someone will go find your son, but we need to help your wife right now. Do you have a phone on you? Can you use the flashlight? I need to see the area.”

He does as you instruct with shaky hands, and you carefully use the scissors in the kit to cut a strip down her pants. The burn is quite bad and covers a lot of surface area, in addition to having a huge laceration down her thigh that needs to be stitched up now, in case of infection or bleeding out. You frown, she must have been in a lot of pain.

“Ma’am, can you understand me? This is going to be a bit painful, but I need to sanitize the area.”

She’s just sobbing at this point, but you can make out some words. “Please,” she sobs, “M-my s-son!”

You lean closer, “Sorry? Your son?”

She sobs and nods, “H-he’s still inside!!” She pushes your hands away from her leg, “I won’t be treated until I find him!”

You sigh, turning around to see if there are any firefighters available. You see one coming out of the building to replace his oxygen tank. You run up to him, unable to see anything but his eyes through the protective gear he was wearing.

“Hey! Hey, this woman I’m trying to treat is refusing treatment until she sees her son, and she claims he’s still inside. Please, if she doesn’t let me treat it right now, she might have to amputate her leg.” He nods, and follows you to the couple.

When they see him approaching, the woman goes hysterical. “Please!” She screams, “He’s still in there, on the second floor. I haven’t seen anyone bring him out!”

“Okay, ma’am, I’m going to go back inside for him. You need to calm down, and let this lady treat your leg, or else it could get worse. You need to stay strong for your son.”

She nods, and turns to you. You spring into action, giving the firefighter a nod as he stands. You frown, his voice sounded so familiar, but you couldn’t pinpoint it.

The lady begins wailing as the adrenaline fades and the pain of her injury begins to hit. You have her husband hold her hand as you pour some alcohol on the area and she wails as the open cut is cleaned out.

Quickly, you stitch up the wound and dress the burns so that they’re manageable. She refuses to take the ambulance to the hospital until she sees her son, so you coax her into just sitting on the gurney in the ambulance and wait for her son. You try and calm down the couple as you move onto address a few more people in the vicinity with minor cuts, scrapes, and burns.

Suddenly, you hear a commotion, and you turn to the building that’s now less of a bonfire and more of a quiet smolder, and the firefighter from earlier emerges with something in his arms.

The woman you had treated earlier immediately starts wailing and crying as the firefighter jogs over to you and her and sets a boy down onto a gurney. He’s unconscious, and the firefighter whips off his helmet as he addresses you.

“He’s breathed in quite a bit of smoke, and fell unconscious when I picked him up. He needs pediatric CPR!”

“Namjoon!” Hoseok cries out.

You gawk as you watch him yell instructions at you and the rest of the firefighters you’d met, brows furrowing and eyes widening as you recognize those slanted eyes, thick lips and angled jawline that you’d run your tongue over that one fateful night. It was Joon. He was a firefighter. His name was Namjoon.

“Y/N!” He grabs you by the shoulders, “Focus!”

You immediately spring into action, running towards the boy and checking his pulse. “Do you know how to do compressions on a pediatric patient?” You breathe, and Joon nods, throwing his helmet and his tank aside and opening the buttons on his uniform jacket before he climbs atop the gurney.

As he begins compressions, you deliver some shots on his arm and search his body for any large cuts or burns. You hook him up to an oxygen mask and turn up the machine to high. “Switch!” You call out, and your hands replace Joon’s as you climb atop him and begin compressions.

“One, two, three...” You count out, as other paramedics swarm around you to prepare him to be delivered to the hospital as soon as possible.

The boy stirs, and you stop compressing, and watches as he begins coughing, from deep within, and you help remove his oxygen mask and pull him up to a sitting position as he continues coughing the smoke and ash out of his lungs. A paramedic gives him some water and after the boy finishes coughing, you help him sip some water as he recovers.

The others help usher him onto a gurney and also help his mother and father join the ambulance.

You watch as the blaring sirens fade away and sigh as the remaining firefighters douse the building in water and put out the flames. Your knees are feeling weak, your heart up in your throat, and your breath short.

Feeling a presence standing next to you, you turn and meet eyes with him. You narrow your eyes at him, giving him a once over from his ash-stained angular face to the bulky equipment and uniform lining his body. Probably from the boots he was wearing, he seemed even taller than from the club.

He gives you a cocky grin. “So, you’re a paramedic, huh?”

You roll your eyes, stopping down to collect your materials and all the wrappers of the syringes and needles you had used to treat your patients.

“Not a paramedic, a doctor. On voluntary community service.” You huff.

He stoops down too, setting his helmet aside to help with your tools. “No wonder you’re good with your hands.”

You stop, sitting on your haunches to give him a look. He does the same, matching your cold gaze with a smirk. “I think that’s very unprofessional, Mr. Joon.”

You stand, locking the paramedic box angrily and stomp away.

But he easily catches up to you, having those damned long legs of his, and follows you to your truck. It makes you angrier that he begins unloading his equipment and uniform off into the same truck you came in.

“I think, Y/N, the moment you started making out with me at that club, professionalism was kind of thrown out the window, don’t you think? You disappear that morning without a trace, and then suddenly you appear again at my workplace. Don’t you think I have the right to be a bit confused and curious?”

“Look.” You turn to him. “That was a one-night thing. I told you that I don’t do them often, and it was a mistake and I’m sorry, I won’t do that to you again. So just--” you throw your hands into the air, frustrated that he looked so goddamn good as he took off his thick outer coat and stood in front of you with just a black t-shirt and the pants of his uniform low on his hips. “--just pretend it didn’t happen. Just forget about it.”

You turn to walk away into the truck, but he stops you. “Wait! Wait wait wait, Y/N,” he turns to face you, the smirk wiped away and now brows attractively collecting in a frown, “For the record, I don’t consider that night as a mistake.”

“Huh?” Your eyes widen as you frown up at him.

He doesn’t look away. The playfulness has dropped and he’s completely serious as his voice takes a lower tone.

“Sleeping with you wasn’t a mistake for me. Don’t apologize. I’ve only been able to think about you since then, and I don’t think that you showing up here out of all the other precincts or departments is another mistake, either. I’m sorry if I came on too strong, but I want to be clear with you that my intentions are to get to know you better, and do it the right way.”

“Do what the right way?”

“Date you,” he says simply, like he was talking about the goddamn weather.

Literally, who was this guy? Your mind was completely blank. Like, who just says exactly what they’re thinking? How could he just be so...honest? What’s his game?

You blubber out the first thing that comes to mind. “I don’t date co-workers. Especially here. I’m only scheduled to volunteer for several weeks.”

He seems to gain a bit of confidence. “Y/N, that sounds more like an excuse, than it does a reason.”

You huff, blowing your hair out of the way. “Nonetheless, the answer is no.”

He nods thoughtfully. “Don’t be surprised if I ask you again.”

And he does.

Every. Single. Day.

When you wake up, “Hey, Y/N, will you go on a date with me?”

“No,” you’d say, roll your eyes, and spit out your toothpaste.

When you’re in the library, reading up on the latest studies. He’ll pop his head in and say, “Oh, Y/N, dinner’s ready.”

When you look up and nod, “Thanks. I’ll be right there.”

He’ll nod back, and then say, “Oh by the way, will you go on a date with me?”

You’d learned to just laugh it off or ignore him.

When you’re in the dining commons. You’ll be chatting with Taehyung about something and Namjoon will walk by, hand you a mug of coffee, and walk away without a word. When you lift the coffee up to drink it after Taehyung leaves for something, you find a slip of paper on the saucer.

Will you go on a date with me?

You crumple up the paper while maintaining eye contact and drop it into the steaming cup of coffee. Then, you stand, and pour the mug out into the trash, while he watches with an amused smirk.

The only times he doesn’t ask you out is when you’re on calls.

Over the next few weeks, you notice that Namjoon has three modes: 1) His Chief mode, 2) his off-duty mode, and 3) his flirting-with-you mode. Modes 2 and 3 tended to mix, especially when he was with you.

But whenever that light on the walls of the department begin to ring and flash, indicating an emergency call, Namjoon immediately enters his chief-mode. One time, he was in the middle of taunting you with probable bad-date ideas, the lights began flashing and you had watched as he shook himself out of his off-duty mode, and immediately started barking out orders to the group and you, responding to the dispatch on his walkie-talkie. It had happened in a millisecond.

You were in the lounge with Seokjin and Jimin, watching a movie while Yoongi dozed off in one of the couches. You had slowly begun to easily sink into this lifestyle. You guys were lucky if you got at least a few hours in between calls to relax, and since the most recent call was a small issue with some old lady’s cat up in a tree, Hoseok and Taehyung had volunteered to go on their own. It was a relaxing Thursday afternoon.

Like clockwork, right as you were almost dozing off, the lights began to flash and blare as your walkie-talkies exploded to life and the dispatch officer began reading out the issue.

The boys spring to life, immediately jumping over to the pole and going downstairs to change into their uniforms. You sigh and use the stairs to run down to the garage and get into your uniform, clambering into the truck as Namjoon begins listing out orders. It was a gas leak in a chemical factory, and they wanted the firemen to take care of it. You were only following for protocol.

“It shouldn’t be too complicated. Yoongi, did you contact the engineers to shut off the power?” Namjoon asks.

“Yeah, they turned off all electricity, but they can’t turn off the gas valve. It’s stuck.”

“Okay, that’ll be the first thing to take care of. Jungkook, can you take care of that?”

You watch as the firetrucks pull in and follow the men into the warehouse. It’s completely dark but they all turn on their headlights as they treck through.

Namjoon leads them into the main gas chamber where one of the tanks is steadily leaking a stream of cold, compressed air out of it. Him and Jungkook immediately head over and begin working together to tighten the valve, while Seokjin begins looking for the pipe that leads into the tank.

You watch, boredly as the men do their thing, when suddenly, Jungkook yanks a bit too hard and both him and Namjoon are thrown back.

Jungkook immediately begins yelling out, and you scramble up in horror to see that he’d been thrown back into a piece of metal that was sticking out.

“Oh my god,” you cry out as you rush to his side. “Jungkook, hold on, I got you. Can you turn on your side so I can see the wound better?”

He moves while wincing in pain, but manages to maneuver so that the wound on his back is facing you. Using a flashlight, you make sure that the metal didn’t pierce any vital organs or arteries, and reassure him that it’s okay as you begin cleaning and stitching up the wound. After you’re finished, you look up to see Seokjin run into the room, and let you all know that he’d disassembled the valve and fixed the leak.

You sigh in relief as you cut the final thread and place some gauze over the stitches. Hoseok and Jimin had returned to help, and they throw Jungkook’s arms over their shoulders as they help him walk out of the building. You begin to pack your things, when you see Namjoon lagging behind the rest of the group, clutching his arm.

You catch up to him, “Hey, are you okay?”

He winces, but nods at you to go. “I’m fine. Catch up with the rest of them. I’ll be right behind you.”

You frown as you survey his features. The boys are now out of sight and you and Namjoon are the only ones left inside the chamber. “No, you don’t look very okay. Did you get hurt?”

He finally relents, groaning in pain as you guide him to sit down on some steps and remove his jacket. You gasp as his t-shirt comes off. Jungkook had been impaled when he hit the wall as he was thrown back, but it seemed that Namjoon had been in the direct line of contact when the valve of the pipe had blown off. It had sliced through his uniform and left quite a deep cut in his rib.

“Holy shit, Namjoon, you are not okay. Let me stitch this up right now.”

He shakes his head, “Let’s get out of here, first.”

You push him back. “If you keep moving, this wound is too close to your vital organs and it might cause infection or you might bleed out. Why didn’t you say you were hurt?”

He shakes his head as you begin unpacking your box of materials. For the first time in your few weeks at the department, you see a dark look of shame and regret written over his face. “I was the one who asked Jungkook to help me, if I didn’t, he wouldn’t be hurt.”

You click your tongue at him as you clean the wound, apologizing as he hisses in pain at the contact of alcohol. “You know, you say a lot of stupid shit, but that’s one of the stupidest things I’ve ever heard you say to me. Ever.”

He laughs a little at that, wincing as it puts pressure on his side. You glare at him as you examine the wound and begin numbing the surrounding skin. “You’re a great chief, you know that. I’m administering some pretty heavy painkillers. Tell me when you start getting a bit woozy.”

He just silently watches you hover over his torso, squinting as you maneuver the hook needle and stitch him up. “I think that’s the first time you ever complimented me, Y/N.”

You roll your eyes, “Oh, so now your chief mode is off, I guess.”

He furrows his brows. “Chief mode?”

You nod, snipping at the threads as you begin another stitch.

“You have these modes you enter on the job. One of them is when you become this intense, no-nonsense leader, telling us all what to do and what to get done.”

He smiles, “And the other mode?”

“There’s two actually,” you say, still focused on his wound, “There’s one that’s always flirting with me, and there’s a third, where I can see that you really, really care for everyone on this team. That third one is the mode you’re in.”

“Are you maybe getting turned on by that mode, Y/N?” He winks at you, and you laugh, poking him in his side and making him groan out as you finish dressing the clean wound and help him get his uniform jacket back on. “Shut up, now your flirty mode is back on too.”

You’re cleaning up the materials in your box when suddenly, the lights come back on, bright white, and as you and Namjoon are squinting to try and reassess your surroundings, the huge gate to the chamber closes with a hissing noise and a loud clang.

“Shit,” you hear Namjoon cuss, and you scramble up, running over to the door and searching for a handle, a knob, or a button, anything to get it back open. You click your walkie-talkie, waiting for the static to sound to let you know that it’s communicating, but there’s nothing.

“No use,” he winces, zipping up his jacket, “The company probably just turned the electricity on when they saw some of the trucks leaving.”

You watch in horror as the vents surrounding you begin hissing and cold air begins drafting in. “What is this?”

“It’s a containment chamber for flammable chemicals, so I assume that it stays at a cool temperature. It’s fine, some of the boys will probably realize we’re here and be back in no time.” He lays down against the steps.

“Namjoon!” You scramble over, “Do not fall asleep, do you hear me? The temperature dropping is going to make your wound even worse. You need to stay warm, stand up if you can.”

He frowns, curling into himself with a pout. “I’m cold.”

You roll your eyes. It was the painkillers kicking in. He was getting lethargic, and it could kill him. “I know, you big fat baby, but if we don’t start warming up, we might die in here. C’mon, stand up.”

He begins moving around, although you instruct him not to stress his wound, he begins rocking around on his legs to try and make some body heat. You do the same, waving your arms around and trying to generate some heat.

At one point, you lose complete sense of time, and Namjoon wakes up from the initial wave of his painkillers to find the both of you huddled in the corner of the chamber, knees curled into your torsos as you shiver in the cold.

“Y-Y/N,” he breathes, and reality dawns on him as he sees the mist of his breath fan out from his mouth. “Y/N?”

“S-s-so cold,” you chatter, curling into him as he puts his good arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer.

“D-don’t fall asleep,” he breathes, and you don’t respond, the chills rocking your entire shaking body as you curl into him further.

The walkie-talkie screeches for a moment, and Namjoon grabs it, responding back to the static. “H-hello? Anyone! Y/N and I are stuck in the main chamber! Temperature is dropping quickly. Hello?!”

The only response is static as he drops the walkie-talkie to just pull you in closer. “Y/N?”

There’s no response, and when he pulls back to try and look at you, your head lulls in his arms.

“Shit,” he mutters, “Y/N, Y/N!” He shakes you, but you’re completely unconscious in his arms. "Wake up!”

“No no no no no,” he chants, as he begins undressing, his whole body resisting the motions as he shivers in the cold, but he perseveres. He pulls his uniform open, baring his chest, and then proceeds to unbutton your uniform as well, baring a t-shirt underneath. He pulls your limp body close as he removes the t-shirt and then completely drapes himself over you, pressing your bare chests together as he pulls you tight against him, skin to skin.

He pulls the uniform tighter around your back so that you don’t lose any more body heat, when he finally hears yelling and pounding on the other side of the huge gate. He hugs you closer to himself before everything goes black, too.

#namjoon fics #bts fics #namjoon smut #bts smut #namjoon fluff #fics #writing #mine #yay! im back!!!

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johnnyutah · 3 years

Note

why is hermione granger censored like that in your quiz post?

ough some people have asked me this in the tags too so hang on.

tl;dr it was a joke.

but.... ok......... time to be crazy!

for me hermione carries a lot of baggage now as a character. i don’t know if other people feel this way but whenever i see people posting gifs from the HP movies or quotes/headcanons from the books, i feel a slight distrust— and however slight, it’s not something that for me i can always readily dismiss.

last summer one of my closest, nearly lifelong friendships drew to an awkward, shuddering close because we got in a fight about supporting jk rowling, and being trans, and supporting jkr AND being trans, and the everlasting significance of a piece of work that meant a lot to you while you were a kid or even as an adult, and what it feels like we should do when the creator of that piece of work has been a hateful, bigoted person. especially with harry potter, the books themselves get elevated higher than other fantasy series made for the same age groups. for instance part of the original premise of the first book was lightly lifted from an Eva Ibbotson novel, and all of her work is simultaneously much more complex and delivers better, clearer points with regards to morals and things children should be absorbing.

the conversation i had with my old friend was cut short so we never got to delve into the conversation on any levels past comprehensive— we never got to discuss that some of the themes in harry potter are antisemitic, transphobic, classist, and racist. that my privilege meant that i didn’t ‘turn against’ harry potter while i was reading it, i only lost interest as i grew up and then started to observe the problems later as i gained experience and years. we never got to discuss things like people reclaiming hermione as black, or misguided attempts at finding LGBT representation in the series and the emotional weight that that carries for people. unfortunately our conversation ended due to heightened emotions and ideological differences.

as for the author... i can’t roll with the ideologies that jkr is hatefully spreading and propping up with every action she takes. she is a beacon of hatred; she actively promotes the vilest, most transphobic things. thinking about some of the people that rowling has shared her platform with sickens me, because she is such a popular icon for women and a lot of people who are in the middle of the debate and who have never been around any trans activists have seen her posts and it has changed their minds about an issue they haven’t even fully comprehended. the evidence for that is disgustingly easy to find; literally just go look up british women’s groups and read about some of the issues there.

now. with all of that lingering on my mind. back to hermione. because hermione is an inspiring character for young children— an icon for girls. she speaks her mind, she reads, she’s brilliant, she stands up for causes that no one else seems to care about, she loves her friends and finds inner bravery to support them.

hermione is also a self-insert character for jkr— this has been well documented across the years. and while i understand the writing process and i understand that this doesn’t make hermione a virulent transphobe, it can’t help but sour my perception of the beloved childhood icon. i dressed up as hermione for years when i was a kid; i work with kids now and they love her, all clamouring to play her in any game or defend her in any discussion. but it all feels a bit like there’s a giant elephant in the room, to me. thinking about how much i loved her when i was a child makes me cringe, and not in a ew! cringe! way.. more in the way of— how can i convince these kids to read better things that aren’t as popular? how much would i have changed if i had been introduced to more diverse book series at a younger age? and i don’t mean that my identity is so flimsy that it would have morphed into something completely different, but… i don’t know, just something ive been thinking about.

(and the spew thing.. hfhdhdhd we can’t fully get into this)

people have criticized hermione before— if you’re interested in genuine character problems, here’s an essay written by someone who cares about HP but that isn’t really my focus. i just censored hermione’s name as a joke because i thought we were all in on this. the community i’ve curated on tumblr feels a lot more inclusive to me than other social media so i didn’t think i would have to explain (to multiple people!) why i might censor one of the protagonist’s names from a popular series written by the world's most prominent transphobe.

anyway there’s my little rant, if you made it to the bottom congrats. please don’t reblog this frankly just because i cannot deal with adult harry potter fans coming into my inbox. i hope i answered your question!

#anonymous #asks #op

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may8344 · 4 years

Text

The Journey of a Forgotten Solider (Levi x OC)

Relationships:

Alana Frey (OC)Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin)/Original Female Character(s)Levi Ackerman/Alana FreyFurlan Church/Original Character(s)Furlan Church/Alana Frey

Characters:

Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin)Furlan ChurchIsabel MagnoliaAlana Frey (OC) - CharacterErwin SmithHange ZoëPetra RalGunther SchultzEld JinnOluo BozadoKeith ShadisSpecial Operations Squad | Squad Levi

Additional Tags:

Graphic Description of CorpsesBlood and InjuryViolenceMurder

Summary:

Alana Frey, a girl born in the Underground City, longed to see the true sunlight every morning that she would wake up. Alongside her comrades: Furlan Church, Isabel Magnolia, and Levi, Alana’s life as a thug continued with no way around it; until the sudden day she and her companions were offered the deal of a lifetime.

“Once you complete this job, not only will you be generously compensated for your work,

but you will also earn the right to live above ground.”

Word Count: 2.1k

---

Chapter 12: Worthless Game

Levi began to move with blind rage. Attaching his hooks onto the murderous Titan’s stomach, he hurled himself forwards. Rotating himself, he sliced through the skin with a clean cut. A limp, bloodied hand fell out of the Titan’s belly.

Quickly, the ravenette firmly placed his feet on both sides of the cut and took a strong hold of the body part, yanking it out. Only half of Furlan remained intact; the other nowhere to be seen. Levi carried his fallen friend to the ground, gently resting him on the dirt.

The four remaining Titans did not wait for him to grieve. Instead, they started stomping towards the black haired man in an attempt to eat him. The one who had killed Furlan was the first to try and reach out.

But Levi didn’t hesitate.

Embedding his wires into the bleeding Titan once more, he swerved around its flailing arm. With a large pump of gas, he spiraled straight towards its face, stabbing his two swords into its eyes. Unlocking his blades from the handles with the push of a switch, he jumped off and applied another pair, leaving the murderous one blinded. Within less than a minute, he took down the remaining four, slicing their napes with ease; the fourth one he killed by cutting up its arm and around its neck.

Levi landed on the ground, not very affected by the stamina it took to deal with Titans. With a click of his tongue, he turned towards the last Titan, who couldn’t figure out how to remove the blades from its eyes. Walking towards it menacingly, the ravenette bellowed emotionlessly. “Hey. Do humans taste good?”

With ease, he flew up to its neck and stood his ground on the Titan’s back. “Hm? Were they tasty?” His glare only grew as he shoved a blade directly in its neck.

“Answer me.”

[~]

Erwin and Mike made their way over to the steamed area on their horses that surrounded Levi. “It’s the steam from fallen Titans,” Erwin noted.

“To have defeated so many at one time…” Mike thought out loud, shocked by the sight in front of him. “Was it him?”

Levi stood on top of the recently killed and steaming Titan, slowly making his way down. His blades were dulled down from the cutting, so he pushed the switch once more to release his weapons. As he walked, a small thump was felt on the front of his shoe. With wide eyes, he glanced down on what he bumped.

It was Isabel’s severed head.

Dropping down to his knees, the ravenette’s shaky hand slowly turned it over, face up. The girl had dirt all over her face; even in her eyes. Dried blood painted her colorless skin and leaked from her neck. Unable to look at the sight, he squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth, carefully sliding the redhead’s eyes closed. Small tears leaked from the stoic man’s eyes at the idea of being alone again. Both Furlan and Isabel had been brutally murdered in front of him, and Alana was nowhere to be found.

“Hey! Are there any survivors out there?” Erwin’s voice cut through the air from a couple of meters away.

Levi’s eyes darted towards the noise and his face slowly scrunched up with anger. His target had decided to come to him after all of his friends were gone. Before he knew it, Erwin had already neared him on his brown horse.

“Levi!” He called, now only a small distance away. “Are you the only one left?”

He received nothing but silence and a glare, just like when they originally met in the Underground.

“The corpses of these Titans… You did this alone?”

Not wanting to hear anymore from the blond section commander, Levi jumped up and hurled his small body towards the taller male. Successfully hooking his elbow around his target’s throat, Levi shoved his arm forwards, slamming Erwin into the mud below. Being able to balance on the horse, Levi hadn’t fallen on his face. Instead, he landed on his feet and glared down at his dirtied opponent.

Mike immediately grabbed his weapons and hopped off of his horse, ready to attack.

However, he was cut off by the sound of Levi’s newly embedded blade slicing through the air. “Stay back,” he threatened.

The man complied with his demand, but kept his sword raised in case of any sudden movements. A cold sweat dripped down the side of his face, mixing with the leftover rain droplets that fell from his hair.

Levi continued his path towards the section commander. “Erwin.” Once he was only a meter or so away, he raised his sword next to blond’s throat. A rough, low shout left his mouth, “I’m going to kill you, you bastard! That’s why I’m here!”

As both of the men stared each other down, a moment of silence was met. Erwin slowly reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, looking down. “So they all died? I see…” Pulling out an envelope, with a red-wax stamp holding the contents inside, Erwin’s eyes met Levi’s once more. “This is what I supposedly have on Nicholas Lovof.”

Levi’s eyebrows snapped together, anger coursing through his veins. “So you knew? You knew we were after you, and yet--”

“Unfortunately, you were too late.” Ignoring the arguing thug, Erwin continued by tossing the envelope aside. The small stamp opened and small, white papers flooded the ground. There was not a single word written on any of them.

“Hey, what are you trying to say here?” Levi asked, his hands beginning to tremble.

“It was a bluff.” He answered straightforwardly.

“Huh?”

“I knew that Lovof was embezzling. The military funds left over from the suspension of the Survey Corps these last few years. I spread false information because I wanted definitive proof to back him into a corner.” Erwin explained. “This is Lovof we’re talking about, and he’s cautious. I thought he would make some kind of move first to confirm the existence of the documents. As I expected, he hired you three.

“If he’d made a move then, there’d surely be some trace. Following those back, it didn’t take much time for the proof to fall into my hands. I was able to pick up on him because he made a move from his end.”

Levi clicked his tongue, losing his patience. “Knowing that much, why did you bring us into the Corps?”

“One reason was your exceptional military prowess. And another… was to use you as partners to throw off Lovof. But there’s no longer any need for that. The real documents are currently in the hands of Commander-in-Chief Zackly. It’s all over for Lovof.”

“It wasn’t… worth throwing away their lives!” Levi screamed at the section commander, anger spilling past his bared teeth. “They were nothing but pawns in your worthless game.” Slowly pulling his sword from the blond’s throat to the side, he prepared to slice down with all the strength he had left. “Well, you lose.” He swung down, hoping to decapitate his enemy.

However, that didn’t happen. Holding the blade in his strong--now bloody--grip, Erwin glared up at Levi, his own teeth clenched as well. “Worthless game? Who’s the one… who killed my subordinates or your friends? Was it me, or was it you?” Pulling the weapon away from his throat, the blond continued. “Do you think that if you had come to attack me together that the three of them would have made it out alive?”

“You’re right,” Levi quietly admitted. “It was my conceit. My damned pride is to blame…”

“No! It was the Titans!” Erwin yanked the ravenette’s sword away behind him as his face got closer and closer to Levi’s. “Where did the Titan’s come from? Why do they exist? Why do they eat people? We don’t know! We are completely ignorant.” To the silver-eyed man’s displeasure, the blond kept inching forward, voice booming. “As long as we stay ignorant, they’ll keep eating us. We’ll never turn the tables on them by staying inside the walls.

“Look around you!” Pointing behind him, he aimed his finger towards the far, empty horizon. “In this wide open place, there are no walls, no matter how far you go. Here, there might be something to free us from our despair.” Continuing to spread his ideologies onto Levi, Erwin’s voice rose more and more. “But there are people who would keep us from leaving the walls. They stay where danger can’t reach them, obsessively thinking only of their own profits and losses.

“It’s understandable. The clouded eyes of mankind, blocked for a hundred years by the wall… they can’t see the other side. What about you, Levi? Have your eyes remained clouded?” Inevitably inches away from each other's faces, Erwin had a tint of pleading in his powerful voice. “Will you kill me and return back to the dark Underground? We won’t give up on going outside the walls. Fight with the Survey Corps, Levi! Humanity needs your skill!”

The sun was now beginning to shine brightly over the land, the clouds beginning to disperse. At this sight, Levi remembered the first breath of freedom he had shared with his friends the moment he had left the walls. The exhilaration of not being confined had flooded the four of them. The smiles of his friends.

Levi’s blade fell from his handle, showing he wasn’t a threat, just like he had done in the Underground months prior.

“From here on out, there’s no deal.”

[~]

“Hurry! We’re heading for the Supply Wagon Team to get dry sound grenades. We’ll reform the Corps using that point as a base.” Erwin said, riding his horse as if nothing had just taken place.

“The Titans might become more active once the weather clears up better,” Mike added in.

“We’ll meet with the Vanguard leaders before the losses become any greater. And we’ll return alive!” Erwin declared.

Levi turned a final glance towards where the steaming Titans laid, sprawled over the ground. But more importantly, he looked towards the last place where his friends were, now nothing more than corpses.

Soon, just as Erwin had suggested, the trio met up with the Supply Team, who had significantly less members. “I’m relieved to see that some of you survived the storm,” he said with a small smile. “If you can, gather any stray squads and rally them here. This will be our meeting point.” The blond commanded as he hopped off of his mare and ran up to one of the wagons, digging through it to find any sound grenades left. Successfully finding a couple, he ran back to his trio and nodded. “Let’s move towards the Vanguard and rally in the rest of the squads.”

The section commander led the other two around the outside squads, trying to group the remaining soldiers back to the wagons. There were many casualties throughout the Corps, but they were successful in securing the safety of the soldiers that still were standing. “Levi,” the blond turned to the smaller male, “there should still be another squad on the right side of the Vanguard. See if you can locate them. If not, head back to the Supply Team.”

Levi nodded and complied with his order. He led his brown horse towards the right side, where he left his fallen friends, and scanned over the horizon for the remaining squad. Across the distance, he couldn't spot a single living soldier.

Just as he was about to turn back, a distant clomping noise was made behind him. Leading his horse towards the noise, Levi attempted to find what he assumed was the stray horse, hoping there was at least one survivor.

Nearing closer, the figure was more visible. There was the brown mare and two soldiers riding; one injured and unconscious. "Help!" The awake soldier yelped. "She's injured really badly!"

Levi pulled his horse up next to the survivors. The one who guided the horse was a boy with shaggy brown hair and bright amber colored eyes. Blood stains were present all over his uniform and he looked traumatized. With spare bandages, he had tied a wounded soldier to his back. She had long, black hair and a torn, bloody uniform. Her wounded head was wrapped with bandages along with her torso, arms, and legs. The gear that she wore was smashed against her body. On her left hand was a beaten, silver ring.

And around her neck was a blue, tear-drop necklace.

"Alana?"

----

Thank you for reading <3

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13

#shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #levi #levi ackerman #fanfic #levi x oc #oc #attack on titan fanfiction #levi ackerman x oc #furlan church #isabel magnolia #alana frey

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msilwrites · 4 years

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INSOLENT (Odd Women Series) - ONE

A/N: I am actually quite tired of women falling for jerks, giving up their lives, being dominated/ controlled by their men, without giving some sort of fight that I want to try and create a series of short stories with female leads with self-respect, standing up for themselves or rejecting these chauvinist/ misogynist men.

Also, guys, do you have any situation in a romance book you’ve read that you have hated (you know, with an assholic male lead?!), so I can make a story out of if and so that our Female Lead, Ingrid can ruin it! Please please suggest me some! (You can also give me a different face claim!!)

WARNING: If this isn’t your cup of tea, you may move on to other stories. Tumblr has many stories!

Genre: Satire/Humor/Comedy

Our Male lead in this story is Tom... well, he has been used in a lot of stories as some sort of a ‘dominant’ especially after that Jaguar commercial. LOL! I’m a big fan of his, he just is really a good and sexy villain. I can’t help but use him as a face claim.

Second; Let’s use the secretary trope... it’s just so commonly used, so probably I’d give it a twist.

Ingrid Hawkes- is an original character

INSOLENT

Ingrid looked from left to right, seeing if there was anyone in the hallway. The last thing she wanted was to get caught leaving her cubicle, and buying snacks for her, her colleagues, and department boss for their secret tea breaks at the pantry. It was not really forbidden to buy afternoon tea. Just don’t let the CEO catch you. The last time she went on a snack run, she had caught the attention of their CEO, Thomas Hiddleston.

Thomas Hiddleston. The mention of the name or a simple thought about him makes the hair at the back of her neck stand. It does not matter how attractive and debonair he was. That man had caused her and her department some sort of trouble when she and her colleague was caught in the last snack run.

She and her colleague, Leena were buying scones and dessert at Waitrose when suddenly Leena’s expression change into mortification.

Long story short, Ingrid helped Leena escape and bring the desserts back for tea safely, unnoticed. Whilst she on the other hand, was caught by Tom, and was reprimanded and brought to the HR.

Despite that, she had gotten off lightly, with just a simple warning of ‘Don’t let Tom catch you again...’ because the HR department was in cahoots with theirs and is also a ‘beneficiary’ of the afternoon snack runs.

Seeing that the coast was clear, she waves goodbye to her friend, Leena who was at her cubicle before heading to the lifts.

Re-reading the list of request, and counting the money that her co-workers had given her, she hadn’t notice the lift arriving on her floor and its doors opening.

“Are you coming in? or are you waiting for Christmas?” a deep sounding voice from inside the lift said.

Ingrid looked up and to her horror, finds Tom Hiddleston in the available lift. She froze and didn’t know what to exactly do.

“How long do you plan on standing there?!” he said impatiently.

“Oh, no... no... I was waiting for...” she pauses, thinking of an excuse. “You may go ahead Mr Hiddleston...” she says meekly when she couldn’t think of anything and waved him off.

“Waiting for?!” he asked sharply.

“For pigs to fly...” was her witty retort, it was the first thing that came out of her head and spewed it out immediately hoping that he will think she’s mental, shake his head off and leave with the lift. However, the result was quite opposite.

“Get In! Hawkes!!” he scolds her, making her stand up straight and get inside the lift.

Ingrid stands far away from him, and cowered in the corner, whilst he heaved a big sigh and snapped his head to her direction.

“What?” he asked, seeing the way she looked at him.

“What? What?” she asked back.

“What are you looking at?!” he was irritated.

“Oh... you sir...” was her simple reply. It was so simple yet it irked Tom how honest this woman is. He might be familiar with all the lusty looks he gets from women, but he didn’t like the way Hawkes looks at him. It was something he couldn’t pinpoint.

“And why is that?”

“Because I’m not blind sir... or do you expect me to close my eyes?” a cheerful grin spread across her lips which further annoys him.

“You--!” but before he could even continue, he was cut off by the sound of the bell, indicating that the lift doors have opened.

“Oh! well we have reached the 1st floor! Have a good day, Mr. Hiddleston!!” she says,saluting him as she quickly ran out of the lift, the sound of her heels clucking echoed throughout the large reception hall.

Tom clenched his fist. He was not used to being answered back by others, especially by a mere secretary, because everyone is afraid of him. But this woman named Hawkes, seems to have no shame at all. He shook the thought of her out of his head, he had other important things he had in mind.

**********

“Oh my... look at him...” Ingrid’s friend, Molly says, as she tilted her head to the direction where a handsome man was standing, waiting to be seated by the maitere’d. “He’s handsome!” she exclaimed.

Ingrid look at where Molly was directing her with her head, and out of shock, spits out the wine she was drinking off her mouth.

“Ingrid!!” Molly chastises her.

“I’m sorry! I can’t help it...” Ingrid tries to suppress her giggle, whilst Molly throws her a napkin to wipe herself.

“You’re such a boor!” Molly chastises her playfully.

“I said I’m sorry...” she giggles.

“So what was that all about?!” Molly ask, curious at Ingrid’s reaction. Her friend Ingrid, is respectful and well-mannered most of the time, unless someone offends her.

“That’s the devil himself...” was Ingrid’s simple reply, causing Molly to chuckle.

“Your boss?!” Molly tries to clarify.

“The one and only...” she confirms.

“Damn, Ingrid... your boss it hot!!” Molly adds, looking at Tom Hiddleston from afar. His ginger blonde waves were swept back nicely and impatience were written in his cold blue eyes.

“Yes, I’m sure you don’t mind going to hell if he was the devil?” Ingrid said dryly.

Molly glares at her, but brings her attention back to Tom. “And he has a date!” she adds, sounding very disappointed referring to a seductive looking woman who just entered the place.

“Of course he has Molly! What do you expect from an international playboy?” Ingrid adds, as she stabs her canapes with a toothpick and takes one big bite.

“And she’s a supermodel...” Molly sighs as she turned her attention back to her friend. However, her attention suddenly returned to Tom when she realizes that he and his date were headed to their direction.

“Ingrid!! their headed here!!” she exclaims.

“Wait? What!” Ingrid’s eyes widened in fear. There was no way she would let the big boss of her company see her here. So she did the fastest but the most foolish way she could think of, covering her face with a napkin.

“Bloody hell, Inggy! do you think that will work?!” Molly says as she narrowed her eyes at her friend, she looked ridiculous.

Fortunately, Tom didn’t notice her, or ‘recognize her’ because of the napkin covering her face, but it did get a reaction from him. His eyes twitched and his mouth frowned at the woman who seems to be trying to look like a ghost and unfortunately for Tom, he and his date are seated at the table right behind this odd woman.

“He can’t see you anymore, take that thing off!!” Molly says, grabbing the napkin away from her head. “You look ridiculous!” she adds.

Ingrid tried to look for him, and see if the coasts was clear. Much to her chagrin, Tom was seated right behind her. His back facing her.

“Do you wanna go somewhere else?” Molly offered, since they were done with their food. They didn’t have to stay long as they have initially intended.

Ingrid smiled and shook her head, saying ‘No’. She made a slight tilt of the head at the table behind her and indicated that she was listening to Tom and his date’s conversation.

“Since when did you become a gossip monger?! Molly whispered.

“No I’m not, I’m just really curious!!” Ingrid whispered back.

Molly sighs in resignation, and in the end also became curious and kept quite, trying to hear the conversation from the table behind.

They both heard the soft rasp of his chuckle “Now Miss Gusev...” he starts, and he sounded very seductive with the way he said the woman’s name. Ingrid can almost imagine his facial expression.

“You have the entire night to decide if you wanna partake in this relationship... But you are to abide by my rules and in return, I will introduce you to a world of pure pleasure...” he sounded so sexy that his date and Molly looked like they were going to melt, but not Ingrid. In fact, she wanted to laugh at how cliche it sounds.

It was as if he got it from some R rated romance novel. Ingrid cringe at the thought and then shuddered.

“Yes...” his date answered with a whisper. In fact, she sounded as if she was shaking. Not in fear though, but in lust!

“Brilliant! Because I’m going to need you to sign a document for me.” he said as he pushed a folder towards the woman.

Molly and Ingrid cocked a brow when they heard ‘sign a document’. It felt odd why someone should even sign a document when entering a relationship. Well, unless if it’s marriage of course.

Turning her head to behind her, she saw Tom’s date take the brown file and shakily took a pen out from her clutch. The woman’s eyes widened and looked back at Tom.

Written in the documents were terms in conditions that his date had to abide in like, being his beck and call no matter what time and wherever he is. She would have to respond to all his calls at all times, and in case of formal events, he would be in charge of her clothes. In fact, the woman looked a little shocked as she looked back at Tom.

“B-but Tom... I don’t need this amount... “ his date said, pointing to the last page of the contract. Though it was common in the modelling industry to receive such proposition, it never meant that she doesn’t feel uncomfortable every time it comes up.

Molly and Ingrid looked at each other, knowing what it probably was. And the former suddenly realize that being in or pursuing a relationship with this man was not something ideal.

Sensing the woman was about to back out of their relationship, Tom clears his throat. “Don’t overthink things... It’s just my way of taking care of you.”

“I see...” she paused. “Why... why this?” she said, pointing to a clause on the piece of paper.

“There’s a reason why my relationships don’t last long. I’m not able to give emotional support that you might request from me... So I am giving you the upper hand in the relationship. It is to allow you the right to call it off when they can no longer stand my ways, --”

The woman was about to be convinced, but was distracted when the woman at the table behind Tom broke into a loud laugh, breaking the sexual tension she and Tom were having.

Ingrid couldn’t help but laugh at the last part about women not withstanding Tom’s ways. Oh, if only this date directly worked for him, she’d be out in the first day.

“Ridiculous!!” she continued laughing loud, capturing some of the the patron’s attention. Tom, irritated, got up and went to the table behind him to reprimand whoever that was who ruined his moment.

Ingrid kept laughing and Molly playfully reprimands her to stop, whilst trying stifle a laugh but in the end, failed to do so. Since Molly knows the stories about her friend’s boss through her complaints, she very much understood why Ingrid laughed so hard.

“ She can try working for him, I bet she’ll be out in an hour when he starts his demands!” Ingrid tells her friend. She remembered Tom’s secretary crying in the bathroom before, crying is understandable especially when someone so young and inexperienced works directly with someone as unkind and demanding as their CEO. The poor thing immediately tendered her resignation when she couldn’t take anymore of his demands and attitude.

“Inggy... stop laughing...” Molly’s face suddenly turned fearful. “Inggy.... please” she pleaded.

Ingrid did stop laughing but realized it was too late when she saw Tom, standing just right beside her with a look of disapproval. She gulped when she saw the expression on his face.

“Well... well... well... I should’ve known! What are you doing here Hawkes?” he said sharply, saying as if she had no right to be in the restaurant. Well, she really didn’t. How can a mere secretary afford a meal at a three star michelin restaurant?!

Ingrid grimaced. “Eating sir? am I not allowed to eat at a place of my choosing...” though she talked meekly, her expression said something else otherwise. There was a mischievous glint in her eyes, as if waiting for the right opportunity.

“Still as insolent as ever...” Tom rolled his eyes and sigh.

Ingrid laughed in a creepy manner, which made Tom furrow his brows and Molly shake her head, already knowing what was her friend’s reply going to be.

“You have no power here.... Thomas William Hiddleston...”

Tom was flabbergasted upon realizing which movie that line came from and manner that she used it. In addition, he was surprised with her response that he was left speechless.

**********

“Oh Inggy... I thought I was about to die there...” Molly complained as they both ran out of the restaurant, whilst getting a murderous look from Tom Hiddleston. But she couldn’t contain her laughter. “You’re a bloody rascal!”

“What?! you got a free meal off him! what’s there to complain about?!” Ingrid reasoned, pertaining to the fact that they didn’t pay the bill, and told the staff secretly that Thomas Hiddleston is paying for them. For all the trouble that mean bastard had caused her, paying for her meal was not even enough.

“Are you not afraid of getting fired or him dragging you to hell?!” Molly reasoned, already afraid for Ingrid.

“Nope... I don’t work directly for him... besides what can he do? It’s not office hours, nor are we in the office! As I said, he has no power here!” she reasoned and Molly laughed. Moreover, she had the protection of the her department head. She won’t easily get fired.

“I can’t believe you used that as a retort, you were creepy by the way!” Molly teases.

“Thank You!” was Ingrid’s response as she bowed.

Molly laughed and didn’t say more, knowing that her friend would all have the wittiest response in the world.

“Miss... wait!” a female voice calls them from behind. They both turned around in unison to find Tom’s date, the supermodel, trying to catch up to them.

“Wow... she’s really tall!” Molly comments as she admire the woman.

“Yes, may I help you?” Ingrid says, as she fully turned to face her.

“Thank you for back there...” the woman says, taking her hands and squeezing them in gratitude.

“Huh? Thank You?” Ingrid tilts her head and looks at the woman questioningly. “I don’t know what I did?”

“I... I was about to give in to him. If you didn’t laugh, or say that... I would have ended up with him.” the woman says, referring to the complaint Ingrid had uttered whilst she laughed. “ I already have low self-esteem” the woman admits which made Ingrid and Molly shocked. How can a very beautiful woman have low self-esteem?!. Shouldn’t she have men like Tom wrapped around her finger.

“And it made me realize that the last thing I need is a relationship with a man who’s emotionally distant...” she looks down sadly.

“Well then....” Ingrid reaches for the woman’s shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “I want you to know that your are very beautiful, from the bottom of my heart! And that you deserve a man who treats you and will love you better!” she says sincerely which not only made the woman moved, but also her friend Molly. Tom, again, no matter how handsome, rich, or capable he is, if he didn’t have kindness, then there is no point being with someone who’ll end up letting you down.

The woman smiled and embraced her in response before walking off to another direction, but not before waving at them.

“That was really kind Inggy... I am proud of you!” Molly says as she looks at her friend. “In fact, I’m surprised you’re capable of saying such things!” she added.

“ I meant what I said to her. Every word. What are you trying to imply woman?! That only nonsense spews out of my mouth? You wound me, Molly!” Ingrid said, her expression trying to feign hurt and Molly just laughed in response.

Molly’s expression suddenly changed and it didn’t go unnoticed to Ingrid. “ Don’t tell me he is just right behind us?”

“I think we should run...” Molly suggests.

“I think that’s a good idea...” was Ingrid’s response and with that, both of them broke into a run.

The Next Part of this story is here; Troll (Odd Women Series) - TWO

A/N: I will be editing this because I probably have made a number of grammatical errors. I hope you enjoyed the story. FYI. It will be a series of one shots.

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tocksickart · 4 years

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Trying to stay afloat

I used to write daily. It had been a recommended activity as therapy. I would start out strong, writing page after page about my day, my struggles, my feelings, etc, but then suddenly I would taper off, only writing a few sentences, then skipping a day, then skipping a month, then a year. In my head I write mental notes constantly. My brain never shuts off, ever. My mind also has trouble retaining things that it should, but you bet your butt that it has remembered awkward and cringy encounters and it will replay them at random.

So why am I suddenly sharing this useless information? Well, my health is failing more and more these days and I have decided that I need some kind of outlet. I have been doing more painting and crafty things lately that have helped distract me from pains and feeling down, but I need more. My mind has been total mush lately and my memory is getting worse. I’ve decided that I need to write again, at least weekly, to serve as another therapeutic crutch, as well as a way to remember things.

So why do it publicly? I suppose I’ve chosen this route so I will be more inclined to actually stick with it. I honestly don’t expect anyone to actually read this, but hell, maybe someone will and someone can relate to my shit show.

What’s up with my health? Where do I even begin? For starters, I have had migraines for the majority of my life. The first one I can actually remember was when I was roughly five years old. It wasn’t until last year that I was put on Emgality and I finally have quite a bit of relief. Granted, I still get migraines, but they tend to be from allergies or hormonal bullshit and they do not last as long. I also have Endometriosis, which took thirteen years to get diagnosed. When I was 25 a doctor finally took me seriously, did the surgery, and found out what as causing some of my issues. I had a second surgery when I was 28, that involved removing more of the endo, as well as the removal of my left ovary and fallopian tube. At that time I was told that the endo had spread worse to my bladder, ureter, and bowels. It’s been over six years since that last surgery. I have seen seven gynecologists since then due to moving out of state. My current doctor is very nice, but also absolutely impossible to get an appointment with. So much so, that I had to make an appointment with Planned Parenthood just to get my Nexplanon implant removed. Oh, and why am I having the Nexplanon removed? It’s been total hell. I am fully aware that it does not treat Endo, but I had had one in before for two years and it was not a problem until towards the end of the second year. This time around, it has been bad since about week three or four. I have been on it for seven months now and it’s been terrible. I have been calling my doc’s office since August trying to get an appointment to get it out, only to be told that she’s booked up until the following month, yet they will not schedule me. I keep getting told to call back to see if there are any openings. The last time I called two weeks ago, I was told that there was nothing open until maybe December, but again, they would not schedule me, hence the appointment having to be made at PP, which was easy to get and there was only a two week delay. I’ll gladly take that over a two month delay.

But what is really plaguing me now? So all my life I have had weird pains, twitches, and spasms. It is something I learned to live with since doctors have always dismissed these things. When I was 27, I decided I really needed to get more answers and was referred to a neurologist who did a bunch of tests and put me on Cymbalta. That shit is the absolute devil! I won’t go into much detail now, but it made me suicidal and my pains stayed the same. Detoxing from is was a truly scary journey. Anyway, he had suggested that I may have the first signs on MS and that I should get a MRI right away. Unfortunately, that did not happen, as I was in a very mentally and physically abusive relationship and he was against me having any kind of “radiation poisoning”. Fast forward all these years and things have been getting bad. The pains are more frequent and longer lasting. My mind seems to get mushier, I drop things a lot, I have fallen over quite a bit, I forget how to do things, I forget what I’m doing, I have to remind myself to swallow, I have to keep moving to distract myself from all the twitching and involuntary movements, and my emotions have been all over the place. Now I had told my new neuro this back when I first saw her last year, but she was more concerned about my migraines to start. She then went on to do nerve testing and a brain MRI, along with bloodwork, but those things mostly came back normal. But here we are in lovely 2020 and shit is getting real. I had an appointment with her last Friday and totally broke down. I had spent a week making a list of the weird shit that has been happening to my body and read it off to her. It wasn’t until then that she concluded that it sounds like I have an autoimmune disease. So now I have very extensive bloodwork scheduled for this Friday morning and a MRI of my neck on Saturday. Now obviously I do not wish to have another disease, as Endo has made my life enough of a hell, but I want answers and I am going to keep fighting until I get them.

Yea, so this post went a little away from what I was going to originally write about, but this works, too. Essentially I would like to keep this up so I can document what’s going on health wise, but also document my art that I hope will help me through. I should also mention that I do have an amazing support system with my loving boyfriend, my family, and a few friends. My job is also very understanding which is so helpful.

I will end it here for today, as I feel like I have already gone on too much of a typing spree. If anyone actually reads this and has any questions or input, please feel free to reach out.

PS- I have not re-read this post because my mind says I cannot process all those words right now, so please excuse any typos and grammatical errors. Thx.

#endometritis #healthissues

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cptsdstudyblr · 5 years

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How I organize my studies with mental health issues

Hi :) I’m just here trying to survive a computer science degree with CPTSD, depression, anxiety, and some physical health issues. However, I’ve figured out a system that really (!!!) helps me keep organized and actually learn things despite all the challenges I face! So, I want to share it with you in case it helps just one person! This post is pretty long, but I promise it’s got tons and tons of amazingly helpful information in it!

I’m lucky enough to have a tablet to help me with my studies, but anything I show today can easily be done on a laptop or even on a phone, so don’t stress!

Initial Note Taking

I prefer to handwrite my initial notes if possible. Sometimes, my professors just go too fast and I have to type them, but if I have the option, I choose to handwrite them. I find that handwriting my notes helps keep my mind focused on the task at hand.

First of all, I’m a very tactile learner, so the act of writing helps me learn the material. However, I’ve found that there are tons of other benefits to writing notes by hand.

If you’re dissociating/anxious/etc., doodling is a good way to center yourself and help yourself calm down.

Handwritten notes are easier (at least in my non-professional opinion) to make neat and pretty, which can be a huge motivator.

Many classes have diagrams, and it’s super helpful to draw these out so that you’re more likely to remember them and so you have easy access to them.

For people who are nonlinear thinkers (NOT me at all, but I know some people are nonlinear thinkers), you can write your notes in any way you see fit - a circle, a mind map, a graph, even a dodecahedron if you so desire.

And there are tons of others I don’t have time to thoroughly explain!

Of course, there’s nothing wrong with typing notes if you feel that that works better for you. I have to do that for some classes (Geology, I’m looking at you), and I don’t prefer to type my notes, but some people find that they prefer it, and that’s totally okay! There are a few quick things to keep in mind if you choose to take typed notes, however:

I find it very helpful to keep a notepad near me so that I can doodle (again for dissociation/anxiety/etc.) and so that I can draw diagrams if necessary. I’m not talented enough to create computer diagrams quickly, so I usually draw them by hand even if I’m typing my actual notes.

Put in the effort to make sure you aren’t distracted by other things on your laptop! Typing notes can be a great thing, but technology is very quick to distract people. One method I find good for me is to make my notes full screen so that it’s harder to find things to get distracted by, but there are many methods for this.

Try to keep your typed notes tidy and organized. For me, this includes having consistent tab distances, changing font colors/styles (by styles I mean bold/italic/etc.) as necessary, and most of all splitting up my notes into documents by days or topics. I use Evernote, so it’s pretty straightforward to split them up, but even if you use another system, it’s wise to figure out a way to do so. Having one long document for the entire semester is not wise because it gets very overwhelming very quickly and is just plain hard to use.

The biggest help for me, however, is after I’ve taken my notes. I use Evernote to digitize my notes. It’s super easy to do (just take a picture in the app and it scans them like a PDF), and I find that having them digital is a huge help. It means a few things for me:

I don’t have to have every notebook with me to study - just the ones I need to take notes in. This is far more related to physical health for me because I just can’t carry that many notebooks without a lot of pain, but it’s also great for people who are forgetful due to mental health issues. All you have to remember is your laptop or tablet (or really, even your phone), so it’s much easier to make sure you have everything.

I can write all over them when I’m studying without ruining the original notes. I am a big fan of scribbling all over notes (writing mnemonics, drawing diagrams, marking what I know and don’t know, etc.), but I dislike damaging my original notes. This allows me to study as messily as I want without ruining anything.

I can make multiple copies of them if I need to - one for the class I took the notes in and one for my exam revision session. This is very helpful for people who aren’t feeling well enough to rewrite or retype everything into another place when revising for an exam.

Here’s what some of my digitized notes from my operating systems class look like (please forgive my very messy drawing - OS is hard to draw sometimes):

General Studying

This section refers to studying, but not for exams. This includes things such as doing assignments, reading for classes, and other such things. The most important thing for my studying is Google Tasks! I keep all my important due dates in there, even down to the time. Here’s an example of what my Google Tasks looks like:

Apologies for the blacked-out spot - that reveals where I go to school! I use this for every single thing that has a hard due date. This makes sure that I never miss a due date no matter how forgetful I am because my list of due dates is on my cell phone! I also find it extremely rewarding to tick the box when I finish an assignment, and even something as simple as that is such a huge motivator for me.

However, this isn’t where I plan how to study for the week. I do that - you guessed it - on paper. I have a journal (which you’ll get to see in another post) where I keep a lot of important stuff - including weekly study plan spreads! That sounds super overwhelming, but they’re incredibly easy to make and very simple to maintain. I’ll show you (artful pen to hide my school name)!

Let me break this down for you really quickly:

I have my pages divided into four (one quadrant per day plus one for notes), which works pretty well for me - I never run out of space. This setup takes me less than five minutes to make each week, and I find it works very well for me.

I like to write what classes I have each day at the top of the day just so I don’t get too confused (and I highlight it if I have an exam), then underneath that, I list everything I have to do study-wise.

I make sure to break each big task (e.g. “Study for Geology Exam) into smaller, more manageable chunks (e.g. “Make Geology flashcards,” “Revise Ch. 6 Notes,” etc.) all on different days of the week. This helps make each task seem way less overwhelming and makes me feel better about starting each task.

As you can see, my due dates are NOT on this sheet - this is more of a Study To-Do List than a list of my due dates. I do make sure to keep this updated so that I don’t miss any due dates, however.

You’ll also notice that I don’t have all that much listed for each day. It’s incredibly hard to stay ahead of things with mental health issues (I get that - I really do), but I find that staying ahead genuinely helps my mental health. If I have something to do every day, I feel productive and thus more motivated. It also gives me more leeway if I have a day where I can’t do any more than the bare minimum - I’m already ahead of schedule so I don’t need to panic. My best method for staying ahead is just to buckle down and do it. It’s not a great tip, but it’s all I’ve got (I’m allowed to struggle too - I don’t have everything together perfectly!).

Now, let’s talk about how to tackle each thing on this list.

Readings! When I have to do readings, my preferred method of note-taking is simply writing down definitions of keywords. Most of what I cover in the reading will be covered in the lecture, so I’m not too worried about jotting down every detail. However, making sure to note key words helps keep my brain engaged so I am less likely to zone out/dissociate/etc. Additionally, I can go back to those keywords to make flashcards later on.

Assignments! There’s not a whole lot to say about this one - every assignment is so different that I can’t say much beyond “do your assignments thoroughly.” However, a tip I find helps me a lot is to fully read the assignment and create a game plan before I dive in. This makes the assignment way less overwhelming and gives you concrete stopping points if you need a break.

Studying! will have its own section right below this, do not fear.

Studying

Watch this quick video (which is at the bottom of the text for some unknown reason?) of me scrolling through a study session, then I’ll explain how I study and why it works for me!

Let me just list my Studying Steps (TM) for you and break them down:

About a week before: Write all the information in a clear, consistent way.

By this I mean: Go through your notes/the slides/the textbook/anything with information and write it down freshly. I prefer (like usual) to handwrite this, but it can certainly be typed.

This is good because it requires you to reread and rewrite every piece of information, so you’re that much more likely to remember it. It also gives you all the information consolidated in one place. I like to split this up by topic (for me, each topic takes about 30 minutes to do) so that it’s more manageable.

This seems like a lot, and it is. But, you have to study and there’s no way around that, unfortunately. Try motivating yourself with small rewards (like food, stickers, or something fun) when you finish a topic.

When you finish that: Make charts and graphs for anything that requires charts and graphs.

The diagrams part is pretty self-explanatory. If you have diagrams, redraw them on their own sheet. This makes them less cluttered and you can write things like mnemonics on them without messing up anything else. Redrawing them is also great for muscle memory!

I also like to make charts of things that I need to memorize (this is a good tool, but isn’t always right for every subject). For example, if I need to know a lot of types of rocks, I’ll make charts listing each rock and its characteristics. This way it’s easier to find the information and (once again) muscle memory will help you out.

This can be done pretty quickly, and it’s a pretty brainless activity. It’s not hard to do, so you can do it while watching Netflix if you want to. I honestly enjoy this part, though, because I find drawing charts and graphs very satisfying.

About 3 days before: Make flashcards and study them consistently.

This is very important!

I like to use paper flashcards (just so I have to write the information once again), but digital ones work fairly well too.

Memorization is actually a fantastic tool to help with studying with mental health issues. Sometimes brain fogginess makes it hard to think of things that you know, but couldn’t recite. However, if you have it fully memorized, it’s generally much easier to pull out of the depths of your mind.

Once again, this is pretty easy to do (not quick though, sorry), and can be done while you’re doing something else more fun.

The day before: Go through your notes, annotate what you don’t know, and rewrite it until you know it.

This is the most important part of studying for me.

The evening before the exam, I go through every bit of my notes, charts, graphs, etc. and highlight what I 100% know.

Then, I take more paper (or often a digital piece of paper) and write out what I know, trying to focus my energy on finding ways to remember the information such as mnemonics, word associations, or the like.

I do this as many times as I need to until I feel good about how much information I have highlighted - I try to get to 85-90%, but that can vary by subject.

This is kind of tedious, but I find it easier to motivate myself since it is the final stretch. I’m also usually kind of stressed out about the exam by this point, so that works as a good motivator too.

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#studyblr #cptsd #depression #anxiety #mental health #mental illness #studying

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faroreswinds · 4 years

Text

3H DLC Book 5: Mysteries of the Calendar, Vol. 2

With the new update, there is some new stuff to dig in here that I very much want to look over. You can find the books here: https://imgur.com/a/IbluWTg

Since there are a lot of them, I’m just going to split them up into different posts and take my time shifting through them.

Summary- Contents

This particular book is about the past, most notably the old calendar way, which is basically just our calendar in real life. I guess this makes sense, as Foldan was once a technologically advanced world very similar to our own, with skyscrapers and dangerous weapons of war. I would hazard a guess that old, advanced Foldan was basically our world, just with magical origins.

Regardless, the book is about the shift of the old calendar way to the new one the game presents. The old way was “months” and the new way is “moons”, although they basically serve the exact same function and only the naming function has changed. The prior way of naming (January, February, etc.) are lost, but they are aware that they were shortened to numbers such as 1 and 2.

It goes on to state that this old method existed for an immeasurable amount of time, that they do not know when it started other than it can be traced back to the era of the gods, and that it simply brings up more questions.

The old way was changed by Emperor Wilhelm when he founded the Adrestian Empire, abandoning the old calendar for the Imperial one. It would have caused a lot of unrest and confusion at the time, so the book proposes that may have been two reasons for the change.

The Influence of the Church of Seiros

As the change to “moons” was meant to reflect the teachings of Seiros, as the moons are associated with the saints and tenets, it is likely that Wilhelm wanted to help legitimize the Church and help spread the beliefs.

If true, this mean that that since its inception, the Empire has had close ties with the Church of Seiros.

It is also postulated that the goddess herself wished for the change to occur as voiced through Saint Seiros, and Wilhelm was simply implementing this change.

Asserting Authority

Since the flow of time is important, creating a new method to track it is akin to claiming dominion over time itself. As such, the Empire took its newfound influence after its founding, and retroactively proclaimed its founding as Year 1. Amid the founding of Foldan, this move would have bolstered the Empire’s authority and heralded the start of a new era.

Legitimacy of Document

As per Linhardt’s declaration that some of the documents may be fake or forgeries, it’s a good idea to question the legitimacy of all. It’s better to question what is real, and what isn’t, even if in the end it’s only guesses.

This document is pretty interesting, and if real somewhat telling. I can’t say we gleam a whole lot of new info we couldn’t have simply guessed from general critical thinking, but it’s nonetheless worth looking into.

Firstly, what this tells us is that the “old way” is basically what the real world uses. As I mentioned before, this matches with ancient Foldan being a somewhat reflection of our real world now (just with the added touch of magic and real gods and dragons). “Months” were changed to “moons”, but the system basically works the same. The Empire simply added a theological meaning to each month, and a new name, as well as restarting the years to 1. Sort of like how we have BE and AD, in a way (just without Jesus). Perhaps it would be closer to compare it to the traditional Japanese calendar years, where they track the years based on the current Emperor and what how many years he has been in power. For example, in 2019, it was the Heisei Era year 63. When the emperor stepped down, the new emperor proclaimed the new period as Reiwa Year 1.

What is particularly interesting is that, according to this document, it would seem historians tried to retrace the origins of this old calendar way. They were able to trace it back to the “era of the gods” and it simply created more questions. What these questions are, we don’t know. What this era means, we also don’t know. However, as per my look at the Slither document, it may be possible that the era of the gods refers to the time when Foldan was once modern. Unfortunately, this is purely speculation. All we know is, is that it was in use for a very long time, all the way up to when Wilhelm founded the Empire over 1000 years ago.

This brings another thing to mind. If the calendar did indeed last since the time when the Slithers were still on the surface, than means the calendar system lasted through the destruction of the world and through the war between Sothis and the Slithers. This offers two explanations as to why this system survived:

Sothis and the Nabateans re-implemented the system so that the humans on the newly formed Foldan could keep track of time.

Some humans survived on the surface through the war, and carried on the legacy of the old ways the best they could.

Both cases are possible, although we know that that the Nabateans did not reintroduce technology to the humans after Foldan was restored (and therefore may not have re-introduced the time system). The second scenario is quite likely, however, as Rhea herself implies that some may humans survived the Sothis war (unless she just means that the only survivors where the ones that went underground).

It is also possible that the “era of the gods” refers to when Sothis “restarted Foldan”, and the old system is actually not older than her war with the Slithers.

Regardless, the next part is very interesting: the reasons why Wilhelm implemented the new system. According to the game, the Empire was founded on the 1st of the Great Tree Moon (which is the equivalent of April). This is particularly interesting because in Japan, April 1st has an importance, as it marks the beginning of the government's fiscal year. It is also the date when Reiwa Year 1 began (calling back to the Japanese system of time keeping I mentioned before).

In the lore of the game, the Great Tree Moon is the beginning of the new year and spring; people pray to realize their potential.

Anyways, since the book is of a more recent print, the writers and historians involved have no clue as to why Wilhelm implemented a new time keeping system when it would have caused confusion and unrest during a time that was already difficult. However, they propose two possible theories:

Wilhelm did as the goddess desired, or did it to bolster the credibility of the Church and spread the beliefs

Wilhelm wanted to bolster the Empire’s new rule and secure authority.

Both of these are valid theories, although they suggest different things. For former implies that Rhea used Wilhelm to validate her Church and basically enforce some soft power and influence over Foldan. Another possible conclusion we can draw is that Wilhelm wanted to help legitimize Rhea’s religion because they were allies working together to change the social-political climate of the continent, or maybe even help her establish a means to protect the dark truth from humans, as well as any surviving Nabateans.

The latter theory suggests that it was actually Wilhelm who used the Church’s influence to bolster his own power, to solidify his new era and dominance over the people of Foldan.

It is important to remember that the author of these books is unsure, and that these are simply theories. However, I would summarize that the truth is a little bit of both. Wilhelm and Rhea were allies, although how much Wilhelm knew of Rhea’s history is unclear. He probably wanted to solidify his power, and Rhea wanted to establish her Church. By changing the calendar system, they were able to accomplish both goals.

Either way, it would be unfair to say that one theory is more true than the other when we lack any evidence to back such a claim up.

Now, how legitimate is this book? Well, it’s certainly not suspicious. It’s not terribly incriminating for any particular side, and reads pretty objectively. It lacks Seteth’s signature, so it is unlikely that it was removed from the library, but that doesn’t mean it’s not real. It would also go hand in hand with how past Foldan seems similar to the real world.

Ultimately, the most important thing we can gleam from this document is that Wilhelm and possibly Rhea changed the calendar, but beyond that doesn’t really contextualize history that deeply. I would say this document has a high chance of being pretty legit overall.

If there anything else anyone would like to add, please feel free to share!

#Fire Emblem #3H #Fire Emblem Discussion #3H Discussion #3H DLC #3H DLC Books #My thoughts

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falseroar · 5 years

Text

Silver and Peppermint (Part 6)

((Part 6 of a fantasy AU, where Monster Hunter Abe and his reluctant partner, the DA, are trying to track down a murderous werewolf. With one suspect more than helpful and the other on his way to the hospital, Abe and the DA have just one person connected to the victims left to talk to.

Links to Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 7, and the Epilogue.))

With these questions in mind, Abe and his District Attorney went to Garroway’s house, an older building in a still upscale neighborhood. The wiry, gray-haired woman met them at the door, her deep-set eyes knowing even as she feigned surprise at the sight of the DA and the hunter on her doorstep.

“Please, come in,” she said and ushered them into a living room, modest at first glance until you noticed the paintings on the walls were originals, the furniture of a quality that wore its age well while still being comfortable enough that Abe doubted he would be able to get back up again if he sat down.

Which is why he paced around the room before taking up a stand where he could see the faces of his partner and the theater owner. She tilted her head at his behavior but said nothing, as she no doubt dealt with stranger personalities on a weekly if not daily basis.

“While I don’t begrudge your visit, I had hoped to see you again at the theater, Y/N, not in my own home under these circumstances,” Garroway said, her eyes flickering toward the hunter.

“I don’t have much time for entertainment these days,” the District Attorney answered. “I suppose you’re aware of the recent string of murders in the city?”

“Yes, unfortunately. Alex Haywood was a firm supporter of the theater, as were the other victims. He had access to reserved seats for any show if he just asked, because there are so many shows we wouldn’t be able to put on without the help of donors like him.” Garroway sighed, her eyes dropping to her hands. “I’ll admit the news hit me hard. I haven’t been out in days, and my poor assistant has been run ragged between staying on top of things at the theater and keeping me updated. You know how some of our actors can be…temperamental.”

The District Attorney gave a nod but said, “Did your financial connections to Haywood ever extend beyond donations? After all, I know there were some talks of renovating the theater in the near future.”

“Oh, there’s always talks, but I’m afraid we hadn’t moved so far as to start looking at contractors. I admit Alex’s company would have been one of our considerations, although he may not have been able to make the time for us. The downside of booming business, I suppose.”

“I’m not sure ‘booming’ would be the right word,” the District Attorney answered. “Abe here and I recently came into possession of some financial documents that might suggest otherwise. Perhaps he spread himself a little thin?”

The District Attorney’s expression did not change, but Abe knew they had to be watching the old woman just as closely as he did. Maybe they were just as disappointed as he felt when she did not react at all to that news besides a little, curious, “Hm. Perhaps.”

“Do you know anything about how Haywood and the others died?” Abe asked, if only to get some kind of reaction out of the woman.

In turn, she fixed him with the same, even stare and said, “I know that it was murder, and after the police came by last night, I now know I am being watched. I would thank you for thinking of my safety, but you’re not with the police, are you? Just who are you, exactly?”

“Name’s Abe Lincoln, monster hunter,” Abe answered without hesitation. At this point he was used to ignoring the attorney’s reaction whenever he introduced himself, but the small turn at the corner of the theater owner’s lips put him on the defensive. “I’ve had years of experience with the worst this world has to offer, monsters that infest more than just the space under your bed or the back of your closet. I’ve dirtied my hands more times than I count stopping things your nightmares would turn and run at the sight of, so you should know that when I’m called in on a case this isn’t your run of the mill Jack the Ripper situation going on.”

“Oh, what a nice little speech. I should write that down,” Garroway said, a hint of a laugh in her voice. “You can’t seriously be suggesting that something supernatural is at work here. The city’s walls are warded, no troll or hag or what have you is going to come waltzing in. Not without raising some serious questions about how safe our people are, questions that shouldn’t be rooted on some baseless rumors. Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

“The Mayor saw fit to call in an expert,” they answered, no hint in their tone of voice or in their expression to give away what was going on behind those eyes. “And Franklin seemed convinced that he needed protection from something that was not human. Do you know why that might be?”

“Franklin? Bless his heart, he’s always been…susceptible to fits of fear and paranoia. Why, after our rendition of Carmilla, he took it in his head to wear a bulb of garlic on a key chain next to a crucifix! A useful habit to have if you find yourself cooking often, I suppose, but I somehow doubt he had anything to fear vampire-wise. Surely you’re not basing your entire investigation on that?”

“We have evidence that a werewolf was at all four crime scenes,” Abe answered. “Believe me, I know the signs of a werewolf when I see them.”

There it was again. That little sound, a small “hm,” a tiny tone that suggested a laugh maybe, or just an ounce of disbelief at his words.

He knew he would regret it, but he couldn’t stop the word from slipping out. “What?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing. I just find it interesting that of course a hunter is going to find evidence that some beast was at work here. After all, if it was just some bad egg at work, the city wouldn’t need you, now would it?”

Abe bristled, but it was the District Attorney who spoke up first.

“I’ve seen the bodies. I’ve seen what this thing has done, what it’s capable of. This is more than just some ‘bad egg,’ Ms. Garroway.”

“Of course, I didn’t mean to sound disrespectful in that regard,” she answered with a placating gesture in the attorney’s direction. “But humans are capable of some truly terrible things on their own, as I’m sure you’re well aware, Y/N. I just fear that this hunter’s narrow-minded outlook will steer the investigation in the wrong direction entirely.”

Abe felt the heat rising to his face as he stepped forward, ready and willing to remind her that she was still a suspect in this whole thing, but he barely got the words, “Now look here—” out before there was a knock at the front door and the sound of it opening followed by a vaguely familiar voice calling out.

“Ms. Garroway? It’s Luke, I finished those errands for you this morning and I wanted to drop these off before I—”

The man stopped mid sentence when he spotted the three occupants of the living room, his surprise almost comparable to Abe’s own when he recognized the barista from the coffee shop—or rather, the fake from earlier.

The “barista” dropped the dry cleaning he had flung over one shoulder and turned to run, but Abe was faster and soon had him pinned to the wall of the hallway with his face pressed against the wood paneling and his visible eye rolling around in panic.

“What is the meaning of this?!” Garroway yelled, proving that she was more than capable of projecting her voice when she needed to. Her hand grabbed at Abe’s shoulder, but he ignored it as she said, “That is my assistant you’re manhandling! Let him go, right now!”

“Step back, please,” the District Attorney said behind her, and Abe felt the theater owner back off even as the attorney continued, “Abe, explain. Now.”

“This piece of scum was the one in the coffee shop this morning,” he said, pressing harder when Luke tried to struggle. “He’s the one who pretended to work there and gave me who knows what to drink.”

Abe lowered his voice and added into the assistant’s ear, “I don’t take kindly to poisoning. Lost a partner that way, and I can tell you it’s not a good way to go.”

“You can’t prove that was me,” the assistant said, his voice slurred thanks to the wall against his face. “I’ve never seen you before in my life! I’ve been running errands for Ms. Garroway all morning, I swear.”

“Abe, move aside,” the District Attorney said, their stare warning him not to argue. When the assistant started to move, they pressed one hand to the back of his head and said, “I didn’t say you could move. This is a serious accusation, one worth following up with the police. I’m going to search you now, do you understand?”

He muttered something under his breath, but with Abe ready and willing to step in if he resisted, the District Attorney was able to check inside the bags he had dropped alongside the dry cleaning before patting him down.

Only to stop at his waist, where they pulled a small bottle out of his pocket.

“Care to explain what’s in this?” they asked.

“Medicine,” he answered without hesitation. “I’ve had a lot of trouble sleeping lately, my doctor said it would help.”

“No label, so we’ll have to get someone to verify that,” the District Attorney said. They popped the lid off and made a small ‘tsk’-ing sound before saying, “I’m guessing your doctor didn’t suggest you use this all at once, as I can only imagine that would get you more than just one night of sleep.”

“That’s why I had it on me, so I wouldn’t forget to go to the pharmacy for a refill,” Luke answered.

“So I’m sure your doctor or your pharmacist would be willing to confirm that when I talk to them later,” the District Attorney said as they slipped the empty bottle into their pocket.

“That’s my medicine, you can’t just take it!” Luke turned to scowl at both of them. “I don’t even know what you two are talking about, and I’m not going to the police!”

“While I disagree wholeheartedly that Luke had anything to do with this nonsense,” Garroway said, giving Abe an evil stare, “If you insist on taking him in, I’m sure the police would be more than willing to look into this when they have real matters to deal with. And I will make sure the press is aware of this behavior.”

“As I said, these are serious accusations,” the District Attorney answered with a terrible calm as they studied Garroway. “I will need a statement from you, concerning Luke’s duties as your assistant and what you know of his movements this morning.”

“…Of course,” Garroway said, and even the District Attorney seemed surprised by her sudden change of tone. “I will be more than happy to share the chores I had him complete, and I am sure that everyone from the dry cleaner to the shop assistant will confirm his whereabouts. I am sure you have this ‘tainted coffee’ on hand to compare against Luke’s medicine?”

The District Attorney hesitated and Abe thought of the empty cup he tossed into the bin, its contents long dried up on the sidewalk outside of the Mayor’s office.

A cruel smile began to form around Garroway’s mouth. “Oh. Well, what about witnesses? You say this happened in a coffee shop, there must have been someone around to see this charade.”

Abe cleared his throat, but neither answered.

“I see. Then this should be a short visit, more than enough time to make some calls afterward. Do lead, Y/N, Abe. Luke, I promise I won’t count this against your hours if you remembered to pick up the burgundy ribbon from the shop the costume designer’s been begging for.”

“Of course, ma’am, it’s in the bag with the rolls of fabric he ordered.”

“Lovely. Well? I don’t have all day here. There’s a new show starting in two weeks, we have things to do.”

The District Attorney clapped a hand on Luke’s shoulder and said, “As you wish.”

Except there was no way in hell Abe was about to let these two leave on their terms. He wasn’t sure what came over him, whether it was the tone of Garroway’s voice or the sneer on the face of the assistant when he caught his eye, but Abe’s mouth always had a tendency of running away and leaving the rest of him to catch up.

“Hold on a second there,” Abe said, his hand already digging in a pocket of his great coat, past the rummage sale worth of odds and ends that he found useful on the job until he came across something he picked up special for dealing with cases like this one. “I want those hands where I can see them.”

The District Attorney tensed at the sight of the silver handcuffs he pulled out of his pocket with a flourish, but before they could say anything, he had already slapped them on the wrists of the assistant.

Luke immediately screamed and dropped to the floor, his body curling in on the cuffs.

“Get those off!” Garroway screamed, almost matching the noise coming from the young man. She grabbed the collar of the stunned District Attorney and shook them when they failed to move. “Get them off him, right now!”

“Stop thrashing,” Abe growled, already trying to use his key to unlock the cuffs but struggling to get it in the lock. “I said, DON’T MOVE!”

The second the cuffs were off, Luke had both hands buried against his chest under his shaking arms and he sat there rocking back and forth on the ground, tears still streaming from his eyes.

“What did you do to him?” Garroway asked, her voice low and accusing as she moved between the two of them. “What was that?”

“Just silver,” Abe said, holding the handcuffs up for inspection. “Partner, call this in. We’re going to need more than just the two of us to bring him in.”

“I don’t…” The District Attorney stared at Luke and the hand cuffs, their expression confused.

“Did you hear me? Call the station or I’ll do it!” Abe didn’t mean for the command to come out as harsh as it did, or expect them to flinch away when he moved closer.

This wasn’t what he expected either, and as he went to the phone he could hear Garroway’s voice speaking to the District Attorney, the disbelief and condescension in her tone at the very hint of the accusation.

“You know this isn’t right, Y/N,” he could hear her say as he waited to be taken off hold long enough to explain what was going on. “I’ve known Luke for years, he’s not some monster. But of course, he would find a werewolf just when it suits him. There’s no way Luke could have been involved in the murders, we have dozens of witnesses who will stand for him while you waste your time with this hunter.”

“…We have to check every lead, Ms. Garroway. I’m sure you will still be willing to accompany Luke to the station?”

“And after that to the press,” she said, but Abe couldn’t hear the rest of her words, only the biting tone as he told the officers what to bring.

Luke showed no signs of resisting when the dozen officers arrived and walked him out, but that was no guarantee he wouldn’t try something halfway to the station. Abe watched them walk him out to the vehicle with Garroway walking in step and evidently ready to ride in the back with him, yammering all the way about wanting to make sure nothing happened to her assistant like he wasn’t the most dangerous thing in this vehicle.

Halfway down the steps, the District Attorney stopped short, letting the rest of the group go ahead.

“You okay there?” Abe asked when he noticed they weren’t following. “Come on, you should be there for the questioning.”

“Something about this doesn’t feel right,” they said softly.

“Look, he wasn’t on our radar. It happens. But working for Garroway would explain how he knew the other victims, and he could have used her connections and said whatever he needed to get into each of the houses.”

“But why? What’s the motive?” they asked.

“What motive? He’s a werewolf, that’s all the motivation he needs!”

Yeah, he probably shouldn’t have shouted that in the middle of the street. Every single officer there shot him a dirty look while the whispers started in the crowd already gathered to watch the spectacle, but none of them gave him the stare that the District Attorney did before they turned to one of the officers in charge and began asking him about Franklin and sending a guard detail to the hospital to keep an eye on him.

“Y/N,” Abe said, and when they ignored him, “Partner, I—”

“Not your partner,” they interrupted, turning on him in an instant once the officer agreed. “You go with them, question Luke and Garroway, see what you can get out of them. I’m going to stay here and see what I can find, compare everything back at my office to see what we missed. Because we’ve missed something, Abe, and I want to know what that is before this goes any farther.”

“…Sure,” Abe said, biting back what he wanted to say. He understood the DA’s frustration, the need for all the little pieces to fit together nice and neat even if he didn’t agree with it. They would see soon enough that the case was over. They could all go home, once the wolf was taken care of.

((Thank you for reading!

Here’s the link to Part 7.

Tagging: @silver-owl413 @skyewardlight @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @purpstraw @weirdfoxalley @95fangirl @lilalovesinternet-l @thepoolofthedead @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @geekymushroom @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-anxiety-blog @shyinspiredartist @avispate ))

#markiplier #fanfiction #werewolf au #monster hunter au #wkm detective #wkm da #red herring

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magpiedminx · 4 years

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From above : PSA on Britney Spears and the #FreeBritney movement for anyone that needs or wants more information on what is going on with her. It’s a fucking rabbit hole, so buckle up. A little backstory first. Britney was a child star starting at the age of 4 years old on Broadway, and then worked her way to the Mickey Mouse Club, and eventually the solo career we know today. Her career has been on autopilot her entire life. If you look back at her music, she’s been telling everyone for years she’s too controlled and treated as a product if you listen to the lyrics of most of her hits. Examples include: Lucky, Overprotected, My Perogative, Circus, Piece of Me and Gimme More. Her music videos, social media posts, tour props and photoshoots regularly show her in a cage or in chains. If anyone has ever seen videos of her when she was younger, you’d know her REAL singing voice is very similar to Christina Aguilera’s. Her record label didn’t like it, as they were both on the Mickey Mouse Club and about to release their debut albums at the same time. So they had her voice retrained to sing in the baby voice we all know today because they believed it to be more iconic and would create a brand and career for her instead of her real voice. It’s unhealthy, and it’s been destroying her voice over the years, thus why she is known for lip syncing. She wanted to make an acoustic type pop album in 2006 titled Original Doll and reinvent herself using her real voice. The album was shelved and cancelled once her label realized she would be singing in her real voice. She isn’t allowed to sing live because she will either fail terribly, or she’ll have to sing in her deep voice that she isn’t known for. Her entire career she has been treated like a product meant to sell. Now, for the real tea. Everyone remembers the 2007 meltdown. Everyone. Leading up the meltdown Britney was going thru a public divorce, had two children under the age of 2 at the time and was VERY much the focus of the public. We all saw her on every magazine cover. We all also saw the photo of her with one of her kids on her lap while driving. Go on YouTube once and look up ‘Britney Spears paparazzi’. You’ll watch her be chased and followed by hundreds of them, even trying to get into a public restroom to photograph her, videotaping her in tears asking them to leave her alone, and even filming her thru the windows of an ambulance while she was naked being taken away for her final mental health hold. After the public meltdown, shaving her head, locking herself in her home with her children, speaking in a british accent on regular basis, wearing the imfamous pink wig everywhere, and shopping naked, she was hospitalized twice. After the hospitalization, her father petitioned the courts to be a TEMPORARY conservator to her until she was mentally stable and for only one years time. 2 months after her hospitalization she did a guest appearance on How I Met Your Mother. 6 months after her hospitalization, she drops the Womanizer video and starts to promote her new album Circus with its worldwide tour that grossed $131.8 million. If she’s so unwell, why did she start working right away? Her father after one year petitioned the courts for the conservatorship to become permanent due to her ALLEGEDLY having EARLY ONSET DEMENTIA in her TWENTIES. It passed and has been that way ever since. For 12 years to be exact. Now for everyone that doesn’t understand what that means let me break it down for you. Britney Spears is a now 38 year old woman who is not allowed to do the following without her fathers permission or he can legally lock her up in a mental health facility: • drive a car • vote • get married • have children • spend HER OWN MONEY • see how her money is being spent • see her children (she has 30% custody of both of her boys due to her dad assaulting one of her sons) • leave her home • hire her own lawyer • have any control over her career • speak about the conservatorship publicly • do interviews that aren’t scripted and all final cuts are approved by her father as well • use a cell phone without being monitored • use social media unmonitored • contact ANYONE without being monitored or having them extremely vetted. (Iggy Azalea allegedly had her house searched for drugs top to bottom when they collaborated on a song together) • go shopping • go for a walk • get Starbucks A conservatorship is meant for people with mental health issues or decaying health. Most likely grandparents or people with actual dementia etc. They are meant for people who literally cannot take care of themselves. If she is so unwell that she isn’t mentally capable of doing anything for herself, why is she still working? Since the conservatorship began 12 years ago she has: • released 4 albums • done 3 worldwide tours • did a FOUR-year Vegas residency • was a full time judge on X-Factor • released multiple perfumes and a lingerie line • made $138 MILLION DOLLARS or so A YEAR In January of last year, Britney was placed in a mental health facility for 3 months after being seen driving her car to In-N-Out with her boyfriend without permission and for refusing to take the sedating medications her father has doctors prescribing her to keep her under control. She testified to a judge in documents that she was held there against her will by her father. After it was leaked to the press that she was there against her will, the Free Britney movement picked up speed causing a judge to open an investigation into the impact and legality her conservatorship has on her life. Britney’s mother Lynn was also liking and commenting on Free Britney posts saying she agrees that Britney is trapped by her father. Britney’s team had Twitter disable the Free Britney hashtag, and regularly threatens any celebrity that speaks out using the hashtag with a lawsuit if they don’t remove their support for the movement. She was seen shortly after leaving a hotel thru the front door (99% of celebrities park underground to avoid paparazzi unless they WANT to be photographed) stumbling while carrying her shoes, and out of it. Her team used that moment to justify to the public that she needs this conservatorship. She is not allowed to have any say in the hiring or firing of anyone on her team. Every year she pays $1.1 million dollars in fees for the conservatorship to continue, including paying her father a solid $100k+ salary and paying a lawyer she isn’t allowed to choose. She is allowed an allowance of around $1,500 a week for bills, shopping and essentials. Her net worth is $250 million. So, when everyone sees her on Instagram walking up and down her hallways like it’s a fashion show. That’s all she is allowed to do. She has NEVER had control over her life. I don’t care if you personally like her or her music, NO ONE DESERVES THIS. All this woman wants is to see her children, make the music she wants to make, and go get a frappuccino in her car. She is a light of sunshine in this world, and we must protect her at all costs. So please, do not make fun of her, support the Free Britney movement, and send good vibes her way. She has a court date this month to review the conservatorship and decide if it is abusive or will continue to be in place. There are so many details to this that i left out that would make this post entirely much longer than it is, but a simple search will show you what else is out there. Spread this far and wide. ❤️ Free Britney Edited to add some important links! Here’s a google doc of info https://docs.google.com/document/d/17jeZV78SCwgQGsOkad0H0PA8jqjgRsxgSqD9f_f1yAk/edit Petition by Danny H: https://petitions.whitehouse.gov/petition/conservatorship-and-civil-liberties-britney-spears Screenshots of leaked emails, voicemails, and other helpful links: https://www.businessinsider.com/inside-britney-spears-conservatorship-freebritney-movement-2020-2 https://www.latimes.com/california/story/2019-09-17/britney-spears-conservatorship-free-britney https://www.forbes.com/sites/trialandheirs/2019/05/15/making-sense-of-the-britney-spears-conservatorship-and-freebritney/#5ce808c94b74 Jayden going on Instagram live reporting they were being abused by his grandfather: https://theblast.com/c/britney-spears-son-jayden-james-instagram-live-video-free-britney This is a news article from USA Today about her father’s child abuse allegations filed by Kevin Federline. He reportedly had an altercation with Sean in September 2019: https://www.google.com/amp/s/amp.usatoday.com/amp/2362531001 Source from the opposing view pointing to the success of her conservatorship and that fans are wrong, I think it's weird she has made no formal appearances to contest the conservatorship in court but she said (link above) we were not being told the truth and the media is being manipulated: https://www.usatoday.com/story/entertainment/celebrities/2019/10/24/britney-spears-why-does-she-still-need-conservator/2288009001/ There's a lot of money at stake to keep her in this situation. Just seems too convenient that she can't care for herself considering her net worth, and considering the fact her male counterparts of equal stardom with public mental health battles have never been under this much control. This is an issue and question of abuse in conservatorships at large. Unfortunately, the princess of Pop has somehow become the poster child of this type of crisis. While conservatorships can be beneficial when the best interest is at heart, we can't ignore the fact there are companies that profit enormously from people with disabilities by keeping them under extensive legal control. Are they providing the best care? If Britney has been too unwell to care for herself these past 12 years, why would she be made to work tirelessly? World tours? Vegas? X-factor? Her perfume line? Why not let her rest? Here's a good excerpt from Forbes, it's just not clear what is going on, but my initial gut thinks there is something that is not right. "In this case, Jamie Spears did not have legal authority to force Britney into treatment or to take psychiatric medications. But that doesn't mean that Britney's reported claim that she was held against her will is wrong. Rather, because Jamie has so much control over Britney's life through the conservatorship - including decisions like whether to get married, to perform or live in Las Vegas, or even if she can drive a car - he easily could have refused to grant consent for Britney to do any number of things unless she agreed to his request to enter the mental health treatment facility. In other words, Jamie could have indirectly forced her into treatment even if he could not explicitly sign her in against her will. But, even if Jamie Spears did so, he may have done it out of an earnest believe that Britney needed the treatment. TMZ previously reported that Britney was not doing well and her old course of medications stopped working, necessitating heightened treatment." Take what you will from this, but here are a few petitions to reinstate her rights in August is here - http://chng.it/CMfngqyMBj https://www.change.org/p/team-britney-freebritney

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anticipatingevaporation · 5 years

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Joker

I just came out of Joker, one of my most anticipated films of the year, and let me tell you. I have a lot of thoughts. Unfortunately they are frightfully mixed, so this is going to be part review, part me trying to work out exactly how I feel about this film…

So as a preface, I am both a DC fan and completely done with this superhero wave of films we’re somehow still stuck in. I haven’t gone to see the last 5 or so Marvel movies because I find they aren’t really doing anything innovative or new. They simply don’t appeal to me anymore. The only time I find myself interested in an upcoming superhero/comic book film is when I see it doing something new with the genre. Take the recent Spiderman: Into the Spiderverse, for example. The story structure, animation and choice to introduce Miles Morales was so intriguing to me, so I went to watch that film and loved it.

All of that being said, I was very excited to see Joker. I find the DC characters generally more interesting and complex and the dark tone this movie appeared to have really intrigued me.

Now I’m not a mega fan who has read every Batman comic, however I have read The Killing Joke, arguably the most famous one, and there is one quote in it that I kept coming back to. The Joker tells Batman “All it takes is one bad day to reduce the sanest man alive to lunacy. That’s how far the world is from where I am. Just one bad day.”

This film delves into that idea in a thought-provoking fashion. Here, we are introduced to Arthur Fleck, a man whose life is plagued with tragedy. This film asks the question of what it would take for a man like that to snap. It explores the society this man finds himself in and whether or not they are complicit in who he becomes.

Joker does many things well. Firstly, this film would be nothing without Joaquin Phoenix’s performance. He is magnetic in this role. At every single moment, there is that flicker in his eye that depicts a man on the edge of madness. It is equally unnerving and fascinating. When his transformation is complete I found myself genuinely perturbed and afraid. This Joker is frighteningly real. Phoenix is in almost every frame of the film, and I honestly think it would have fallen apart in the hands of a less talented actor. At one point he is just so phenomenal that I said out loud, “He’s winning the Oscar.” There is no doubt this will go down as one of Phoenix’s best performances among many. He’s just that good.

The lore surrounding Batman has been well documented since the 1930’s and depicted in multiple forms again and again and again. It has been done so many times that it’s easy to become tired and difficult to alter without angering a huge number of fans. Joker has an interesting take on this well known story; controversially giving the titular character, someone who has famously never had a true backstory, an origin. A big part of the Joker’s character was the fact that it was never made clear what pushed him to become who he is. While some storylines suggested it, it has never been outright stated.

In director Todd Phillip’s adaptation, it is a cruel society that creates the Joker, thereby making everyone around him complicit in his downfall. It asks some very interesting questions about mental health and how those suffering are treated in society, particularly the lack of compassion people tend to have towards the mentally ill.

It also discusses class divides and the blatant disregard the 1% seem to have for the 99%, effectively creating a different interpretation of the famous Wayne family that I found very interesting and not an unbelievable stretch to take.

The score is also fantastic: a haunting string melody that is perfectly used to underscore the poignant moments of the film. The soundtrack is just as great; music is well placed to keep you in the world and highlight that 80’s timeframe.

I also loved the Joker’s look in this film. His suit and makeup are brilliant, the hairstyling and the way he walks. Right down to the laugh and why he laughs, a unique and brilliant choice this film makes. Everything about this character screamed the Joker. However it never felt like an imitation of a version of this character we had already seen. It was remarkably unique while also staying very true to the character. When Phoenix walks down the hallway, flowers in hand, you know it’s the Joker, but it’s also Phoenix’s Joker. He makes the character very much his own while encapsulating what it means to be the Joker. (More than can be said for some... other recent adaptations.)

However I don’t think I loved this film as a whole. That being said I think this is certainly a film that makes you think about it for a while and this opinion may very well change in a day, or a week or upon repeat viewing. But based on this first watch, I think my issues with this film lie with the plot itself.

I think while I loved the individual elements of the story, and the character, performances, style and tone, I didn’t feel they all connected smoothly and cohesively all the time. At times it felt like a series of brilliant moments that lacked connective tissue melding them together. That being said, I’m really glad to see a film that doesn’t feel pressure to give you all the answers all the time. Some plot points are deliberately left unclear, which leaves room for debate and falls firmly in line with the Joker’s famous lack of backstory.

The plot itself had numerous twists and misdirects that left me genuinely shocked and on the edge of my seat throughout. I like that it left me guessing. I couldn’t predict what was coming next.

My biggest issue with this film is that it is very direct and clear with its themes. In that it lacks subtlety at times. One of my biggest pet peeves in movies is dialogue that sounds clunky and unrealistic. There was more than one instance of heavy handed and on the nose dialogue to be found here. Particularly during a climactic scene that took me out of the film for a bit.

When I say the film is direct and clear with its themes, I mean that there are clear bad and good lines being drawn. So while the cruel and unforgiving society is the impetus for Arthur Fleck’s transformation into Joker, it often felt like everything was going wrong for him, in order to justify his evil turn. Bad thing after bad thing kept happening to him to the point of absurdity. I understand that the point is to show Gotham as a nightmare place to be, but when Arthur gets beaten up for the 3rd or so time, it started to feel ridiculous and excessive.

Every single person in Arthur’s life treats him poorly. There is no compassion to be found anywhere for this man. Which makes his turn understandable but the world to be somewhat unrealistic and extremely grim. I personally find the morally grey far more fascinating than the straight up black. So I felt at moments that if this dark world was given more complexity, more twisted corruption as opposed to point blank awfulness, it would feel more realistic and that much more upsetting.

I think Phillips was just scratching the surface with what he could do with this world and I would like to see it delved into deeper, to expose what other horrors Gotham contains.

This film has gone through quite a bit of controversy for the violence and potential message it could spread. While I completely understand the possible criticism that this film simply gives those who are already unstable and wanting to incite violence a justification for their actions and an example to emulate, I have to say that:

It is not the onus of a filmmaker or artist to deliver a “positive message” through their art. It is to make their audience think, to influence their emotions and perhaps make them reconsider how they see the world. It is simply ridiculous to hold an artist responsible for how audiences respond to their art.

Joker, while a compelling character to watch, is never framed as a hero. He is a legitimately frightening individual whose life is never painted as something to strive towards. This is a troubled individual’s story and it is horrifying to watch.

In the end, despite the small problems I had with the film (I don’t think I loved it), it definitely made me think. I love this angle being taken towards DC characters. It is high time Warner Bros. understand that this is the treatment these characters need. Poorly emulating something else disappoints everyone. This film is doing so well because it is depicting this character in the way he should be shown.

These dark, gritty and realistic takes on comic book characters are far more intriguing to me. They make the viewer think about the society they live in, the injustices that are occurring and what we can do to put an end to them. This is where comic book stories shine, when they make us consider our own world in a new light.

While I didn’t completely love Joker, or instantly think it my favourite film, I haven’t stopped thinking about it since the credits rolled. And I think that is the type of film we need in the comic book space. One that makes us think, discuss and debate.

I’m starting to think that Joker didn’t give me what I wanted, but perhaps it’s what I needed…

#long review sorry not sorry #I still feel like there's so much to say abt this film #testament to the quality i guess #hmmm interesting #enjoy!#Joker #My Review #Joaquin Phoenix #DC

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loretranscripts · 4 years

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Lore Episode 32: Tampered (Transcript) - 18th April, 2016

tw: none

Disclaimer: This transcript is entirely non-profit and fan-made. All credit for this content goes to Aaron Mahnke, creator of Lore podcast. It is by a fan, for fans, and meant to make the content of the podcast more accessible to all. Also, there may be mistakes, despite rigorous re-reading on my part. Feel free to point them out, but please be nice!

I grew up watching a television show called MacGyver. If you’ve never had that chance to watch this icon of the 80s, do yourself a favour and give it a try. Sure, the clothes are outdated and the hair… oh my gosh, the hair. But aside from all the bits that didn’t age well, MacMullet and his trusty pocket knife managed to capture my imagination forever. Part of it was the adventure, part of it was the character of the man himself – I mean, the guy was essentially a spy who hated guns, played hockey and lived on a houseboat. But hovering above all those elements was the true core of the show. This man could make anything if his life depended on it. As humans, we have this innate drive inside ourselves to make things. This is how we managed to create things like the wheel, or stone tools and weapons. Our tendency towards technology pulled our ancient ancestors out of the Stone Age and into a more civilised world. Maybe for some of us, MacGyver represented what we wanted to achieve: complete mastery of our own world. But life is rarely that simple, and however hard we try to get our minds and hands around this world we want to rule, some things just slip through the cracks. Accidents happen. Ideas and concepts still allude our limited minds. We’re human, after all, not gods. So, when things go wrong, when our plans fall apart or our expectations fail to be met, we have this sense of pride that often refuses to admit defeat. So, we blame others, and when that doesn’t work, we look elsewhere for answers, and no realm holds more explanation for the unexplainable than folklore. 400 years ago, when women refused to follow the rules of society, they were labelled a witch. When Irish children failed to thrive it was because, of course, because they were a changeling. We’re good at excuses. So, when our ancestors found something broken or out of place, there was a very simple explanation – someone, or something, had tampered with it. I’m Aaron Mahnke, and this is Lore.

The idea of meddlesome creatures isn’t new to us. All around the world, we can find centuries-old folklore that speaks of creatures with a habit of getting in the way and making life difficult for humans. It’s an idea that seems to transcend borders and background, language and time. Some would say that it’s far too coincidental for all these stories of mischief-causing creatures to emerge in places separated by thousands of miles and vast oceans. The púca of Ireland and the ebu gogo of Indonesia are great examples of this – legends that seem to have no reason for their eerie similarities. Both legends speak of small, humanoid creatures that steal food and children, both recommend not making them angry, and both describe their creatures as intrusive pranksters. To many, the evidence is just too indisputable to ignore. Others would say it’s not coincidence at all, merely a product of human nature. We want to believe there’s something out there causing the problems we experience every day. So, of course, nearly every culture in the world has invented a scapegoat. This scapegoat would have to be small to avoid discovery, and they need respect because we’re afraid of what they can do. To a cultural anthropologist, it’s nothing more than logical evolution. Many European folktales include this universal archetype in the form of nature spirits, and much of it can be traced back to the idea of the daemon.

It’s an old word and concept, coming to us from the Greeks. In essence, a daemon is an otherworldly spirit that causes trouble. The root word, daomai, literally means to cut or divide. In many ways, it’s an ancient version of an excuse. If your horse was spooked while you were out for a ride, you’d probably blame it on a daemon. Ancient Minoans believed in them, and in the day of the Greek poet Homer, people would blame their illnesses on them. The daemon, in many ways, was fate. If it happened to you, there was a reason, and it was probably one of these little things that caused it. But over time, the daemon took on more and more names. Arab folklore has the djinn, Romans spoke of a personal companion known as the genius, in Japan, they tell tales of the kami, and Germanic cultures mention fylgja. The stories and names might be unique to each culture, but the core of them all is the same. There’s something interfering with humanity, and we don’t like it.

For the majority of the English-speaking world, the most common creature of this type in folklore, hands down, is the goblin. It’s not an ancient word, most likely originating from the middle ages, but it’s the one that’s front and centre in most of our minds, and from the start it’s been a creature associated with bad behaviour. A legend from the 10th century tells of how the first Catholic bishop of Évreux in France faced a daemon known to the locals there as Gobelinus. Why that name, though, is hard to trace. The best theory goes something like this: there’s a Greek myth about a creature named kobalos, who loved to trick and frighten people. That story influenced other cultures across Europe prior to Christianity’s spread, creating the notion of the kobold in ancient Germany. That word was most likely to root of the word goblin. Kobold, gobold, gobolin – you can practically hear it evolve. The root word of kobold is kobe, which literally means “beneath the earth”, or “cavity in a rock”. We get the English word “cove” from the same root, and so naturally kobolds and their English counterparts, the goblins, are said to live in caves underground, and if that reminds you of dwarves from fantasy literature, you’re closer than you think. The physical appearance of goblins in folklore vary greatly, but the common description is that they are dwarf-like creatures. They cause trouble, are known to steal, and they have tendency to break things and make life difficult. Because of this, people in Europe would put carvings of goblins in their homes to ward off the real thing. In fact, here’s something really crazy. Medieval door-knockers were often carved to resemble the faces of daemons or goblins, and it’s most likely purely coincidental, but in Welsh folklore, goblins are called coblyn, or more commonly, knockers. My point is this: for thousands of years, people have suspected that all of their misfortune could be blamed on small, meddlesome creatures. They feared them, told stories about them, and tried their best to protect their homes from them. But for all that time, they seemed like nothing more than story. In the early 20th century, though, people started to report actual sightings, and not just anyone. These sightings were documented by trained, respected military heroes. Pilots.

When the Wright brothers took their first controlled flight in December of 1903, it seemed like a revelation. It’s hard to imagine it today, but there was a time when flight wasn’t assumed as a method of travel. So, when Wilbur spent three full seconds in the air that day, he and his brother, Orville, did something else: they changed the way we think about our world. And however long it took humans to create and perfect the art of controllable, mechanical flight, once the cat was out of the bag, it bolted into the future without ever looking back. Within just nine years, someone had managed to mount a machine gun onto one of these primitive aeroplanes. Because of that, when the First World War broke out just two years later, military combat had a new element. Of course, guns weren’t the only weapon a plane could utilise, though. The very first aeroplane brought down in combat was an Austrian plane, which was literally rammed by a Russian pilot. Both pilots died after the wreckage plummeted to the ground below. It wasn’t the most efficient method of air combat, but it was a start. Clearly, we’ve spent the many decades since getting very, very good at it. Unfortunately, though, there have been more reasons for combat disasters than machine gun bullets and suicidal pilots, and one of the most unique and mysterious of those causes first appeared in British newspapers. In an article from the early 1900s, it was said that, and I quote, “the newly constituted royal air force in 1918 appears to have detected the existence of a hoard of mysterious and malicious sprites, whose sole purpose in life was to bring about as many as possible of the inexplicable mishaps which, in those days as now, trouble an airman’s life.” The description didn’t feature a name, but that was soon to follow. Some experts think that we can find roots of it in the old English word gremian, which means “to vex” or “to annoy”. It fits the behaviour of the creatures to the letter, and because of that they have been known from the beginning as gremlins.

Now, before we move forward, it might be helpful to take care of your memories of the 1984 classic film by the same name. I grew up in the 80s, and Gremlins was a fantastic bit of eye candy for my young, horror-loving mind, but the truth of the legend has little resemblance to the version that you and I witnessed on the big screen. The gremlins of folklore, at least the stories that came out of the early 20th century that is, describe the ancient stereotypical daemon, but with a twist. Yes, they were said to be small, ranging anywhere from six inches to three feet in height, and yes, they could appear and disappear at will, causing mischief and trouble wherever they went. But in addition, these modern versions of the legendary goblin seem to possess a supernatural grasp of human technology. In 1923, a British pilot was flying over open water when his engine stalled. He miraculously survived the crash into the sea and was rescued shortly after that. When he was safely aboard the rescue vessel, the pilot was quick to explain what had happened. Tiny creatures, he claimed, had appeared on the plane. Whether they appeared out of nowhere or smuggled themselves aboard prior to take-off, the pilot wasn’t sure. However they got there, he said that they proceeded to tamper with the plane’s engine and flight controls, and without power or control, he was left to drop helplessly into the sea.

These reports were infrequent in the 1920s, but as the world moved into the Second World War and the number of planes in the sky began to grow exponentially, more and more stories seemed to follow – small, troublesome creatures who had an almost supernatural ability to hold on to moving aircraft, and while they were there, to do damage and to cause accidents. In some cases, they were even cited inside planes, among the crew and cargo. Stories, as we’ve seen so many times before, have a tendency to spread like disease. Oftentimes, that’s because of fear, but sometimes it’s because of truth, and the trouble is in figuring out where to draw that line, and that line kept moving as the sightings were reported outside the British ranks. Pilots on the German side also reported seeing creatures during flights, as did some in India, Malta and the Middle East. Some might chalk these stories up to hallucinations, or a bit of pre-flight drinking. There are certainly a lot of stories of World War Two pilots climbing into the cockpit after a night of romancing the bottle – and who can blame them? In many cases, these pilots were going to their death, with a 20% chance of never coming back from a mission alive. But there are far too many reports to blame it all on drunkenness or delirium. Something unusual was happening to planes all throughout the Second World War, and with folklore as a lens, some of the reports are downright eerie. In 2014, a 92-year-old World War Two veteran from Jonesborough, Arkansas came forward to tell a story he had kept to himself for seven decades. He’d been a B-17 pilot during the war, one of the legendary flying fortresses that helped allied air forces carry out successful missions over Nazi territory, and it was on one of those missions that this man experienced something that, until recently, he had kept to himself. The pilot, who chose to identify himself with the initials L.W., spoke of how he was a 22-year-old flight commander on the B-17, when something very unusual happened on a combat mission in 1944. He described how, as he brought the aircraft to a higher altitude, the plane began to make strange noises. That wasn’t completely unusual, as the B-17 is an absolutely enormous plane and sometimes turbulence can rattle the structure, but he checked his instrument panel out of habit. According to his story, the instruments seemed broken and confused.

Looking for an answer to the mystery, he glanced out the right-side window, and then froze. There, outside the glass of the cockpit window, was the face of a small creature. The pilot described it as about three feet tall with red eyes and sharp teeth. The ears, he said, were almost owl-like, and its skin was grey and hairless. He looked back toward the front and noticed a second creature, this one moving along the nose of the aircraft. He said it was dancing and hammering away at the metal body of the plane. He immediately assumed he was hallucinating. I can picture him rubbing his eyes and blinking repeatedly like some old Loony Toons film. But according to him, he was as sharp and alert as ever. Whatever it was that he witnessed outside the body of the plane, he said that he managed to shake them off with a bit of “fancy flying”, and that’s his term, not mine. But while the creatures themselves might have vanished, the memory of them would haunt him for the rest of his life. He told only one person afterwards, a gunner on another B-17, but rather than laugh at him his friend acknowledged that he, too, had seen similar creatures on a flight just the day before.

Years prior, in the summer of 1939, an earlier encounter was reported, this time in the Pacific. According to the account, a transport plane took off from the airbase in San Diego in the middle of the afternoon and headed toward Hawaii. Onboard were 13 marines, some of whom were crew of the plane and others were passengers – it was a transport, after all. About halfway through the flight, whilst still over the vast expanse of the blue Pacific, the transport issued a distress signal. After that, the signal stopped, as did all other forms of communication. It was as if the plane had simply gone silent and then vanished, which made it all the more surprising when it reappeared later, outside the San Diego airfield and prepared for landing. But the landing didn’t seem right. The plane came in too fast, it bounced on the runway in rough, haphazard ways, and then finally came to a dramatic emergency stop. Crew on the runway immediately understood why, too – the exterior of the aircraft was extensively damaged, some said it looked like bombs had ripped apart the metal skin of the transport. It was a miracle, they said, that the thing even landed at all. When no one exited the plane to greet them, they opened it up themselves and stepped inside, only to be met with a scene of horror and chaos.

Inside, they discovered the bodies of 12 of the 13 passengers and crew. Each seemed to have died from the same types of wounds, large, vicious cuts and injuries that almost seemed to have originated from a wild animal. Added to that, the interior of the transport smelled horribly of sulphur and the acrid odour of blood. To complicate matters, empty shell casings were found scattered about the interior of the cockpit. The pistols responsible, belonging to the pilot and co-pilot, were found on the floor near their feet, completely spent. 12 men were found, but there was a thirteenth. The co-pilot had managed to stay conscious despite his extensive injuries, just long enough to land the transport at the base. He was alive but unresponsive when they found him, and quickly removed him for emergency medical care. Sadly, the man died a short while later. He never had the chance to report what happened.

Stories of the gremlins have stuck around in the decades since, but they live mostly in the past. Today they are mentioned more like a personified Murphy’s Law, muttered as a humorous superstition by modern pilots. I get the feeling that the persistence of the folklore is due more to its place as a cultural habit than anything else. We can ponder why, I suppose. Why would sightings stop after World War II? Some think it’s because of advancements in aeroplane technology: stronger structures, faster flight speeds, and higher altitudes. The assumption is that, sure, gremlins could hold on to our planes, but maybe we’ve gotten so fast that even that’s become impossible for them. The other answer could just be that the world has left those childhood tales of little creatures behind. We’ve moved beyond belief now. We’ve outgrown it. We know a lot more than we used to, after all, and to our thoroughly modern minds these stories of gremlins sound like just so much fantasy. Whatever reason you subscribe to, it’s important to remember that many people have believed with all their being that gremlins are real, factual creatures, people we would respect and believe.

In 1927, a pilot was over the Atlantic in a plane that, by today’s standards, would be considered primitive. He was alone, and he had been in the air for a very long time but was startled to discover that there were creatures in the cockpit with him. He described them as small, vaporous beings with a strange, otherworldly appearance. The pilot claimed that these creatures spoke to him and kept him alert in a moment when he was overly tired and passed the edge of exhaustion. They helped with the navigation for his journey and even adjusted some of his equipment. This was a rare account of gremlins who were benevolent rather than meddlesome or hostile. Even still, this pilot was so worried about what the public might think of his experience that he kept the details to himself for over 25 years. In 1953, this pilot included the experience in a memoir of his flight. It was a historic journey, after all, and recording it properly required honesty and transparency. The book, you see, was called The Spirit of St. Louis, and the man was more than just a pilot. He was a military officer, an explore, an inventor, and on top of all of that he was also a national hero because of his successful flight from New York to Paris – the first man to do so, in fact. This man, of course, was Charles Lindbergh.

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