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#killing license granted.....
latenightsundayblues · 4 months
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Stuilly is just audhd couple blueprint
That implies murder is one of the basic aspects of every autistic/adhd having couple and I couldn't agree more
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nero-neptune · 8 months
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i actually liked the first aquaman a decent amount and was gonna see the 2nd one bc of amber heard, but btwn learning how much she got cut out of scenes and reading reports that both jason momoa And james wan bullied her on set totally killed that for me
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pepprs · 9 months
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like it’s VERY very important to not text and drive. and i understand how dangerous it is to do that and to be distracted at all in any way for any amount of time on the road. i know it’s important to learn about these stories and bear witness to them. but i just think. like idk. watching multiple of them every day for 10 days (with a two day break halfway through for the weekend) is realy… like idk. i think after seeing a couple you can get the point. i don’t want to sound dismissive or lackadaisacal and im scared im sounding like that but i just am so freaked out by all of this and witb every new horror they’re showing us it’s scaring me worse.
#purrs#delete later#car accidents tw#death tw#child death tw#ask to tag#drivers ed tag#like this sucks so bad. we go from watching a video about how to drive in the city… to a 10 minute vid of a man talking abt how he hit and#killed 3 kids and it shows a PICTURE OF THE SCENE OF THE ACCIDENT WITH BLOOD AND EVERYTHING… and then after the video we immediately start#talking about like. fucking street cleaners and how you have to watch out for them. HOW is the video about the kids being hit and killed#part of the flow of the learning. what purpose does it serve. and it’s like these are REAL PEOPLE who died. real kids who existed. and it#just feels kind of fucked up. maybe it’s more fucked up thst im not following the flow and accepting the weight of it but it’s hard to when#im scared as fuck and just want to not be shown gore videos anymore. and then once we pick up the content again like abt street cleaners and#shit i can’t focus on any content bc i have to wind down from seeing the dead bodies and hearing the letter the parents wrote. like how is t#this helping. maybe it’s landing / more necessary for the 16 year olds but im 24. i am a whole adult. i do not take being alive for granted#i am terrified of death and dying and painfully aware of how fragile human beings are and how easy it is to be in danger. this is not#helping me or sending me a message it’s just making me so scared and terrified to even leave the house and unable to stop thinking about#death or injury lol!!! and i can’t tell them to stop and i can’t quit bc i need my fucking license so i have to just put my head down and#do this but it sucks indescribably. and we also saw one of those trick videos again too that makes you feel stupid bc it tells you to count#the number of lkke. things you see and it turns out i missed a few AND they were like did you notice what was going on in the background snd#i didn’t bc i was too busy counting the fucking things they told us to. i want to SCREAM. this makes me feel so stupid and helpless lolllll#<- as i was typing that we were learning about the chance of survival if you are hit by a car at different speeds! bc that’s relevant 😍😍😍😍😍😍#anyways. my therapist was telling me stuff abt how i need to remember this isn’t targeted for me and i need to regulate my nervous system an#and how to calm down when it triggers me but i forgot everything she said literally 5 hours ago and now im here freaking the fuck out so. 🥰
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shotmrmiller · 1 month
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ik i've heard of penpals with cod but like getting simon as your dedicated pal for say, college or something would be terrible.
at first he's reluctant. why would he talk to some civvie that hasn't a clue about what goes on in the world he lives in? probably thinks him a recruiter or something, not a man who has removed the skin off of another just for a name of an enemy.
john tells him to suck it up, it's not like it can kill him.
simon gets the letter and it's... entertaining. you write, almost illegibly, that you really don't want to do this, that if it wasn't such a hefty percent of your grade you wouldn't even have bothered.
nothing but a poor man fighting a rich man's war. like some puppet, manipulated by a more powerful force-- not a single decision nor thought your own.
interesting. he hasn't been talked down to like this since his days as a private. granted, if you knew what he looked like you would've probably swallowed your own tongue but that's neither here nor there.
he chuckles under his breath, and picks up the envelope.
the stamp has a waterfall on it and it says harrison wright falls.
american.
he writes that you're right. he's nothing but a muppet with a hand up his arse. but what's got you so upset over the military? not like you suffer the consequences sitting pretty in your cozy home. the hardest battle you've ever fought is a school project.
the letter you send back has him rumbling with laughter. you're furious. he can see one too many holes from where the pen tore through the paper in your rage, and some words you crossed out with a singular line.
listen, asshole, you falling for the UK military propaganda is not my fault. no one made you sign up, idiot.
you continue on about him being a murderer which he gives a small hum to because you've no idea how right you are. simon vaguely wonders if you'd still write him if you knew just how many necks he's snapped with his bare hands.
you're quite abrasive, a little spitfire that holds nothing back, and it makes him achingly curious to know just who you are.
he pulls up your info on his personal laptop, and can feel his cock stirring just from your driver's license photo alone.
cute. very cute. you look soft, kind. a gentle ㅤsmile graces your lips. he almost doubts that the person on his screen is you, but the signature on your license and the letters you've sent is the exact same.
so very interesting. steel concealed beneath velvet.
he taps his fingers on the surface of his desk as he gazes at your charming, lovely countenance. pretty as a peach.
his chair creaks under him as he reaches for a pen.
simon's kept all your letters, the paper worn and almost in tatters from the amount of times he's read them-- ink smudged from him running his bare fingertips over each hateful word.
he can't wait for next leave; simon's heard that ricketts glen state park is beautiful during the fall.
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kchasm · 22 days
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Ryu Number: Kevin Bacon
Let's be real, this is the obvious ask. The Ryu Number is the Bacon Number for video games, so one of the first questions anyone's going to put out there is whether Kevin Bacon has a Ryu Number.
... Is what I'd like to say, but the fact is, most of the time when I try to explain the concept of a Ryu Number by saying "It's like the Bacon Number, except for Ryu—you know, six degrees of Kevin Bacon?" the response I get is, "What's 'six degrees of Kevin Bacon'?"
Hey, when was the heyday of the Bacon Number, again? Oh, thirty years ago. That doesn't feel good.
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Anyway, Kevin Bacon has a Ryu Number of at most 4.
Jimmy Fallon (who I keep confusing with Jimmy Kimmel) has a cameo in Jurassic World.
youtube
This is enough to get him a place as one of the oodles of minifigs you can trot around in Lego Jurassic World. And if you think that's a kind of flimsy foundation to stick a character into a game over, please understand that this is par for the course for the Lego series of games. In Lego Jurassic World alone, you can play as Donald Gennaro, the "Unlucky Bastard" from The Lost World (here called "Unlucky Bystander"), the kid Alan Grant terrorizes at the dig site in Jurassic Park, Steven Spielberg, and Jophery Brown.
What, you don't know who Jophery Brown is? You know, the guy who gets killed in the opening scene of Jurassic Park. Muldoon goes "Jophery, raise the gate," and everything. And then he dies. Because raptor.
We didn't even know his last name was "Brown" until this game. He was named after his own actor, that's the rank of character we're dealing with here.
... Wait, does this mean we can go straight from Owen Grady to certain baseball games? I've got to think about this. Is "Scientist Phil" allowable as Phil Tippet? Is "Pilot Pat" the same person as Patrick Crowley, who produced Jurassic World and cameoed as a pilot? If Patrick Crowley has an actual pilot's license, does that change the answer?
I am entirely uninterested in answering these questions until the issue is unavoidable!
The version of You Don't Know Jack available for play in The Jackbox Party Pack 5 is You Don't Know Jack: Full Stream, hosted by YDKJ longtimer Cookie Masterson. Depending on this or that, Cookie might just welcome Jimmy Fallon to guest-host one of the questions, which Jimmy is pretty hyped up about. So hyped up, in fact, that he'll refuse to leave afterward, much to Cookie's bemusement. Which makes sense: If you're gonna have Jimmy Fallon cameo in your video game, you're gonna squeeze as much Jimmy Fallon out of Jimmy Fallon as you can.
Dude really is a longtimer, by the way. He's been around since the original You Don't Know Jack, and while he doesn't host the game in You Don't Know Jack Vol. 2, he does get to rush the players through game setup. And the actual host, Buzz Lippman, has the chance to dial out to one of a number of celebrity guests—Kevin Bacon included.
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That's an appearance both ways! Counts!
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Stand at the Edge
Prologue- Next
Ao3
Damian was irritated. This was not uncommon, surrounded as he was by idiots, but today especially he was, as Todd would so eloquently put it, pissed. This was because, for reasons utterly unknown, Greyson had gone insane, obsessively cleaning the spotless mansion (until Pennyworth ordered him to stop) and incessantly bothering him about his appearance, all because of an interrogation. Why Father had decided to hold this particular interrogation within the Manor itself was yet another source of Damien’s irritation. Apparently, the suspect’s emotional involvement with Todd justified the clear risk posed by allowing this stranger into their home, despite the fact that all background checks and past interviews showed him to be a clear and dangerous unknown. If anything, Todd’s involvement with the suspect only increased the likelihood of this “Danny Nightengale” being a danger to the family. Damian did not believe that Todd was an irrational madman in constant need of supervision Father seemed to think he was, but he did not pretend the man did not pose a possible threat. There was also the possibility that Nightengale recognized how deeply compromised Farther was when it came to Todd and was using him to gain access to the family, be it as the Bats or the Waynes. If that was the case, then Damien was sure Father would not mind granting a temporary reprieval of the No-kill rule. For the family’s safety, that is. Not because he cared about Todd or any of his other siblings or their feelings, thank you.
The main area of concern surrounding Nightengale was not what they had learned, but what they hadn't. So far, he had avoided all interviews with concerning success. Furthermore, no family member had actually managed to get a photo of him. Attempts to look him up showed only that he was a student at Gotham University studying Astrophysics and Aerospace engineering, that he had a sister named Jazmine who worked as a counselor within Arkem, which was concerning within it's own right, and that he had lived with said sister until moving in with Todd three months ago. Footwork provided a few more details, such as that he worked at the Iceberg Lounge as part of the band playing the violin and that he seemed to have a number of pet birds, specifically ravens, though these birds seemed to come and go as they pleased. Neighbors reported that he was pleasant enough, though there were a number of noise complaints regarding both the birds and his apparent activity as an engineer. What was truly concerning was the total informational whiteout predating his arrival in Gotham. The transcript he had used to get into university was a forgery, as was his social security number, birth certificate, and driver's license. He had no social media presence of any sort and there was no one they could talk to who had any idea where he was from. The same went for his sister, they were both complete blanks. What was most interesting, at least according to Drake, was that the photo used on the fake driver's license looked to have been doctored, as if someone had taken an old photo and artificially aged it. None of them could think of a reason someone would need to do that.
“I still do not understand why we are bringing Todd and Nightengale here.”
Damien said, doing his best to tie his tie himself with mediocre success.
“Because,” Bruce explained, stepping in to help and rescue the tie from Damien’s increasingly frustrated attempts, “he is dating Jason, and as his family, we have every reason to want to meet him.”
Damien raised a brow. That seemed unusually irrational of Father. Perhaps the presence of Todd in the equation was interfering more than he had expected.
“Given how slippery he has proven in the past,” he continued “this is our best opportunity to engage him while minimizing both his suspicion and his likelihood to run. Furthermore, he is far more likely to be forthcoming than he would be if operating on his own turf. This gives us the upper hand more than if we attempted to meet him elsewhere.”
That was better. If there was one thing Damien appreciated about Father, it was his direct, analytical nature. Meanwhile, Greyson shouted something about needing to hide all of the chairs. Suddenly there was a knock at the front door, and a loud bang as Greyson tripped himself attempting to open it. Pennyworth, appearing suddenly at the door when Damian could have sworn he was in the kitchen, opened it before Greyson had a chance to right himself. Standing there was Todd and, assumedly, Nightengale. It suddenly occurred to Damian that he had never actually seen the man up close before. He was tall, with dark hair and brilliant blue eyes. He was thin as well, concerningly so, his joints sharp where the bones shone through. His skin was so pale, like freshly fallen snow or bleached bone. There was something terribly familiar about him, but so was probably any other pale man with black hair and blue eyes. As he grew closer, Damian noticed, snaking up Nightengale’s right arm and peaking up from the collar of his turtleneck, a Lichtenberg scar. Something in the back of his head stirred, but he couldn't think what it could possibly be. Greyson was shaking this man’s hand, offering some kind of greeting, but Damian couldn't hear it. Suddenly, Nightengale’s head snapped. Now he was looking right at Damian, his blue eyes boundless and staring as a grin stretched far wider across his face than should have been possible, wider even than the Joker and with teeth like a cat, sharp and predatory. He thought he maybe should have been frightened, though he wasn't sure why.
“Little Prince!”
Nightengale embraced Damian tightly, lifting him slightly off the ground. He wasn't sure how he had gotten so close so quickly. His skin was cold, but as comforting as an ice pack on an injury; the relief of a cold shower in the height of summer held in sharp and narrow arms. Something about this situation seemed wrong but he couldn't pin down just what it was.
“It's been so long! Look how big you’ve gotten. Ancients, the last time I saw you, you were just a shade!”
Wait. That was it.
“What do you mean, ‘last time’”
Damian willed his muscles to tense, his hands to clench into fists but they remained stubbornly relaxed.
“Dami, little light, ya sitti, don't you remember me?”
Nightengale gently set Damian and for a second he was blinded as the man was wreathed in rings of light bright as the sun. When the light faded the man had... changed. The most obvious shift was his hair, once black and now so blindingly white that it made his face shadowy and difficult to see, as well as luminescent, Lazarus green eyes, the sclera black as night. Rather than the simple black turtle neck and slacks he had come in, he was now wearing a black hazmat suit with a white belt holding what looked like an old-fashioned radio and, oddly, a thermos. He had white gloves, though they became sharp and claw-like at the tips. There were other, more subtle changes, such as how his skin grew grey, like someone who had been dead for hours, and the faint glow of the fractal Lichtenburg just visible through the suit. Damian became aware suddenly of pressure that had been building in his ears and only just released.
“No.”
“Oh...” the Man, he was not Nightengale, seemed to deflate.
“No... I... It's not... You can not.”
Damien was faintly aware that he was not making sense, but seeing that this made two of them, he felt little need to correct it. Finally, enough of his brain cells managed to collide for him to form a sentence.
“What are you doing here?”
“Damien,” Father said, careful to insert himself between his son and whoever, whatever, was floating just slightly off the ground before them, “who is this? How do you know him?”
“His name is Phantom. When I was a child, I would make up stories about him and the strange land he ruled.”
Hearing his name, Phantom smiled a much smaller, more hesitant smile than his Joker-esque grin from before. He waved slightly. Meanwhile, Father looked as if he were about to have an aneurysm. Looking about, that seemed to be the consensus amongst the onlookers, albeit Todd who laughed. Hard.
Tag Cultists
@mur-ururu @krzys2000 @soren1830 @fisticuffsatapplebees @emergentpanda-blog @heirxofxtime
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afeelgoodblog · 1 year
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The Best News of Last Week 🐧
1. ‘Robin Hood’ energy strikers give free power to French schools, hospitals, low-income homes
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Amid national strikes in the energy sector, some workers in France have found a novel way to protest. On Thursday, "Robin Hood" operations – unauthorised by the government – provided free gas and electricity to schools, universities, and low-income households throughout the country.
Among the facilities provided free energy were public sports facilities, daycare centers, public libraries, some small businesses and homes that had been cut off from power. 
2. UK scientists discover method to reduce steelmaking’s CO2 emissions by 90%
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Researchers from the University of Birmingham have developed an innovative method for existing furnaces that could reduce steelmaking’s CO2 emission by nearly 90%.
The iron and steel industry is a major cause of greenhouse gasses, accounting for 9% of global emissions. That’s because of the inherent carbon-intensive nature of steel production in blast furnaces, which currently represent the most-widely used practice.
3. Watch this cargo ship fly a giant kite to save fuel and cut emissions
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The 2,700-square-foot parafoil is helping to tow the cargo ship and lessen the workload of the massive diesel engines — reducing the ship’s use of dirty fuel.
4. Scientists discover emperor penguin colony in Antarctica using satellite images
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A newly discovered emperor penguin colony has been seen, using satellite images of one the most remote and inaccessible regions of Antarctica.
The colony, home to about 500 birds, makes a total of 66 known emperor penguin colonies around the coastline of Antarctica, half of which were discovered by space satellites. Emperor penguins are the only penguins that breed on sea ice, rather than land, and are located in areas that are very difficult to study because they are remote, inaccessible and can experience temperatures as low as −60C
Kowalski, analysis!
5. Dungeons & Dragons Scraps Plans to Update Its Open Game License
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Wizards of the Coast, publisher of Dungeons & Dragons, announced yesterday that it will no longer be pursuing deauthorization of the Open Gaming License 1.0a. The deauthorization of the OGL 1.0a was a huge sticking point for fans and third-party publishers who made a living using a license that was granted nearly two decades ago.
6. Turning problem sea algae into a replacement for plastic
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Excessive outbreaks of seaweed and microalgae are clogging up waters from the Caribbean to the Baltic. Now both are being harvested alongside farmed crops to create ingredients for cosmetics and food products.
7. German parliament officially commemorates LGBTQ victims of Nazi regime for first time.
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The German parliament for the first time on Friday focused its annual Holocaust memorial commemorations on people persecuted and killed over their sexual or gender identity during World War II. Campaigners in Germany have worked for decades to establish an official ceremony to commemorate the LGBTQ victims persecuted under the Nazi regime.
“Today’s hour of remembrances focuses on a group of victims which had to fight for a long time to achieve recognition: people who were persecuted by the National Socialists because of their sexual orientation or their gender identity,” Baerbel Bas, president of the Bundestag lower house, said while opening a ceremony marking International Holocaust Remembrance Day, the anniversary of Auschwitz’s liberation.
- - - 
That's it for this week. If you liked this post you can support this newsletter with a small kofi donation:
Buy me a coffee ❤️
Have a great week ahead :)
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oceanbug · 5 months
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when worlds collide
smau non!idol ningning x reader
24. clarity.
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“Yujin, what the fuck?"
Yujin stared down at her feet in embarrassment and fear. She tensed up in preparation for the cruel words that were bound to be spewed at her.
Jimin looked fuming. Her face was bright pink, and she looked as if she were about to explode. Whether it be from anger or tears, no one could really tell. She opened her mouth and let out a chocked-up
“How could you? What’s wrong with-“
But before Jimin could finish her sentence, Y/N cut her off.
“You came up with this elaborate plan because you thought we would just abandon you?" You had tried your hardest to hold back tears, but couldn’t stop them from flowing. It was hard to wrap your head around. How could you ever possibly abandon your best friend? Just for some girl? Granted, that ‘girl’ was the beautiful, talented, and kind Yoo Jimin. Still, throwing away years of friendship seemed out of the question for you.
Yujin’s eyes shifted around. She was nervous. The three of you never sat down and had a serious conversation. It always felt like the wrong time to bring up something so serious, like it would kill the fun mood.
“I guess, yeah? You seriously don’t think you would’ve still needed me, would you? From the moment you locked eyes with Jimin, you never stopped talking about her. It was all you talked about.” Yujin let out a sigh, cringing at those past memories.
“That’s not true. What about the amusement park we went to in 10th grade? Jimin caught a fever and couldn’t go, so we went together."
“Yeah, we did. Except we couldn’t go on any rides because you were so focused on winning Jimin a giant panda plushie that by the time you won it, the park closed. You took three hours.”
“Oh… Well, what about when we volunteered to paint the school mural in 9th grade? We had fun drawing dicks on it in secret!”
“I drew them. While you gawked at Jimin playing volleyball next door, If I remember correctly, you only volunteered so that your mom wouldn’t freak out about you staying after school. And 'Watching Jimin practice' wasn’t a good enough excuse, so you dragged me into volunteering.”
“Of course, I needed an excuse to stay late; we couldn’t let Jimin walk home alone after practice."
Jimin turned to you and cocked her head to the side.
“Y/n, my dad always picked me up from school? Until I get my license?”
You paused for a second and felt your face getting hot. This whole time, you convinced yourself that you stayed late for Jimin. In reality, were you just staying late because of Jimin?
"Just face it, Y/N, our whole friendship was the Jimin show.” Yujin’s words sounded tired. It was as if she had relayed this message to herself constantly. She always knew this in her heart, and it always hurt her. Jimin’s previous anger had subsided. It was replaced with confusion. Confusion about her feelings toward Jimin. And the situation at hand.
The room was silent.
Until you began to break down. You sobbed, sitting on your dorm room sofa. Sitting around with the two people you thought meant the world to you They were your everything, and yet you had hurt them. All three of you were hurting.
Is high school supposed to be fun? The best years of your life. Yet, all three of you felt nothing but fear, pain, and anxiety. And they never felt comfortable enough to express it to each other. Is this really friendship?
You felt Jimin scoot closer to you on your right side, while Yujin got up and sat next to you on your left. They hugged you as you let out your emotions. Each one of you did.
"I got into Yale.” Both you and Yujin whipped your heads to look at Jimin.
Jimin was always a hard worker in high school, so it came to everyone’s shock when she decided to go to an in-state university. Jimin always seemed to have a bright future ahead of her. Like she could accomplish the biggest things. Everyone always expected her to go off to a big, expensive school and do something amazing with her life.
“Senior year, I got in. It was even a full ride. But I turned it down. I couldn’t think about leaving the two of you. I know everyone wanted me to do something special in life, but I couldn’t imagine doing it without the two of you. I always feel pressured, all around me. Everyone expects me to be perfect. But when I’m with the two of you, I can take a break. I can be a teenager. I can be me.”
“We would’ve moved with you!” You exclaimed, while Yujin nodded her head.
“Most definitely.”
“We could’ve gone to school in Connecticut.”
“Def not Yale, but something close.”
“Probably would’ve preferred it than you locking lips with Ning.” Yujin added. Jimin chuckled slightly and looked off to the side. Feeling embarrassed by how her one act of 'rebellion' led to disaster.
“But, Jimin, no matter what you do, we’ll always support you.” You went to her other side and gave her a tight squeeze, while Yujin stayed on the right and embraced her as well.
It seemed like everyone was venting tonight. pent-up emotions the three of you have faced for years.
“Now would’ve been a perfect time to confess my love for you, huh?” You laughed, looking at your lifelong crush.
“Nah, the rejection would’ve killed the mood.” Jimin pushed you slightly and chuckled. It felt good to joke and tease about these things.
Yujin laughed along with you two but abruptly stopped. She hung her head low again.
“Man, I really screwed things up with us, huh?"
You exchanged a glance with Jimin, both of you having a similar thought. You turned to Yujin and held her hand.
"Yeah, you did.”
“Incredibly so.” Added in Jimin.
"But it’s okay. Apparently, so did all of us. So it cancels out, right?”
Yujin perked her head up and let out a small smile.
“Yeah, that’s how math works! I learned it in geometry!”
“You slept every class?”
“Blah blah, numbers, shapes!” Yujin rolled her eyes and shrugged her shoulders. All of you could do it and laugh. Just like old times. Just like your trio always did.
“So… Can I move back in?” Yujin asked.
“No.” Jimin turned to you, confused. It seemed like everything was working out. Why the sudden decision on your end?
“How else are we getting insider information on the bitch Wonyoung?” It was clear who common enemy number 1 was. And it was time to take her down.
“You’ve got a plan, Y/N?”
“You know it!”
“Ha, yeah! Operation Take Down Bitchyoung is a go!” Yujin got up and cheered.
“You still messed up, Yujin, so we expect a lot of help on your end.”
Her cheers became slightly softer, but Yujin was still glad to be part of your life again.
Before you could grab your phone and let everyone know you finished the conversation, Jimin tackled you all onto the sofa and embraced you both.
“I love you guys.”
No matter what happened, You always had each other. It was obvious now. It’ll take some time before everything returns to its old ways. Or maybe it never will. All that matters is that you know you can count on each other, no matter what.
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masterlist ~ next
(Synopsis) Y/N had never been the type to take life for granted. You grew up with the mindset that if you wanted something, you had to work for it; So getting paired up with the university’s “Rich Bitch” Ning Yi Zhuo for your midterm was the last thing you wanted. Are you willing to step into the world of fame for an A+?
taglist(open): @azraism; @kimsgayness; @sewiouslyz; @winieter ; @llluvbluy ; @i06kkura; @everydayiloveyves ; @edamboon ; @rdfgfv ; @beawolfbealionbeyou; @manooffline; @captivq
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twstmagica · 10 days
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Staff Meeting
Crowely dragged Yuu and Crewel to a room where Trein, Vargas, and Sam are waiting. Later Yuu will wonder why the campus shopkeeper was included.
Crowely tells the staff that last night one of the “mutated blot monsters” had snuck onto campus and attacked a student.
All the staff are disturbed
Trein asks why a student was at the abandoned dorm in the first place
Crowely tells them that since she was not sorted into any dorm, he had generously offered to let Yuu live there.
The others berate him for trying to dump someone in that wreck.
Looking for a distraction, Crowely prompts Yuu to explain what she knows of the so called “blot monster”
Okay, so! Magica (magical girls/boy) Champions of Hope! A formally recognised position in which a child has been conscripted by an otherworldly power to battle against the evil forces of Chernabog. Scholars theorize that the reason they are chosen so young is due to the pure quality of a child's hope, making it so that as a magica grows they become more powerful than if they were chosen at an older age. magica can apply for a vigilante license, allowing them to apprehend nefarious forces and get excused absences from school if needed.
A magica’s powers are granted in moments of great hope born from great despair. Once granted, the champion is able to boost their body and magic with the power of hope. This gave humanity an edge for a while and things seemed to be getting better. 
When Chernabog learned that kids were being empowered so that they may one day fight his army, he ordered his servants to kill them while they're young. Tactically this was a smart decision, but still a dick move in Yuu’s opinion. The various world governments have tried to set up programs and systems to stop this, but most magica grow up fighting at least once a week. 
Yuu’s home has been under attack by Chernabog’s fiend army for nearly millenia. 
She names and describes a few of the most common fiend types.
The staff are dubious of Crowely’s claims of another world, but can't deny Yuu’s knowledge of these ‘fiends’ as she called them.
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mads-weasley · 8 months
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Epiphany Pt. 4: Evermore
Lewis Nixon x Reader
Masterlist
Series Masterlist
A/N:  thanks for patiently waiting for this chapter!! it's filled with angst, so be prepared! also, i took a little bit of creative license and added a little something to the end of the chapter, so let's pretend that easy moved to some form of housing after Arnhem...haha.😅😅 this is about the fictional portrayal of easy company on the show. nothing but love and respect for veterans on this blog!
Summary: As the operation in Holland crumbles, (y/n) and the rest of Easy are forced to retreat from Arnhem, and a stray bullet makes (y/n) reconsider her anger toward Nixon.
Word Count: 4.4k
Warnings: mentions of blood/injury, major angst
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SEPTEMBER 1944, HOLLAND: OPERATION MARKET GARDEN
Operation Market Garden had begun with high hopes and lofty ambitions, but now, it was undeniable: it had crumpled into a resounding failure. From the moment Lieutenant Brewer was shot, a sense of impending doom had settled like a lead weight in (y/n)'s stomach.
If she was being honest with herself, she couldn’t get a good feeling about it after Eindhoven and what she'd seen there. The mission was already teetering on the brink of disaster, and now as Easy retreated through the war-torn streets of Arnhem, that gut-wrenching feeling had transformed into a harsh and unforgiving reality.
In the fray, (y/n) found herself separated from the rest of her squad when the Tigers opened fire. She took shelter behind a blown-out corner, her heart pounding in her chest as she pressed her face against the cool stone. Her eyes scanned the buildings before her for krauts, and when she deemed it safe, she signaled for two fellow soldiers to follow her lead.
Bullets zipped through the air dangerously close as they sprinted for their lives, crouching and weaving to evade the deadly rain of fire. (Y/n) pushed through some sheets on a clothesline, her focus on the path ahead, but then the man beside her fell with a heavy thud. Before she could even turn back to help him, a powerful force yanked her behind a nearby building.
“There ya are! We’s was worried about ya!”
A strong Philadelphian accent filled her ears, and she leaned against the brick wall, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She peered around the corner and closed her eyes with a sigh, seeing the frozen stare of the fallen soldier, along with the blood streaming from his forehead. Guarnere’s firm hand on her shoulder pulled her back behind cover.
“What’re ya thinkin’? Tryin’ to get yourself freakin’ killed?” he yelled, voice tinged with exasperation as he fired rounds around the corner. “We’ve gotta fall back! Luz!”
Luz? George was there?
(Y/n)’s head snapped to her right, and there he stood with a radio to his ear, frantically relaying critical information to CP.
“We have infantry everywhere!” he cried, covering his other ear with his hand. “Repeat, armor has cut the road! We are covered in infantry!”
Bill took cover behind the building and pushed (y/n) and Grant forward roughly. “Fall back! Fall back!”
George, however, remained against the wall as he continued to repeat his urgent message. ”It’s a hold down! We are falling back! Over!”
(Y/n) knew they couldn’t wait any longer, so before Bill could, she grabbed George’s arm, her voice urgent as she pulled him with her. “George! Let’s go!”
As they sprinted away from the building, a deafening explosion rocked the air, and a mortar struck the house behind them. Stone and metal fragments hurtled through the air around them. The sheer force of the blast sent (y/n) tumbling to the ground, her body crashing in a heap.
George was quick to react, grabbing (y/n) and pulling up as she scrambled to her feet. Their hearts raced in the aftermath of the explosion, and together they pressed forward, following other paratroopers out of the town. Bill and Chuck ran ahead of them, weaving in and out of the streets. The rest of them followed closely, their boots pounding against the uneven cobblestone roads. But their frantic sprint came to an abrupt halt when they stumbled upon Skip and Don forcefully kicking down the door to what appeared to be a chicken coup.
“What the hell are you doing?!” Bill shouted, alarmed by his friend’s actions.
The boys grabbed the door. “Help us!”
Following them into a ditch, (y/n)’s eyes widened seeing Buck bleeding on the ground.
“What happened?” She asked, kneeling beside him as the others hoisted him onto the door from the chicken coup.
Buck winced in pain but managed to speak. “It’s Easy Company tradition, (y/l/n). I just drew the-,” he winced again, his voice strained, “-short straw.”
She patted him gently on the shoulder as Skip, Don, and Bill began to drag the door behind them, struggling with Buck’s weight. He was a college football player, after all.
As they finally reached the waiting trucks, the exhaustion had taken its toll on the three. They were on the verge of collapse, their bodies pushed to the limits by the harrowing events of the day. Thankfully, a few paratroopers had already descended from the trucks and rushed to help. With a collective effort, they carefully loaded the injured lieutenant onto the transport. Lip appeared, ushering more troops toward the waiting trucks.
(Y/n), Bill, and Lip stood behind Bull. “One bullet, four holes,” Bill quipped with a wry grin, gesturing to Buck’s wounded butt with his thumb. 
Carwood patted Buck’s boot with a relieved smile. “Yeah. It’s almost a miracle.”
The sergeants nodded at her before walking away. As she prepared to blimp onto the truck, a familiar voice calling her name brought her to a halt.
“(Y/n)!”
She turned to follow the voice back to its source, her expression hardening when she recognized Lewis Nixon. The memories of their encounter in Eindhoven flooded back, and her anger surged anew as he approached.
“What?” She spat, crossing her arms defensively.
Lew sighed, concern evident as he looked her over. “You alright? I heard it wa-”
“Why do you care?” She interrupted him sharply, her tone dripping with resentment.
He was taken aback by her coldness. “Because I care about you," he stated, his words slow and deliberate, though he knew that his feelings for her extended beyond mere friendship. "We're friends."
“Whatever, Nixon,” she muttered dismissively, climbing into the truck and plopping beside Malarkey with an exasperated huff.
Lew watched her for a moment, his jaw clenched, as he processed the rift that had grown between them.
So that’s how things were going to be.
With a shake of his head, he turned away and went searching for Dick, determined to find a way to mend the damaged bond between himself and (y/n).
Don observed Nixon walking away with a puzzled expression on his face. (Y/n)’s cold demeanor toward the intelligence officer was a stark contrast to the adoration Don had witnessed in the pub just a few days prior.
He nudged her gently, his curiosity getting the better of him. “What happened?” he inquired, voice filling with concern.
“With Nix?” She confirmed, and he nodded.
“Well,” she began, clearing her throat. “I was trying to stop one of the Dutch Resistance men from hurting a woman in Eindhoven, and he stopped me.”
Don raised an eyebrow. “And that’s all?” He pressed, sensing there was more to the story.
She bit her cheek, her eyes avoiding his. “Yep. That’s it.”
The sergeant didn’t quite buy her explanation, but he also didn’t want to push her too hard, “Alright,” he conceded. “Have you thought about it from his perspective?”
(Y/n) scoffed bitterly. “What other perspective, Malark? What do-”
He held up a hand, interrupting her. “The one of the guy who didn’t want to see you get hurt.”
Her expression shifted as his words sank in. She hadn’t considered that angle. In the moment, she had already been angry at him for what he did with the Dutch girl and allowed that rage to fuel her actions.
“Yeah, you’re right,” she admitted, her tone softer. “The guy was getting pretty aggressive with me.”
Don nodded, starting to understand the complexities of the situation. “See, he cares about you, (y/n/n). We all see it. And we know you care about him, too.” 
Her eyes widened in surprise at his words. “Don, please don-”
But he cut her off gently, a reassuring smile on his face. “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me and the boys.”
A relieved sigh escaped her lips, and she offered him a grateful smile. “Thank you.”
As they drove away to safety, (y/n) shifted her gaze downward and noticed a bloodstain against her already dirty hands. Her heart raced as she peered down at her boots, where a few crimson droplets clung to the dark leather. Confusion and concern gnawed at her, and her eyes drifted over to Buck, whose pants were completely soaked with the red substance. (Y/n) couldn’t shake the unease that washed over her. 
She was fine. Right? She must have brushed against Buck.
(Y/n) wiped her bloody palms on her pants with a grimace. On top of dirt, sweat, and grime, she now had streaks of blood marring her uniform.
“Buck, next time you get shot, try not to bleed so much, alright? It got all over my boots,” she quipped, her tone lighthearted despite the weariness that weighed her down. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the truck’s canopy, finding a moment of respite.
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll try,” Buck replied, his voice tinged with pain. 
Exhausted and overwhelmed by the events of the day, she allowed the rumbling of the truck’s engine to lull her into a fitful sleep.
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A gentle hand on (y/n)’s shoulder roused her from her much-needed rest. Her eyes fluttered open in the darkness and she tried to focus, but a sharp pang of pain surged through her head. With a soft groan, she brought a hand up to her temples, massaging them in an attempt to alleviate the discomfort. 
As she continued to rub them, she realized that she was feeling much more than just a headache. The world around her seemed to spin slightly, and a wave of dizziness washed over her.
With a deep breath, she pushed through the dizziness and sat up, steadying herself against the side of the truck. Don’s hand shot out to steady her.
“You okay?” He asked, his voice filled with concern.
(Y/n) nodded slowly, worried any sudden movements would tip her over. “Yeah. Just got up too fast.”
Don gave a reassuring nod. “Alright,” he replied before letting go and exiting the truck.
The other men were already getting out of the vehicle, and (y/n) knew she couldn’t stay any longer. Despite the lingering disorientation and the discomfort of her headache, she summoned her strength and climbed out of the transport, her legs feeling a bit wobbly as she joined her fellow paratroopers on the ground. The world around her gradually steadied, and she then focused on finding George in the dark landscape.
As (y/n) wandered from group to group, looking for the radioman, her attention was suddenly diverted by a hushed conversation nearby. She overheard the whispered words that made her heart stop.
“I heard Captain Nixon got hit today.”
Her breath caught in her throat, and before she could think, her voice escaped her lips involuntarily. “What?”
The men in the group turned toward her, recognizing the (y/h/c) immediately. It was More, Smokey, and Shifty who shared the information. 
“Yeah, while we were retreating. Took one to the helmet,” Smokey replied.
Tears welled up in her eyes as worry and dread washed over her. “I-is he alive?”
Shift sensed her destress, rolling his eyes at Smokey. “Come on, Smoke. Stop torturing her.”
The man couldn’t help but grin. “Alright,” he conceded. “He’s okay, it was a stray that just grazed him.”
A deep sigh of relief escaped her, and the dizziness she had felt earlier hit her again. The overwhelming emotion of the moment left her feeling weak, but the important thing was that Lew was alive.
“He’s okay. He’s alive,” she repeated to herself, the words providing a soothing balm to her anxiety. She had to see him, had to make things right.
Turning to Shifty, she asked with urgency, not even looking at the others. “You seen him?”
The Virginian nodded in response. “He was up on top of the dike with Winters earlier.”
(Y/n) thanked the man and quickly made her way in the direction of the dike. However, with each step she took, it felt like the next one became harder and heavier. The adrenaline that had carried her this far was starting to wear off, and the physical toll of the failed mission was catching up to her.
By the time she made it up the steep hill to the top of the dike, she was panting heavily, chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. The world around her swam in a haze, and she clung to the rough surface of the dike, using it to support her trembling body as she tried to regain her composure.
Although she felt like falling over, she knew she had to find Nix, and nothing was going to stop her from making things right between them. With every ounce of willpower she could muster, she steadied herself and pressed forward.
A few minutes later, (y/n) finally found Lew leaning against the side of a jeep, his gaze fixed on the distant town of Eindhoven, which was illuminated by the fiery hues of its ongoing bombardment. The night sky blazed with shades of bright orange and red, casein an eerie and unsettling glow over the landscape.
A quiet knock broke the solemn silence from behind Lew. He turned to see (y/n) leaning against the driver’s side door, concern etched across her weary face.
“Hey,” she began softly. “Are you okay?”
Lew raised a hand to his sore temple, his gaze lingering on her battered form. “Yeah,” he replied in a hushed tone, his eyes silently tracing the evidence of the battle. “Just a minor concussion.”
(Y/n) slid away from the doorframe, her steps sluggish as she made her way over and sat up on the hood, with much difficulty. The dim light cast delicate shadows across her face, revealing her ashen complexion, the dried mud and blood staining her ODs, and the thin layer of sweat glistening on her forehead. She looked much worse than when he saw her a few hours earlier.
Lew’s brow creased with growing concern. “Are you alright? You’re not looking too good, (y/n/n).”
Her response was laced with a touch of sarcasm. “Why, thank you,” she retorted, rolling her eyes. “You sure know how to flatter women, Nixon. Did you use that charm on the Dutch girl in Eindhoven?”
The air between them grew heavy, filled with unspoken emotions, and Lew found himself captivated by (y/n)’s tired, yet expressive eyes. He couldn’t quite decipher whether her gaze held anger or sadness, but he still felt a pang of guilt.
He hung his head, his voice filled with remorse. “I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?” She scoffed bitterly. “I can’t tell you who or who not to kiss.”
Lew sighed heavily, pushing away from his hood. “I know that. But I am sorry,” he murmured, voice dropping to a rasp. “I’m sorry about those women, too. You know I cou-”
“Couldn’t do anything. Yeah, I know that now,” she interrupted, her voice heavy with regret.
She lazily ran a hand across her forehead, her eyelids drooping as if weighed down by invisible burdens. Nausea slithered its way up her throat, and she could taste the sour bitterness at the back of her tongue. It wasn’t even that hot, yet the oppressive air clung to her like a second skin. (Y/n) struggled back to the ground, the world swaying slightly around her.
“It’s like an oven out here,” she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper.
He glanced at her, concern etched across his face. “Are you sure you’re okay?” His instincts pricked with worry.
“I’m just tired,” she whispered.
Her eyelids drooped further, fatigue tugging at her like an anchor. Slowly, she began to peel off her OD jacket, as if shedding a heavy burden. Nix approached her, his touch gentle as he grasped her elbow.
“How about I take you to Doc and get you checked out, all right?” He suggested, voice laced with concern.
“No, I’m fine,” she insisted, shaking her head and shrugging off his concern, determined to downplay her discomfort. Her jacket dropped to the dirt, revealing the sweat-soaked undershirt clinging to her skin. “I’m okay, Lew.”
Nix’s worry deepened with every passing moment. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was seriously wrong. “Please,” he pleaded softly, his hand gently guiding her toward other men, resting on her hip. She finally relented and began walking beside him, though her steps seemed unsteady.
As they reached the path down the dike, Lew reluctantly removed his hand. But his relief was short-lived when he saw his hand, now stained dark red.
They both stared at the shocking sight, a heavy silence hanging between them. Time seemed to stand still until the realization crashed over them like a tidal wave. A searing pain erupted in her side, a fiery agony that threatened to consume her. (Y/n)’s vision blurred, and the landscape spun as the pain coursed through her, her breathing quickening in frantic desperation.
(Y/n)’s knees gave out, and she crumpled to the ground, her body limp in Nix’s arms. 
“Medic!!” Lew’s voice trembled with raw emotion as he shouted for help. “Medic!”
He carefully lowered them gently to the ground and laid her on her back. As he lifted her blood-soaked shirt, his heart sank at the sight that met his eyes. Even in the dark, he could see the pool of blood oozing from a gunshot wound just above her hip.
She’d been shot, and the pain had finally caught up with her.
Lew wasted no time and pressed his hands firmly against the wound, wincing as she cried out in agony. “Medic!! Someone get a medic!!”
In a frantic blur, Dick came running from the distance, his eyes widening at the harrowing scene before him. “What happened?”
“She was shot! Go get Doc!” Nix barked, urgency coursing through his veins.
Dick vanished as quickly as he had appeared, leaving Lew to look down at (y/n)’s pain-stricken face, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“You’re gonna be okay, you hear me?” Nix’s voice quivered, but he fought to keep it steady. “You’re gonna be fine, sweetheart.”
Roe skidded next to her and shoved Lew aside as he began to assess and treat (y/n). Her trembling hand shot out, desperately grabbing onto Nix’s.
“Lew,” she croaked through her tears, her voice filled with fear. “I’m scared.”
He cupped her cheek gently, his touch tender. “I know,” he whispered, his eyes locked on hers. “I’m here.”
Gene grunted, swiftly tearing open a packet of sulfa, his experienced hands moving with precision. “Keep her awake, sir. She’s lost a lot of blood,” he instructed, urgency lacing his words.
With a determined nod, Lew turned his full attention back to (y/n), his heart heavy with worry. Gene’s voice faded into the background as he yelled instructions to the men around him, but Lew scarcely registered any of it. His world had narrowed to (y/n), and the only thing that mattered was ensuring her (y/e/c) eyes remained open and aware at all times.
The weight of responsibility pressed down on him, but he couldn’t afford to falter. He whispered soothing words to her, his voice a lifeline amid chaos, doing everything in his power to keep her conscious, hoping that she would pull through.
As Gene worked to stabilize her, Lew’s heartache and fear threatened to overwhelm him. He refused to entertain the idea of losing her, and couldn’t bear to contemplate a world without her in it. To him, life would lose all its meaning, its vibrancy, if she slipped away. The thought of her absence cast a shadow over his soul that he couldn’t bear to confront.
(Y/n)’s pain-ridden expression gradually softened, and a sense of relief washed over her as a syrette of morphine was swiftly plunged into her shoulder. The drug’s effects began to take hold, easing the searing agony that gripped her, and she slipped into a welcomed state of relaxation.
“Let’s go!” Gene announced, his voice firm after tying (y/n)’s bandage tightly around her waist. “We’ve gotta get her to the aid station.”
With practiced teamwork, they carefully rolled her onto a stretcher, cradling her injured form, and swiftly moved her to a waiting jeep, its engine humming. Throughout the process, Lew never let go of her hand.
As the effects of the morphine started to blur her senses, (y/n)’s voice took on a hazy and panicked tone. Her words spilled out in a rush, filled with desperation. “I’m sorry about earlier. I was being immature and-”
Before she could finish her sentence, a gentle hand reached out to cup her cheek. “No,” he said earnestly, his voice filled with regret. “It doesn’t matter now. If anyone should be sorry, it’s me, sweetheart, and I am.”
Her (y/e/c) eyes met his, and she whispered, “It doesn’t matter. Just tell me you’ll miss me.”
Nix nodded, tears glistening in his eyes. “I’ll miss you every day.”
Her playful spirit shone through even in such dire circumstances. “Don’t let Dick drive you nuts. That’s my job.”
Dick, appearing at Lew’s side, spoke softly. “They’ve got to go, Nix,” he said, patting his friend’s shoulder with understanding.
Lew leaned over and tenderly brushed a strand of hair from (y/n)’s forehead and planted a soft kiss there. “I’ll see you when you get back, alright?”
She managed a serene smile and squeezed his hand one last time as he reluctantly released his grip and stepped back. 
“Get better,” Dick said, his tone brotherly, as he affectionately patted her cheek.
“Yes, sir,” she smirked lazily. “Take care of him. You know how he can get.”
Dick chuckled, nodding in agreement. “Yes, I do.”
With a rumble of the engine, Eugene hopped into the jeep beside (y/n), taking a moment to make sure she was as comfortable as possible. He called out to the driver, his voice filled with determination.
“We’re good!”
Lew stared blankly at the disappearing jeep, its wheels kicking up dust as it carried (y/n) away to the aid station. His heart felt heavy, his thoughts a tangled mess as he watched her vanish from his sight. He couldn’t tear his gaze away and his eyes locked on the trail of dust.
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3 DAYS LATER
Once Easy was finally moved into a nearby town, Lew numbly settled into his shared room with Dick. He looked down at his ODs, which were still covered with her blood, along with his blood-stained hands, a grim reminder of what had just transpired.
He marched over to Dick’s footlocker and slung it open with a bang, then began rummaging through it in search of his precious VAT-69. His trembling hands found a bottle, and he wasted no time in grabbing a glass and pouring a shot of whiskey. The fiery burn that followed was a sharp contrast to the numbness that enveloped him.
“Nix,” Dick sighed softly, concern etching lines onto his face. “Now that we’ve got supplies, let’s get you cleaned up, all right?”
Lew raised his glass, took a sip, and then stared out the window. “I’m good,” he replied, shaking his head with a hollow, bitter smile. “I’m perfectly fine.”
“She wouldn’t want you to start drinking,” Dick urged gently, trying to reason with his friend.
Nix’s voice grew thick with emotion as he spoke, his guilt and anguish laid bare. “Well, she’s not here anymore, is she? And what if she doesn’t make it? What if I spent my last few days with her in a fight?” The weight of his self-blame hung heavily in the air, his eyes unfocused.
“Have you told her?” Dick asked, his tone filled with sympathy as he saw the torment in his friend’s eyes.
Lew took another sip of whiskey, his gaze distant. “Of course not.”
“Dick,” Nix began, his voice cracking with emotion as he turned to face his friend. “What if I never get to?”
Dick’s expression softened, and he laid a reassuring hand on Lew’s shoulder. “You will. Doc came back last night. He said she’ll be okay, just off the line for a couple of weeks.”
Relief washed over him, and he let out a quiet, heartfelt sigh. “Thank God,” he whispered, setting down his glass and running his trembling hands down his face.
“Dick, I-”
“I know,” he said softly. “She’ll be back before you know it. Until then, you should write to her, keeping her updated with the company.”
Lew nodded, his heart heavy but thankful she would be okay. “Yeah.”
“I’ll go get you some new ODs,” Dick offered, his voice filled with concern as he left the room quietly, giving the man a moment of solitude.
Nix, feeling the weight of the day’s events bearing down on him, walked into the bathroom and leaned heavily over the sink. His hands gripped the cold porcelain as he stared at his reflection in the dimly lit room. He looked terrible. His face was smeared with blood and dirt, and his eyes appeared hollow, haunted by what had happened.
His mind kept replaying the tape of that fateful moment, but all it did was pause at the very moment he thought all was lost. The fear in her eyes, etched into his memory like a scar, refused to fade.
Tears welled up in his brown eyes, blurring his reflection as he tried to shake off the haunting images. Lew shook his head, his hands trembling as he turned on the faucet and began to wash away the stains of war. The clear water slowly turned pink as it dripped off his stained hands, and he scrubbed relentlessly, desperately trying to wash away not just the physical traces of blood but also the guilt and helplessness that clung to him.
As he continued to scrub his hands, the room remained silent, save for the sound of water running down the drain. Each drop that fell was a reminder of the mark this day had left on him
Finally, he turned off the faucet and dried his hands, his reflection now free of the gruesome stains. Nix took a deep breath and walked out of the bathroom, ready to put pen to paper and write her the first of many letters.
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warningsine · 25 days
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HELSINKI (AP) — A 12-year-old student opened fire at a secondary school in southern Finland on Tuesday morning, killing one and seriously wounding two other students, police said. The suspect was later apprehended.
Heavily armed police cordoned off the Viertola school — a large educational institution including lower and upper secondary schools with a total of about 800 students — in the city of Vantaa, just outside the capital, Helsinki, after receiving a call about a shooting incident at 09:08 a.m.
Police said both the suspect and the victims were 12 years old.
One of the students had died instantly after being shot, Chief of Police Ilkka Koskimäki from the Eastern Uusimaa Police Department told a news conference. The other two were seriously wounded, he said.
The weapon used in the shooting was a registered handgun that was licensed to the suspect’s relative, Detective Inspector Kimmo Hyvärinen said.
The suspect was detained in the Helsinki area less than one hour after the shooting with a handgun in his possession, police said. He admitted to the shooting in an initial police hearing but there is no immediate word of the motive, police said, adding that the case is being investigated as a murder and two attempted murders.
Finnish President Alexander Stubb and Prime Minister Petteri Orpo offered condolences to the families of the victims in postings on X with both saying they were shocked over the shooting.
“What makes it particularly shocking is the age of the victim and the suspect,” Orpo said during a news conference later Tuesday. “I can assure you that this (shooting) will be carefully reviewed and conclusions will be drawn that this will not happen again.”
The minimum age of criminal liability in Finland is 15 years, which means the suspect cannot be formally arrested. A suspect younger than 15 can only be heard by the police after which they will be handed over to Finland’s child welfare authorities.
In the past decades, Finland has witnessed two major deadly school shootings.
In November 2007, a 18-year-old student armed with a semi-automatic pistol opened fire at the premises of the Jokela high school in Tuusula, southern Finland, killing nine people. He was found dead with self-inflicted wounds.
Less than a year later, in September 2008, a 22-year-old student shot and killed 10 people with a semi-automatic pistol at a vocational college in Kauhajoki, southwestern Finland, before fatally shooting himself.
In the Nordic nation of 5.6 million, there are more than 1.5 million licensed firearms and about 430,000 license holders, according to the Finnish Interior Ministry. Hunting and gun-ownership have long traditions in the sparsely-populated northern European country.
Responsibility for granting permits for ordinary firearms rests with local police departments.
Following the school shootings in 2007 and 2008, Finland tightened its gun laws by raising the minimum age for firearms ownership and giving police greater powers to make background checks on individuals applying for a gun license.
The Interior Ministry said Finland will pay respects to the victims of the school shooting on Wednesday when all state agencies and institutions will lower the national flag to half staff. Private households are encouraged to join in the commemoration, the ministry said.
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c-e-d-dreamer · 9 months
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But I'm Only Looking At You: Epilogue
A/N: Whelp. It's officially the end of @cassianappreciationweek and it's officially the end of this fic. I hope everyone has enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing! Everyone's comments and reblogs have meant the absolute world to me. And I hope you all enjoy this cute little epilogue. Maybe one day I'll return to this Universe and what Nesta's sisters are getting up to ;)
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Read on AO3 // Chapter Masterlist // Previous Part
Cassian can’t stop staring at her, can barely breathe. She’s not wearing her hair down the way she’s grown more comfortable doing around the manor, but it’s not her uptight style either. The top part of her hair is still braided back around her head, but the rest of her hair falls in soft waves around her shoulders. It’s beautiful. She’s beautiful. He can’t stop tracking the faint shades of pink sitting high on her cheek bones, can’t stop tracking the way she has her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she concentrates.
But it’s Nesta’s dress that truly has Cassian’s attention, that has his heart skipping over itself between his ribs. The red of the tartan looks breathtaking on her, complimenting well with the stormy blue of his eyes. His colors. She’s wearing his colors. Their colors now. It’s everything he’s ever dreamed of, and now it’s right here in front of him.
He reaches his hand up toward her, his fingers just barely skating across the skin of her wrist before Nesta smacks his hand away. She finishes securing his brooch into place, straightening out the fabric of his own tartan. She slides her hands down his chest, her lips tugging up in a satisfied smile, and Cassian can’t stop his own grin from growing. His hands move to secure around her waist, tugging her flush against him.
“Thanks, sweetheart,” Cassian murmurs, leaning down to steal a kiss, but before he can, Nesta’s hand on his chest stops him.
“We’re late enough as it is,” Nesta reminds him. “And Elain will kill us.”
“It’s not our fault the baby came early. I mean one would almost think—”
“Don’t you dare.”
Cassian presses his lips firmly together, biting his tongue around the words threatening to spill forward, but he’s certainly not the first person to think them. The whole ton has been a flood of gossip and whispers, so much so it’s reached even him. Everyone is talking about how fruitful Lucien and Elain’s wedding night must have been, how quickly they were blessed to be with child.
It doesn’t help, of course, that Lucien had used his money and status to be granted a Special License, he and Elain wed faster than the post could reach he and Nesta in Glasgow to attend. That particular part of their whirlwind love story only seems to feed and fuel the spiraling talk around the ton, the speculation and the curious glances.
Between that and his and Nesta’s own unorthodox wedding, it’s safe to say that most members of London’s society now looked down their noses at the former Archeron ladies.
Still, Cassian doesn’t breathe a word of that aloud to Nesta. He certainly has no intention of stoking that fire, of earning his wife’s ire. So, instead he tries a different tactic, not releasing her from his grip and tilting his head, offering Nesta that charming smirk he knows she loves.
“It’s just a kiss, Nes.”
Nesta rolls her eyes, but she can’t hide the fondness of her expression. “And I know you. I know exactly what one kiss will lead to.”
“Just one kiss,” Cassian promises.
He reaches one of his hands up to cradle her jaw, leaning in until his nose bumps against hers. With his fingers pressed against her neck, he can feel the way her breath hitches, the way her pulse jumps and betrays her. He can watch the way her eyelashes flutter, eyes melting to that beautiful shade of blue he loves.
He closes the distance between them and slots their lips together, kissing Nesta languidly. She practically sighs into his mouth, fingers curling into his shirt, and he knows he’s won, teasingly sweeping his tongue into her mouth. When he finally pulls away, Nesta presses up onto her toes and tries to follow, and Cassian can’t help but chuckle softly, pressing a final, sweet kiss to her lips.
“Just one kiss as promised,” Cassian says, smiling smugly at the blissed out expression on her face.
“I hate you,” Nesta mutters, straightening and dusting her hands down her skirt.
She turns on her heel and heads for the bedroom door, but Cassian is hot on her heels. “That’s a funny way to say love.”
Nesta turns her head over her shoulder to settle Cassian with an unimpressed look, but he doesn’t let it deter him, doesn’t even bother biting back his wide smile. He sees the flicker of amusement glint through her blue eyes, sees the smallest twitch to the corner of her lips that gives away the smile she’s trying to suppress, but she’s quick to turn back around, pulling open the door and stepping out into the hallway.
Cassian reaches out and catches Nesta’s hand in his as they walk, threading their fingers together and bringing their joined hands to his mouth so he can press a kiss to Nesta’s knuckles. When she turns to glance at him again, she’s wearing that soft, fond expression that Cassian knows is only for him, that always sends his heart soaring. She squeezes his fingers with hers, and he knows all is forgiven. They head down the stairs and into the hall, Rhys making a big show of sighing, pushing off where he’s leaning against the wall.
“Glad you both finally decided to join us,” Rhys comments dryly, raising a pointed eyebrow.
“Jealousy isn't a good look on you, Rhysie. We were busy,” Cassian explains, daring to wink, but it earns him a smack in the stomach from Nesta, hard enough to pull a surprised gasp out of him. “Sorry, Nes.” He presses a kiss to Nesta’s cheek in apology, Nesta humming quietly in acceptance.
Azriel chooses that moment to step into the room, straightening out the cuffs of his sleeve. “Are we leaving? The carriage is waiting.” His eyes sweep over everyone, settling on Nesta and offering her a small smile and a bow of his head. “Mrs MacLeod. You look lovely. Red certainly suits you.”
“Thank you,” Nesta tells him. “I’m glad someone here is capable of being a gentleman.”
Azriel’s smile morphs into a smirk and he holds out his arm in offering. “Always.”
Striding forward, Nesta settles her hand in the crook of Azriel’s elbow, allowing him to guide them both out of the door and out of Velaris manor. Cassian wants to be annoyed, but it warms his heart to see Nesta so comfortable with his chosen brothers. Especially Azriel. Ever since he made the trip to come and stay at their manor in Glasgow, she and him seem to share some sort of special bond, one that strangely involves a lot of intense games of cards.
Cassian and Rhys follow them out the door and into the carriage, Cassian taking the seat beside Nesta with his brothers opposite him. He lays his hand on her leg, thumb tracing senseless, soothing patterns across her knee, as the carriage jerks forward. With her arms looped through his, Nesta lets out a soft sigh and drops her head to his shoulder, the long journey and carriage ride of yesterday clearly leaving her exhausted still. Cassian turns his face enough that he can press a kiss to her head, hiding his soft, happy smile in her hair, but he can feel Rhys and Azriel’s attention on them, can see their knowing expressions and smirks out of the corner of his eye.
“Excited to see Feyre today?” Cassian asks Rhys, hoping to turn the focus off of him and Nesta.
“Will she be there?” Rhys fires back, the too innocent tone of his voice not convincing for a second.
Cassian rolls his eyes. “Why don’t you just ask for her hand already?”
“He already has,” Azriel offers, clearly listening in despite his eyes watching the passing landscape outside the window.
“You and my sister are engaged?” Nesta asks, sitting up in surprise.
Rhys clears his throat awkwardly, picking at the sleeve of his jacket. “She said no. Said she has no interest in being anyone's 'little housewife.'”
Cassian presses a hand to his mouth to try and stifle his laughter, but it does little to help, the sound still bubbling out of him. Rhys rolls his eyes at the reaction, clearly incensed by Feyre’s rejection, but that just spurs Cassian’s delight even more. “Serves you right. About time someone knocked you down a peg.”
“Don't worry. I'll get her to change her mind,” Rhys assures them with a smug smile, but then his eyes glance toward Nesta, toward the unimpressed ire on her face and that smile starts to slip. “In a gentlemanly fashion, of course.”
The carriage pulls to a stop in front of the church, and Rhys and Azriel slip out. Cassian follows behind his brothers, turning and holding his hand out in offering. Nesta’s palm slides against his, fingers curling around his hand, as she steps down. She’s even more beautiful in the golden light of the morning, the sun’s rays bouncing off her hair, brightening the lightness that’s settled so surely amongst the blues of her eyes in the past months. For a moment, Cassian’s struck dumb, merely staring at her while warmth floods through his chest.
“What?” Nesta asks quietly, her brows pinching in confusion as she blinks up at him.
“You’re just so beautiful,” Cassian explains easily, reaching up with his free hand and sliding the backs of his fingers down her temple, her cheek.
Color spills across her skin at the compliment, but her gaze softens all the same, the smallest hint of a smile breaking free from where she has her lips pressed together.
“Nesta! You made it.” Cassian and Nesta turn to watch Feyre rush down the front steps of the church, the youngest Archeron’s smile wide. When she comes to a stop in front of them, her eyes sweep over Nesta, her head tilting curiously. “Wow. You look…”
“Different, I know,” Nesta finishes, fiddling with the skirts of her dress and clearing her throat awkwardly.
Feyre reaches forward, taking Nesta’s hand in hers to stop her fidgeting and squeezing. “Happy.”
The sisters share a moment together, share soft smiles between them, before Cassian places his hand on the small of Nesta’s back, leaning in to remind her, “we should probably head inside, sweetheart.”
Nesta nods in agreement, and their little group heads up the church steps and into the atrium. While Feyre, Rhys, and Azriel continue on into the nave, Nesta pauses and takes a moment to breathe deeply, so Cassian stops too, keeping his hand on her back and drawing soothing circles. Despite all of her words of assurance, Cassian knows she’s been feeling anxious all week about seeing her mother today. Unsurprisingly, Eleanor Archeron hasn’t taken the time to visit them in Glasgow, hasn’t even taken the time to write to Nesta.
Nesta reaches her own hand back and gives his fingers a quick squeeze, and Cassian knows that she’s alright. He moves his arm so that he can offer it to her, and once Nesta’s hand is settled comfortably in the crook of his elbow, they continue forward into the nave of the church. Elain and Lucien are already waiting at the front of the church, so Cassian leads them to their place beside Lucien’s half brother, Eris.
The christening is fairly short and sweet, the Rector saying the respective prayers followed by Cassian, Nesta, and Eris repeating back the promises as godparents. The water is poured over baby Ash’s head, the candle lit and presented in his honor, and then the ceremony is ending. Afterwards, everyone is invited back to Helion’s grand estate to further celebrate, the lavish ballroom decked out, a large feast and music awaiting them.
Cassian presses a kiss to Nesta’s temple and walks across the ballroom to the refreshment table, leaving her in the very capable hands of Azriel. He finds Feyre standing there as well, and he offers her a small nod of acknowledgement as he grabs a glass for himself and one for Nesta.
“Feyre, darling,” Rhys greets, stepping over to them. “Might I have a dance with you today?”
“No, you may not,” Feyre tells him, turning away from him and taking a sip of her drink.
It takes all of Cassian’s willpower to swallow back down his laughter, and what chuckles do break free, he tries to cover up with a cough. Despite his best attempts at hiding his amusement, Rhys still knocks his shoulder against his as he stalks away. It’s only when the Duke is finally out of earshot that Cassian turns a pointed look back at Feyre, at the small, victorious smile gracing her lips.
“When are you finally going to put him out of his misery?”
“I haven’t decided yet,” Feyre tells him, tossing her braid back over her shoulder. “When are you going to host me for a visit in Glasgow?”
Cassian shakes his head at the subject change, but acquiesces all the same. “You know you’re always welcome. I’m sure Nes would appreciate it if you came and stayed.”
“Yes, I’m sure Nes would. Now if only she could allow anyone other than you calling her that.”
With a fond roll of her eyes, Feyre takes her drink and walks away, leaving just Cassian by the refreshment tables. His gaze sweeps across the ballroom until he finds who he’s looking for, Nesta now standing with Elain. She has Ash cradled in her arms, smiling softly down at him while the little boy clutches her finger in his hand.
Light music and chatter fills the space around him, but it all fades away to nothing. In that moment, Cassian can see it so clearly. Rather than a shock of red hair, it’s a head of dark curls like his. It’s a pair of stormy blue eyes. It’s a red MacLeod tartan that the baby is swaddled in. It’s the sound of bare feet running and light laughter filling the halls of the manor. It’s finding her curled up in her favorite library chair, reading bedtime stories. It’s going to sleep holding the only woman he’s ever loved and waking up to her sleepy smiles and a soft kiss for the rest of his life.
It’s everything he’s ever wanted, everything he’s ever dreamed about. But it’s not a dream. It’s a very real glimpse into a very real future, and Cassian isn’t sure how he’s even still breathing around the way his heart has swelled between his ribs, around the happiness that’s so firmly taken up root there. He can’t stop staring, can’t stop smiling, can’t stop the love that crashes and floods through his veins and leaves him breathless.
Who knew he’d be so happy to have ruined a wedding?
Baby, I didn’t say my vows. So glad you were around when they said ‘Speak now’
End spoilers/notes: Listen, were Elain and Lucien courting before The Wedding(tm)? Did Elain go running to Lucien after The Wedding(tm), raging about what Cassian did and how she's ruined now too? Crying about how what respectable gentleman would marry her now? Did she then decide to throw caution to the wind and demand Lucien kiss her because what did it matter now anyway if she was already ruined? Did that evening end with more than just a kiss? Did that lead to Elain being with child and Lucien being actually ecstatic because he's been trying to ask Elain to marry him this whole time? Who's to say ;) Also, will Rhysand volunteer himself to accompany Feyre on her journey to Glasgow to stay with her sister so she doesn't have to make the journey alone? Will that lead to his idiot self pining and many shenanigans? Who's to SAY ;)
Updated Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @lifeisntafantasy @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld​ @isterofimias @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @wolfnesta @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @ofduskanddreams @rarephloxes @thelovelymadone @girl-of-many-floods @tenaciousdiplomatloverprune @that-little-red-head
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mindingmybidness12 · 1 year
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A Hunk of Burnin Love
Summary: You plan to make Wednesday feel hot under the collar but when the roles are reversed will you be able to take the heat? Same universe and A big Roaring Flame.
warnings: Terrible flirting… and arson
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“Damn girl, did it hurt when you fell from heaven...uh hell?"
"I wish you'd go to hell."
"I ought to suspend your license for driving me this crazy."
"I don't drive but if I could, I would run you over."
"If you were a chicken, you would be IMPECCABLE."
"If I were a chicken, I would've already pecked both of your eyes out. Granted that I wasn't on somebody's dinner plate yet... still a better fate then having dealt with the likes of you."
You were trying your hand at seducing (read annoying) Wednesday as per usual. You decided to come pester her while she was doing her homework but she didn't so much as glance, she was completely focused on her studies....though not so busy as to flame your ass in between your admittedly crappy pick up lines.
"Damn girl, your ice cold. But I bet I could warm you up though. With a little Burnin' Love."
Before she could even get a response out you spun her chair around and caught her off guard with a hot kiss right on the lips. You bounced away as soon as you broke contact.
Wednesday stared at you with a wide eyed glare filled with rage. Her brow was twitching and her cheeks were pink. She looked gorgeous as always. You debated risking it and going in for a second one when she knocked you out of those thoughts.
“Even when I can expect something this idiotic from you I still can’t help but shocked at the gall. If you try a stunt like that again, I’ll peel your lips off of your face. Are. We. Clear?”
“Wait you mean to tell me you were expecting that? You had your guard up and you still got kissed? If I didn’t know better I would’ve thought you were wanting that to hap—ohhhh.”
“Wipe that moronic look off your face. You know that's not what I meant."
You just stared at Wednesday with a smug shit eating grin on your face. You were completely unfazed by her snarling, teeth gnashing disposition. Because you had stumbled onto one interesting fact about your dearest of friends.
"You want me."
Wednesday stared at you in stunned silence.
"You want me so bad that it hurts. You can't help if you tried. You're trying to play it cool, but I'm on to you! I've melted down your cold dead heart by showering you with my Burnin' Loooove!" here you started doing an Elvis impression and started shaking your hips for no apparent reason. It had quite the affect on Wednesday who was seething in anger and embarrassment.
She'd had enough.
Wednesday grabbed her lighter from her coat pocket and eyed the can of hair spray that laid abandoned on Enid's bed. Finally she turn towards you as you had your back turned to her facing the complete opposite direction while doing pelvic thrusts. At this point you had turned on Spotify to sing along with Elvis (You didn't actually know the lyrics). You had gotten so wrapped up in singing that you had forgotten it was all to tease Wednesday in the first place.
Not only were you a nuisance but you didn't even have the class to stay focused on her. She hated you and she hated being ignored. She hated you for ignoring her. You will pay.
Trial by fire. She'd cleanse you with her unholy flames.
************************************************************************
Enid came back from her date with Ajax to find her dorm floor covered in soot and scorch marks. In the center of it all were the two culprits. Y/N and Wednesday were wrestling around the floor fighting over a dagger (Wednesday's dagger) while cursing and biting at each other. They both covered in soot and mild burns.
"WHAT THE FUCK?!" Enid screamed out catching both their attentions.
"HELP THIS BITCH IS TRYNA KILL M--!!" your cries for help were cut off when Wednesday started choking you with one hand and bringing the knife closer with the other.
"Shut up! Enid leave and close the door! I've got them right where I want them."
"Choke me harder, mommy." you gasped out as Wednesday had you in her grip.
"W-wha?"
You had thrown her off enough to slightly loosen her grip. You immediately took advantage and knocked the knife out of her hands and flipped your position so that you were straddling her.
"Gotcha bitch!"
"Oh god's she's flirting back? I knew she was into weird shit but playing with fire AND choking?" Enid was at the point of fainting.
She decided to get the hell out before she saw something she never would recover from. She closed the door and turned around to walk away, all the while ignoring the muffled cries coming from her room.
A/N: and that's that. This is a little something I had cooking in the back. Enjoy. ALSO THANKS FOR THE 200+ LIKES ON MY LAST POST SHEESH!!!!
See you when I see you.
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hannahhook7744 · 10 days
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Modern Merlin Moodboards (Part 4) (Revamped);
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Character: Sir Lancelot Du Lac.
Modern name: Lance Griffin.
Age: 39 years old.
Modern job: Detective.
Short rundown of their modern life: Lance Griffin grew up the son of a solider and because of that, he and his family often moved around. That is, until the night his parents and grandparents were all killed in a robbery gone wrong after burglars broke into their house.
Lance just barely managed to escape being killed as well by hiding in a cupboard until the cops arrived.
After that, he was placed in foster care where, after a couple of years of acting out (from ages 7-11) Lance was put in military school where he met and befriended Percival. He was there for a couple of years until an old friend of his mom's petitioned for custody of him and got it. Allowing for him to stay there during the school year and spend the summer with her.
He joined the police academy after graduating and eventually, after being promoted to detective, he was partnered up with Detective Leonard Grant (who preferred Leon) who introduced him to Doctor Merlin Everstone.
The pair are now roommates (along with Leon's wife, Vivian).
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Character: Merlin of Ealdor (also known as Emrys).
Modern name: Merlin Everstone.
Age: 36 years old (physically at least).
Modern job: Physician/Doctor.
Short rundown of their modern life: Merlin has walked the Earth waiting for Arthur to rise, constantly running into Leon and getting into trouble in the meantime. Helping those in need as he did so and eventually becoming a licensed doctor.
Not long after Lancelot popped up, Merlin met Freya (who had nothing to her name) and re-fell in love with her. Eventually Freya's memories returned and the pair settled down, got married (after meeting Will and Elena and attending their own wedding) with the pair (along with Lancelot, Leon, and Vivian) as their witnesses, and had one (magical) son named 'Dragonet'.
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Character: Freya (Also known as the Lady of the Lake).
Modern name: Freya Everstone.
Age: 36 years old.
Modern job: Strawberry Farmer.
Short rundown of their modern life: Freya Everstone was born to an Amish community in Canada where she spent the first eighteen years of her life.
She lost her family when she was young, causing her to be raised by the rest of the community until she was attacked by a man, causing her to kill him accidentally in self defense. Which caused her to be ousted by her community and attacked by the man’s mother, which caused her to flee to the U.S.
She ran into Merlin when she was twenty three and soon fell in love with him: eventually causing her memories to return. After that, the pair bought a farm with a few fields filled with wildflowers, near a lake and mountains. Planted some strawberries and got a couple of cows.
Not long afterwards, she and Merlin attended Will and Elena's wedding and decided to tie-the-knot in a courthouse wedding with their friends as their witnesses.
Less than a year later, their only son, Dragonet, was born. With magic. Which caused both of them to decide to hold off on having anymore kids until everyone got their memories back (because having a magic kid in the modern day is difficult and risky).
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Character: Dragonet the Royal Court Jester.
Modern name: Dragonet Everstone.
Age: 11 years old.
Modern job: None. He's a student.
Short rundown of their modern life: Dragonet was born to Merlin and Freya 11 years ago, and grew up having to keep his magic a secret from most— outside of Leon and his parents, of course.
He eventually ended up befriending Artie, Everard, Marcel, and Salem, and now does his best to keep them out of harm while trying to keep his magic a secret. Just till his parents and Leon say it's okay for him to tell them.
Which is likely to be sometime after they awaken everyone.
(It's a good thing he's somewhat patient).
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Character: Gilli.
Modern name: Gilligan 'Gilli' White.
Age: 28 years old.
Modern job: Carpetener.
Short rundown of their modern life: Gilligan 'Gilli' White was born to a disgraced Magician who was murdered when he was only twelve years old.
After this, Gilli ran away and joined a traveling group of magicians who were apart of a traveling circus. Hellbent on learning all the tricks his father had denied him knowledge of and on tracking down the men who murdered his father (which, given that he doesn't know they are... Well, is not easy).
In the circus, he met his boyfriend, Daegal Norrington, and his friends, Sophia Tiermore and Lamia Scales.
Eventually, he left the circus. Still practicing magic, but becoming a Carpenter and moving into a motel where he still resides to this day with his now med student boyfriend, Daegal Norrington.
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Character: Daegal. 
Modern name: Daegal Norrington.
Age: 25 years old. 
Modern job: Med Student.
Short rundown of their modern life: Daegal Norrington grew up the only child of a single magician and fortune teller in a traveling circus. 
Never knowing who his father was. 
When he was eight, an older boy named ‘Gilli’ White joined the circus and they became friends.
When he was nine, a girl named ‘Sophia Tiermore’ was left at the circus by her father. 
When he was thirteen, a girl named ‘Lamia Scales’ was found and brought to the circus and taken under the wing of his mother.
When he was seventeen, his mother was killed by a Penace Industries product and was laid to rest by the rest of their circus troop. 
When he was eighteen he left the circus with Gilli in hopes of attending med school and supporting the other man’s dream of being a carpenter. Now they live in a motel together.
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There have been numerous individual reports, just in this war, of children, mothers and grandmothers being randomly sniped by Israeli soldiers. There are the stories of Palestinians sniped, or executed on the spot in front of their children, having waved the white flag of surrender. There is the story of dozens of Palestinians found in plastic bags near a school in northern Gaza, having been killed execution-style, blindfolded, with their legs and hands tied. There is the story of Hind Rajab, the six year old girl in Gaza City who was stuck in a car with her dead family after they were killed by Israeli fire. And who was murdered along with the Red Crescent crew who came, having coordinated safe passage with the Israeli military, after she called them begging for help. The scale at which children are being killed cannot be an accident. Children reportedly make up 12,300 (or 41%) of the estimated 30,000 Gazans killed during Operation Swords of Iron, far beyond anything seen in Afghanistan, Syria, Ukraine, Iraq or Yemen, even discounting for the relatively young median age in Gaza. Even the raw numbers of children killed, in a few months in a small population, far exceed the numbers killed over five years of war in Syria, eight years of war in Yemen, eleven years of war in Afghanistan, and fifteen years of war in Iraq. One does not merely stumble upon such outcomes. They are the overt expressions of an overt calculus of a culture which holds that there are “no innocents in Gaza”, that Palestinians are from the age of four up brainwashed “terrorists” who have “brought this upon themselves”. What else is the ideological function of the stories circulating in rightist Israeli media, asserting that Gazan children as young as ten joined in the 7th October attack? Isn’t there something uncanny about the idea of a child that is also a mass murderer? Something that is, as David Livingstone Smith observes of the racialised enemy in Making Monsters, both subhuman and superhuman? And what contrasting model of childhood is implied in the decision of Israeli television channel, Kan, to have Israeli children to sing a ‘Friendship Song’ about the “annihilation” of Gaza? The soldiers have been granted, and have availed themselves of, extreme license for lubricious blood-letting. Here is the macabresque, as Edward Weisband defines it, where the cruelty has a deliberate and gratuitous theatricality belying its strategic rationales. Something is being staged here at the junction between what Weisband calls “disordered perpetrator desire”, “supererogatory moralism” and “a perverted sense of heroism”. The elaborate performativity of the sadism is at least suggested by the extraordinary rate at which soldiers post evidence of their war crimes to TikTok, along with various bizarre ‘skits’: soldiers playing in an empty playground for example, or staging a mock maths class in a deserted Gaza schoolroom. The joke in each case being the haunting absence of children. Who is the audience for this elaborately performative sadism? Recall the spectacle of Israelis setting up chairs on the hillsides of southern Israel to watch the bombing of Gaza during Operation Protective Edge in 2014. Recall the far-right dancing in the streets, to wild cries of “There are no children left in Gaza … Gaza is a cemetery!” War is a national festival and, while forms of indirect physical participation such as signing messages on bombs or raving to block aid to Gaza are still possible, the carnival can now be enjoyed through the medium of likes and laugh emojis, as with the gory ‘72 Virgins’ Telegram channel, which the IDF now admits is its own doing. But there is also the opportunity to troll, to trigger the libs: you care about these subhuman monsters, well let us show you what we do with them. You are anxious, we are having the time of our lives.
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gale-gentlepenguin · 1 year
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Rating Disney Villains based on how relatable they are and why they are evil (part 1)
Ursula: 5/10
Despite being banished she isn’t starving to death and still gets plenty of visitors. Clearly she’s capping.
Jafar: 7/10
Considering the Sultan is an idiot, I too would probably want to take over the kingdom just so the kingdom doesn’t fall into ruin
Cruella de Vil: (original not that dumb live action prequel) 3/10
The dogs would have made great coats but she could have waited until they needed to be put down or the cops find out a place has over 100 dogs without a license
Maleficent: 9/10
I too would curse a baby if I was not invited to a party and no one was sorry about it
Gaston: 2/10
Just because one girl doesn’t want to marry you when you could have Litterally ANYONE ELSE, granted I think Bell is hot, but not worth starting a mob hot. Incel behavior do not approve
Scar: 7/10
Mufasa was elitist as f*** and everyone called him Scar, plus fighting to Attain dominance is a normal animal thing
Captain Hook: 7/10
I too would be annoyed if anytime I did anything a demigod in green tights and animal costume wearing children got in the way
Lady Tremaine: 1/10
You Literally have no reason to be this vile. If anything, being nice probably would have set you up for life.
Hades: 7/10
If I was stuck being life guard for the most depressing adult swim in history I would probably stage a coup too.
Evil Queen: 3/10
Considering she made a potion to look ugly to trick Snow White, why not just make a potion for Snow White to look slightly uglier so you can be the fairest.
Mother Gothel: 4/10
Considering Rapunzel’s hair helped make her nigh immortal, I kind of get why she went through such lengths to keep her isolated, but if she just took Rapunzel out 1 time. She could have stayed immortal for much longer.
Claude Frollo: 2/10
Using a bad interpretation of your religion to justify genocide is a dick move. But I get why he was into Esmeralda.
Shere Khan: 8/10
Humans are dicks, and fire burns. Very realistic animal reaction
Professor Ratigan: 8/10
Considering how people constantly called him a triggering name, I too probably would conquer England and write an entire diss track to play right at my nemesis’s death.
Yzma 10/10
Kuzco was 100% that guy people would not be sad seeing die in the start of the movie. Yzma Litterally took over within like a day after he was gone. I’m shocked it didn’t happen sooner.
Shan Yu: 7/10
It’s war, and historically speaking the Huns would have decimated China. Also considering how easily him and 5 guys managed to get into the capital and nearly kill the emperor, China needs to reconsider its military practices.
Dr.Facilier 2/10
Dude got himself in debt for his own powers then got shocked when his evil voodoo/hoodoo turned on him. Rip to him but I’m different.
The Horned King 4/10
While blander than an unsalted cracker, I don’t think a face like his could get into any other profession, so undead army
Madame Medusa: 4/10
That was a big ass Diamond, but probably wouldn’t have been a problem if she wasn’t a dick to children
Prince John: 0/10
He just taxed people for no reason, so basically like most governments.
Chernabog: 1/10
If he is basically satan than yea, pretty lame motivation
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