#comes across totally different since it's significantly more familiar

[kitsunabi]

All the scans from the last day of the competition! We got some good scans this time! (and a bonus from the cutscene with Alhaitham since it pairs with Kaveh's thoughts perfectly lol)

#genshin impact #a parade of providence #indeed paimon... all's well that ends well #i was SO SAD that I was not given the opportunity to scan Nahida with Nahida pls mhy let me have my moment #like I mentioned in a previous post you are missing out how adorable nahida is whenever she brings up A-Mao as opposed to Hat Guy it really #comes across totally different since it's significantly more familiar #don't forget to do the bonus unvoiced sidequest!!! it leads to a last voiced encounter with kaveh #if you don't share the truth with him you get an encounter between the 2 roomies instead

[frozenjokes]

Signing Off - 5 (Finale)

Prev

SCAR

“Good. Now stay dead. ”

Scar huffed over Grian’s corpse, leaning to put his bloodied hands on his knees. He didn’t believe in ghosts. Never had! A haunted ship? Nonsense! Yeah, sure, that door on your rocking boat didn’t just close by itself, a ghost did it . Drunkards in taverns loved ghost stories, and listen, Scar was always happy to indulge, but he didn’t actually buy into it. There was no afterlife. No paranormal plane. He glared at Grian’s broken body, a small smile creeping across his face when nothing glowed or moved. As it should be. Grian had died the way he wanted after all, no need to come back and-

As Scar turned to leave, he found himself face to face with definitely-not-a-ghost Pearl. He gasped, backpedaling past Grian’s body, but Pearl set her teeth in a grim snarl, lunging forward. Scar covered his face as a wave of cold passed through him, unwilling to entertain these damn hallucinations any longer. He waited, giving his mind time to relax, then opened his eyes to no ethereal bodies. Scar let out a long breath. Good. He had a sinking ship to abandon. A hefty lurch of the boat and the increasing incline of the ground reminded him he was running out of time. With one last glance at Grian’s corpse, he carefully made his way back to the captain’s quarters.

There were pros and cons to a giant pillar falling directly through your bedroom, but most annoying being that his stuff was everywhere. Scar scanned the dark room for his hat, but mostly ended up feeling around until he ran into something. Eventually, he found it tucked behind his bed. Scar squinted as he touched it, and pulled it up. This wasn’t..

He screamed as something brushed between his legs, jumping up and landing on his bed. After a moment of wild searching for any ghosts hallucinations, Jellie jumped into his lap, meowing discontentedly.

“Oh,” Scar relaxed, only remembering to be angry a moment later, “Hey! I know you don’t like your crate, but I told you it was dangerous! You’d think after I put you back the second time you’d stay put. Bad cat.”

“Mow.”

“Well fine. Any idea how this got in here then?” Scar held up Mumbo’s hat, which he had thought he saw drift overboard during Mumbo’s fall. Jellie sniffed it, then leaned down to groom her belly.

“Right? It’s totally weird. Must not have closed my door all the way. Have you seen mine by chance?”

Jellie sneezed as her own fur went up her nose.

“Guess I’m on my own then.” Scar lifted her gently off his lap and set her down on the bed, picking up his cracked lantern off the floor. “Should help.”

Scar’s breath left him as the room was illuminated. Pearl’s hat, sitting on his splinted desk. Grian’s, hung on the shelf. Even Impulse’s bandana was there, resting in form on the pillar that had split his room in two. Scar backed toward the entryway, dropping Mumbo’s hat.

“Who is here? Who is on my ship? ” Scar’s voice crescendoed as he whipped his head around, grasping for his sword. “Stay, Jellie.” He slammed his chamber door closed. The rain had let up significantly since his fight with Grian, but the remaining mist had risen up, obscuring his vision. He held his lantern forward, eyes narrowed. The creaking wood was the only answer to his call, the labored breathing of his dying ship. Scar slid forward, nearly tripping over himself as he scrambled to his dinghy; his escape vessel. It was still there, right where he’d left it. Whoever was here with him apparently didn’t have any intention of leaving. But had they sabotaged it? Scar didn’t see anything different. He froze as a familiar cold slid over his back, gripping the edge of his dinghy with a veined fist.

“Leave. Me. Alone.” He couldn’t bring himself to turn around. Not yet. “This is your last chance,” his voice cracked as the cold reverberated through his back once again, stronger now. He closed his eyes, slowly moving a hand back to his sword’s hilt. “I’m not giving any more warnings!” All he heard was static. When the cold returned, he whipped his lantern around followed quickly by his sword. When he hit nothing, he lunged forward again, and again and- he gasped as the ship lurched, throwing him to the slick wood floor where the splintered ground gouged his face and hands. Scar cried out, reaching out for the sword he had dropped, but there was nothing there. His hand flashed to his holster, but his gun had gone as well. And his dagger.

“Come on then!” He screamed, pushing himself to his feet in fog that was impossibly thick. Scar lifted his bloodied fists, but choked that air that felt like water. And then it was water, and pressure, and his body-cracking?- and his throat-

Scar felt soft fur beneath his hand. He squeezed. Jellie meowed. He stopped. He opened his eyes. His room. His bed. Jellie in his lap. No hats.

“Well then! I think it’s time to go!” Scar stood, scooping Jellie up in his arms. She wriggled, meowing in protest, but with some panic, he adjusted to make her as comfortable as possible, “Come on, I need you right now, I just had some sort of seizure or stroke or something- cut me some slack-“

Scar carried her to the dinghy in a world significantly less foggy, relieved to see Jellie sit still once he set her inside. He did not go back for any of his belongings. He didn’t even turn around. Get the dinghy in the water. Get in. Get out. Maybe he was so focused on those three things, it didn’t occur to him it was weird for Jellie to be purring so loud when no one was there. It was only when he reached for the oars on the rocky water that he saw the hats. All of them, even his. He stood up immediately, an exceedingly bad idea, because when he saw Grian with Jellie, he fell backwards off the boat.

Scar gasped for air as he surfaced from the salty water, body shocked stiff from the freezing cold. He set his brow, forcing his arms and legs to propel himself forward. Getting back in without capsizing was a challenge, but one he’d had to overcome many times in the past. Scar clambered inside, collapsing in the bowl. When he opened his eyes, he saw four faces staring back down. He couldn’t hear them, but it was apparent they were all laughing.

“Get! Come on! Get out of here!” he yelled, sitting up to swat at Impulse and Pearl, and then Mumbo and Grian. His hallucinations seemed to find this extra funny, especially Grian, who fell backward off his seat, legs kicking. When Scar stood angrily over him, he found Jellie at his side, purring as Grian pet her. No. That was stupid. Hallucinations can’t pet cats. Ghosts can’t pet cats. Regardless, Jellie seemed to be enjoying herself.

“Alright, enough of that.” Scar picked Jellie up, cradling her in his arms, “I’m going to close my eyes, and all of you and your damn hats are going to be gone. ” Scar firmly shut his eyes, furrowing his brow, but when he opened them, nothing had changed. Well, except for the small purple rift that had surfaced in the water, moving beside the dinghy as if the waves didn’t affect it at all.

“Hey! No! Jellie!” Scar wailed as Jellie jumped from his arms, rocking the boat lightly as she landed, “You can’t leave me with them! I know you aren’t a fan of the smaller boats, but can’t you just do this for me?”

Apparently not. Jellies licked a paw, and after curling it around her ear and giving Scar a slow blink, she leapt into the rift, the portal closing behind her.

“Augh! Cats!” Scar plopped down where Grian had been before, passing directly through his legs.

‘Cats.’ Scar was pretty sure the others said, but he couldn’t know for sure. He put his head in his hands, groaning. If these hallucinations weren’t going to leave, it was going to be a long trip to land. Scar rubbed his face, slowly removing his hands from over his eyes to see his sinking ship as it got further and further away. His gaze wandered to the hats, all stacked neatly at the head of the boat and swaying with the waves. Maybe he was stuck with them, too. He didn’t want to think too hard about it. He closed his eyes again. Whatever had happened.. after Grian.. was impossible. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. But he still didn’t have his gun, or his sword, or his dagger. And, well, he didn’t have a mirror, but somehow he knew he had a couple new scars.

#hermitcraft #grian #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #gtwscar #impulsesv #pearlescentmoon #mumbo jumbo #pirates smp #p!scar #boatem #boatemghostsau

[packernet]

New Post has been published on https://www.packernet.com/blog/2024/01/15/betting-on-the-nfl-dos-and-donts/

Betting on the NFL: Dos and Don'ts

t’s no secret that football is one of the most if not the most popular sport across the U.S. As such, the National Football League (NFL) has seen soaring popularity over the years both in coverage and in betting on matches. This is especially true since the The Professional and Amateur Sports Protection Act of 1992 has been deemed unconstitutional by the U.S. Supreme Court and now every state has the right to legalize and regulate gambling as they see fit.

As you might imagine, betting on NFL has skyrocketed since then. That being said, there are many beginners who wish to place a wager or two now that they can but they’re unfamiliar with how things are done properly. Worry not, you’ll learn the ropes in no time. So let’s go over some wagering tips regarding betting on NFL, as well as things you should or shouldn’t do in your gambling endeavors.

Understanding the NFL Betting Market

Before diving into NFL wagering, it’s crucial to have a good understanding of the betting market. The NFL wagering market is vast and offers a wide range of options, including point spreads, moneylines and over/under totals as an example of possible bets and odds you may consider. It’s important to familiarize yourself with these different types of bets and understand how they work.

Additionally, it’s essential to keep an eye on the odds and lines offered by different sportsbooks. Shopping around for the best odds can significantly impact the way you do things. Comparing odds from multiple sportsbooks will ensure that you are getting the best value for your bets. This is why research is of the utmost importance before you decide to place a bet or two on your favourite team or match.

Common Mistakes to Avoid when Betting on the NFL

When it comes to wagering on the NFL, there are several common mistakes that bettors should avoid. One of the most significant mistakes is wagering with your heart instead of your head. It’s essential to approach this activity objectively and base your decisions on research and analysis rather than personal biases. After all, wagering is not like playing casino games. Games of chance depend on luck while placing a bet depends on thorough analysis of the sport and various circumstances surrounding it.

Another common mistake is chasing losses. It’s crucial to have a clear wagering strategy and stick to it, even when faced with losses. Trying to recoup losses by making impulsive bets can lead to even more significant losses in the long run. Furthermore, it’s important to avoid wagering on every single game. The NFL season consists of 17 weeks, and not every game presents a favorable betting opportunity. It’s crucial to be selective and only bet on games where you have a strong edge.

Researching NFL Teams and Players for Better Betting

As mentioned before, research is key when it comes to successful NFL betting. Before placing any bets, it’s important to research the teams and players involved in the game. Analyzing team statistics, player performance and injury reports can provide valuable insights that can help you make more informed wagering decisions.

In addition, keeping up with the latest NFL news and developments is crucial. Pay attention to coaching changes, roster updates and any other factors that may impact the outcome of a game. Staying informed will give you an edge over other bettors and increase your chances of placing successful bets.

Closing Words

Betting on the NFL can be an exciting and potentially profitable endeavor. However, it’s important to approach it with caution and avoid common mistakes. Understanding the NFL betting market, avoiding emotional wagering and conducting thorough research are all essential for success. By following these dos and don’ts, you can improve your chances of making smart NFL bets.

[thefanficmonster]

Never Satisfied [Chapter 8]

Corpse Husband x Original Female Character

Warnings: Language

A collaboration between Vy & Ashens 🖤

“reality may be better than a dream“

He isn’t sure when he woke back up or how long it had been since he fell asleep, but his cheek is squished up against something and he is in a horizontal position. He blinks the sleep from his eyes, realizing he is staring past the edge of a pair of tanned legs decorated with thin black lines of fishnets which are also digging into his cheek. His eyes widen, lips parting a tiny bit when he realizes he’d tipped over in his sleep, laying his head on Cora’s hip. His hand had slid from her cheek and curled against the back of her neck, cradling her head in his palm. He swallows hard, unsure if he should move and risk waking her up or stand as still as he possibly can. On one hand, he doesn’t want her thinking he willingly invaded her personal space, but then again she’s bound to find out, seeing as how moving would result in waking her up and if he remained in his current position, she’s still gonna wake up sooner or later and find him awkwardly looking at her, silently praying she doesn’t lose her cool at him.

What is a guy to do?

Her arms are still wrapped snugly around his thigh, sleeping peacefully in the dark room illuminated only by the Netflix menu. 

It must be later than I thought, he thinks to himself as he stretches his free leg out to his phone, tapping the screen with his sock covered toe to discover it’s 6:48pm. Jesus, we’ve slept for almost two hours. 

The sun is still glowing but is now significantly lower in the sky, indicating they’d have a little bit of daylight left but it would be quick to slip past them if Cora doesn’t wake up anytime soon. What if she wanted to leave before it got dark? I should probably wake her up, no? I mean, there’s also the possibility that she didn’t and I’d just be disturbing her for no reason and I of course don’t want that….Ugh, fuck, why is something this simple so complicated?!

Doing his best not to jostle her, Corpse carefully pushes himself up using his hands which he’s propped up on the back of the couch. Once upright, he carefully eases his hand out from under her head and brushes a few stray dark locks away from her face where they had formed a curtain over her closed eyes. His voice cracks as he tries to speak so it comes out more as an unsure murmur. 

“Cora. Hey, come on, wake up.” He whispers, trying to be gentle as he nudges her shoulder. 

She lets out a soft distressed noise at the fact that someone dared to interrupt her sleep. Her arms tighten around his leg and she rubbed her cheek into his thigh, indicating that he’s not going anywhere with this mellowness, 

“Mmm...five more minutes…” she mutters, making his cheeks burn as she snuggles up even tighter into him.  

With a defeated sigh he leans back, fixating his gaze on the TV and smiles a tiny bit, feeling that by now familiar, warm sensation in his chest and stomach - the one he feels whenever he takes her hand or gets a text from her. “Alright, five minutes.” He settles, leaning back further on the couch, unlocking his phone, beginning to browse Instagram quietly and then checking his email afterwards. 

He soon finds he’s lost track of time but eventually it definitely starts feeling like more than five minutes have passed, and so Corpse decides to take some action. Bowing his head down, he shakes her shoulder again. “Alright, come on, Sleeping Beauty, it's time to get up. I’m hungry and I gotta pee and I’m done with being held hostage.”

Her head tips slightly to the side, eyes still closed as she turns to face the ceiling. A sly little smirk dances on her lips before it falls when she goes back to pretending to be consumed by her blissful slumber. Her voice arises from her throat as a playful whisper, 

“Something-something can only be awoken with the kiss of a strong knight.” 

Corpse feels his stomach do a backflip and his face starts burning as the color of his cheeks, ears and neck switches to a bright shade of red, eyes growing wide when he registers what she just said. “I’m...um-...” He stutters, his throat suddenly dry and coarse as sandpaper.

Cora opens one eye just a slit, spotting his frantic blushing before closing it again. “Or even just a dude lost in the woods if the knight is unavailable.”

He swallowed again, desperately trying to fish out any words and let them leave his mouth. Despite his attempts to calm himself down, his hands go clammy and his heart has taken to hitting the inside of his ribcage with the intensity of an angry dragon, threatening to break through and leave his body. 

She isn’t really suggesting this, right? It’s a joke, it has to be. Haha, make Corpse look like a dumbass, won’t that be hilarious.

Interrupting his thoughts, one of her hands squeezes the back of his knee while the other comes up to link her pinky finger with his own. He stares down at her, flustered as all hell, catching that one eye open again. His face is the epitome of questioning, puzzled and….hopeful? He can’t afford to be getting hopeful, not when there’s still the option that she’s messing with him. That’s why he has to know. His eyes are begging her to tell him what’s going on here or if there’s anything going on at all. He wants her to either break this magic or carry it out completely to where it’s enveloped and surrounded them both. He wants something, anything, even the tiniest signal from her, just to put his mind at ease and his racing heart to rest.

His breath hitches when Cora slides her hand out from under his leg. Defeat spreads throughout his chest like a wildfire when he thinks she’s about to pull away. 

I knew it! I knew she’s just fucking around, she’d never w-!

His brain stops firing neurons of panic when he feels a hand rest on the back of his neck and he suddenly realizes he’s being pulled down slightly, the figure across his lap raising to connect their lips halfway. 

He freezes, eyes wide and nearly watering in panic at the sudden contact that he was far from prepared for. However, Cora wouldn’t be Cora if she just let him sit there and panic so she immediately reacts, squeezing his hand so that his instincts would kick in. When they finally do, his hand comes up to gently cup her face, allowing himself to melt into the kiss. He kisses her slowly, savoring the feeling of her lips against his - warm and soft against his chapped ones. His thumb brushes slowly across her cheekbone, subconsciously memorizing every spot and tiny line etched into her skin. 

She’s the first to pull back but they don’t stay apart for long seeing as how she’s quick to sit up higher and press her lips back against his, hand cradling his head as both their bodies buzz with heat. His arm automatically wraps around her torso, the palm of his hand resting on her back to keep her close, deepening the kiss.

His chest is aching with happiness, eyes brimmed with tears of joy and relief he hopes won’t spill for her to see. He just can’t help himself, it all feels so overwhelming and surreal. The feeling that he’s had living within him since their lunch date has finally fallen into place. It finally makes sense and he can finally be at peace with it. That’s the biggest relief he’s felt in a long while. She’s his check point, his safe haven and his relief. She’s become so much to him in such a short amount of time. It goes without saying she’s incredibly special.

He draws back after a moment and inhales shakily, his whole body shaking in shock. 

“Holy shit.” He whispers, eyes wide as he carefully moves his hands away from her face. 

Cora’s cheeks are pink as she smiles faintly and nods in agreement. “Sorry...I hope that was okay.” She mumbles, looking away shyly but not for long. Corpse tilts her head, turning it to face him once again as he leans in to press his lips firmly against hers, eyes closing slowly yet again. She brings her body closer to his and Corpse could swear he felt the Earth stop spinning. The rest of the world has stopped existing. Nothing matters but this moment, right now. This kiss shared between them, this contact between them, addictive like a drug.

They spend a few minutes just kissing slowly, enjoying every second of it, savoring it with a small fear they might never repeat this though they really hope they do. 

He alternates between cupping her cheek and neck to holding her hands. The whole experience is just so warm and deep and meaningful, but tame at the same time. They don’t dissolve into a frantic mess, they kept their pace, moving in sync, reminding each other that this is not a dream. This is better than any dream could ever be.

He breaks away first, his heart still beating rapidly in his chest. “Do-...do you need to go home?” He blurts out softly, fingers laced with hers, the question so out of place for the setting.

“Oh, is my kissing so bad you want to kick me out?” She asks with a smile so small but so bright it warms him internally. 

He laughs a deep breathy laugh, looking at her with affection. He can't help it, he’s intoxicated by her. Before, it would have been a totally different experience for him: frantic backpedaling on what he’d said but something feels...good with her here. It feels so right and it keeps him grounded in the current moment, refusing to allow him running the conversation and events back in his head.

“No, you’re perfect…” he admits softly, a little anxious with those words but accepting them as truth because that’s what they are. “I just thought….”

“Is that what that burning smell is?” She teases again, perhaps hiding her own nervousness behind jokes, before she kisses him softly. 

“I thought, if you wanted to stay the night....I don’t mind sleeping on the couch.” He manages to say, pulling away from her briefly, the backs of his fingers drawing a soft line across her cheek. He pulls away further suddenly, realizing that may be a bit too romantic. They just kissed, and still haven’t spent such a big amount of time together. With these thoughts in mind, he hurries to add: “If not, it’s okay…”

She’s quick to shake her head, dismissing his worries, “I want to stay, but you’re not sleeping on the couch. What, are you afraid I’ll give you cooties?” She teases, squeezing his hands and leaning in to affectionately headbutt his shoulder. 

He smiled and winds his arms around her in a tight hug, releasing her when she pulls away. “Alright, but I’m hungry, and I still need to piss.” He declares, standing up and stretching to loosen and relax his stiff joints, starting to make his way to the bathroom. “Think about what you want for dinner!”

@fockingwhore  @vixenl  @annshit  @wineandionysus  @wiseflamingoqueen

#corpse husband #corpse #corpse fic #corpse fanfic #corpse fanfiction #corpse fluff #corpse fandom #corpse imagine #corpse imagines #corpse husband fanficiton #corpse x oc #corpse x original character #corpse husband fanfic #corpse husband x oc #corpse husband fic #corpse husband fanfiction #corpse husband fluff #corpse husband is ruining my life #corpse husband imagine #oc #original female character #original character #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #fandom

[clan-sayeed-fic]

Business (Kamilah Sayeed & MC)

Previous chapters: 1, 2, 3

Book: Bloodbound (property of Pixelberry Studios)

Pairing: Kamilah Sayeed & MC: Amy (I do not own those characters, they’re the property of Pixelberry Studios as well)

Warnings: angst, strong language, illustrative descriptions of situations full of violence and brutality, might cause distress

Rating: Mature

Author’s note:  I’m not a native English speaker, I’m sorry for any mistakes (feel free to correct me).

It's been a month or so since I've posted the previous chapter. From what I remember, we've ended the last part on Kamilah and Amy having an intimate moment. At one point, the girl got second thoughts and left Kamilah's penthouse.

So, here we are, in chapter 4th, right after the situation. I hope you'll enjoy the continuation of the story 💕  

Also, I'd like to thank Anons that have been asking me about the fic, and @saratustra4 for asking me about the next chapter 💕 For some reason, it helped me come back to the writing. Also, if I fail my study because of that, I know who to blame hahah *kidding* 😂😂

~2300 words

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

Chapter 4

"Fuck..."

Harsh tone flew all the way to smooth surface of the car window, hitting it hard, only to bounce off the reflection of green eyes trapped inside.

Amy brushed stubborn hair away from her blushing face. Blonde strands left marks behind as if they had burned her skin permanently. Her lips were red and hot after the kiss she had shared only a few moments before.

The kiss to which she agreed so foolishly.

What were you thinking, she cursed herself in thoughts, letting anger rage inside her veins. She was slowly losing control over her body as a small spark dared to shine inside her irises.

The girl closed her eyes, leaning against something that felt like a block of ice, rather than her car. Coldness reached nerves under her skin, easing the tension, helping collect thoughts on what she should do next.

Because it didn't seem like fate was on her side that day. Amy forgot to grab her purse from the dresser at Kamilah's penthouse, so she didn't have keys to her car and phone to call for a lift.

But most of all,

she had no courage to come back and face the woman.

What if she suspected anything? Question screamed inside her mind, forcing her to move away from the car. Fear pulled her closer into the embrace of a much greater danger, fooling her judgement.

It tricked her mind enough to make her forget about the threat waiting in the darkness.

***

New York City was resting after a full day of events. It was then that Amy found herself alone in the street, left in the company of her loud thoughts.

The girl considered asking someone for help, but the idea seemed almost equally risky as walking on her own at this hour. It would only call unnecessary attention, not mentioning what could happen if she came across people who wished harm to her family.

Being one of the Paines had its consequences.

Amy moved toward the dark alley. She finally got out of the sight of warm light peeking outside from apartments. It seemed to watch her every move, trying to hunt her down at all costs.

One of the girl's hands moved to her mouth. Fingers subtly traced over her lower lip as to remind themselves of the previous desire. The desire that made Amy feel things she never expected to experience.

Not when it went to vampires.

Her body should have reacted differently. It shouldn't have let her fall for tricks of these beasts. She was supposed to be better than that. Too smart to get fooled by their attractiveness. Too powerful to get fed with their poisonous words.

So what happened this time? What made her give in to Kamilah's touch? What was responsible for this feeling inside, this...

Suddenly Amy heard a noise coming from behind. The urge to turn around and follow the sound was tempting, but she managed to fight it. She had been through the training before, so she knew the most important rule.

Never rely on your sight.

The girl closed her eyes, focusing on the feeling overwhelming her body. Listening to her accelerated heartbeat, accompanied by the growing tension in her muscles as her body sensed attackers.

They were passing through the alley like a shadow desperately seeking for the opportunity to escape the moonlight. To finally creep up on both sides, cutting off only ways of escape. It was too late, and at once, too soon to react, so Amy stood in place patiently, preparing herself for what was to come.

"Who do we have here?" shudders travelled down her spine.

As soon as the voice pierced through her ears, all of the colours vanished from the world around. Values of the surroundings became muted as if they were just a useless distraction for her eyes. Instead, everything took the tones of grey, leaving the earth on its own in the fight between light and darkness.

"She looks familiar, huh?" her eyes moved, following the second voice.

Only to catch a spark of crimson in the man's stare. No one else but vampires could make her body react this way. Their presence heightened her senses, changing them into something inhuman.

The girl raised her hands, showing an act of surrender. She needed to buy herself more time because they still didn't come close enough.

The adrenaline was not high enough.

"Look, guys, I am not looking for trouble," calm tone of her voice hid fear growing inside her chest.

But both men ignored her words, continuing getting closer. It was clear that they didn't realize how big of a mistake it was. Because with each of their step, she was getting better access to thoughts inside their heads.

"Oh, I got this," the one behind her spoke again. "Blonde hair, sweet voice, and even sweeter smell of blood. It must be Paine's daughter."

"I guess we found her without company," the one in front of her tilted his head slightly. "Our master will be so pleased to meet you."

Amy turned her body to the side enough to have a clear view of both of them.

"One more step," the girl growled, feeling every muscle in her body tense.

But it only made them more amused.

"Uuu, I feel threatened," a sarcastic tone challenged her nerves.

It came from the one on her right, a total blabbermouth. Amy squinted her eyes and gazed into his, spotting this characteristic glow inside them, a remnant of humanity. That was a clue to recognize a newly turned vampire.

"You should be," a tiny smile danced in the corner of her mouth.

She turned away from him, focusing all her attention on his friend instead.

And the game began.

Sounds of vampires' talk faded away into the darkness, blending with shadows. As the world around her calmed down significantly, moving in slow motion from then on. The wind on her shoulder became barely noticeable as coldness lost all its intensity in the air. Amy's heartbeat was steady and loud, drumming inside her head, not giving peace. Her blood seemed to stop running inside her veins, replaced by the adrenaline instead.

The same adrenaline that made her green eyes shine with gold, creating a bridge of connection between her and the man. Giving her a sense of his principal thoughts. How badly he wanted to..., kidnap her.

Her mind raced on the wires of his thoughts as she slowly lost herself in the labyrinth of memories. But she stayed there, travelling through his life until she reached the part with his weaknesses. Amy grabbed them with her mind, ready to manipulate his fears. There was only a hint of hesitation before she twisted the most painful memory inside his head, playing with it like a toy.

Until he had no other choice left, but to surrender.

His stare lacked previous confidence, showing unsureness that she planted all over his chest. The roots of anxiety grew deep inside him, almost reaching his dead heart.

That's how the hunter became her prey.

"I am not," Amy whispered, putting the idea inside his head.

"She's not," words left his mouth emotionless.

"I am not your target," her breathing got sharp and unstable, her body was getting weaker one second after another.

"We've made a mistake," he spoke aloud, staring emptily at the darkness.

"What?" the other man's high pitched tone reached them from behind. "What the hell are you talking about, man?"

Amy almost had him wrapped around her little finger, locking the idea inside his mind. Making him realize that she was not the person they had been looking for, that they should let her go free.

But then something interrupted her.

Wires of his mind twisted unexpectedly, pulling her out of this part of the brain. Instead, she witnessed a different memory, finding herself in front of a stranger hidden under a black cloak. A deep shadow covered the person's face, keeping all the features unrecognizable.

But something about the scene seemed so wrong.

"It's not a memory," she spoke, forgetting about attackers. "It's a vision."

She had no control over things appearing before her eyes. Amy wanted to leave the scene, but it was holding her tight in its claws, draining too much energy from her body. The pressure inside her head was growing as the bridge between her, and the vampire was falling apart.

But then the vision deformed, drawing her attention to the figure's movements. Black fabric flew in the air, dancing and twisting in front of her, increasing dizziness. Presence of the mysterious person brought back coldness on Amy's body, stabbing her deep under the skin.

She looked at the stranger one last time to spot a smirk dancing on their pale lips, a smile of victory and pride. But then the vision went blurry, filling her head with unbearable pain.

And at the same time, breaking her connection with the vampire.

"You...you are..." the man stuttered, waking up from the trance. And as soon as he fully realized the threat, his eyes flashed red. "Get her!"

His partner jumped toward Amy immediately, using his vampire speed, leaving her no time to react. So before she even thought about avoiding the attack, he was already there, pushing her away. The force of the hit sent her body high in the air until it met a hard surface of the wall before finally landing on the ground.

Blonde strands of hair changed into light red, dyed by the liquid running down from the wound on her temple. It leaked on her cheek, leaving a mark before her shaky hand wiped it away from the skin. A hiss of pain accompanied by fear escaped her mouth when she realized what happened.

As those green eyes stared emptily at her fingers covered in blood.

"That explains why you're so valuable," the vampire spoke aloud, freed from her influence.

In a flash, both men were standing next to her, tempted by the smell. The flavour of iron tortured their throats, begging to satisfy the thirst.

The leading vampire grabbed her throat, lifting her body against the wall with no mercy. Amy's feet were hanging above the ground, desperately searching for balance. The growing pressure around her trachea caused her to choke in a last-ditch attempt to catch a breath.

"I need to taste it," the younger one licked his lips hungrily, hypnotized by the path of blood on her neck.

Go ahead, Amy's thoughts screamed, challenging, drink, and it's going to be the last thing you ever taste.

"We will deliver her to our master first," the older one interrupted harshly. "That was the plan."

Against these words, his temptation was not any weaker. The desire to dip fangs into the girl's neck was messing with years of training. But at that moment, nothing mattered more than the idea of blood running down his throat as he drinks every single drop from her mortal body.

If only both vampires weren't so distracted, they would have noticed a stranger emerging from shadows.

"I'll take it from here," an icy tone sounded behind their back, drawing attention.

But it was too late.

In one moment, both of them were pushed far away from the girl who fell on the ground heavily, unable to keep balance.

As soon as the grip around Amy's throat loosened up, her lungs began screaming for help. She was desperately searching for air, but it seemed to avoid her chest, leaving her breathless and weak instead. All she saw were blurred figures moving with impossible speed before her eyes. There was no way to guess which ones were her attackers and which one the saviour, no way to figure out who was on the winning side.

But there was no point of knowing that, no hope left for her.

Amy's eyes filled with tears because of the lack of air until she shut them down completely. That's when noises of cracking bones flew through the alley before leaving it alone with silence.

The fight was over.

Hers was over too.

"Amy, I need you to calm down," a familiar voice echoed inside her head followed by a soft hand on her arm. "I need you to focus on my breathing. With me, in..." the woman took a breath, and let it out with the other words," and out."

Amy opened her eyes, but there was nothing else than darkness in front of her. The soothing touch on her shoulder eased her anxiety, helping to follow the advice. Her first attempt failed but soon after the air filled her lungs, giving long-awaited peace.

"Take it easy," Kamilah said when the girl tried to move too rapidly.

"How did you..." her voice was shaky, lacking its previous sweetness.

She looked through the alley nervously, but bodies of vampires were nowhere to find. There was no sign left after the situation that had put her life at risk.

"You forgot your purse," Kamilah interrupted with an explanation as her eyes travelled through Amy's body, searching for injuries. At least other than the obvious one. "I saw your car in the garage, so I knew I have to track you down" she swallowed hard. "Your bleeding made it much easier."

It made Amy realize that she still had her temple and hair covered in blood. Her eyes stared at Kamilah with mistrust, watching her moves.

"Let me take care of it," Kamilah pulled a handkerchief out of the pocket and carefully placed it on the injury.

Amy's hand moved there hurriedly, taking the cloth from her. But as soon as their hands touched, some spark of electricity ran through both women's bodies. Their eyes connected again, gazing deeply into one another with a sudden understanding.

"Apply pressure right here," Kamilah whispered, moving away.

"Let's take you home, shall we?"

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Next chapter: 5

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tag list: @evexofxtime  @kamilah-is-queen @scarletheart @helpconfusedpersonhere @ayushixo @nydeiri @vonda-b-real

#choices fanfiction #bloodbound fic #kamilah sayeed #kamilah sayeed fic #bloodbound kamilah #bb mc #bb kamilah #vampires #business fic #angst #choices stories you play #bloodbound choices #bloodkeeper

[guzhuangheaven]

hi! so i’ve been reading up on chinese history and mostly going down wikipedia rabbit holes but i came across your posts about qing dynasty hairstyles. just curious, where did you actually find these information? do you have any tips on researching more niche topics like this? i’m having a hard time with it and i’m not able to find solid info with references or are credible :/ maybe my chinese isn’t that good but I find that searching questions in chinese also doesn’t yield a lot of results. Maybe because i’m using google and not whatever is allowed in China? thanks for the tips !! have a good day :>

Honestly the information on the Qing hairstyles posts I’ve been gathering and holding on for so long and it’s all gathered in bits and pieces so I can’t really list individual sources anymore. It’s hard for me to talk about my process of researching information because 1) it’s totally chaotic and 2) it’s usually not born out of like an inherently academic interest but a more practical need. I write Huan Zhu Ge Ge fanfiction, so everything I have ever looked up about the Qing dynasty is because I needed to know these things to write my fics.

I’m not even sure if any tip for searching for information in Chinese I can give is going to be useful for anyone, mostly because the method is very specific to me as a Vietnamese person.  

(tl;dr: use Chinese search engines and search using Chinese characters not pinyin.)

Other than just cultural osmosis from dramas, most of my research for my fanfics come from these sources:

1. Wikipedia

I usually start with English Wikipedia mostly because I’m a third culture bilingual whose default internet language is English, but for topics on Chinese culture and history, Vietnamese Wikipedia can sometimes have full Wiki articles when the English version are just short stubs. If failing that, I sometimes wander into Chinese Wikipedia, but I don’t find Chinese-language Wikipedia articles are as helpful as the Chinese equivalent, Baidu Baike. More on that later.

2. Google searches

Sometimes, you do get some information from cultural blogs/tourism blogs/websites that tell you things about Chinese culture/history in general just through history search but as you can already tell, they tend to be very general.

3. Information already translated into Vietnamese by other people

So this is where in recent years the popularity of dramas such as Zhen Huan and Ruyi come in useful. There are Facebook groups for fans of these dramas where the people running the fan pages do know Chinese and they have translated a lot of information on Qing clothes, customs and historical records into Vietnamese. A lot of our series of posts on Qing dynasty costumes are retranslated from these Vietnamese sources. For the Qing dynasty costumes posts on this blog, I did do a cursory “reverse engineering”? fact check by putting the names of the different clothing articles etc. through Baidu Baike and running through Google-translated versions of those Baike articles, and if they more or less match what the Vietnamese translations were saying, I’m taking them as probably at least somewhat credible/not totally made up.  

(This is why you shouldn’t take everything we say on this blog as irrefutable.)

4. Baidu search engine, Baike and other Chinese sources

Ok, so the thing you need to know about me is that:

I’m Vietnamese

Since the mid-2000s, I have only ever watched Chinese dramas subtitled in Vietnamese (as opposed to dubbed). Watching subbed dramas helps a lot with listening comprehension but also recognition of common Chinese characters because all Chinese dramas come with Chinese subs as well. This does mean that while I can’t speak or write Chinese, I now can watch raw dramas and understand maybe about 40%? depending on how familiar I am with the tropes in the drama.  

In my bored uni days I used to moderate a forum on Chinese dramas, which required, among other things, searching for and translating Chinese entertainment news.

All this means is that over the years, I have developed certain tricks to search for information in Chinese as a Vietnamese person.

Firstly, it is always much easier to search things on the internet using Chinese characters instead of pinyin, which is usually pretty useless when conveying actual information because Chinese is full of homophones. I can’t actually type Chinese, but the thing about smartphone Chinese pinyin keyboards and Chinese search engines such as Baidu is that if you type in pinyin, it will auto-suggest Chinese characters for you. Of course you then need to be familiar with pinyin and able to read some Chinese characters to know that you’re searching for the right thing. This is where my years of watching Chinese dramas with subtitles come in as it means sometimes I can guess the pinyin by listening to the spoken Chinese and use that to search things and/or recognise the corresponding Chinese characters.

(When you see us use Chinese characters on this blog, I’ve basically just opened Baidu, typed in the pinyin in order to copy the Chinese characters. Yes it’s a whole process.)

The search engine Baidu pretty much works as Google does, and if you search a term, of the first things it will give you is the Baike page for that thing. Baike is probably about as reliable as Wikipedia on non-sensitive topics that would not be subject to censorship, which is good enough usually.

Baike is obviously in Chinese, so to understand that, I would Google translate it into either English or Vietnamese. These days, Google translate is surprisingly okay when translating Chinese-English that if I’m not too invested in the topic, I can make do with just getting the general idea through the Google English translation. However, if Chinese-English fails, and I translate it into Vietnamese. Google is usually better at translating Chinese-Vietnamese as Vietnamese does have Chinese roots and shares syntax and grammatical structures.

Sometimes, when Google doesn’t give me the information I need, I will also put bits of the text that Google can’t make sense of into a Han-Viet converter. Without going into the historical relationship between Vietnamese and literary written Chinese, what this essentially does is convert the Chinese text into Han-Viet words, which is the Vietnamese equivalent of probably Shakespeare English? or maybe Middle English. These Han Viet words are now also written in the modern Vietnamese roman alphabet, which means I can now read the words, and understand maybe 50-60% of it, as vocab used in modern formal written Vietnamese still borrows significantly from Chinese words/have Chinese roots. Han-Viet converters online also come with a dictionary, so the bits I don’t understand I can look up the Chinese characters and understand the information that way.  

Reading whole articles in Han-Viet is a pain in the ass and I would never do that, but bits of converted Han-Viet combined with Google translate usually gives me a pretty good understanding of simple Chinese text like Baike articles. 

Keywords

In terms of keywords, it can sometimes be tricky if you don’t already have a term that you’re searching specifically. If you have a more general question then I guess in that case you would either have to know some rudimentary Chinese to search on Chinese search engines, or resort to searching in English. But if you can form questions in Chinese, I would suggest using Baidu for your searches, instead of Google. 

Navigating Chinese internet as a person who doesn’t speak Chinese can be very daunting and I guess...it just takes time to get used to? I’m not sure if I have any advice other than that, to be honest. -h

#ask #Anonymous

[cinnella]

Name: Libelle Abrams (chosen name); Varda Lesedi (birth name)

Age: 22 years old

Sex: Female

Sexuality: Demi-homosexual

Zodiac sign: Libra

Birthday: October 7th

Patron Arcana: Justice (Major); Queen of Swords (Minor)

Occupation: Magician, healer, painter and gardener

Height: 5'9" (1.76 m)

Weight: 194 lbs (88 kg)

Relatives:

Briella Lesedi - mother (deceased)

Abanus Lesedi - father (deceased)

Gushvin Basu - distant family friend

Origin: Born in the Catclaw Desert, grew up in Vesuvia

Race: African-American

Powers: White (purification) and healing magic, as well as telekinesis and precognitive dreaming

Intelligence Level: On a scale from 1 to 10, she's a strong 8.5

Backstory:

During the beautiful sunset of the Catclaw Desert, little Varda was born not far off from their home, where her parents had built their sculpture selling stand.

About 7 months later, while they were enjoying their time at home, their friend, Gushvin, hurried to tell them that an unexpected aggressive sand storm started heading their way.

They made sure to give Varda to him as he was faster and went ahead of them. They tragically got swept away by the storm and inhaled too much sand. They were found without breath or pulse hours later.

As selfish as it was of him, Gushvin didn't want to take care of a child, so he made sure to find someone willing enough to do that, soon running into a person who said they specifically searched for orphaned children that needed care.

After a couple of days of traveling, they arrived in sunny Vesuvia, where Varda was brought to the orphanage in the South End. There she was cared for and raised like promised.

She grew up to be one of the sweetest but most naive kids there. One day during lunch, she noticed a kid was sitting alone at his table, sulking and not eating. She approached him and offered to eat with him.

He had silverish eyes and ash-blond hair and the kindest smile she'd ever seen. She'd heard the adults call him Lucas and she knew he was kind of a troublemaker, but he seemed so lonely. They became best friends almost instantly, and always spent time together.

Some years later, when both of them were around 5 years old, they befriended three other kids, all significantly older than them. She learned that their names were Eris, Syro and Morana, and immediately became worried.

They were the biggest scoundrels in the entire orphanage, and quite honestly, all of South End. But Lucas insisted that they join their group. And she trusted him.

She didn't think that these four kids would become so important to her, that they'd become her family. But they did, and she couldn't be more thankful.

When it became clear enough to the adults that they couldn't raise nameless kids, the more capable ones took to teaching them the importance of knowing how to read and write and then they could choose a name for themselves, on their 7th birthday.

Soon enough, her sweet 7th rolled around and after months of searching, she found a name that would complete her.

And so, Varda Lesedi became Libelle Abrams.

Lucas, not much later, also changed his name, to Calyx. Libelle thought it was such a beautiful name for him.

Many years passed by with the four causing as much trouble as possible, to her unfortunate luck. But once she approached her preteens, devastating news came with them. When they'd reach the age of 17, they would need to leave, one by one, and search for a different home.

They discussed about it, made plans and set goals to find their homelands, their roots and possibly their families.

Obviously, Eris was first in line to leave as the eldest between them. Then Morana with Syro. It was only her and Calyx left. She made the promise to not abandon him there and take him with her when the time would come.

And she did. After celebrating her 17th birthday and talking with the one that had found her so many years ago, they set out to travel towards the Catclaw Desert. The journey was a couple of days long and it took them almost as much to find the one who knew about her parents.

Gushvin was sat on the bench in front of his home when they approached, and when Libelle called out to him, he recognized her immediately. There was some confusion with her name at first, but they quickly caught onto everything.

He told her everything that had happened the day she became an orphan and although he was hesitant, he confessed how selfish he'd been back then, something he regretted deeply and hadn't let him sleep properly since then.

All of the discoveries shocked her beyond belief, so much so that she wanted to go back to Vesuvia right away. After a while of mulling over everything she found out, she decided to focus on helping her best friend.

Luck had seemed to smile upon them, because Eris insisted on tagging along with them. After all, they had to travel across the sea all the way to the Macawi Port.

After even more shocking reveals about Calyx' parents, none of them wanted to know anything more, so at dawn they started back home.

Now, Libelle could focus on the things that she wanted to do most. She learned how to become a professional healer and magician, so she would help people in need. Around that time, her secret powers slowly surfaced as well.

She realized she could move objects with the will of her mind and at night, she would have visions and dreams of the future. After consulting with an expert in healing magic, she discovered that most people have these gifts and adviced her to learn to control them.

Everything was fine in her life until the Red Plague rained upon them and they each made the decision to leave Vesuvia. Well, all except for Eris. She wanted to help the doctors with the dead, confided to Libelle that she'd taught herself necromancy and wanted to reverse their deaths.

Eris had been too stubborn to listen to reason, so they had no choice but to leave her behind. Syro and Morana left for the Southern Spines, while Eris specifically told Libelle and Calyx to go to Venterre and find her brother, Sethos. He would shelter them until the nightmare would be over.

So they did, they took the first boat straight to the west coast of Venterre, where they ran into the young man in question.

When they finished explaining everything to him, he insisted they go back and get her too, but there would have been no use in doing so. His sister would have been way too stubborn to listen to anyone.

Days later, a letter arrived in their mailbox and all three were devastated to find out Eris died from the plague. Libelle and Calyx were sobbing messes and Sethos almost thrashed the room before collapsing too.

They informed the other two through a letter as well, but they figured there would be massive delays because of the distance, so they didn't expect an answer right away.

Suddenly, about 6 days later, Libelle had a dream, of Eris being alive. It had felt so real she woke up in a cold sweat and with tears in her eyes, she went to wake up the other two, shaking them hard.

She couldn't form clear words but Calyx caught onto it right away, and while with shaky hands, Libelle explained that she could sense Eris' aura and presence in the real world.

Although Sethos was very skeptical about it, he would have rather held onto the tiniest string of hope that she was indeed alive than live with the thought of losing his sister a second time.

So they wrote another letter to Syro and Morana and immediately packed their things and headed back to Vesuvia in plain midnight.

True to everything Libelle said and sensed, Eris was alive. How, they didn't know, until they spoke to Asra, one of her older friends and apparently, the one who brought her back. She was shocked to find it involved a deal with the Devil. She'd heard of the sacrifices needed to make such deals.

After about 3 years of total absence, Syro and Morana also arrived in Vesuvia and the shock cycle began again.

Not much later, when Eris got assigned to solve the mystery of Count Lucio's murder and catch his fugitive murderer, everyone offered to do something to help her out.

Though she was shy about it, she could sense that the Countess, Nadia, needed help as well. So Libelle suggested assisting her in whatever Nadia would need.

She didn't expect to catch feelings, but she didn't complain either.

Personality: shy, sensitive, kind-hearted, gentle, imaginitive, creative, generous, loyal, honest, trustworthy, observant, reliable, cheerful, too forgiving and sometimes naive

Interesting facts:

Although it isn't very noticeable, she does have a white lotus tattoo on her left middle finger.

Her wrists are littered with past self-harm scars, which the others love to kiss just to make her feel better about them.

She is very insecure about her body, but she has the others to lift her moods up when she's down.

Has an entire collection of earrings, but her favorites are the peacock feathers.

Even though she wakes up early in the morning, she usually takes a nap in the afternoon.

Her thighs and hips are full of stretch marks.

Has the biggest sweet tooth in the world.

Can play the clarinet, but you would have to really indulge her to get her to sing on it for you.

Appearance: Dark espresso skin tone, neck-length curly chestnut brown hair, dyed periwinkle blue halfway down, jade green eyes, chubby slight hourglass body shape, D cup breasts

Familiar: Lumi, a cute and sweet stoat but a sneaky little thief all the same

Voice claim: Dana Gourrier

Full sprite:

WOOOHOOOO I FINISHED ALL MY MCS' BIOS AND I'M SO HAPPY!!

My girl turned out so damn beautiful too and I'm just hhnnnnn- 😖💜

PLEASE SHOW HER SOME LOVE AS WELL!!! ✨

#the arcana #the arcana mc #the arcana apprentice #libelle abrams

[imaginingmyloki]

Shift in Reality (pt 2)

Word count: 2,120

A/N: ok so obviously this took way longer than I expected/promised it would. Life has been getting in the way of fun lately. As some of you know, A year ago I left home and moved across country to Arizona to discover myself/make a new life/have an adventure. Well now I am moving back home to Virginia and it has just been a wild few weeks. (more on that later) anyways, enjoy part 2! There will definitely be a part 3! I said in a few answers to anons yesterday that this would likely be the last part but it kinda took off from me and started writing itself haha. I am not going to give a promised date for part 3 but I do have a good chunk of it already written from cutting it out of this lol. I won’t be linking any youtube vids about her powers this time, if you check out part 1′s note there is a compilation video of Daisy Johnson using her powers and she is based off of Daisy. ok byyyeeee

“No this can’t be right... I was just with them. What is going on?” I was frantically looking around the room trying to figure out where the hell I was. “Ma’am you need to calm her down or we will have to sedate her.” One of the white coats told the woman with the familiar voice. The heart monitor next to me was beeping rapidly, adding to my anxiety. She moved slightly closer to me and grabbed my hand and started talking. I couldn’t focus on what she was saying but the familiar cadence of her voice was calming me down significantly. “I don’t understand why I’m here. Who are you?” she looked hurt when I asked her that question. One of the many people buzzing about the room checking on the machines quietly said “Some amnesia is really common in these situations. She will likely regain her memories as time passes.” the woman nodded sadly and kept talking to me even though I was not paying any attention to her and was trying to focus on all the details I could about the room I was in and the different faces coming and going. 

                                                 -At the Compound-

Loki was sitting next to my unconscious form reading when Bruce came in with a machine that looked like a very small version of an MRI. “This is S.H.I.E.L.D.s latest, top of the line medical equipment. It is essentially a mobile MRI but way more advanced in what it can pick up. I didn’t do one before but she’s been out for almost 24 hours and hasn’t even moved so I need to see what’s going on in there.” He positioned the machine near my head and Loki watched Bruce’s face go from curious to concerned in a matter of seconds. “What is it?” He asked. At this point Nat and Wanda had come over to check on me and joined the group to see what was happening. Bruce shook his head, “I have no idea. There is something foreign in her temporal lobe. It looks like it is sending electro magnetic pulses to her brain causing her hippocampus-” He looked around and had to remind himself to use more understandable wording for them,”-uh her memory and dream centers to light up like crazy. I wish we could get in there and see what was happening.” Everyone slowly turned to Wanda who nodded and said, “Ok move the machine out of the way.” as she approached me. 

“Well? What did you see? Is she ok?” Loki demanded when Wanda had finished. She sat on the end of the couch by my feet, “We have to get that thing out of her, guys. She didn’t even see me when I was right in front of her trying to get her attention. It has her in this fake reality where she was in a coma and just woke up in the hospital with someone I assume is meant to be her mother. And the worst part is that we don’t exist in that reality. We are just movie characters. She seems really confused but the doctors are saying she has amnesia and its common for coma patients to wake up thinking they were a part of their favorite fictional world. It looks like she is starting to believe them. She looks so lost and heart broken. I couldn’t pull her out of it.” Everyone sat in silence for a few minutes, no one having words for the situation. Wanda looked to Bruce “How is this possible?” He was quiet for a few more minutes before answering “The only thing I can think of is the Winter Soldier.” He put a hand up to stop the incoming questions from the group as he continued, “With Bucky, their first and most formidable success, they wiped his memory, emotionally and physically tortured him until he broke and they had total, absolute control of him. Until Steve. The programming used on Bucky, while it was effective, didn’t hold up against the memories surfacing. So other than the obvious technological upgrades of this new programming- if that is what’s happening- they realized their fatal flaw. They tried to completely wipe out memories and when they resurfaced it undid everything. Making (Y/N) think that she made us up, that we are fictional characters, and now that she has forgotten her own life will not only break her but it will solve the issue of us breaking the programming in the future. She thinks we only exist in her mind and on the screen. I wouldn’t be surprised if this reality they have her in starts to change into doctors discovering she has a mental disorder that comes with hallucinations. Now, after they wipe her memory, if we start showing up again, she will question her own sanity and not her handler’s orders because her most recent memories of us are going to be that she can’t trust her own mind.” Everyone stared at him in stunned silence. “We need to get Tony and the others in here and brief them now. and we need to find Nelson.” Nat said and quickly left the room.  Loki looked at Wanda and said, “Please keep watching her. I know you haven’t been able to connect to her but at least we will know what she is dealing with.”

                                                   -Y/N’s Mind-

This doesn’t feel right. Something is just off about this hospital, these people. After initially waking up and everyone fluttering around my room to check vitals and ask me 800 questions that I couldn’t answer, they finally left me alone to rest with the promise of checking on me throughout the night to wake me up and see if I remembered anything. The woman- my mom I had been told- was sleeping on a cot in the corner of the room lightly snoring. I had asked her what had happened and the story was that I had been at the beach with my family when a wave had caused me to hit my head on a rock under the surface. I had nearly drowned but my best friend, Paul, had been right there and dragged me back to shore. That was 4 months ago and I had been unconscious ever since. She had spent a couple hours telling me all about our life as I grew up. I was an only child and we had traveled all over the world throughout the years. Because of moving around and experiencing so many different places, I knew 15 different languages by the time I was 18. We had recently moved here to California and bought a house close to my grandparents. She was going to call them and tell them I could have visitors in a few days when my memories started catching up with me but was going to call Paul and have him come tomorrow and see if it would hopefully jog my memory. A nurse came in very early and quietly woke my mother, “Ma’am, we called the friend you asked us to have come in. Mr Nelson? He’s here.” My mother got up and went with the nurse. I hadn’t slept at all and was very tired but that name sent a jolt straight through me. I knew he had to be behind this somehow. I looked around for some kind of weapon I could use when he came into the room. There was nothing but the dull butter knife from my dinner that was still untouched from the night before by my bed. I grabbed it a slid it between the bed and my thigh then, I waited. The door opened and I heard my mother’s cheerful voice, “Oh, Paul, she is going to be thrilled to see you. Well, she may actually not remember you yet. We have been waiting on her memories to come back but so far nothing has.” A chuckle and a chilling voice that sent shivers down my spine and raised the hairs on my neck replied, “No worries at all. I have talked this girl through so many breakups, I’m sure I can talk her out of amnesia.”

As they came through the door, my entire body tensed as I locked eyes with Nelson. It was definitely him but he looked different. Casual and relaxed with almost friendly eyes. “(Y/n)! I am so happy to see you conscious! You gave me quiet the scare.” he made his way towards me and my mother backed out of the room with “I’ll give you two some time to talk.” and a hopeful smile. As soon as she shut the door, I had him pinned against the wall with the knife to his throat. “What is this, Nelson?!” The look of fear in his eyes made me hesitate and he pushed me off of him. “(Y/n), what are you doing? We have been friends for years. Wait, you remember me? But, since when do you call me Nelson?” I slowly backed up until my legs hit the bed and I sat down. A nurse came in to check on the commotion I had caused and Nelson - Paul? - told her we were fine. Satisfied, she nodded and closed the door behind her as she left. “Stop playing games. I know what this is, Nelson. Let me go.” I watched his face carefully but showed no signs of knowing what I was talking about. He gave me a concerned look and slowly made his way to the chair by my bed with his hands raised to show he wasn’t a threat. “(Y/n), I don’t understand what you’re trying to say. Do you want me to get the nurse for you?” I rolled my eyes at his concern. Being trapped and the constant lack of answers were starting to fill me with a frustration that would typically have the room trembling around me but nothing was shaking except for my hands. As I clenched and unclenched my fists and took a few deep breaths to try and steady myself, I caught a glimpse of Nelsons face. It still had the mock concern plastered on like a mask but his eyes had a glint of amusement. He found my frustration and suffering amusing. The frustration bubbled over and I lunged for him, bringing both him and the chair to the ground. 

                                                 -The Compound-

  The compound shook violently as Loki used his body to shield my still unconscious form from the ceiling tiles and dust that was falling. “Why is this happening? Wanda, what is going on in there?” Tony asked as he came through the door followed by Nat, Steve and Bucky. Wanda explained the scene to them, “Nelson is in there with her under the pretense that he is her best friend. She’s on to him and just took him down but now they are fighting. She doesn’t have her powers in there so she’s struggling. Nurses and doctors are starting to come in to restrain her but she’s fighting them too.” The shaking stopped suddenly and Wanda gasped. When she didn’t say anything to explain the sudden calm, Loki inquired anxiously, “What happened? Is she ok?” Wanda nodded but was still watching the scene unfold in my mind. “They started it over. She’s waking up in a strange hospital again but it looks slightly different than the first one. It is exactly the same situation. They are telling her she has been in a coma for months and that she is finally waking up for the first time. Now she’s seen the tv showing you guys in New York again and she looks even more confused.” Everyone rushed around to clean up the area and Tony said “Loki, I set up space for her downstairs to keep anything like this contained and to keep her safe should Hydra try and take her. You and Wanda take her down there and watch over her while the rest of us clean this up.” Loki gently lifted me and he and Wanda headed towards what had once been my holding cell before the team decided they could trust me. 

“We need to bring Wanda back up here.” Nat said to Steve. They had just brought in Nelson. Bruce had figured out that Nelson had a device in his temporal lobe as well that was linked to the device in mine and had been able to track him using that connection. He had been unconscious when they had found him, likely because he was inside the fake reality with me and she knew that Wanda was the only one who may be able to get the information we needed about how to save me.

#marvel fic #loki fic #loki imagine #lokixreader

[imnotoverlyobsessive]

Looks Like Someone Picked a Whole Bushel of Oopsie Daisies: Chapter Three

Okaaaay I am so fucking sorry it's been awhile, you guys. But you're not here for my life story and personal bullshit, I'm sure (though please do feel free to ask). So here's chapter three. Enjoy... I hope?

Thank you, as always, to @edward-or-ford for being an excellent beta!

Chapter Three: Sex on the Brain Feel you under my skin; middle of the night, wonder if you feel it, too.- All Time Low, Trouble Is

There was a warm body atop Mabel’s, and lips pressed against hers. There were hands grasping her breasts, then one of them traveled down between her legs.

“Mabel,” gasped a voice as the lips traveled down her neck. A pleasant voice. Deep, but not alarmingly so. It was soothing, familiar. Comforting and arousing all at the same time.

One hand pinched her nipple while the other stroked her, and she gasped out quietly.

When she opened her eyes, Dipper leaned down to kiss her again, and-

Mabel woke with a start, disorientated. Her eyes flitted around the dark room, and she remembered she was at Candy’s. Recognizing Grenda’s sleeping form on the floor and Candy’s even breaths beside her, Mabel sighed quietly.

Well. That was certainly disappointing. Those types of dreams were the worst because she hated waking up from them.

She hadn’t always had so many sex dreams. It was a recent development. And frankly, she wasn’t a fan. Yeah, Dipper was sexy, but like. She knew that already. She didn’t need her subconscious waving a big ol’ flag with “REMEMBER HOW SEXY YOUR BRO IS?” emblazoned on it. She could do without that, thanks ever so much.

It was half an hour before she managed to fall back asleep. She definitely didn’t fill her friends in on the details the next day, even though she probably would’ve if the dream had been about literally anybody except her twin brother.

She was quite sure that when Grenda and Candy thought of “sexy” vibes in relation to Mabel, Dipper was the last person on the face of the earth who might be considered for such things.

————

The following morning, Mabel tried her absolute hardest to seem as normal as she possibly could. Y’know, talk without changes in her voice or tone or speech pattern. Gesticulate some but not too much. Talk about non-Dipper things. Definitely not because Mabel was having a great deal of difficulty thinking about anything but Dipper and what his lips and hands and teeth (oh god his teeth) would feel like on various parts of her body. That had zero to do with it.

Of course, normal for Mabel was… odd for other people, to say the least. And that suited her just fine. Really, it did. She rather liked it that way, actually. Normal people were kinda lame.

Still, there were, of course, some aspects of Mabel’s life that she sometimes wished were a bit more normal, she pondered as she brushed her hair in the bathroom mirror. Not entirely, just a bit. She wished she didn’t have to live separately from her sibling. She wished she’d found her soulmate the same way as everyone else rather than having it be a big mystery.

But most all, she wished she’d never developed these stupid feelings for Dipper. They really were stupid. Who gets feelings for their twin, anyway? Like, where did that even come from?

When Mabel thinks of the word “incest”, she pictures royal families trying to keep the bloodlines pure and stereotypical hillbillies and rednecks. What she did not picture was a modern day middle class Californian teenager.

Not that it had gotten to incest levels, of course. Obviously not. In order for anything to happen, Dipper would have to return her feelings, which he decidedly did not. Why would he?

You’re the weirdo, she reminded herself as she set her hairbrush down.

Well. It is what it is, she supposed. No reason to dwell on it.

And on that note, Mabel skipped out of the bathroom, doing a rather excellent job of pretending she was definitely not dwelling on her romantic-but-very-much-unrequited love for her brother.

Not even a little.

————

They didn’t ride in the same car. Of course they didn’t. They never did. She knew, intellectually speaking, that her and Dipper couldn’t be in the same car for the half hour drive from Candy’s to the mountains. Even five minute drives, though, her parents refused.

“What if you get stuck in traffic?” They’d demand whenever she asked if just once, Dipper could take her in his car. It didn’t seem to make a difference that the odds of a traffic jam in a town as small as Gravity Falls were minuscule at best. Eventually, she stopped asking, stopped trying to reason with them.

She wished she could text him during the drive. She couldn’t stop staring at his last message. She didn’t mean to, it was just that she sometimes got into these moods where whenever she stopped looking at his texts, she’d immediately get the irresistible urge to look at them again, even if she knew full well that all she’d see was the fifteen minute old see you in a bit.

Mabel felt bad about the whole thing sometimes. It wasn’t that she’d meant to fall in love. She truly hadn’t. But… Dipper was just so goddamn sweet. He was considerate and kind and he always asked about her day. And when she told him, he actually listened! None of the guys at her school ever did that. They just stared at her boobs while she talked.

It was suuuuuuuper guilt-inducing, though. Like, somewhere near her (it had to be near her or she’d have been going through withdrawal symptoms all her life) was her soulmate. Emotionally healthy people developed crushes on their soulmates even before they turned seventeen and felt the pull.

Evidently, Mabel wasn’t an emotionally healthy person. She’d developed a crush on her twin brother. And then it had developed into this suffocating, desperate, agonizing, all-encompassing consuming love and adoration that she just couldn’t seem to shake.

It was hard not to see him, she mused as she stared at her phone (still black because he hadn’t texted her, obviously; get a grip, Mabel). But then, it was just as hard to actually see him. The urge to touch him was even worse lately.

Sighing and leaning back in her seat, Mabel stared out the window.

She completely missed her father’s solemn gaze flickering to her briefly in the rear view mirror.

————

Mabel liked visiting Gravity Falls in the winter. She probably wouldn’t get to see snow otherwise. It was beautiful.

It had snowed in the mountains the night before, and there was frost on the ground and snow on the tops of the trees, the sun bouncing off them and making them shine. The cold air bit her face when she opened the car door, but Dipper’s smile in her direction as he stepped out of his own beat-up sedan made her forget about everything else.

Buzz buzz buzz, said the bees.

Mabel resisted the urge to dance when she saw him.

Or slap her stomach a few times. Maybe the sting of it would numb the stupid fucking bees and their stupid fucking buzzing, for god’s sake, would you shut up already-

She did neither, however (good job, Mabel girl!), instead opting for a definitely-not-nervous-in-the-slightest-so-just-shut-your-mouth smile.

“Why hello, Sir Dippingsauce!” She ambled over to him, telling herself she was doing an excellent job of not being awkward.

How long did she have to keep that up for again? A week? That was… that was fine. She could do a week. She could totally do a week, no problemo (Note: Mabel could not do a week. She could possibly do 2.5 days, and even that was most certainly pushing it, but to suggest as much is incredibly rude, as Mabel was doing her very best to make her mind into a 100% Doubt-Free Zone™).

He put an arm across his stomach, the other rigid at his side, and bowed deeply at the waist with a decidedly snooty expression on his too-attractive-to-be-legal face. “Lady Mabelton,” he greeted. “I trust your carriage ride was pleasant?”

“Indeed, milord. You may rise,” she lifted her hand in a dainty gesture, her nose (which was red from the cold) in the air. He did, grinning. “So, what d’you have planned for me n’ the ‘rents today?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “Just a fun little nature walk, I guess. Nothing crazy.”

Mabel shot him double finger guns. “Coolio, bro-lio.”

Their parents were just climbing out of the car. They always took forever. Why did people over the age of twenty-eight always take forever to emerge from a vehicle?

Mabel fiddled with the empty space her right forefinger left in gloves she wore. Gloves were always too big for her as far as finger-length went.

“Soooooo…” she drawled as her parents rounded their car. “Lesgo!”

Running off in a totally random direction, she skidded to a halt at the edge of a clearing. “Yeeeah… might wanna let me lead the way, Mabes. I know my way around pretty well, since I... y’know... live here,” Dipper said with another one of those heart-stopping grins.

Ugh.

Suddenly feeling tremendously uncomfortable again, Mabel laughed awkwardly. “Indeed you do, bro-bro. Indeed you do.” Chill chill chill it’s fine, it’s fine, totally fine up in here.

Dipper walked around Mabel and started down a winding gravel path, definitely neglecting to give her anything that could remotely be classified as “enough space to not have a heart attack”. She followed behind him after several seconds, trying very hard not to stare at his butt.

Again. Dammit.

Mrs. Pines even scolded him a bit. “Careful not touch your sister, Dipper!”

Her voice carried through the trees, and Dipper called out a quick, “kay,” over his shoulder before continuing on. It had been perhaps five minutes. Ten, maybe? Who knew? Time lost meaning when she stared at Dipper too long, and he was walking directly ahead of her. Besides, she had to pay attention to where he was going! She couldn’t really be blamed for staring at him, right?

The path widened significantly after awhile, allowing Dipper to fall back a bit, frosted gravel crunching beneath his sneakers.

“Is it okay if we walk ahead of you, Dipper?” Mr. Pines asked. “Your mother and I would like to look at the scenery a bit more clearly than we can behind you and your sister.”

Dipper nodded. “Yeah, it’s pretty straightforward from here.”

Mr. and Mrs. Pines smiled at him and stepped around him, Mr. Pines patting Dipper’s shoulder affectionately as he walked past.

Dipper fell into step beside Mabel, walking in silence. Mabel inspected her shoes. Some of the frost had gotten on the rhinestones she’d glued to them.

Glancing up in front of her after several minutes, she noticed that their parents had gotten further and further away, far out of earshot.

For the first time in as long as Mabel could remember, they didn’t seem to be paying too much attention to her and Dipper’s interactions.

Blushing furiously at the very idea of being alone with her twin, she looked down at her shoes again. Thank god for the cold. Nobody would question her red face in the cold.

“So,” Dipper said haltingly. Mabel’s head whipped up to face him, her eyes wide. She hadn’t really been expecting him to actually speak, but then she couldn’t very well have not expected it, either. It had just… never occurred to her that he might.

“So?” Mabel said back. Don’t be awkward don’t be awkward don’t be awkward-

“Well, there’s this… thing.”

“Very specific,” Mabel nodded indulgently. “Say no more, brother dear. I know of what you speak.”

His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. “Y-you do?” He stuttered.

Mabel snorted. “Uh, no. Doi. Why would I know?”

He blinked at her. “Oh. Right. Yeah. Guess you… probably wouldn’t, huh?” He looked away and muttered something under his breath that she couldn’t quite catch.

“What was that?” She asked, pushing her hair back behind the ear closest to him, some of the strands catching on her glove.

“Oh, uh. Nothing, don’t worry about it.”

“Mm...kay?” When he didn’t say anything, just kept staring at her, she spoke up again. “What were you gonna tell me?”

“Oh! Right. Yeah. That. Right.”

“Right. That,” Mabel agreed with a nod, as if she had the slightest idea what he was talking about (note: she did not, in fact, have the slightest idea what he was talking about).

“So, there’s this thing,” Dipper said again.

“Right,” Mabel repeated.

“This thing… that I’ve been kinda meaning to tell you for… well,” he laughed hoarsely. She’d never heard him laugh like that before. “For a few years, actually.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Errhm. Okay. What is it?”

“Okay, so it’s like this,” he started, then stopped and looked up at the sky. “Why me?” He muttered, so quiet she almost didn’t hear him again.

“Okay, Dip, what’s going on? Is everything okay?”

He sighed and stopped walking. So did she. His eyes were closed, which was probably a good thing because they really were terribly distracting and whatever he had to tell her seemed pretty important. He turned his face to her again, opening them, something… different in them. Something she’d never seen before. Something she didn’t recognize.

Something urgent and terrifying and nerve-wracking in a way she didn’t entirely understand, and then-

“Kids!” Her dad called out, both parents jogging over to them. Well, okay, it was more like running. Why would they be running? They hadn’t been that far behind, yeesh.

“Shit,” Dipper muttered again, and Mabel turned to him in surprise. He’d tried to talk to her before, too. Before she’d left for Candy’s. Why? What was going on? Was he sick? If he was sick, why couldn’t he tell their parents? Oh god, what if he’d gotten an STD? What if he’d gotten somebody pregnant? No, wait, pregnancy didn’t last “a few years”, which he had said very clearly, so not that. Oh, fuckity fucking fuck, what if he’d found his soulmate?

“What’re you guys talkin’ about?” Their mom asked with a smile that was a bit too tight and didn’t reach her eyes.

Dipper shrugged. “School and whatnot. Just catching up.”

Mabel didn’t understand why he was lying, but, well. Mabel Pines ain’t no snitch, so she nodded and said, “yeppers yeppers Johnny Deppers! The usual, y’know.”

Mr. Pines inclined his head. Mrs. Pines was clasping his hand.

Her knuckles were white.

Their parents didn’t let their children out of their sight for the remainder of the hike.

Mabel could barely speak. She couldn’t even think much of anything.

What if he’d found his soulmate?

The bees never shut up, either.

#gravity falls fanfiction #gf fanfiction #pinecest #mabel pines #dipper pines #fanfiction #fanfic #looks like someone picked a whole bushel of oopsie daisies #my writing

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

Free Fallin’

“Can we, uh. Drive?”

Cas turns to Dean Winchester, amused, yet not entirely surprised. The hunter’s standing in the doorway, the line of his lips slant. But he’s got his eyebrows raised in a pleading stance, his posture as unsettled as pinkening, flustered cheeks. He is, in spite of the hesitation, to the core of his being, endearing to Cas.

But Cas rallies to stay serious. There’s a chance Dean needs that right now. “If you’d really rather. Of course.”

If you really want to avoid this. 

Dean seems uncomfortable, still, though Cas just gave him an out. Cas can feel the restlessness in his guilty stare. 

It hadn’t been long since Castiel got his wings back. And this was the first chance he was going to have, post completely healing, to fly - trial runs (flights?) didn’t really count, because they didn’t have any destinations, and he’s actually been looking forward to flying with someone, because it’s been a bit of an eternity since he’s done it. Been of use, like that. So ever since the case popped up on their radar, courtesy of a small-scale hunter in Maine, who acceded to keep them updated, he’s been waiting. 

It’s too far away to drive, if urgency strikes. They’d have to fly. Especially now that they could.

(Sam set off for Texas with Jack six days ago - a newspaper article leading them to cremated ghosts with elite, mysterious family members, and a whole lot of them. It’s fairly tame, as far as salt-and-burns go, and Castiel trusts both Sam’s intelligence, and commitment to keeping Jack safe, enough to not have decided to follow, three days in.

Which means it’s just Dean and him.)

Cas knows he’s never been more enthusiastic on a personal level about the discovery of a vampire’s nest. And he doesn’t pin it to a hunter’s heart dripping gamelust - because he’s aware that the idea of flying across the country with Dean Winchester, after so long, is significantly more appealing than the intricacies of pretending, and ridiculous badges, when they get there. 

So alright, Cas’s been waiting for this. Packing, planning and leaving. With Dean, and Dean’s familiar duffel, and his wings - it’s been an exciting thought. No matter how little time it’d take, and no matter how many times he’s flown around the vast Milky Way in the entirety of his life as an angel - this had felt like something monumental for Cas to suggest, and for Dean to agree to, through a mouthful of dinner, and several thoughtful nods. It had felt like something special.

But now, if Dean’s in enough discomfort to come out and audibly hint at it, it’s harder for him than he let Castiel believe - in the past, or even the night before yesterday. Cas knows he’d never impose on Dean. Or reinforce the multiple, exceedingly valid arguments he hadn’t had to use the first time, in favor of flying versus driving. Dean has the right to retract his agreement, his consent at any moment, and Cas instantly resolves to not let it show that this had meant something, because Dean would end up shouldering all the guilt Cas had no resolve to create, and absorbing it to the deepest crevices of his mind, to let himself fester in it.

Cas stays impassive. Ever proficient at dormancy. 

Still, Dean picks up on it. Guarded walls come up to shelter something akin to fear. “You wanted this.” It borders on inflammatory. A tinge of accusation, but it doesn’t feel pointed at Cas. 

“I did.”

“I’m sorry, Cas.” Dean grimaces, entering the room with a streeled step. It’s as if Cas’s earnestness knocked a few layers off his shield - and reduced the distance between them, literally and metaphorically. Truly, honesty is the strongest axe Cas swings at Dean’s unhealthy defenses, with.

“Dean, you needn’t be.” Cas assures him, and he means it, although the disappointment within him is giving way to a sullen sense of despondency he doesn’t wish to indulge in, so he deflects by concentrating on Dean instead. 

Dean shifts, raises his eyes from the floor to meet Cas’s, and they linger in a stare of depthless confessions. 

It’s unlike them.

So when Cas tries to render a small smile, because it felt like the silence needed to be reacted to - needed one of them to pull off, there’s no way for him to know that it’ll push them over the edge. Dean wrenches away from him, and Cas sees the strings holding him stoic, snap.

“Sonuvabitch, Cas -”

Dean storms up to him, glaring. He’s angry, it almost radiates off of him - just not, per se, at Cas. 

“- we’ve all come such a fucking long way!” He growls, and Cas meets his stare uncertainly, thrown off. This is unpredictable, to say the least. Dean’s positively glowering at him - except it’s through him, like he’s been hollowed out. “We saved the goddamn world, man. Died a combined total of a hell of a lot! Sam’s gone from being an angry teenager to a kickass, new-age Bobby Singer. Dammit Cas, we lost your wings and got them back.”

We lost your wings.

Cas nods, faintly. He still isn’t sure where Dean’s going with this. 

“Back then? You would’ve put two angelic fingers on my forehead, and zapped me the fuck to India, or something.” Dean grits out, edging towards his worst temper. Cas can hear him trying to restrain himself. “But now, you won’t - now, you listen, and you try - because you’ve grown, Cas. You’ve become family, and I -”

Cas doesn’t think about the fact that if Dean isn’t angry at him, there’s no reason to be yelling. Instead, he thinks about the rare haziness in intense, green eyes, and the pain in his crushed voice.

“And I haven’t fucking changed.” Dean ends abruptly, inflicting a scornful glare at the floor, and -

Oh. 

“Dean,” is all Cas says, because he isn't sure Dean’s done yet. They’ve always jumped to conclusions, and realized they were wrong later, but Cas really doesn’t want to interrupt right now. 

“Ten years, we’ve known each other.” Dean looks up again. There’s too much in his eyes. “Forty years, I’ve been hunting. And I’m still the goddamn same, Cas. Angry, pissed-off, worthless. The hits just keep on coming, and all I do is bury myself in the losses, and then Sam or you screws my head on straight and we pull a miracle out of our asses, but end of the day, I’m this fucked-up, hurting piece of shit, and -”

Emotions shine at the corner of Dean’s eyes; years of keeping it all down, finally overcome. With the surfacing ruinness, Dean lets out a strained sound, and lets his head fall. Chin buried in his chest, at last, he forces out. 

“- and I’m still too afraid of flying.”

“Dean.” Cas loses what remained of his reticence, and if Dean has more to say, he can say it with Cas close, hovering near with his hands featherlight along Dean’s arms, wanting to comfort, but not knowing how. Cas wants to be there - but he’s never gotten a chance before. He has no idea how. “Dean, look at me. Please. It’s not like that, Dean, you’re not those things - Dean, you’re one of the best men I know, just, please -”

Cas knows he isn’t doing the most articulate, or efficient job of reassuring the volatile, shaking hunter - almost - in his arms. None of it seems to seep through, however hard he tries. It’s years of repression. Like the other shoe dropping, the facade of being okay just crumbled - and it’d been the most convincing one yet, one Dean’s been hiding under since God was sent away. 

Instead of listening to Cas, Dean’s lost in his head. He scrubs his face with his hands, and then fists them in his hair, screwing his eyes shut. It hurts Cas to be so helpless right now - because no words seem to make a difference.

“I’m scared of it, Cas.” Dean repeats, voice breaking mid-sentence, and the heels of his palms pressed to his eyes.

Cas looks at him, terrified. He wishes he could hug Dean - wrap himself around him in a tight embrace, and not let go until Dean stops shaking, because right now, he’s trembling, but Cas has no idea if he’s allowed to do that. Dean is - well, from what Cas interprets of the situation, he’s having a panic attack, and Cas doesn’t want to cross boundaries. 

Cas just wants to brush off Dean’s tears, which have never been there before, and run his hands through his hair, and caress his temple, and he wants to soothe Dean’s knuckles with his thumbs, and he wants to tell Dean how wonderful he is, again and again until he believes Cas, and then calmly, he wants to take Dean’s hands, and -

That’s probably exactly what Castiel needs to do. 

Dean’s too out of it to register Cas gently plucking Dean’s hands from his face, freeing his hair of their assault - or maybe, he just can’t comprehend Cas holding his hand so tenderly, like it’s some kind of a precious thing, and Cas’s hands curl around his fingers, pushing Dean’s palm against his. 

Dean’s hands are colder than his, so Cas squeezes till Dean’s feel warm, and he looks at Dean as he does it, and Dean’s noticed now, and he’s staring at their hands, held between their chests, and he’s looking such awe - this delicate, beautiful wonder which makes Cas demand from himself why he hasn’t done this before. 

Somehow, as the seconds pass, Dean quietens. 

And as Cas holds on - simply holds on, running the pads of his thumbs on Dean’s skin, Dean’s chest stops heaving. He still looks dazed, and is breathing heavy, when Cas moves insufficiently closer, swaying into Dean’s space. 

“Will you let me try again?” Cas asks, in the same voice he’d have asked, do you trust me, and Dean understands it. 

He keeps looking at their hands. 

“Will you let me take you flying?” Cas says. “And we can hold hands, or if you’ll let me, I can hold you, and I promise it’ll be alright.”

There’s nothing, for a while. 

And then, Dean’s right thumb twitches, tracing the second knuckles of Cas’s fingers, and Cas feels a shadow of solace go through him, nervousness mingling with grace in his veins. 

“I’d let you take me anywhere, Cas.”

Cas feels his heart swell. Dean looks up slowly, seeking out Cas’s eyes, and Cas holds his gaze, and just like that, they’re back to saying things without any words. 

You fell from Heaven. Pulled me out of hell. We’ve been to purgatory together, so believe me, I’ll go to the corners of the world with you. 

“Maine?” Cas ventures, with growing confidence, for a smile - history assures him that Dean’ll join in, and he almost does. Only a wisp, but it’s there. 

“Yeah, but fucking hold me, okay?” Dean huffs, and it’s such a relieving sound of mild exasperation, more than a reach for normalcy, and Cas adores it. He knows Dean isn’t alright - not yet, and he doesn’t know how long it’ll take in the long run, but he knows he’ll be there for Dean. Through all of it, and on the other end. 

This is the farthest they’ve gotten, too. Dean’s hinted at these issues before, but he’s never had a breakdown in front of Cas - or anyone, and he’s never not backed off into a shell, after. This Dean is trying, and it’s wonderful. And it’d be growth, if Cas had ever looked at Dean Winchester, through the lens of an all-knowing immortal, like he’s not the most incredible being in the world, but a specimen, an experience - a phenomena to be analysed. 

Cas looks on, trying to dissect the way Dean’s eyes stay glued to his, unconsciously, and trying to read Dean through them. He can sense faith, and hope, and his resolve is renewed. 

“Well, we’d have to let go, first.” Cas points out, slow, and Dean tentatively does it first, ending up with his arms on his side again. Circling back to awkward, and adorable in his nervousness. But Cas doesn’t let him fold in, and retreat into himself, because now that he’s got Dean saying yes, and Dean asking him to, of course he’s putting his arms around him. 

Of course, he’s putting a hand on Dean’s hip - and drinking in the subtle responses of his body to Cas guiding him closer, and his other hand goes to rest on it’s eternally demarcated place on Dean’s left arm, as he looks up at Dean with all of the admiration and reverence he feels inside, trying to coax it into his eyes, and it’s not even a fraction of a millionth which makes it there, but Dean still blushes, so maybe for now, it’s enough. And then Dean’s hand grazes against Cas’s elbow carefully - because Cas hasn’t asked Dean to touch him yet, (so he doesn’t), but oh, how he wishes he would.

“How are you, Dean?” 

“I’m going to close my eyes.”

“How would you know you’re not scared if you closed your eyes?”

“How do you know I’m not going to be scared?” Dean throws back, still vulnerable, but a lot more himself. It’s a challenge, a flame disguised as a rhetoric, but Cas treats it like a question. And answers, as plainly as he can.

“Because now, you believe in me.”

It’s not a lot of words, and not the most eloquent Cas has ever been, but it conveys so much that it almost stuns Dean again. He nods, jerkily.

I’ve always believed in you.

Dean waits.

Trust is not the same as belief.

Cas decides it’s not worth this moment wasted, to stop for supplies or guns. They can circle back for them. This is it. Dean’s ready right now, and Cas wants to show him how beautiful it can be - and how with Cas, Dean never needs to fear flying.

Castiel would, and has given up his life for Dean Winchester. He’s charred, ruined, and lost his wings. Yet now, the angel shall show him how to live, on those very wings. Life is a string of poetic ironies, threaded together by choices. Love is the first pearl, and courage is the last.

“Cas.” Dean breathes out, as Cas starts to dissociate, focusing himself deep within. Dean stares openly, for Cas’s eyes are closed now, as he reaches through the realms to gather himself. “Of course, I believe in you.” Falls from his lips in an awed whisper, and the sound of his voice is still too much for the frailty of the moment.

That’s when it happens.

“I love you.” Cas lets out, because it seems far too important that Dean knows, and there’s limits to implications which can’t hold him back anymore. They’re going to fly together. 

Dean’s eyes widening is the last thing he sees, before he needs to concentrate his grace again. It feels like giving in to an old habit you’ve had to live without, more than a lover you’ve moved on from - and Dean’s hands grabbing onto him don't even register as they take off. His grand, celestial wings flap, and time hurls them out of their reality. 

Everything fades, and with the sounds, borders, and colors, so does Castiel - once again, heavenly. Everything goes away, stripping their hearts bare and momentum flickers on their skins, as ethereal, sky-like wings render the only one who remains, speechless.

Beholding the magnificence of his angel, love resonating through his ribs, Dean keeps his eyes open. 

*

It never takes too long.

Dean holds on to Cas, with arms clinging around his neck, until the end. It feels like he’s gliding - but somehow also like he’s driving hands-free in the clouds, though he’s surrounded by too much of everything for it to be the sky. He’s not terrified, but he’s overwhelmed, and he’s goddamn living- hell, he’s never lived this much in a breath, because the second he’s trying to replace the oxygen in his lungs, he finds the chasm of warped space start to dissipate. 

The ground under his boots returns, just like that.

He breathes in air - cold, real air, in the middle of a field which is certainly not Kansas, with a full-blown smile on his face which he’s not even thinking about. It still feels like he’s floating, to some imaginative part of his consciousness. It makes his heart slower, and shoulders lift, and he’s unjustifiably happy, and peaceful, and to hell with being afraid, he feels content.

Dean Winchester feels brave again. 

Maybe it’s because of Cas’s words. Maybe it’s because his arms are still fastened around him. Or maybe it’s because, Cas. He’s everything. Dean's been an idiot to have been trying to ignore the things he feels, because if he’d gotten here sooner, he could’ve had more of Cas looking at him like that, and Cas’s hands planted warmly on his sides, and Cas just smiling at him from this close. 

Now, he’s determined to make the most of the time he’s got. 

When Castiel slowly opens his eyes, looking composed again - and a little proud, definitely pleased, almost too lovely, Dean doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t wait for the voice in his head to catch up, and start second-guessing what he’s wanted to do forever. Dean just lurches forward, grabbing the trenchcoat lapels to reduce the gap, and kisses him. 

Cas responds almost right away, pushing back into the kiss, and Dean, with all of himself, and letting both arms circle Dean’s waist and shoulders, ending up impossibly close. Dean cups Cas’s face, tilting it towards himself, as he kisses him with everything he’s ever felt. There’s gratitude, and apologies, and need, and want, and then there’s the love, and that’s where he stops thinking. 

“Cas, I -” Dean pants, running out of breath. They’ve stopped kissing, and are simply paused in the moment with their foreheads leaned into a reassuring touch. Dean’s waiting to hear himself say it, and he hopes Cas is, too. “I - god, Cas - I love you too.” He takes a full breath. “I love you so much.”

And then Cas breaks into a smile, chest heaving as well, with the corners of his eyes wrinkling, and lips pulling up, and Dean gets to lean in and kiss him again, and he gets to tell Cas he loves him, and tell Cas he loves him every morning, and every time he feels like it’ll burst out of his chest if he doesn’t, and he gets to want Cas to hold him, as they fly, and -

Goddammit, he gets Cas. 

And that’s a happy ending, if Dean Winchester’s ever dreamed of one. 

#destiel #dean winchester #castiel #canon compliance #spn endgame #destiel angst #destiel fluff #flying together

[ggukcangetit]

Dreamcatchers 5

Pairing: jungkook x oc

Summary: DI Jeon didn’t need a new partner. Unfortunately, his superiors felt otherwise; especially considering the extremely high-profile murder that had just taken place in the port city. Recent transfer, DI Choi Yuri finds herself confronted with a new cityscape, unfamiliar people, a hostile partner, and a homicide that is certain to bring back unpleasant memories.  

Genre/AU: fluff/action/mystery | detective! au | police!jungkook, police!oc

Word Count: 3.7k

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: mentions of violence, alcohol, blood, drugs, death. basically stuff you’d associate with a murder mystery/crime drama.

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | A/N:  found a lovely group of people at bsh and their enthusiasm is infectious enough to get me to write a lot more than i had originally planned. reminding everyone that this story features a named oc because i’m still very unfamiliar with writing second person reader inserts. i’m not aiming for strict accuracy in this story, and all criminal investigation/forensics knowledge i have has been gathered by watching crime drama/procedural dramas! my knowledge of geography is also not totally accurate so apologies for that. once again, one thing right by @hobios​ prompted me to write a police inspector! jungkook story. would highly recommend reading that because it’s probably one of my most favorite pieces of writing! additional note: the timeline at the end of the post is what i imagine yuri and jeongguk were constructing on the station’s white board in the last scene.

20th December

Seokjin was inside his bakery, getting ready to open in a little bit, when frantic knocking interrupted him. Checking his watch, he saw that it was 6.52 am, which meant that he had 8 minutes until opening. While people in this town were known to wake up at the crack of dawn, he had never had anyone knocking at his door before opening time. A second set of knocks - much louder this time - made him rush over to the front door.

"They've arrested Jimin on suspicion of murder."

Taehyung stood there looking more lost than he had ever seen him. Even more than when he had found Seokjin months after the latter had left home. Even more than when he had been given the responsibility of taking over the company. Taehyung, who struggled to wake up in time for 10 am meetings, was wide awake before the clock struck 7 and looked like he hadn't slept a wink the previous night.

"Did you run all the way here?" Seokjin asked. Taehyung's hair looked windswept and beads of perspiration lined his forehead despite it being the middle of winter.

"Why've they arrested him? He would never do something like that!"

"Come inside first. You'll catch a cold if you stay outside like this."

Once inside, Taehyung didn't look any less perturbed - his expressive eyes glistening with many different emotions. Seokjin brought out a cup of hot chocolate and a red bean bun, sitting down opposite his younger brother.

"Now, tell me what's going on."

"Jimin was arrested last night on suspicion of murder."

"Murder? You mean Eunwoo? They think Jimin had something to do with Eunwoo's death?"

Taehyung nodded his head, the initial rush of adrenaline having worn off, leaving him looking significantly more worn out.

"Do you know why? How did you even find out? Did Jimin tell you?"

"No. Ahreum did." Taehyung rubbed his face with his hands, trying to rid himself of the terrifying thoughts rushing through his mind. "She was there when Yuri - that's her friend who's also Jeongguk's new partner - made the call. There must be some mistake!"

Seokjin bit his lip worriedly. While Jimin had been Taehyung's best friend since they were little, there was no doubt that the former led a very wild life involving many questionable escapades. He didn't know much about Yuri, but there was no doubt in his mind that Jeongguk was a very competent detective who knew what he was doing.

"I don't know what I should do." Taehyung's voice, jolted him out of his thoughts. "I should go down to the station, shouldn't I? Jimin probably needs someone there with him. What about getting a lawyer? Should we ask Namjoon? I-"

"Slow down, Taehyung," Seokjin said, patting his brother's shoulder reassuringly. "I'm sure Jimin's gotten a lawyer himself. His family has a lot of resources. But if you want, you can drop by the station in case he needs something."

"Y-yeah, I should do that. I'll go right now. I- Shit!" Taehyung patted his coat pockets frantically. "I can't find my car keys!"

"You didn't drive here," reminded Seokjin, gently. "Do you want me to drive you there?"

The bell hanging above the front door jingled softly at that moment, signalling Seokjin's first customer of the day.

"No, you shouldn’t leave your bakery. It would be bad for business." Taehyung shook his head, the helpless look in his eyes not leaving him despite his conviction to leave his brother out of this.

"Why don't you ask Ahreum if she can give you a lift? Isn't she usually up by this time?"

"You're right! I'll do that!"

Seokjin busied himself with the customer who had just come in, his eyes wandering towards his brother ever so often. Ahreum picked him up 15 minutes later, but Seokjin couldn't shake off the worried feeling he had gotten after seeing Taehyung so frantic and helpless.

...

Yuri had reached the station at 6 that morning. She hadn't slept last night, going through every inch of evidence and every statement they had taken related to Kang Eunwoo's murder. Her stomach had dropped when she had read the email from Seulgi last night. It wasn't that she was convinced that Jimin was a saint who had nothing to do with this, but the fact that he had finally decided to give a blood sample suggested either that he was innocent, or that he was guilty but somehow knew that he would be able to escape the charges. Both options did not bode well with her.

Jeon arrived around half past 6, the bags under his eyes suggesting that he had also had a sleepless night. He didn't say anything, just heading straight for his desk and pouring over a set of files like he had a final exam he was cramming for.

Chief Inspector Goh had spoken to both of them on a conference call last night once news of Jimin's arrest had been confirmed.

"Are we completely sure about this?" His voice hoarse, indicating that the call had disturbed his slumber.

"Yes, sir," Yuri replied, not waiting for her partner to chip in. She was the one who had received the email from Seulgi, she had been the one to convince Jimin for a blood sample - this was her line of inquiry. Which made her all the more nervous.

"I'm sure I don't need to remind either of you that the Parks are difficult customers. Young Mr. Park does not have a criminal record despite his many infractions over the years."

"We are aware, sir." Jeon answered this time, being more familiar with the social landscape than Yuri. "Everything will be carried out according to proper procedure."

"Good. Be prepared to deal with lawyers as well. I have a suspicion that that bastard Song will be representing the Park boy tomorrow. Jeongguk, I'm sure you're aware of his reputation and the kinds of clients he usually represents."

Yuri did not know about this particular lawyer, but made a note to look up his previous cases to get an understanding of what they were up against. She had no doubt that Jeon would be as unhelpful as he had been since she had first arrived.

"You can't start the interview before 8 am, but given that he was arrested just before midnight, we will have lost 8 precious hours out of the total 48 before we have to either charge him or release him on bail. Be clear, be smart, and do not allow anyone to string you along."

"Yes, sir." They both replied, before ending the call.

"Do you want to go over the interview strategy?"

Jeon's words took Yuri by surprise. She had been expecting a cold shoulder at best, and unfiltered hostility at worst.

"Y-yeah sure," she replied, turning her chair around to find that he had moved over to her side of the cubicle already.

"I think we should lead with the blood match," he continued, frowning at a sheet of paper. "What do you think?"

"While that is the most efficient way to approach it," said Yuri, pausing to organize her thoughts. "We could also press him to provide us with an alibi."

"Why'd you think that?"

Yuri tapped her fingers on the table, wondering how far she should try and explain her idea to Jeon. "I just... He was very uncooperative about providing an alibi last time. But then he came down and voluntarily gave a blood sample, which has put him in a much worse position than not providing an alibi. I don't know why he would refuse the low risk option in favor of the high risk one."

Jeon scoffed. "Well you clearly don't know Jimin then."

"Well obviously not like you lot do," she frowned, folding her arms across her chest.

"Don't get me wrong," he continued, leaning against the divider. "Your confusion is completely valid, but this behavior is very much in character for Jimin."

"How'd you mean?"

"He's a loose canon. He has no regard for authority - half of what he does is to piss off people in power or positions of authority. Jimin's always been like that as far as I can remember. But-" he paused and rubbed the back of his neck tiredly - "this is much more serious. This is murder."

Yuri pressed her lips together, wondering how difficult the interview was going to be.

8 am

"You are aware that you have been arrested on suspicion of the murder of Kang Eunwoo on 16th December."

Park Jimin looked very different from the previous few times Yuri had met him. His silver hair was devoid of any gel, making him look drastically younger. He was not wearing expensive lounge wear like he had been during the previous interview. The only thing that remained unchanged was the emotionless look in his cold grey eyes.

His lawyer, on the other hand, looked quite cheerful - smug even. As if he knew in advance that his client would get off without any charges no matter how serious the offense.

"When you were here a couple of days ago, we asked you where you were on the night of December 15th. And you did not provide us with an answer." Yuri paused, trying in vain to discern something from Jimin's expression. "So let me ask you again - where were you on the night of December 15th?"

"No comment."

"I must impress upon you the importance of this matter. You are the prime suspect in the murder of a rival family's heir. If you do not provide an alibi, we will be forced to assume that you do not have one."

Silence.

"Your blood was found on the victim's clothes." Jeon took over, moving along to the main line of inquiry. "What can you tell us about that?"

"No comment."

"The victim's father says that you visited their house on the night that the victim was murdered. What do you have to say about that?"

"No comment."

This was not going any better than the previous interview. In fact, Yuri thought this one was much worse. Even though they should have had the upper hand, Jimin's unperturbed, stoic expression indicated otherwise. The blood on the sleeve was enough to charge him, but with the Park family's resources there was always a chance that Jimin would be able to get off in court. Which was why they needed to build a stronger case against him.

Jeon continued persisting with the questions, receiving an emotionless "no comment" every time. The lawyer looked rather relaxed, and Yuri tried her best to avoid looking at him. Instead, she focused on Jimin. Everything about him was unreadable - his eyes, his body language, his face, his tone of voice. Despite his more casual appearance this time around, his fingers were still adorned with multiple rings. Her eyes lingered briefly on his hands, absentmindedly counting the number of rings when something struck her.

Jeon had paused to look through his notes, and Yuri took this opportunity to dive in.

"Mr. Park," she began, placing a hand on Jeon's knee to stop him from interrupting her. "I noticed that you always wear a lot of rings on your fingers."

"As far as I can remember, DI Choi," said Jimin's lawyer. "Wearing a lot of rings is not a criminal offense."

"And I commend you on your immaculate memory," she replied, dryly. "Getting back to what I was saying, you wear a lot of rings. Are they supposed to be a fashion statement? Or do they have some greater significance?"

Jimin's expression flickered for the briefest of moments.

"For example," she continued, indicating the ring on the little finger of his left hand. "That's an unusual design - quite old-fashioned compared to the rest of your rings. Is there anything special about that ring?"

"I don't understand how this is relev-"

"Then why don't you let your client answer himself."

For the first time since the interview had begun, Jimin's posture changed slightly. "That ring belonged to my mother."

"I see... that must hold a lot of emotions for you." Yuri removed her hand from Jeon's thigh, indicating that he could continue. He didn't say anything to her, preferring to hold eye-contact for a few meaningful seconds

"I'm going to ask you one last time," he said, taking over once again. "Where were you on the night of December 15th?"

"No comment."

...

"What was that about?" asked Jeon, once they were out of the interview room.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean," he sighed in exasperation. "The ring, Choi."

"Just wanted to bring down his guard a bit," she shrugged.

He looked unconvinced, but dropped it seeing as they had more pressing things to deal with at the moment. Shaking his head, he went into Goh's room to update him on the outcome of the interview.

Making sure that the door to the Chief Inspector's room had been shut completely, Yuri switched on her laptop and pulled up every bit of information she had on Jimin. Even though she had gone over it less than 2 days ago, there were some things she needed to confirm. If what she thought was even remotely possible, they had been looking at things wrong the entire time.

"Hello? Telecoms Division? This DI Choi Yuri, badge number XXXX. I wanted to check whether this phone number is currently being used in Korea. Yes, I'll hold."

She tapped her fingers on the desk nervously, hoping she could get the information before Jeon came back. While it was true that he hadn't been openly hostile with her over the past 24 hours or so, she didn't want to risk pissing him off without something concrete.

"Yes, I'm still here," she breathed a sigh of relief when the person on the other end of the line took her off hold. "Really? Okay. And can you tell me if the number was being used overseas at any point in the past 2 months? I see... Would it be possible to send this to my official email? Great! Thank you very much for your help."

A couple of minutes later, Yuri's laptop pinged, indicating a new email. She read through everything carefully- once, twice, making sure she had gotten everything down accurately.

Fuck...

"Going somewhere?" Chief Inspector Goh walked out of his office to see Yuri putting on her coat and packing her bag.

"I- uh- yes."

"There's a lot of paperwork that has to be done, I'm afraid," he continued, checking messages on his phone. "You and Jeongguk will probably need to be here well past usual hours."

"Of course, sir." Yuri shrugged off her coat and sat down with a sigh.

6 pm

Seven hours. It had been seven hours since Yuri and Jeon had begun working their way through the piles of paperwork Goh had instructed them to finish.

"I'm hungry." Jeon stretched his arms above his head, yawning with his entire being. "Do you wanna get some takeout?"

"What?" Yuri looked up from the page she had been trying to read for the past fifteen minutes. Her eyes were glazing over with exhaustion.

"Food. Dinner. Sustenance."

"Y-yeah," Yuri blinked her eyes rapidly. "Sorry what were you saying?"

"You know what? Never mind. I'm just ordering a bunch of things- " He unlocked his phone and began typing away furiously. "Eat whatever you like from there."

Yuri gazed at him for a few moments, trying to reorient herself with the three dimensional world. She noticed that he was sitting on the swivel chair with his feet tucked beneath him - something oddly endearing which didn't really fit her image of him.

"I like dumplings," she said, more to herself than anyone else.

Jeon smirked but didn't say anything.

Half an hour later, a dozen or so takeout containers lay open in front of them - occupying more of Yuri's desk than Jeon's, much to her annoyance. He had rolled up the sleeves of his black shirt, slurping the hot noodles rather noisily.

Yuri threw him a quick glare and reached over to pick up a couple of fried chicken pieces.

"So why'd you ask Jimin about the ring?"

"I see you haven't forgotten about that," Yuri rolled her eyes, biting into the juicy meat.

"It was too specific to be a random thought," he shrugged. "So, are you gonna tell me or...?"

"I don't know if I can trust you, Jeon," she replied, simply.

"W-what?" he spluttered on the noodles, gulping some water to stop choking. "I'm your partner! Why can't you trust me?"

"I don't know..." Yuri tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Is it because you only glared at me on my first day? Or is it because you haven't greeted me civilly even once since I joined? Ooh, I know! Maybe its all of these combined with the fact that you've been an uncooperative bastard since I got here."

Jeon stared at her guiltily, his eyes widening considerably - giving him an expression akin to a deer caught in the headlights. "You're right. I apologize for that."

"Against my better judgment, I'll accept your apology. But you have Yoongi to thank for that."

Jeon smiled into his noodles at the mention of Yoongi.

"You also have Yoongi to thank for what I did yesterday," she continued, setting down the empty container. "I nicked your 2nd Nov case file and went through it."

"You what? When?!"

Yuri waved her hand dismissively. "Details. Unimportant. Yoongi suggested I should and I did. But that's not what I wanted to talk about."

"Anything else of mine you've nicked in the 5 days that you've been here?" grumbled Jeon, but there was no real bitterness in his tone.

Ignoring his comment, she pulled out her phone from the charging socket. "The reason I asked Jimin about his rings, is this -" she scrolled up to a particular picture and passed the phone over to him - "The ring found at the 2nd Nov crime scene is identical to the one Jimin wears on his left little finger."

"Are you sure...?" Jeon asked, raising an eyebrow uncertainly. "Even if it is, what's to say there aren't hundreds of other identical rings belonging to people across the country?"

"I did think that initially," Yuri took her phone back, and pulled up another image. "Which is why I asked Jimin about it during the interview. He said that it belonged to his mother. I'm sure you know this much better than I do but the late Mrs. Park came from a very old, distinguished family. That ring that Jimin was wearing is a family heirloom - from his mother's side. Here's an article that covered heirlooms of famous families in Korea, and it mentions the Park family."

Jeon took the phone from her, a frown forming on his face. The article was dated around 3 years ago.

"According to the article, there were three rings in total. One that belonged to Mrs. Park - which was buried with her after her death - and two others belonging to Jimin and his older brother Minhyuk. Not just that, there's a picture of Jimin and Minhyuk in the article, where they're both wearing the rings."

"Shit... You're right." Jeon pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. "During the investigation, we just assumed that the ring belonged to the victim and had slipped off her finger during the struggle."

"Three rings," said Yuri. "One that has presumably been buried in a grave for over 10 years. One that was definitely on Jimin's finger today. And one that was found at the 2nd Nov crime scene."

"Minhyuk? You think he had something to do with it?" asked Jeon, sharply. "It was pretty clear that the drunk and homeless father of her child had stabbed her."

"Hear me out," she continued, opening her laptop this time. The food lay forgotten at this point. "I went through what we know about the victim - paints a pretty tragic picture. Although it wasn't always like that for her. She worked for a few years, saved up enough money before enrolling into a professional degree program at Busan National University."

"Yeah, so what?"

"Her time at Busan National University coincided with Park Minhyuk's Masters program."

"What?"

"Yeah, but," she continued, finding the university website. "She dropped out after less than a year because her father passed away, leaving behind a huge pile of debt. We know that her mother had passed away when she was about 10. Now if you look at her daughter's birth certificate, it would appear that she got pregnant while she was still enrolled at the university."

"Are you saying the baby was his?! There's a pretty big stretch from attended university at the same time to father of her child."

"Let me finish, would you?" she groaned, throwing her hands up in frustration.

"Fine, go ahead."

"In order to see if they were acquainted with one another, I resorted to the most informative source available - social media. Our victim didn't have much of a social media presence, but I scrolled through anything and everything Park Minhyuk has been tagged in. And guess what I found?"

Jeon stopped eating, and moved closer to the screen to see a picture of a few university students having a picnic together. It was dated January 2016, and two of the people in the picture were recognizable immediately.

"Holy shit! They did know each other! And quite well apparently." Jeon wheeled his chair forward, bumping into her chair in the process. "Shit, sorry."

Yuri rolled her eyes and moved out of his way. She had no desire to get slammed into again.

"Since I'm not part of the original investigation, I thought of checking whether Park Minhyuk was in the country around the time of the stabbing with a different excuse. I called the company, asking if he was available to chat about Jimin. They said he's abroad at the moment. Has been since October, apparently. But- " she rummaged through the papers on her desk before finding the post-it she had hurriedly scribbled on a few hours ago - "Telecoms did an analysis and found that his cell phone has been operating in Korea for a while now. So...?"

"Either someone else has gotten a hold of Park Minhyuk's cell phone," said Jeon, frowning thoughtfully. "Or the Parks are knee-deep in murder and perjury."

XXX

a/n: sorry there was such a huge delay between chapters. i was writing out some of the chapters beforehand so that there wouldn’t be too many plot inconsistencies.

#c me write bangtan #jungkook fic #jungkook x oc #jungkook #hoseok #yoongi #namjoon #taehyung #seokjin #btsbookclub #bts fic

[tcugem]

WHAT IS VOCABULARY?

Vocabulary is generally described as "all of the words that a given individual is familiar with and uses." Knowing a word, on the other hand, is more complicated than just being able to identify and apply it. There are a variety of elements of word knowledge that may be measured in order to determine word knowledge.

IMPORTANCE OF VOCABULARY

1. The size of one's vocabulary has been shown to be closely related to reading comprehension.

2. The term "linguistic vocabulary" refers to language used in the process of thinking.

3. Others may form an opinion about a person based on the language that he or she uses.

HOW TO IMPROVE VOCABULARY

1. Read Voraciously. It is unquestionably true that reading is the most efficient method of learning new words. While reading, you are able to see words being used in context, which makes it much more successful than other methods such as memorizing word lists. Because each new word is surrounded with context information, there is a high possibility that you will be able to infer its meaning just by reading the entire text. The process of discovering the meaning of words in this manner is the most natural method of learning a language and reading offers the greatest chance for exposure to this most natural form of learning. Reading a book in which there are numerous unfamiliar terms will most likely result in you being unable to deduce their meaning from their context. If that's the case, try reading something a little simpler. Making reading a pleasant pastime is the key to effective reading. Never fear seeing unfamiliar terms, but make sure the material is suitable for your reading level before proceeding.

2. Make Friends with Dictionary. In order to increase your vocabulary, a dictionary is the first and most important resource. A dictionary is the only way to discover the exact meaning of a word, as well as its spelling and alternative meanings, as well as any extra relevant information about it. A thesaurus may also be a useful tool for learning since it can help you discover links between words, such as their synonyms and antonyms.

3. Use it or Lose it. Instead of stopping after learning a new word by reading it or looking it up in the dictionary, keep going. It is only through actual use of the new words that you will really commit them to your long-term memory.

Make use of your imagination and attempt to use your newly acquired vocabulary into as many situations as possible:

Write them down

Say them aloud

Create sentences with them, mentally or in writing

Try to use them in a conversation

Discuss them with friends

It’s also important to be aware of your own language style: every time you catch yourself saying common or nonspecific words such as “nice,” try coming up with richer and more precise expressions instead.

4. Learn One New Word a Day. When you learn one new word every day, you will soon realize that the total number of words you have learned is very large.

5. Understand the true Meaning of the Words. By gaining a thorough knowledge of terms, you may dramatically increase your vocabulary. Instead of just remembering words, try to comprehend them on a deeper level by studying their etymology, word origins, prefixes, and suffixes. Given that at least half of all English words are derived from Greek and Latin origins, being acquainted with these languages may be very beneficial. For example, if you realize that the prefix "ortho" implies straight or right, you may begin to discover links between terms that seem to be unrelated, such as orthodontist (a professional who straightens teeth) and orthography (which means "orthography" in Greek) (the correct, or straight way of writing). Learning to decipher the reasoning behind words always pays dividends in terms of learning and remembering information. Consider the following terms: "breakfast," which means "to interrupt the night's fast," and "rainbow," which means "bow or arc formed by rain." However, although these interpretations may seem insignificant to native English speakers, having such insights into words, whether foreign or otherwise, never fails to strengthen your bond with them.

6. Maintain a Personal Lexicon. A customized list of newly acquired terms will serve as a useful reference that you may turn to while reviewing the words in question later. Keeping current terms in your own list will make it far more convenient to refer to them in the future rather of having to go back to the dictionary every time you forget what you were talking about. It doesn't matter if you never look back at your lexicon again; just jotting down terms at least once will significantly improve your capacity to transfer them to permanent memory in the future. Another fantastic learning tool is to create an original sentence using the term — and utilizing your lexicon to do so is a terrific method of reinforcing the habit of writing unique sentences. You may also include a variety of additional information as you see appropriate, such as the date on which you first saw the word or a sequential number to assist you in meeting a word limit that you have set.

7. Follow a Process. Making vocabulary development a permanent habit in your everyday life requires making it as routine, automatic, and closely integrated into your daily workflow as possible; otherwise, you will be less likely to do it when your days get too full. In this respect, the idea of keeping a "Word Inbox" may be especially beneficial to you. The ability to absorb information much more effectively is enhanced by having a predetermined location in which to record the terms you come across. Your method may be as basic or as complex as you want; the important thing is to establish it in advance and then adhere to it. Knowing precisely how and when to handle your email allows you to remain on top of your vocabulary development process even when more urgent issues demand your attention.

8. Play and Have Fun. Playing games and participating in group activities are beneficial in any kind of learning, but they are especially beneficial in language-related learning since they encourage collaboration. Organize a gathering of relatives and friends to participate in word games. Quiddler, as well as the classics Scrabble and Boggle, are among of the more intriguing choices. Making your own word activities is a simple and inexpensive alternative to purchasing pre-made games from a retailer. You might, for example, create your own version of "Word Evening," in which a different individual contributes a new word to the dinner on a particular day of the week. When the term is read, the person who defined it must come up with a phrase that incorporates the word into it.

9. Leverage Every Resource You Can. The Internet is a veritable gold mine of materials for expanding one's vocabulary. Here are a few examples to get you started, but there are many more:

There are a plethora of vocabulary apps available for you to test. There are a plethora of books available that are connected to vocabulary. On websites such as Project Gutenberg, there is an abundance of free literature to be found. For those who prefer to utilize the Firefox browser, there are many methods to include dictionary searching features, such as the plug-in.

10. Diversify. Do something different from your everyday routine: hunting, fishing, or blogging–any activity that is not a part of your usual life may serve as a fantastic method to acquire new terms, as every specialty has its own jargon and distinct ways of interacting with the world around them. Read a variety of books and periodicals that are different from the ones you are used to. Watch movies in a different language. Take up new activities and socialize with a diverse range of individuals.

#vocabulary

[theculturedmarxist]

It’s been a full month since Election Day, and Donald Trump still refuses to concede to Joe Biden. Instead, he continues to insist that he won, making baseless accusations of widespread election fraud and enlisting the aid of a comical crew of sycophants to press legal challenges to the vote totals in swing states—all of which have been laughed out of court. Trump’s ongoing efforts to overturn millions of votes have prompted a public debate over whether to describe his actions as a “coup” or something similar. This is just the most recent phase of a wider debate dating back to the beginning of Trump’s presidency over whether Trump represents a “fascist” or “authoritarian” rupture with the Republican Party pre-2016.

One of the leading critics of that interpretation has been Corey Robin, a professor of political science at the CUNY Graduate Center and the author of an influential and controversial 2011 book on the history of conservative thought, The Reactionary Mind. This week, I spoke to Robin about the Trump presidency as it enters its final months. In contrast to the popular conception of Trump as an incipient fascist dictator and a break with American liberal institutions and norms, for Robin, Trump threatens liberalism only to the extent that movement conservatism in general has over many decades, and is otherwise a weak leader whose power is largely constrained by broader political conditions. Whether or not one fully agrees with every point, Robin offers a provocative alternative to some of the more unhinged reactions to the Trump era from the self-proclaimed Resistance.

This interview has been lightly edited. It originally appeared in yesterday’s email newsletter, to which you can subscribe here.

David Klion: It’s pretty clear at this point that we are not going through an actual coup and that Biden is going to be inaugurated as president on January 20th, whether Trump wants to admit it or not. At the same time, nothing quite like what’s happening now has ever happened before in the United States. How would you describe what Trump and his dead-enders are doing, and how concerned should we be in terms of the stability of US political institutions?

Corey Robin: You can’t understand what’s happening now without a historical perspective on conservatism and the right. The right was born in response to the French Revolution, as a reaction against the democratic emancipation of the commoner. Across more than two centuries and many continents, the right has never lost that reactionary ethos.

But what the right learned, slowly, over time, was that to mobilize against a democratic and democratizing left, it could not simply assert a traditional, static, and familiar defense of hierarchy; instead, it had to mobilize a dynamic movement of the masses, a populist politics of the right to counter the masses of the left. That populism was never democratic, but it knew how to draw from the tropes of democracy to push back against democracy. It learned how to use the languages of racism, nationalism, imperialism, and sexism to give a broad circle of the masses a taste of privilege over their subordinates. The fruition of that long learning process—of using populist vernaculars against democracy—was the American right that emerged in response to the 1960s and the New Deal.

For all the talk of Trump’s populism and racism and nationalism, the fact is that he was far less successful at using those vernaculars to mobilize the masses than his predecessors on the right—Nixon, Reagan, and George W. Bush. Nixon and Reagan were re-elected with large popular majorities. Trump, like Bush, lost the popular majority the first time around, and unlike Bush, lost it a second time around.

What Trump and the Republican Party have grown increasingly dependent upon are not populism or mass politics of any sort, but rather the Electoral College, the Senate, and the courts. Historically speaking, this is a great—and terrible—reversion for the right, a return to the time when it depended not on its popular touch but on its control over anti-democratic state institutions. It makes today’s right a lot weaker than the right of the Reagan era, and makes it seem much more like the Tories of early 19th-century Britain.

This is why you now see Trump doing what he’s trying to do with the vote. The Republicans can’t win presidential campaigns the way they once did: Since 1992, they have won the popular vote exactly once. Their only hope now is a combination of the Electoral College and the courts.

Far from being concerned about US institutions being insufficiently stable or resilient enough to contain Trump or a similar figure, I’m far more concerned about the stifling stability and resilience of institutions like the Electoral College, the courts, and the Senate, and their ability to prop up Trump and the GOP.

DK: You’ve maintained from the beginning that Trump is actually a historically weak president, in spite of his authoritarian bluster. Can you elaborate on why you thought so back in 2017, how those predictions have been borne out since, and what makes Trump weaker than other recent presidents?

CR: I thought Trump was weak for two reasons, neither having anything to do with his skill or character, but with larger political forces and structures.

The first is that conservatism is an inherently reactionary politics that depends on the real threat of an active, emancipatory left: not the specter of a threat, not the discourse on Twitter, but an actual social movement that has taken state power and is engaged in a project of dispossession of elites. When the left is defeated or disappears, the right’s power ebbs. That is what has happened in the US. The left is, historically speaking, relatively weak, so it’s difficult for the right to get the juice it needs.

Trump’s presidency reflected that: Compared to the Republican presidencies of Nixon, Reagan, and George W. Bush, Trump’s was significantly less transformational, and its legacy is far less assured. Next to “law and order” and “the silent majority” (which Nixon made part of our political grammar), next to “the era of big government is over” (which Reagan bequeathed to Clinton as the ruling doctrine of the age), next to Bush’s war on terror and the Department of Homeland Security and the Patriot Act, none of Trump’s attempts to permanently transform the political climate—not of the Republican Party but of the whole political culture—seems even remotely comparable. With the exception of the tax cuts, Trump was hardly able to get much legislation through Congress; many of his executive orders will be undone by Biden; the only custodian of his legacy, ironically, will be the courts, which many had seen as the antidote to Trumpism and caretaker of the rule of law.

The second reason I thought Trump would be weak is that all presidents are elected to oppose or defend a larger political regime. A regime, in US political history, is the combination of ideology, interests, and policies that govern over an extended period of time. In American history, we had the Jeffersonian Democratic-Republican regime, Jackson’s Democratic regime, Lincoln’s Republican regime, FDR’s New Deal regime, and now Reagan’s free market regime. Whatever the party of a specific president elected may be, he will be forced to operate under the larger regime’s assumptions and expectations of good governance. Bill Clinton was a Democrat, but he had to govern like a Republican; Eisenhower was a Republican, but he had to govern like a Democrat.

There are some presidents who are affiliated with a dominant regime, but the regime is vulnerable. Herbert Hoover and Jimmy Carter were those kinds of presidents, and they are considered to be among the weakest. From the moment Trump was elected, I thought he belonged in that Hoover/Carter category. The Reagan regime is increasingly unable to provide the answers and policies to govern the country, much in the same way that the New Deal seemed unable to offer answers during the 1970s. The fact of that weakness made Trump quite weak. Again, the fact that he was so unable to push through legislation, that his budgets were more liberal, in some ways, than Barack Obama’s, and that the Republicans, when they controlled all the elected branches of government, were not able to implement big parts of their program—all that suggests how weak the Republican regime is.

In the coming years, once the emotional context of Trump’s presidency fades away, I think more and more people will see just how weak he really was.

DK: The historian Timothy Snyder, among other prominent public intellectuals, has argued that Trump’s approach to the presidency resembles that of 20th-century dictators like Hitler or Mussolini. The obvious counter is that Trump is going to submit to the election result, but are people like Snyder completely off-base? Trump may be lazy and incompetent, and US institutions may be stronger than some predicted, but is it fair to characterize Trump and his hardcore supporters as far-right, illiberal, even fascist, and at the very least a test of how much strain the Constitution can endure?

CR: There is no question, in my mind, that Trump and his supporters are far-right and illiberal. I’ve said so from the beginning. One of my differences with Snyder and people who subscribe to the view that Trump is a fascist or authoritarian is that their desire to call Trump that often arises from a failure to understand conservatism more generally, which has always been a far-right and illiberal and anti-liberal form of politics. Many of the attributes people decry in Trump and his followers were primary features of the conservatism I was describing in The Reactionary Mind (and got a lot of flak from liberals for so describing). To my mind, the comparisons between Trump and Hitler or Mussolini come from people who only began thinking about American conservatism and the Republican Party when Trump came along.

I would also reject some of the premises of your question. The issue is not that Trump is lazy or incompetent, though he is. As I said in my previous answer, the real reason for Trump’s ineffectiveness has virtually nothing to do with Trump and everything to do with the larger forces on the right that I discussed. Virtually any Republican president elected in 2016 (and I’m not sure anyone but Trump could have been elected) would have been as constrained in their effectiveness as Trump has been.

Conversely, I also think it’s wrong to say that the reason Trump didn’t prevail is that the institutions were stronger than people feared. This is part of an argument that is often falsely posed by liberals and the left: If you assert that Trump is weak and will fail, as I have said from the beginning, people assume that means that the institutions will constrain him. That’s nonsense: American institutions have often been the friend of the most authoritarian projects, as I argued in my first book, Fear: The History of a Political Idea. And in fact, to the extent that Trump’s politics had any juice at all, it was precisely because the institutions support that politics. Where would Trump be without the Electoral College or the Senate confirming his judges and justices—and where would Trumpism be under a Biden administration without the Senate and the courts?

It’s ironic to me that people would choose this moment, and Trump’s presidency, to assign the label “fascist” to the right, for what fascism is about, above all else, is a politics of strength and will. That’s why fascists traditionally loathe the constitutional order: because they think it constrains the assertion of political will. The irony of Trumpist/GOP politics is that it is completely dependent upon the constitutional order. In that regard, it’s almost the complete opposite of fascism.

DK: Okay, we’ve made it through the Trump era, almost, probably. But are we really out of the woods? How strong a president do you expect Biden to be, and is the US at any risk of drifting toward illiberalism in the foreseeable future?

CR: We’re definitely not out of the woods, but not for the reason I think you mean. What we’ve learned over the last decade—and what Trump’s bombast allowed many liberals and the left to avoid—is how much our political institutions constrain action. Assuming the Democrats don’t win the Senate seats in Georgia, we are going to reach the end of 2022 having endured 12 years of political immobility. That is, from Obama’s time in office after the midterms of 2010 to Biden’s time after the midterms of 2022, we’ll have had virtually no legislation dealing with any of the challenges of the day and a lot of executive orders that temporarily change things and then get undone by the next president. It seems so strange to me that people spoke so much of authoritarianism under Trump when what we’ve been seeing for years now, including the Trump years, is political impotence, the absence of political will. And without the left getting its act together, I don’t see that changing any time soon. That is something to be very worried about.

David Klion is the newsletter editor for Jewish Currents.

#jewish currents #fascism #trump #biden #history

[pure-bakusass]

Kiribaku AU Month: Day 8: 🐲 HTTYD AU 🐲

Today I did some sketches that serve as illustrations to the drabble I wrote (killing it with the writing! 💚 they say practice makes perfect).

Basically Kirishima is Hiccup based and Bakugou is Astrid based 💙 Bakugou meets Kirishima when he's still an insecure mess, but he falls in love with him and believes in him. Together they hunt down the Night Fury, but it escapes and Kirishima finds it on his own later and tries to befriend it. Kirishima is the sunshine boy that wants to befriend dragons. Bakugou despises them and wants to kill them, but his love for Kirishima makes him slowly change his approach. There are situations I pictured with them that I couldn't include in the drabble so there they are, here:

Kiri trains the dragon in Bakugou's presence, and Bakugou is standing in the safe distance angrily like "Iook im not going to tell the rest but keep that disgusting thing away from me" while he eventually slowly grows to love the dragon as much as Kiri does.

Kirishima: Look, this is Bakugou. I know both of you started off pretty badly but Bakugou means no harm. There is no need to be afraid of Bakugou. See? Bakugou put the knife down.

One day the dragon licks Bakugou's face and it's hilarious.

Kirishima: See? He loves you!

Bakugou: *grumpily wipes his face* It's a fucking one-sided love then.

Remember the moment when Hiccup took Astrid to that wild ride on Toothless? Kirishima does the same to Bakugou to prove a point. Bakugou just stubbornly refuses to accept the concept of riding dragons and Kirishima had no other choice than to get to him like this.

Kirishima: Let me just show you something, that's all! And then I'll put you down!

Bakugou: *clinging to dragon's tail for life and screaming* Fuck no, you better put me the fuck down now!

Bakugou ends up enjoying the ride, but he's lowkey scared being this high for the first time in his life, so he clinged to Kirishima's back and held him tight.

Bakugou: *hits Kirishima* That's for forcing me to ride the fucking dragon.

Bakugou: *kisses Kirishima* And that's for...the rest.

@kiribakumonth2019

Now for the ✨drabble✨ You can read it under the cut!

"Fuck!"

Bakugou's scream suddenly broke the peaceful, calm silence of the forest. Both him and Kirishima were wandering around the place for quite a time, and while it was completely understandable for Bakugou to get frustrated, Kirishima genuinly enjoyed it. If it wasn't for the reason why they were here, he would consider it just a nice walk, a date even. But Kirishima knew that today they meant business, and he shouldn't let his thoughts get away from it too much. If he wanted Bakugou not to be angry with him, that is.

"That shitty dragon really couldn't have found itself a better place than a fucking forest to crash, huh?" Bakugou snarled as he vented his frustration by kicking the nearest rock. Kirishima smiled at him. At this point he was so used to Bakugou's outbursts that he found them amusing, in a way.

"Dude, there's hardly even anything else here apart from forests, what did you expect? Hey, c'mon. Don't worry so much about that. I'm sure we'll find it."

Bakugou didn't feel like calming down at all, although he did have to admit that Kirishima's warm smile was probably the only thing in the entire world that would ever come this near to soothing his nerves. He rolled his eyes in response, but the tone of his voice did calm significantly.

"I'm not worried, idiot. I'm sure we'll find it, because I am not leaving the damn place without a dragon. I will tear down every fucking tree if that's what it takes to bring the bastard to the village."

"Yeah, right, that's what I'm talking about! I can't wait to see their faces when we show them that we actually DID take a real Night Fury down! I'm so excited just thinking about it. Aren't you excited Katsuki?"

Bakugou laughed. He couldn't help it that Kirishima's excitement was getting through to him.

"Fuck, you bet I am. Those idiots kept laughing at me for saying I shot this stupid Night Fury bullshit down with my own hands. But now that you're going to kill it, we'll make them all choke on those words."

"Oh damn right we- wait, what? Me?"

Kirishima stopped and blinked in surprise, not quite believing what he has just heard. All of a sudden, his enthusiasm faded away, leaving him visibly nervous.

"Since when it's me who is supposed to kill the dragon, Katsuki? I mean it was you who shot it so wouldn't it be fair for you to, uh, finish the work you started?

Bakugou raised his eyebrow. Such a sudden change in Kirishima's behavior seemed suspicious and unusual for him. He didn't like it.

"What are you even saying, shithead? Of course the fuck not! We're a team. I did my part of the job which means now is your turn. That is what I call fair. Besides, I already killed my first dragon, and you didn't. If this keeps up those idiots out there in the village will eat you alive."

"Are you saying that they still talk about me behind my back...? About the not-killing-a-dragon thing?"

Bakugou sighed. Now he understood exactly what the sudden change of attitude was about. How could he not get it before? He knew too well about Kirishima's biggest insecurity and mentioning the villagers was one fast way to trigger it even more. Bakugou felt like he was the actual idiot here and he hated that. He looked Kirishima in the eyes, dead serious.

"Not when i beat the goddamn shit out of them when they do so. Listen, you don't deserve to be put down like that. You're strong and manly, and totally capable of killing dragons. I'm sure of that. And you know it too. It's just the rest that don't know. Wouldn't it be thrilling to prove them wrong?"

Kirishima didn't look convinced. In fact he looked like he was having a hard time processing the situation. Bakugou reflected on his words and tried again with different approach.

"...Look, I-

...I may have used the wrong words for it. It doesn't fucking matter at all what others think about you, as long as you yourself know your own worth. But what matters is that killing a dragon is a powerful experience. It really makes you feel like you have enormous strenght, like you're some kind of a god. I want you to be able to experience it and be as satisfied and fulfilled as me. Only a fool would reject the opportunity to kill a dragon that is basically served to him on a silver plate. Listen, if you don't want to kill the dragon for yourself, do it for me. Do it for us, Ei."

The thing was that no matter how bad Kirishima's doubts were, he couldn't deny that he was madly in love with Bakugou, and therefore extremely weak for all those moments when he spoke to him in [that] voice he was using on him right now. The soft, loving, encouraging, lower toned kind of voice Bakugou wouldn't use on anyone else except Kirishima.

"I guess you do have a point here Katsuki."

Bakugou responded with a satisfied, fierce smile, one of those that Kirishima really enjoyed seeing. He gave in completely as Bakugou pulled him closer for a nice, deep kiss.

"There you go... There's my brave, unbreakable Eijirou. I think I might have something just for the occasion."

Bakugou reached to his belt and grabbed a knife he then gave to Kirishima. But that was no ordinary knife. Kirishima's eyes went open wide as he realised what he was holding. It was Katsuki's lucky knife, the exact one he killed his first dragon with. Kirishima was still amazed everytime he remembered that fight. To take down a dragon having only a knife on you for many seemed impossible. But for Katsuki, there was no such thing as impossible. That's why he admired him so much and still found it hard to believe that someone like Bakugou would consider someone like him his equal.

"What, why so surprised? You need it more than I do. Keep it. Make a good use of it and make me proud. No, make yourself proud."

Now that Kirishima thought about it, he has never actually seen Bakugou allowing anyone to touch it, ever, let alone make any use of it. The fact he was gifted such a meaningful thing filled Kirishima's heart with sudden wave of courage and will to act. Will to be strong and to prove himself that there is no such thing he's not capable of. The big, bright smile came back to Kirishima's face.

"Thank you, Katsuki. Thank you so much."

As they continued to search through the woods, Kirishima's excitement was in the right place. Even though he still felt nervous, he decided not to let it control him. At some point he reached for another kiss but Bakugou pushed him away and pointed to the ground with visible satisfaction.

"Ei, look! You see those traces here? I bet that's where the dragon fell. It was too weak to fly away, it's most probably very near. Fuck, we've found it!"

Next thing they saw when they looked around the place was a familiar net, and under it, a big, black pile of something that was most probably their dragon. Sparks of excitement appeared in Bakugou's eyes as he gave Kirishima a push forward.

"Go get it."

"Right!"

Kirishima took a deep breath as he began carefully approaching the dragon. He could do it. He totally could. "I have Katsu's lucky knife and a taste of his lips on mine, what could possibly go wrong?" he mumbled to himself as he was getting close to the infamous Night Fury. Bakugou decided to watch him from the distance.

First thing that Kirishima did as soon as he reached the dragon was to kneel down beside it and gently place his hand on it, then move it across its smooth, black scales. For a brief second he thought that maybe the dragon was already dead? That would certainly spare him a lot of trouble. But then he felt his hand being gently lifted as the dragon inhaled. He gasped in surprise and quickly took his hand back. The dragon was very much alive. Kirishima felt absolutely terrified, yet absolutely amazed at the same time. Not only it was his first time seing a dragon this close, but also seeing a dragon that nobody has ever seen before at all. This felt like enough of a thrilling experience for Kirishima. When he remembered what he was supposed to do, it brought up a weird feeling of sadness in him. The dragon was so...beautiful. It looked so peaceful and vulnerable while it was asleep like this. Kirishima sighed heavily.

"How am I supposed to take your life away while you can't even fight me back...?"

"What the fuck is taking you so long, shitty hair?!"

Kirishima twitched. Bakugou's yelling brought him down to earth yet once again.

"Katsu, I-...I don't think I can do it!"

That was most probably the worst possible way to express what he was feeling right now. He regretted those words the moment he spoke. Bakugou approached him quickly and angrily.

"What the fuck is your problem again?! You want to back away now that we're so close? After I gave you the knife and did my fucking best to make you feel better about yourself, even though I can't comfort others for shit and you know it? Listen here, you-"

"No, no, I'm not going to back away, please let me explain!" Kirishima interrupted Bakugou halfway through his outburst, hoping it wouldn't last. "I mean just look at him. He seems so vulnerable lying helplessly like this on the ground like he's already defeated. All I'm saying is that...you know, is there really a pride to be taken in butchering an unconcious dragon? I mean, it's no effort, there's not even a fight. That's not very manly nor thrilling if you ask me."

For a second Bakugou looked like he was about to lose his shit and explode again, but as soon as Kirishima spoke, his face expression changed. Now he was smiling, and it was one of those sly, fierce grins of his that always meant trouble.

"Right, sure. Of course you want a fight. That's understandable. Should have just said exactly that, babe. Let's rile the beast up then."

Bakugou got down on his knees and started cutting the strings of the net that was tangled around the dragon's limbs.

"Wait, no, that's not what I-"

Before Kirishima could say anything more, he was interrupted with the sound of a loud hit of Bakugou's hand on the dragon's hard scaled back. The Night Fury's eyes opened up right away and its pupils narrowed in a sign of hostility.

"this is bad-"

The dragon stood up on all fours, spreading its wings and roaring loudly and terrifyingly right in Bakugou and Kirishima's face. Kirishima's heart stopped, but Bakugou? Bakugou yelled back.

"That's right, that's more like it! Bring it on, fucker! They don't call you the Night Fury for no fucking reason, do they?!"

That's when it all went down to shit.

***

what a terrible way to finish a drabble XDDDD but thats all, thank you for attention <3

#KiriBakuAUMonth #kiribakumonth2019 #day 8 #kiribaku #bakushima #httyd au #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou #hiccup kirishima #astrid bakugou #ally art #ally draws #digit-ally #my art #bnha #mha #ally writes #ally's drabble #third one! #killin it! #no angst this time! #THIS IS BAD #kirishima's panic face is my face when i look at anything i created X D #mood #the creator struggle #AND IT ALL WENT DOWN TO SHIT #my life in a nutshell #today's artwork and writing is sponsored by memes #also depression #i tried a new brush

[artificialqueens]

like a virgin. (jackie/nicky) — roza

a seven part story where each chapter details a different relationship with jackie based solely on the song correlated to their individual madonna rusical verses.

[ summary ] : nicky is convinced jackie needs to let loose and have some fun after all the years they've spent working together in the fashion industry. 

[ verse two: like a virgin ]

[ author's note ] : the second part of this series! I didn't want to skip this verse because I love jackie too much and the song is iconic. I also needed nothing but an excuse to add my favourite and og season 12 pairing into this series!tumblr is @leljaaa and thank you meg for being a wonderful beta!

— *.✧

"Can you pass me that please?"

Nicky turned and nodded, passing Jackie the fabric scissors that were right in front of the French woman's desk. The Persian held up the black tulle fabric and grinned, pulling the blonde next to her body as she began to wrap some of the fabric around her body.

"Is this some kind of intervention?" Nicky laughed gently before Jackie shook her head, marking out her shoulders with a fabric marker before gently pulling off the fabric from her body.

"I'm trying to make you a dress for Friday," the marker still in her mouth as she spoke firmly. The blonde gasped as she sighed, completely forgetting about the stupid movie premiere that Nicky had been invited to while they were back home in Paris.

The fabric was already spread out on the table behind them as Jackie snipped away, occasionally looking at the drawing she had made for a point of reference.

"It will look beautiful as always," Nicky began as her arms snaked around to hug Jackie from behind, holding her waist and letting her head stay buried in the crook of the Persian's neck. "I shouldn't be surprised, that's why you're my favourite assistant and designer."

Jackie had met the French woman two years ago for an internship during her time at design school. The entire goal of it was to simply come and snoop around Nicky's fashion brand, maybe get a word in from the expert herself or learn some new design processes.

Instead what happened was the Canadian dropping out of her school in Toronto and immediately moving to Paris the second Nicky offered her an exclusive job as her personal assistant and designer.

The blonde had been beyond impressed with the designs and worth ethic Jackie had shown her during her short stay in France. She felt it was only necessary to try and keep her as long as possible.

Paid salary and housing included of course.

Despite their personalities almost always contrasting, Jackie quickly became her favourite friend and person.

The two grew close with Jackie's entire job being to design and assist her on every and any matter that came up.

She would see Nicky sob at her desk.

She would get to hear her spill all about her toxic family.

She saw first-hand her dumping her socialite boyfriend in favour of coming out to the French public.

Most importantly: she got to see Nicky beyond the rich, beautiful, dull Parisian facade. Every.wall she had built up from years and years of pressure in the limelight and in the media came crashing down the minute Jackie earned her trust.

"Well it's my job," the Persian finally mumbled under her breath as she looked at the fabric, beginning to write down the shoulder lengths having memorized Nicky's measurements already in her head.

"You hired me to be here with you so the least I can do is make you a fancy dress."

"You're so sweet baby," Nicky hummed as she let go of her waist and gently hopped up on to the marble table, her eyes only watching Jackie cut out fabric and begin to meticulously outline her patterns. "It's a beautiful concept."

One date.

All the hours every day spent together and added up still weren't enough or either of them to gain enough confidence to ask each other out on an actual date. The day Nicky asked she saw the discomfort and anxiety in Jackie's face and immediately dropped the idea, suggesting they instead go wine tasting together.

How French of me. Nicky thought.

There were the occasional shoulder brushes or even the more than occasional, almost constant kisses. Their lips pressed to each other for minutes on end as their hands would interlock before Jackie pushed her away, feeling her stomach churn and fear arise again when they kissed for too long.

She had found out from listening to her talk to her best friend back home in Canada that the fear was more internalized and had nothing to with Nicky's publicity or her status.

"I'm not ready for this ," had become Jackie's most used phrase since she began working side by side with Nicky. They left it alone for a week before the kissing began again and two decided internally that the best thing to do was never bring it up and never act on the feelings any further.

"Your birthday is Friday!"

Jackie chuckled, taking a minute to glance up at Nicky with a soft smile painted across her lips. "It is but I don't need any more parties please," the Persian begged as Nicky groaned the minute she heard the words leave her mouth.

"Nicky no!"

The fashion designer whined like a lost puppy, holding on to her arm for a brief moment before letting her eyes stare into Jackie's, her fingertips gently brushing aside all the loose strands of hair near her ear.

"You're no fun Jacqueline," she teased in a whisper as she drew out her birth name with a huff. The blonde smirked as she grabbed Jackie by her waist and leaned into her lips, "If we celebrated alone and after that stupid movie? Just the two of us?"

The Persian bit her bottom lip, it was beyond difficult to resist any question that came from Nicky's mouth and it was even harder to resist the urge to not kiss her right now, just throw away the project and focus every bit of attention on Nicky.

"If you promise me there won't be anyone else but us then of course I'll spend my day off with you."

"I'm keeping you to it."

— *.✧

The dress was perfect.

It was far too perfect and clean for an event this subdued.

Nicky by far looked the best as she always did. She smiled for every single camera as she felt the flash of the camera's coming constantly from bombardment of paparazzi as she walked down the carpet in her off the shoulder, gathered tulle dress custom made by Jackie, of course.

I just want to be with Jackie…

She stared down at the details of the ruffled chiffon hem that lined the entire dress as her mind was only focusing on thoughts about Jackie and how awful she felt knowing she deserved to finally give one day of full attention to the Persian girl.

Especially on her birthday.

I could just skip this event entirely… no one would dare to even stop me.

The minute she walked down the carpet she took a steep turn to the right, trying to run as fast as she could with heels on as well as an entire train of fabric piled behind her.

Somehow she made it through to the parking lot without even so much as a stare in her direction, managing to make it into her car as she thanked her personal driver. She typed out Jackie's address for him to see as she mentioned that she had to stop at a flower shop.

Red roses. Only red roses.

There were an assortment of looks as she approached the door, a few teenagers crowded around her and begged for photos which Nicky couldn't possibly refuse before she stepped in the small flower shop and begged for as many red roses as possible.

The total only came out to about thirty euros but Nicky only had a two hundred euro bill.

She shrugged as she handed it over, the owner at first refused to take her money but the French woman truly had no time to waste arguing about money she had to waste so she threw the bill in the small tip jar and said goodbye.

Racing outside once again, she found the car parked just a few steps away from the shop as she hopped in and could officially relax against the car's leather seats.

Ten minutes and Nicky was dropped outside of the familiar apartment as she took the dozens upon dozens of red roses in her hand. She managed to enter the pin before sighing heavily.

Nicky realized that going to Jackie's complex with a bundle of red roses in one hand and a flowing, tulle dress probably wasn't a smart idea when you had to walk up three flights of stairs.

She threw her heels off as she began to power walk her way up the steps with a determination to make it to Jackie's cute apartment and surprise her with an abundance of roses.

She buzzed the brass doorbell in front of her as she wiped off the sweat that built in her forehead, immediately smiling seeing Jackie both impressed and confused at the same time.

Nicky was pulled inside as Jackie turned up the fans, clearly seeing that the French woman had either run her entire way here or frantically ran up the steps.

"Are these for me?"

The Persian breathless as Nicky nodded, handing over the entire massive bouquet with a wink as she explained that she researched and found that Iran's national flower was the red rose.

"Nicky," she muttered breathless as Nicky kissed her hands with a smile, Jackie placing the flowers on her kitchen counter as she took the French woman in her arms. The two of them swung side to side as the radio blasted throughout the living room and kitchen area.

"I'm significantly underdressed," she whispered against her skin as Nicky giggled happy to simply be in the dress, admitting that she skipped the event and just ran off after the carpet and photography was finished.

"You skipped the event for me?"

"Of course I did Jackie," the blonde grinned ear to ear seeing the flush across the Persian's cheeks growing darker and darker.

"Was my dress that ugly?" She joked before Nicky cackled, snorting for a brief moment as she buried her head once more in the crook of her neck with a deep sigh.

"It was beautiful, it's one of my favourite dresses I've ever worn and I will absolutely wear it again."

"What an honour."

The two of them sat on her couch, eating bundles of Tiramisu and drinking far too much white wine for their own good as they ended up an hour later just a bit tipsy with their hands interwoven.

"Happy birthday my love," Nicky whispered as her hand softly slid down Jackie's cheek. The blonde pressed a kiss to her forehead as the Persian gnawed at the inside of her cheeks before admitting that she got the only birthday present she wanted.

"Really? Did someone actually do something better than my roses?"

Jackie snickered, rolling her eyes as she ran her fingers through Nicky's hair with a smile admitting that the only thing she truly wished for was to have the French woman near her.

"I'm near you all the time, we work together," she laughed quietly before she saw the blush forming across Jackie's cheeks.

"I need you Nicky."

The blonde blinked confused for a solid ten seconds before feeling Jackie tighten the grip of their hands as she noticed the Persian nodding at her last comment.

"Oh," she gasped. "Oh," She repeated with a wide smile forming across her lips, Jackie was undeniably trying to come through with the offer without saying the actual words.

"You want to have sex with me?"

Nicky laughed aloud seeing the Persian groan the minute she said the sentence, the blonde lifting her chin with her fingertips. "I want you as well Jackie," she whispered as she winked at the Persian who leaned into her lips with a worried breath.

"I am always ready when you would like to," Nicky muttered against her lips as they seperated, Jackie standing up as she held out a hand for the French woman to take.

She did.

There was no use shutting her door but Jackie thought it was intimate and it clearly served a good use as Nicky almost immediately pinned her up against her own bedroom with a chuckle seeing the Persian yelp.

Their lips pressed against one another as the blonde kept her hand's above Jackie's head, the two of them interlocking fingers as Nicky pressed her lips against her neck hearing the Persian immediately start to get anxious.

"You okay?" The question was genuine and soft as the Persian nodded, embarrassed to admit that she'd just had never done any of this before with a woman.

She felt Jackie's heart beat as if it was her very first time, which with a woman it certainly was.

"We don't have to if you're uncomfortable you know, I love kissing you just as much."

"I want to, I promise," Jackie gently managed to choke out as she left a kiss on her shoulder, the dark red lipstick she had on still lingering and leaving a small print on her bare skin.

There was nothing but silence as her hand gently slipped under the fabric, both of them watching Nicky's dress fall to the floor swiftly as she immediately kicked it across to the other side of the bedroom.

"Beautiful dress," Jackie teased with a chuckle as she saw Nicky kick her custom dress across like it was nothing. The Parisian scoffed, melting into another kiss as she admitted that the dress was not currently needed.

"I'll be yours till the end of time," she hummed feeling nothing but their hearts beating in sync with one another as they laid across the bed.

"Take me away."

#rpdr fanfiction #jackie cox #nicky doll #jackie x nicky #lesbian au #fashion au #madonna verse series #roza #s12

[nellie-elizabeth]

Supernatural: Drag Me Away (From You) (15x16)

So like. Hmm. I... hmm. I don't really know.

Cons:

Honestly, I have no problem whatsoever with the fact that this is a "filler episode". I think people are forgetting that even in the best days of Supernatural, many of the episodes, even pushing right up against climactic finales, were your basic MOTW stories, woven in with themes and character development that had a bigger impact on the A-plot. So that's fine. No complaints in theory.

But... okay, so, young Sam and Dean have the story of Sam talking about going to college and Dean being like "no that's stupid" and then Dean not letting Sam go on hunts, and then at the end Dean softening a bit and saying "I don't know about college... but we make a good team." Sound... familiar? It's... the entire seasons-long subplot about Sam and Dean being at odds about the hunting lifestyle. Sam wanting to be "normal" while Dean wants to hunt and make his dad proud. Okay, I understand this was a huge theme of their childhood, but GUYS. We've got four episodes left after this. Is this a theme that's important to the end of the show? Are we still debating where Sam wants to be, what he wants to do with his life? I thought this had been settled. Ad nauseum. A lot of the flashback stuff with the Winchesters felt like a serious retreading of ground. Not only was this what the first season of the show was largely about, it's also been a significant element in almost every episode where we've seen younger Sam and Dean, in any capacity.

I've also got to say, that this show's treatment of Dean and Jack's relationship has been enormously uneven. I kind of thought we did the whole cathartic "Dean forgives Jack" thing when Jack died at Chuck's hands. But now we're back to him acting like Jack is a fully grown adult acting of his own free will and not an incredibly volatile three-year-old supernatural being in need of protection and care. Dean doesn't even seem to want to look for another option, seems to resent the very idea that Sam and Cas might want to find another way to end Chuck and Amara, without Jack ending up dead. Dude. That's... pretty heartless, man. And speaking of repeating themes, didn't we do this when Dean wanted to be thrown into a box and sunk to the bottom of the ocean? He was all "there's no other way" and Sam was all "we don't give up!!" and then Dean was all "okay Sam, you're right." In fact, isn't this was Dean's original Hell deal back in season three was about too? I don't know what it was about this episode in specific, but it really made me realize how much repetition this show has had over the years.

I won't repeat my complaint from last week about Jack's whole plan to die, I'll just reiterate that if this show actually goes with a tragic ending where any of the boys has to die in order to save the world, they will completely have missed the point of their own goddamn show. Thematically, they can do the bittersweet ending only if it's Sam and Dean taking over Chuck and Amara's roles or something... but if they just die? Or if Cas and/or Jack die, and that turns out to be the "only way" to save the day? Bad. Stupid. Wrong. Incredibly poor writing.

Also, Cas is spelled Cas, not Cass. I will stand by that every time I see canonical evidence pointing us in the TOTALLY WRONG direction. It matters so very much. ;)

Pros:

So, all that being said about repetitive themes in the flashback stuff... one thing I really liked was when the repetition felt intentional, and felt like it was building somewhere new. Like, the echo of Dean as a young boy not being able to admit to fear, and then later he tells Caitlin that he's always scared. That's a big, important thing. Dean has admitted to fear before, that's not unique, but showcasing the then and now of it really shows how far he's come.

And even more significantly, we've got Sam and Dean and secret-keeping, a theme stretching back to the very start of the show. I loved the final scene in the impala at the end, with Dean finally admitting the truth, that Jack has to die to kill Chuck, and Sam getting pissed. This is the kind of shit that feels relevant to the endgame of the show for the two of them. The lying, the breaking promises to protect each other/do what needs to be done... they need to be on the same page in the end for this to work. And that same page needs to be that Jack can't freakin' die just because Billie says it has to be that way. Come the fuck on.

As far as character tensions go, in theory I quite enjoy the tension of Jack being willing to die to earn Dean's forgiveness. If this show ends the way it should, there will be a moment of catharsis where Dean will tell Jack he forgives him, he loves him, he wouldn't want him to die in order to earn redemption. You know, a nice little echo, since we're talking about echoes, of what happened end of season eight, where Sam was ready to die for a good cause, in part because he thought Dean didn't trust/respect him, and Dean said no, that's not true, I'd do anything to keep you with me. Come on, Supernatural. Don't fuck up the ending. Please do not.

Just on a monster-of-the-week level, I liked this whole Baba Yaga story. It's always nice to be in a creepy, ugly motel, seeing disturbing figures approaching down hallways, fights scrabbling for a magic object to destroy... gave off some very good early-days vibes, and I'm not mad about that at all, to be quite honest with you.

I missed Cas this week, but I did like the moment at the beginning when Sam was like "did you guys get into a fight and that's why he left?" and Dean says "Cas is just being Cas." To me it actually spoke to a very fundamental difference in how Sam and Dean view Cas' behavior, in that Sam thinks Cas is always motivated by something important, and Dean thinks that Cas constantly leaving is more of an abandonment thing. If I trusted this show to do better, I would want them to explore that in some sort of endgame setup of their various relationships but... probably not so much.

I really appreciated that Caitlin and Dean had no romantic vibes going on. When they were kids, there was the tiniest spark of that, as Dean was kind of trying to be impressive with this pretty girl he met at a motel... but they didn't go anywhere with it, and it didn't feel like there were any vibes when they re-met as adults. It feels weird to praise a thing that didn't happen, but that's the deal with Supernatural, sometimes you've got to take your wins where you can get them.

I hope this review doesn't come across as too negative, because honestly I quite enjoyed this episode on its own terms. The pressure is on, given how little time is left, so I feel like I can't avoid looking at everything through that lens... and if they can stick the landing, I think a lot about the last couple of episodes will improve in my mind. If the ending is stupid, I think it's going to color this last run of episodes in a more negative direction for me, looking back.

7.5/10

#review #supernatural #supernatural review #spn #spn 15x16