#Absolutely befuddled baffled and confused

[inumbrapugnabimus-maybe]

flabbergasted

[oysters-aint-for-me]

last night i saw kesha in concert and it was amazing obviously. but this post is not about how much i love kesha.

behind me and my friend stood three beings. they appeared to be three teenage girls, probably somewhere between 15 and 18. all three were wearing black crop tops and black skinny jeans. all fine and normal. this post is not about their outfits.

they were talking to each other the entire concert - which is fine, it's a concert, the music is loud, people are with their friends, they talk to each other. this post is not about how annoying The Youths are.

what this post is about:

i am like 99% convinced that these three "teenage" "girls" were extraterrestrials who, in order to blend in with humans during their visit here, had taken a 101 intro language class about the slang used by the current generation of english-speaking teenaged earthlings.

every single line out of their mouths was gen z slang, to the point that it was literally uncanny. they were using the slang...well, not incorrectly, at least from what i could tell as a 35-year-old, but there was something indefinably off about it. "is this giving senior year?" "oh my god it's TOTALLY giving senior year" "YAAAS KESHA" "YAAS QUEEN" "kesha's got rizz!" "SLAY" "she's giving taylor " "she's giving nicki minaj" "YAAAS KESHA!" "SLAY KESHA!" "YAS QUEEN!" "these vibes slay!" "kesha is SO based" and that was basically the extent of their vocabulary.

except it also truly seemed like they had never been to any kind of concert or performance before - except they also talked about having gone to a taylor swift concert. at first i honestly thought they were doing a bit, like, "oooh we're so dumb we don't get how concerts work hahaha," and sure, it might have been.

but in my opinion, their befuddlement happened way too often and way too sincerely to be a joke. like. near the beginning of the concert, people started dancing, like you do; these three creatures' reaction was: "We can dance here?!" if kesha left stage for a bit for a costume change or a water break or whatever, these three creatures would go, "WAIT WHERE DID KESHA GO IS SHE COMING BACK?" they were absolutely stunned and thrilled when everyone took their phones out with the lights on and held them up during a slower song - you know, like people used to do with lighters, like people do at concerts. and the encore situation utterly baffled them.

they also seemed fully convinced that another popstar was going to show up. and this led to them simply naming popstars. "nicki minaj." "macklemore." "beyonce." "britney spears." "taylor."

(yes, only "taylor" - their vocabulary class must have taught them that while "taylor swift" is her full name, human gen z girls are on a first name basis with her.)

now. if they were only confused but didn't go so hard with the gen z slang, my reaction would be, "aw, these kids are experiencing a concert for the first time (or second, i guess, if they had seen "taylor")--how sweet to see young people discover something new!"

and if the reverse was true, if they used all that slang but didn't seem so baffled by the concept of a live performance, i would simply be amused by their conversation and i wouldn't think much of it.

but the mixture of both, plus the moment when they started listing popstars, and they were all wearing the exact same outfit? you do the math.

so i put those clues together, came to the obvious rational conclusion, and now all i can imagine is those three (very enthusiastic, to their credit) extraterrestrials in their true alien forms practicing their gen z vocab:

"i have a question for you, my dear besties! macklemore: based or cringe?"

"YAS, macklemore. i have heard of this one. i believe he is based."

"me too. i am also aware of this macklemore. i too believe he is based."

"this is correct, he serves slay."

"YAAAAS, your highness."

"we are being very normal teenaged girls in this year on Earth two thousand and twenty three."

"YAS HUNTY, we are very normal, because Earth is where we are from."

"and two thousand and twenty three is indeed how we refer to this year due to one of the numbering systems that has been established by humans, which is what we are."

"YAAS KWEEN!"

"now, tell me, besties mine, would you say that ed sheeran is giving cunt?"

"yass, i believe that is based as well."

[all three nodding at each other, satisfied with their progress]

[cyberphuck]

So Corn Bag Salesman replied to me again but then immediately blocked me before I could see it (because I was asleep, dreaming of how much I love being unconscious) meaning that their large follower base was able to see their rebuttal and insults, but that I would neither be able to read it for myself nor reply in kind, which is sort of exactly one of the reasons they’re claiming they’re so mad about the post: they had left the keyboard to go do all of the special inclusive things that they do every single day, like pushing blind people into traffic and I victimized them by posting online before they could gaslight Razz in private some more.

So I am going to do their favorite thing and post some more screenshots this time without my scribbled commentary, but still highlighting certain important passages so that people don’t have to try to wade through the bricks of text, and so you know which particular parts I’m replying to. 

Before we begin, I would like everyone to know that like the corn bag salesman, I am also autistic and a huge piece of shit so I feel we are speaking on even ground here.



And yet here we are.

Being autistic does not mean that you can’t also be a big meanie. I am living proof I want you to know that I never went to your blog to investigate exactly who you were or make a deep dive into your posts or even glance at your header because I do not give a shit about any of those things. I do not give a shit about you. Our paths have never crossed before now. You sell bags of corn. I do not have any need for bags of corn but even if I did, you would not be the first person I would think of to purchase bags of corn from.

I would also like to explain to you, since you are autistic and have trouble interpreting things that you read that aren’t very straightforward, you have never seen me angry. Other people reading this have seen me angry, and I think at this point several of them are thinking that you got off lightly. So far I have been explaining to you what you did wrong, how my friend was affected by it, and our “befuddlement “as to why you continue to absolutely refuse to rectify the situation.

But, whatever I would like to now draw your attention to the part, highlighted in red, which reads “super precise, and meaning only what he actually says.”

Here is a paragraph of the corn bag salesman meaning exactly what he says. The salesman would claim that they never said or even implied that Razz was stupid or incompetent, but here is a whole bunch of words implying that Razz is stupid and incompetent. Remember, the salesman says exactly what he means here, so when he says that it���s not his responsibility to explain things to his customers, even if they don’t understand the terms of a sale that they cannot fully read, and nor will he apologize for it, he means that precisely.

Also, I’ve noticed that he uses the word baffled to try to imply that he’s just innocently confused and nothing is his fault. If you have some free time, try going back to look at the other screenshots of his posts and count how many times he’s used the word baffled instead of some other more appropriate phrase like “shit smacked”or something . this doesn’t have anything to do with anything else, I just thought it was interesting. I wonder if he does this to people in real life.

Moving on.

The problem here that I am expecting the corn bag salesman to solve is that they said something that hurt my friend and I would like them to apologize for it. Or at least acknowledge that the wording of their sales email may have been difficult to interpret. I am not looking for a non-apology that said something like “I suppose that the wording may have been difficult to interpret if you are too stupid to know that pants don’t go on head” which is what we have received so far.

Next, they gaslight everyone by saying that Razz expected to receive a free product, implying that they are only complaining because they wanted to get something that they were not entitled to. I would like to remind you all that this entire debacle started with the misinterpretation of a buy one get one free sales email. Razz bought one. They want to know when the “get one free” part happens. The corn bag salesman has not fulfilled their part of the deal, and they are trying to get people to believe that Razz is running some kind of devious corn bag grift.

(I did not need your permission to make as many snide comments as I want, but it is appreciated, thank you. )

Again, implying that Razz is running some kind of scam instead of rightly wondering where the other part of their shipment is: the part that they thought they were going to get as a result of buying one of the bags of corn. The corn salesman wants you to believe that the wording in the sales email was painfully obvious, but what it said was “no code needed.” That’s all. Razz misunderstood what that meant and sent an email asking about the second bag of corn. They thought they were going to get. That is also all. 

The third car on this train full of shit gravy contains the corn bag salesman scolding me for making a nasty post “in the middle of the night “when they would have no chance to respond or defend themselves. The salesman‘s reply here is on their blog, on a post they made while I was sleeping, but I could not even see from my regular account because they had blocked me. I feel I have found a kindred spirit in that the corn salesman is just as much a fantastic asshole as I am. Bravo. I encourage you to embrace the fact that you are a comically bloated possum on the asphalt simmering away in the summer heat filled from asshole to nostrils with dumb shittery, and never try to claim that you are anything else. Don’t let anyone dull your sparkle. 

There is a final email exchange between Razz and the Corn bag salesman. The salesman‘s first email in that exchange is pretty much just more of the same as what we’ve already gone over, some of it Word for Word, so I’m not going to try to pick it apart here, but I do have screenshots in case someone wants to accuse me of cherry picking. What I do want to post is Razz’s final email to them and their final reply.

So that’s what we’ll do, I think, because honestly, both razz and I have infinitely better things to do with our time than argue with an idiot over bags of corn. I hope all of you reading this also choose to “go away” from any business dealings with the corn salesman.

I wish I had some of those really good chocolate chip cookies, they’re kind of thin, and have crispy edges. They’re crunchy and also very very good. By the way, your mom got me two more dicks for Christmas so now I have nine. 

[born2love]

just watched the first season of how to get away with murder and im obsessed with wes’ constant look of confusion. i need a guy like that, just looking absolutely baffled at all times. bamboozled. flabbergasted. befuddled. i want to discom on his bobu til he lates

[sickly-sw33t]

absolutely befuddled. baffled. perplexed. confounded. love aimed at me does not compute. how????? to receive affection??????? without brain doing the dial up noise??????? impossible perhaps… more trials needed. i’m ,,,,,, so very, very confused.

[lemonlushff-iy]

Thank you ALL for being awesome and participating in my AMA tonight!! 

As a thank you, I’m giving you a sneak peak into an upcoming fic. I’m not quite sure WHEN I will be posting this, but it’s an idea I’ve had floating around in my head for over 11 years. 

God I feel old. 

This is still a massive WIP, and the following has not been edited!

Kagome sighed as she toed off her high heels, gently scooting them to the side with her foot, next to her island. She peeled out of her blazer as she walked further into her apartment, ditching it onto the closest arm chair, rubbing the back of her neck. 

God she was exhausted. And she wasn’t looking forward to tomorrow, but...that was a “future her” issue. She didn’t want to mull over work anymore right now. All she wanted was her Grubhub to arrive so she could have some sushi, pour some wine, and watch the Real Housewives of Atlanta. 

Their shit was always worlds better than her own. Their drama made her forget about her drama...and she fucking hated drama. When she was involved, of course. 

She still wanted to know 200% of it. 

Just leave her out of it. 

She meandered over to her bathroom and pulled her hair up into a loose ponytail at the top of her head, removing her jewelry. She would have completely changed, but...frankly...she knew that dinner would be arriving soon and she’d rather open the door with her bra on. 

That didn’t mean that she couldn’t get a little more comfortable first though. Try and wipe away some of the traces of her hellish day at work. 

That fucking magazine…

It was her blood. Her life. And they made her bleed for it. The deadlines were crazy, the stress insane, and her bosses even more so. Yet...she wouldn’t trade her life for anything. It was her dream job, and she had sacrificed a lot to get here. 

A social life, at times. Definitely love. 

This was what the trade off was for working at one of the most in demand, read, and famous fashion magazines in the world. 

She rolled her shoulders, before washing her face, drying it with a towel behind her. It was a bit better, but she didn’t feel refreshed. She felt exhausted, and now that the makeup was gone, she could see the bags under her blue eyes. She loved her eyes...was that conceited to say?

She didn’t know anymore after working for them. 

But she did.

They were large and round...had heard from many men before that it was like looking into the depths of an ocean and...frankly...she had to agree. They were one of her most striking features, next to her delicate features. Nose, cheekbone...brows...If she didn’t enjoy food, she had been told that she could have been a model. As it were, however, that wasn’t a path she wanted for herself anyways. 

She exited the bathroom, flicking off the light as she made her way back into her kitchen, opening the fridge door and taking out a new bottle of wine. Chardonnay. She had picked it up a few days ago, and nothing like her hell day to make her want to dip into it. 

She grabbed the corkscrew and began working it into the bottle as a knock came from her door, and she sighed in relief. 

“Sushi,” she grinned, placing the bottle onto her counter as she strode towards the door. “You have good timing!” she called out, placing her hand on the knob, turning it. “I’m famished!”

What greeted her on the other side of the door didn’t look like a Grubhub man. 

Afterall. 

Grubhub brought you food.

Not suitcases. 

“Hello?” she greeted, raising her brow at the man before her. Long silver hair, nervous yet excited golden eyes...His smile was shy but endearing. 

“Kagome?” he whispered, almost as if he couldn’t believe it. 

“Yes?” she replied slowly - hesitantly. Who the hell was he and how the hell did he even know her name?

“Kagome,” he grinned widely, sweeping her into his arms, his lips planting themselves firmly on her lips. 

She squealed as he began kissing her, his hands winding into her hair, his hand gently moving to lovingly caress the small of her back. She had no idea who the hell this man was...or why the fuck he was kissing her, but she didn’t like it!

Well…

She did…

But it was creepy as fuck and she didn’t like it!

She wormed her hands between their bodies and gave him a firm push, staggering backwards into her apartment. 

“What the fuck!” she demanded, running the back of her hand against her lips, and he looked absolutely crushed. 

“W-what?”

“Who the hell are you and why the hell did you just kiss me!”

“W-who...K-kagome…”

She darted over towards the butcher block on her counter holding her knives and grabbed one as he entered  her apartment. 

“Kagome! It’s me! Inuyasha!”

“You say that like it should mean something to me,” she growled lowly, keeping her knife pointed at him. She wasn’t letting him get any closer to her if she could help it. 

If only she were closer to her phone...Then she could maybe call for help. 

“I...We’re getting married,” he breathed, his face confused. Saddened. 

“What?!” she shrieked. This guy had to have a few marbles loose. 

“Do you...Kagome Higurashi?”

“That’s my name,” she nodded. “But I’m definitely not getting married, Buddy…”

“I don’t understand…” he whispered. He looked like he was on the verge of crying, and her heart softened a little. This man...Inuyasha...whoever he was...Seemed completely and totally baffled. 

“L-look. Maybe there’s another Kagome Higurashi that’s out there that you’re supposed to get married to. What...why don’t you...Shit,” she sighed. He looked so sad. He didn’t seem like a threat. He seemed as confused and befuddled as she did. She wasn’t going to put down the knife, but maybe she should take a few deep breaths and try and figure out what the hell was going on. Maybe ask him why the hell he had two large suitcases outside her apartment. 

“Why don’t you grab those and come inside,” she began again, trying to keep her words soft. They had gotten off on the wrong foot, but she was willing to start over and try and help him out. He just looked so lost...Like...A puppy. 

She could see him worrying the inside of his cheek, as he thought over her words before nodding and stepping outside to grab his suitcases. 

Why the hell did he need suitcases?

He moved to close the door but she stopped him. She would rather leave it open in case her judgement was impaired. Frankly, it wouldn’t surprise her if it was. What was she thinking anyways?

...That there was a strange lost man who needed help...who looked absolutely devastated...and she was going to help him out. Because she was a good person. 

Fuck. 

“Why don’t you leave that open,” she voiced, and he glanced back up at her in confusion, before understanding flooded his eyes. “I have dinner on the way,” she explained, but he didn’t look like he completely believed that. 

It was true though!

God...There went her relaxing night of sushi and wine and reality tv...She could already feel it as she removed her blazer from the chair, gesturing for him to sit down. He jerkily nodded, and slumped down, trying to find the words to explain his sudden appearance. 

Her standing probably wasn’t helping to ease him much...So she reluctantly decided to sit on the couch across from him, making sure they had plenty of distance - and a coffee table - between them. 

“Why don’t you tell me who you are, and why you’re here?” she prompted softly, and he nodded his head. She watched his fingers as they began to nervously pick at his nails, and she had to bite her tongue to tell him to stop. 

“My name is Inuyasha Takahashi,” he began slowly. “And I’m here to marry a woman named Kagome Higurashi. We met online six month ago...And...I’m sorry, I just...You even look like her…” he sighed, closing his eyes. “I can’t believe this is happening…”

He leaned forward, propping his head up on his knees as the heels of his hands pressed into his eyes. 

“I should have known better,” he chuckled dryly to himself. “Twelve hours on a plan and you...she...wouldn’t even come and pick me up from the airport?”

“W-what?” she sputtered. “Who the hell is this woman?”

“You! I thought!” he replied in exasperation. “I...Do you have a computer?” he swallowed. “Maybe it will be easier if I just...Can I show you? Please…”

“Yeah. Sure! Of-of course. Hold on,” she nodded, picking up the knife and packing out of the room, keeping her front to him as she made her way into her bedroom. She had left it on her nightstand last night, and now would be the perfect time to grave her phone too. 

Just in case. 

She had left it in the bathroom when she was washing her face, and when she grabbed it off the white and black marbled counter, she was surprised to see a litany of missed phone calls from her friends. Eri, Yuka, Yumi...What the hell did they want?

She shook her head and decided to table that for another time. 

She was already having a hell of a night. She really didn’t want to add their issues to it too. 

She left her bedroom, laptop, phone and knife in hand, and found he hadn’t left his spot. His eyes were red, and glossy, and it made her heart ache for him a little. He seemed so sweet and genuine…

“Here,” she offered, handing him her computer. 

He mumbled out his thanks, opening it and scrolling and typing away. When he was done, he handed the computer back to her, and she was flabbergasted. 

He had taken her to...what appeared to be...A website for mail order husbands?! She didn’t even know that was a thing!

“Kagome and I met about six months ago and it was…” he smiled wistfully. “I felt a connection to her almost instantly. You can...read through everything,” he blushed sweetly, and she absently found herself thinking how precious he looked. “I asked her a few months back if she...would like to move forward with an agreement, and she accepted. We were supposed to be getting married this week,” he whispered, looking down at his hands clasped between his knees. 

“Inuyasha...I…”

“Please,” he insisted. “There are photos that we exchanged,” he blushed. “And she...she looked just like you.”

She swallowed and nodded, her fingers scrolling through the exchange of messages...and she was stunned. 

Everything he had told her appeared to be true. He had been in touch with a Kagome Higurashi...He had agreed to come to New York to be with her...And the bitch had stolen photos of her. 

“Oh my God,” she breathed, and he winced. “I...I know when all of these photos were taken...My brother’s birthday...Pool party with Eri...Weekend away with Yuka…”

Wait. 

No. 

No.

Her heart was racing as an absolutely absurd idea struck her. 

Her friends wouldn’t have...Couldn’t have…

She scrolled up further and found a picture of the four of them at her birthday. 

The pictures. The missed phone calls. 

Please. 

Dear god let her be wrong…

Her phone started ringing again, startling them both. 

Eri...

[yeah-asbestos]

You know, I don’t get those main characters in the teen movies(I mean for many reasons, but anyway). In that scene where my rival shouts at me ‘What’s wrong with you?!’ probably after I ruined her dress or party or something, I wouldn’t cower in fear or shout stuff. I would start listing all the thing wrong with me, then I would list a bunch of things about me that are good, and they would be mildly annoyed and confused. But THEN, I would start saying tumblr stuff, which would utterly butterly absolutely baffle them and they’d be so befuddled and weirded out that they’d just stand there. Then, I would proceed to attack them all Carrie style. Afterwards, I would go home and complain on tumblr about how boring my life is. 

[tsuki-chibi]

The Cat Tale (Marichat May) Day 24: Confession

Or read it on AO3: The Cat Tale 

--------

Chat pivots, letting out a grunt as the akuma slams its staff into his baton with renewed force, and takes a quick glance in Ladybug’s direction just as a red, black-spotted sneaker falls into Ladybug’s hands. The look of absolute befuddlement on her face would be amusing under any other circumstances, and he realizes that he probably should’ve explained things better than just saying ‘it’ll give you something to help us with’.

That’s a confession and an apology he can make to her later, if they all come out of this in one piece.

“Chat, what do I do with this?” Ladybug cries, brandishing the shoe in his direction.

“Try to – ack!” Chat gasps for breath at the kick to his chest, staggering backwards, and just barely dodges another blast of purple magic.

More blasts come, forcing him to go on the defence by running. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Ladybug and Queen Bee having a furious, whispered conversation. Queen Bee gestures to the akuma, to which Ladybug shrugs. Chat grits his teeth and has a half-second to regret not having better explained before he pays for his lack of focus.

The akuma lets out a triumphant shout as one of the blasts catches Chat in the arm; he cries out in pain and stumbles, falling to his knees. It burns with a ferocity that leaves him gasping, and the burning only seems to get worse the longer it goes on – like acid.

“Chat!” Ladybug screams.

“Get the hell away from him!” That’s Queen Bee, furious and not afraid to say it; she charges in between Chat and the akuma, swinging her stinger.

“Queen Bee – Ladybug!” Chat chokes out, trying to get to his feet. His heart is hammering and the world swims unpleasantly. Usually the suit protects them, but it’s like the purple goo is eating straight through it –

“Leave him alone!” Ladybug shouts. She gets behind the akuma in the confusion and chucks her Lucky Charm at the akuma’s head. It bounces off, landing near Chat, and the akuma shrieks in rage.

“I’ll get rid of you yet, Ladybug!” the akuma screeches, swinging around.

This is the point in the battle where things go bad, Chat realizes with a flush of growing dismay. With him momentarily incapacitated, Ladybug will challenge the akuma alone and get overwhelmed. She has no idea what she’s doing, after all, and has no previous experience to draw on. He can see it all happening in his mind’s eye, and he pushes himself to his feet with a choked-off gasp of pain, wanting, needing, to protect her.

But they’ve all forgotten about one thing.

With an enraged snarl of “Venom!” Queen Bee grabs her stinger and shoves it into the akuma’s back.

Chat freezes in shock.

The akuma sputters out something unintelligible. Its staff falls from its hand, hitting the ground, and the akuma follows shortly after.

There’s a long, tense silence.

Then Ladybug exhales and says shakily, “What do we do now?”

“We have to find and break its akumatized object,” Queen Bee says, stalking over to the akuma. “Chat, what is it?”

“Um – Ladybug thought it was the necklace,” Chat says dumbly.

Queen Bee bends down and takes the akuma’s necklace into hand. It’s fashioned from small gold links, with a silver heart at the end. Not something that an akuma usually wears. One quick yank and the necklace breaks.

A black butterfly rises into the air as a smoky grey liquid bubbles up around the akuma and then vanishes, leaving behind a baffled young man.

“Ladybug, quickly!” Chat says, turning to her.

“Uh – uh – right!” Ladybug says, flinging out her yoyo. She says none of the usual spell that she normally does when catching an akuma, and Chat nearly groans when he realizes that he didn’t tell her any of it.

Yet it seems to work regardless: when she slides a finger over the yoyo, the purified akuma flutters out and away.

“What happened?” the man asks, looking around at them. There’s a familiar expression of dawning horror on his face as he begins to grasp what must have happened.

Queen Bee sighs. “I’ll deal with him,” she says to Chat. “Come on.” She pulls the young man to his feet, grabs him by the arm, and pulls him through the door to the emergency stairwell that will take them safely to the ground. The door swing shuts behind them, leaving Chat Noir and Ladybug alone.

[anavantgardener]

Frost and Mischief Ch. 7

Summary: A search for magic enchantments begin, and the rogue guard’s intentions become a little clearer for Elska and her friends.

Pairing: OC x Loki Laufeyson

Warnings: mentions of violence, friends fighting

Word Count: 3,498

-----

The Note

"You are quite positive you do not want to stay with any of us until we get this guard situation sorted?" Sif asked Elska for the third time since they'd left Thor's chambers. "We really do not mind."

"Sif," Elska placed her hands on her friend's shoulders as they arrived at her own chambers. "I am most positive I will be okay in my own chambers. I appreciate your concern."

"We only worry because you are our friend," the warrior replied.

"And I am so thankful for you all," Elska turned to open her door. "I will see you tomorrow, Sif." With a final smile, she walked into her chambers and slipped off her sandals.

Walking to the window, she realized how sore her body had become over the past week. Training was taking its toll, but her aching body was proof that at least she was getting somewhere.

I think it is time for a bath, Elska began making her way to her bathing chambers, stretching her arms high above her head. A sharp pang in her stomach told her that her wounds from the attack weren't quite healed yet. Arms shooting back to her sides, she began slipping her gown off, rolling her shoulders as she did so.

A soft knock came from her door and Elska reluctantly pulled her gowns back over her shoulders, careful to ensure she was properly covered before peeking out and seeing who had come to see her.

“Loki?” her face was puzzled as she registered who stood before her.

"I wanted to ensure no one had strung you up from the rafters without me,” he grinned down at his friend.

“Yes, because on the way from Thor’s chambers to my own, Sif accompanying me all the way, I was brutally murdered,” Elska rolled her eyes.

“We may joke, but you have registered how serious this situation could potentially be, yes?” Loki’s face took on a more pressing tone. “Are you sure you do not wish for any sort of protection detail?”

"Does nobody believe I can fend for myself?" Elska threw her arms in the air, regretting it as another sharp pang ran through her abdomen. Turning around to retreat into her room, Loki followed her in before the door closed.

"I think you overestimate yourself if you think you could defend yourself against whoever is looking for you," Loki now looked genuinely concerned, and simultaneously frustrated with Elska’s stubborn attitude.

Frowning, Elska knew he was right. She was not as independent as she liked to pretend she was. Three days of combat training definitely did not make her a warrior. She was still reluctant to change her living situation; after all, the guard in question only wanted to talk to Elska.

"Might you know any enchantments that will keep my door sealed to all other than myself??" She finally met Loki's eyes, a defeated sigh escaping her.

"Yes, but what of your daily activities?" he pressed.

"During the day I am either with the queen or with Sif and Fandral," Elska replied. "When I am with the queen, there is never a guard too far away. When I am with Sif and Fandral, I have two of the very best warriors in the Nine Realms by my side." She shrugged, unworried.

"How can you not feel even the least bit concerned?" Loki was growing frustrated.

"It was one guard who, as far as I could tell, merely wanted to speak with me," Elska was sincerely befuddled by how worried each of her friends seemed to be. "Why should I be afraid of a conversation?"

"Because conversations do not always end in peace," his reply was simple.

Elska sat on her bed, placing her head in her hands.

"I should have never told you all anything," her voice was so quiet, she wasn't sure if Loki had heard her statement at first.

"And yet you find me to be the confounding one," Loki pinched the bridge of his nose. As he sat next to her, she rose from the bed, attempting to walk away.

Standing, Loki caught her hand in his own, turning her around to face him. His other hand he placed on the side of her face, forcing her to look into his eyes. Elska’s heart began racing as confusion bubbled in her mind. The last time their skin touched, the man had rubbed his hand like it was on fire. Now, here he was, gently holding her face like it was some precious treasure he was afraid to break.

"I am still upset with you," she tried to break from his grasp, unsuccessfully.

"Had you not told us, we would have never forgiven ourselves if something ill came of this little incident," while his voice was quiet, his words were urgent. "I would not ever forgive myself." His hand fell from her face, though the other remained latched around her wrist.

Turmoil growing inside her, Elska pulled away and stood at the window, arms crossed. While she could see all of Asgard from her spot, her eyes focused on the floor.

Loki walked over to the young woman, raising his hand as if to place it on her shoulder, then letting it fall back to his side.

"Should you change your mind, you know where to find me," he sighed. "I will place the enchantments on your door as I leave."

"Thank you," was all Elska said in reply.

She waited until she heard the door click before looking up.

Definitely time for a bath, she thought, making her way to her bathing chambers at last.

*****

The next morning, Elska was in better spirits. She smiled as she greeted the palace staff she passed in the hall.

"Elska?" she heard from behind her.

"Eira!" Elska turned around, running to embrace the woman who had called out for her. "How have you been?"

"I have been most well, though I hear you may not be faring the same," Eira gestured to Elska abdomen.

"Oh, just some jealous men pining after me," Elska waved away the topic, wanting to keep the conversation light. "How is the dwelling? Might I be able to visit soon?"

"Everyone is doing well," Eira followed Elska's lead, moving the conversation forward no problem. As the two continued walking, she began chattering away, listing off how each individual had been in the past week.

Elska soaked in the information, absolutely overjoyed to be back with the first person she'd ever called her best friend. It baffled her that she'd only been living in the palace for a mere few weeks.

"You must visit soon," Eira said as they reached the queen's study.

"I plan to celebrate the festival in the lower district if possible, so count on seeing me then," the two girls shared a final embrace before parting ways.

Elska knocked lightly on the door before entering the study. As she walked in, she noticed the queen had her nose in a book.

"Good morning, my queen," she walked over to greet Queen Frigga.

"Good morning, my dear girl," the queen stood, kissing Elska's forehead before returning her focus to the book, sitting back at her desk. "How do you fare this morning?"

"Quite well, my queen," She said, taking her seat beside the desk. "And yourself?"

"Concerned," she did not look up as she responded. "It seems we have found previously hidden traces of magic surrounding the thief we caught in the merchant district. Now, it is up to me to figure out how to find the source of this magic, as well as figure out what spells were cast."

Thinking for a moment, Elska thought up an idea.

"Perhaps a trip to the Royal Library may be warranted?" she suggested.

"It definitely couldn't hurt," the queen marked her spot in her book before closing it. "I do not know where to start looking, though."

"You're in luck," Elska met the queen's gaze. "I am quite acquainted with the organization of the library."

"I sometimes forget we have a Royal Library," the queen joked as they began the short walk.

"I think most do, with the exception of Loki," Elska replied. The mention of the prince reminded her of their conversation last night, and she secretly hoped he would not be in the library when they arrived. Eira would be done cleaning, so he most likely would feel no need to protect his research.

Of course, she could not be so lucky.

As Elska opened the door for the queen, Loki's eyes darted to her instantly. He started to say something, but found himself silenced when he realized his mother was with her.

"Good morning, mother, Elska," he nodded his head, rising to kiss his mother's hand. "What brings you all here?"

"A prisoner," the queen replied, gazing around the library. "You might be able to help."

"I am listening," Loki cocked his head to the side, interest piqued.

"While you inform him of the details, I will begin searching for books that may help us," Elska stated, eager to be further from the prince. She curtsied as she took her leave.

First you develop feelings for the man, now you avoid him like the plague, Elska was confused by her own actions. You should have been overjoyed by his actions last night, instead you run from them. She did find her avoidance helpful in her efforts to keep their relationship platonic, however.

Shushing the voice in her head, she began her hunt for anything that would aid in their endeavors. Running her fingers over the many book bindings, Elska relaxed into a much more natural state. She had spent countless hours in this library, concealed, gleaning information from any book she pleased. Truthfully, this library was the reason she was late returning to the dwelling on numerous occasions.

"Spells of Coverage." No.

"Spells to Conceal Documentation." Oddly specific.

"Cloaking Traces of Enchantment."  This is more like it.

Pulling the book from its cubby, she began reading through it as she made her way back to the desk area. Looking up, she realized it was now only Queen Frigga and herself in the library.

"I sent Loki to see the magic traces for himself," the queen said, sensing Elska's realization. "He will be back soon."

"I see," Elska stated before handing the book she'd found to the queen. "I found this, it may prove useful." Looking at the cover, the queen smiled at Elska's find.

"Thank you, my dear," she sat and immediately began reading, prompting Elska to go find her own book to aid their research.

Returning to the section she'd found their first topical book, her search resumed. Title after title, Elska was finding that cloaking traces of magic wasn't the most common item of research. After a few minutes, she finally found another book relevant to their goal.

"On Hidden Enchantments," she read.

She returned to where the queen was seated, grabbing a blank piece of parchment from Loki's desk, as well as a quill. Sitting in the nook, not too far from the queen, Elska allowed herself to become absorbed in her reading, pausing every once in a while to make a note.

Unsure of how much time had passed, she was only pulled from her book when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Reluctantly looking up, she saw that it was Loki getting her attention.

"So, where might that guard be that you told me surely would not be too far," he asked with a grin, sitting on the desk nearest to Elska. Rolling her eyes, she returned her attention to her book. "Are you really still so upset with me?"

"Truthfully, Loki, I am unsure of what I feel," she spoke to him, but her eyes remained focused on her book. "Until I know more, it feels more logical to not pay my emotions any mind."

"Perhaps I can help you discern what you are feeling?" Loki offered.

"Tell me, Loki," she glanced up at him. "Can you tell me with certainty that you can discern your own feelings toward me right now?" Elska had a feeling he could not. She hadn't been reading his mind, but she had been paying attention to his actions of late. From his strange reaction the first time they touched to their conversation last night, she had a feeling he was experiencing at least a fraction of the confusion she was.

Just as she expected, Loki answered her question with a scowl.

"Mother told me to inform you of her plans for the remainder of the day," He began walking away, and Elska realized that the queen was no longer in the library with her. "The All-father has requested her presence. She did not wish to interrupt your reading."

"What am I supposed to do?" Elska closed her book and ran after Loki.

"I did not ask," he kept walking, ignoring her appearance as she fell in step with him.

"Should I go find her?" Elska pressed.

"Probably not," Loki turned to her as they arrived to the door of the library. As he made to leave, Elska grabbed his arm, forcing him to look at her once more.

"You really are such a thick-headed, pompous ass," she ensured their eyes were locked as she spoke. "You really want to know what I think, Loki? What I feel? Take a look, the walls are down. I do not care if you know, not anymore, because I have already made my decision."

Clearly taken aback by her permission to access her thoughts, Loki shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. Elska watched as he regained his composure and looked her in the eye. It surprised her that her awareness of his presence in her mind allowed her to feel him as he read her.

She brought to the forefront of her mind all she had thought about her relationship with the youngest prince in the past few days. Her appreciation for their friendship, her attraction to the man, her learning of what happened in his marriage. Every bit of it, she showed him.

Including her decision to avoid pursuing anything further than friendship with him.

"This decision, it is final?" he swallowed, looking to the ground before he looked back to her.

Elska hesitated a moment, unsure of what he wanted to hear, yet simultaneously unsure if she cared to know.

Rather than answer, she left the room. Like she had said earlier, Elska found it best to just ignore her feelings till she knew more about them.

*****

"You are still leaving yourself too open," Sif spoke, holding her sword to Elska's throat.

"I can not really contradict you, there," Elska laughed. Trading her sword for a hand, Sif helped her sparring partner up.

Elska had told Sif everything that had transpired between Loki and herself. To keep her mind off of things, Sif suggested some combat training. Elska was surprised to find that it was working quite well.

Elska appreciated the confidant she had found in Sif. Leaving the dwelling, she had left Eira behind, a woman who she'd always gone to for advice; she had been someone Elska could tell her secrets to. This was not to say that she didn't still love and trust Eira, she just wasn't as present in her life anymore. In the palace, Elska was afraid she would no longer have someone like that, and then she'd met Sif. In only a few short weeks, she was finding that Sif was becoming a wonderful friend whom she could trust.

The pair reset before heading into their next match. Elska's first day training, Sif and Fandral had helped her discover her talent in dual wielding, a dagger in one hand and a rapier in the other. It limited the control her opponent had over her weapon in battle, and allowed her to keep and enemy preoccupied with one weapon while she utilized the other.

Dashing across the sparring arena, Sif dealt the first blow; if Elska had learned anything from watching Fandral and Sif fight, it was that Sif was fast and would utilize her speed.

Elska tended to be a slower fighter, an observant one. She liked to learn her opponent's habits before getting into the nitty-gritty of the fight. It was harder as a new warrior, still learning the basics of combat, but she was finding that her observant tactics helped her learn quicker, catching on to fighting styles with ease.

Elska deflected Sif's initial blow with her rapier, bringing the dagger in low and swift. An armor-clad forearm pushed the weapon away with a cling as Sif sidestepped to regain space.

The two began circling each other as Elska's mind bounced from idea to idea, debating what her next move should be. Her eyes darted around the arena, seeing if her surroundings might provide any use in this fight. Rather than land on anything helpful, her gaze found a man watching the two as they engaged. Studying his face, recognition sparked in her brain.

"That's him," she whispered under her breath, weapons lowering as her brow deepened.

"Elska, are you alright?" Sif looked behind her, attempting to find what had distracted Elska. Her eyes found the same man, and she put the pieces together.

"Sif, that is him, that is the guard," Elska said, louder this time.

The two women exchanged a single glance of agreement before beginning their chase.

*****

Elska's chest was on fire, she could not remember the last time she'd ran this much, let alone with one weapon strapped to her hip, one to her back.

This man was fast, faster than Sif even.

Right, left, down the alley, up the wall.

The speeding crew must have looked insane to passers by, chasing a guard of Asgard. Why would a warrior and a lady in waiting be after a man of high regard, anyway?

Through the garden, past the fountain, right.

They'd followed the guard to the entrance of the upper district when they lost him in the crowd. It was then Sif and Elska decided to split up and cover more ground.

Elska was perching on a stone fence, eyes scanning over each and every face in the crowd, paying attention to the eyes. The only focus she diverted from searching was being dedicated to casting an invisibility enchantment around herself. She figured it would be easier to catch someone who could not see you coming.

Dwelling on the edge of a gossiping group of nobles, she spotted him. Acting as if he was standing guard to a shop entrance, Elska noticed his eyes were hopping from person to person.

I suppose he is looking for me, she thought to herself. Or perhaps paranoid Sif is about to end his life. Elska smirked at the idea.

Creeping through the crowd, ensuring she did not even breathe on a single soul, she stopped behind the guard, who was none the wiser. She gave herself a moment to relish in her success.

"Looking for someone?" Elska whispered so only he could hear, one hand on his arm, the other on her dagger.

As if he knew she would find him, a wicked grin appeared on the man's face.

"Perhaps you can help me with that," he said, continuing his charade of protection over the shop. Elska's eyes quickly glanced through the crowd, hoping Sif was nearby. She was not too keen on going into this conversation alone.

"Why did you run?" Elska asked, unable to see Sif anywhere close by.

"My business is with you, and you alone," he began walking, startling Elska as she hurried to keep up with him, letting down her enchantment. "I come bearing a message."

"Then speak," Elska demanded, sparking a sick laugh to erupt from the guard.

"Not from me, little Valkyrie, from someone far greater than I," the name caught her off guard.

"I suppose that is better than mutt," she muttered under her breath. "What, then?"

The mysterious guard simply handed her a folded piece of parchment.

"Do not open it here, open it in private," he whispered to Elska as the two caught sight of Sif, who had yet to see them.

'Open it in private.'  Like Hel I will open it in private, she quipped silently.

Elska turned to look at Sif. Turning back to the man, she found he was gone. When the two friends finally met in the midst of the crowd, Elska was silent, a stunned look on her face.

Elska motioned for Sif to follow her back to the palace, planning on opening the note when the two were away from prying eyes.  Their return was anxiously quiet, heads on a seemingly constant swivel. The 'little Valkyrie' felt no small amount of stress over the contents of the small bit of parchment she now carried in her pocket.

What in the Nine Realms am I supposed to do?

[slutforgoodliterature]

Steve Rogers x Reader - The 98-Year-Old Virgin

Prompt: Your first time with Steve, and his first time with anyone. 

Warnings: smut (obvs), heart palpitations (from the sheer cuteness of it all), fluff and a teensy tiny bit of angst. 

“So have you and Steve like... done it yet?” Natasha asked you casually over a bowl of cereal. You choked on a grain.

“Nat!” You cried, looking around to see if anyone else was around to hear this embarrassing conversation. Thankfully, it was just you and Romanoff in the kitchen this late at night.

Hey, cereal always tastes better at midnight. 

“What?” She asked innocently, “Oh come on, Y/N, you guys have been together for like, what? Six months?” She sent you a disapproving look.

“Hey! Only two!” You corrected her, your face going red, but she was having none of it.

“Ok, but what about the other five months you guys couldn’t even be in the same room without going red, and then the couple months of painfully awkward flirting, then there was that really strange week you guys just like, stared at each other-” You cut her off by flinging a spoonful of cereal at her face, hitting her square in the eye.

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut Up!” You whisper-yelled at her. She groaned as she wiped soggy grains off her face.

“Jeez, Y/N, I’ve always appreciated your aim, but that was just showing off.” She muttered.

“You’re the one that said our flirting was painfully awkward.” You pouted sourly. 

“Ok, to be fair, that was 100% him.” She reassured you, “You’re fine, it’s just him who’s-”

“Shy.” You nodded.

“-a 98-year-old virgin.” She finished.

“Natasha!” You gasped again at the audacity of this girl. 

“Am I wrong?” She challenged, raising a brow. 

“That’s none of your business.” You muttered, clearing away your bowl.

“Ok, fine, you’re right. I’ll butt out.” She surrendered, holding up her palms to show she was done being nosy. “But you should get on that. Seriously. Get on that-”

“Thank you!” You cut her off, your face once again the colour of beetroot. “That is quite enough!” 

She left the room chucking mischievously, knowing your brain was now going a million miles a minute. 

You loved Steve with all your heart, and you knew he felt the same, but every time things got too heated between you two he was always the one to pull away. 

You mean, honestly, the guy seemed to prefer cold showers over you. 

You always respected his boundaries, never pushing him or making him uncomfortable.

But now, you were starting to worry that maybe it wasn’t something to do with him and more to do with you. 

As you passed Steve’s door on the way to your room, you couldn’t help but doubt yourself, and a few traitorous tears fell down your face.

                                                            ---

It was just over a week since you and Natasha had had your talk, and Steve was beginning to notice that something was bothering you. 

“Talk to me.” He plopped down next to you on your bed, where you were reading a book.

“About?” you asked, unwilling to take your eyes off the page. It was just getting really good. 

“Why have you been so...distant lately?” He asked, seeking your eyes with his own. When you didn’t reply, he lightly turned your chin with his finger so you looked at him. 

He had his head resting on a hand as he lay on his side across your bed, watching you. His biceps bulged under the tight grey shirt we wore and his blue eyes pierced into yours. He was simply breathtaking. 

“Is there something wrong with me?” You blurted out without thinking. You immediately clapped a hand over your mouth and went red. His eyes widened and his mouth gaped.

“What? Of course not! Why would you think that, Y/N?” He was so concerned it broke your heart, and you felt so guilty that you had made him feel like that.

“Don’t worry, I’m just being stupid.” You muttered, wrenching your eyes from his troubled gaze and back to your book. Steve, however, was not willing to let this go.

“You? Stupid?” He scoffed, trying to lighten the mood. “I find that hard to believe.” 

“Seriously Steve, don’t worry.” You sent him a what was supposed to be a reassuring smile, but you could tell he didn’t buy it. “I’m fine.”

“Uh oh.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Natasha warned me about this ‘fine’ thing.”

“Oh yeah?” You asked, trying your hardest to engage yourself back in your book, but it was nearly impossible as Steve had begun to trail his fingers up your back and along the skin that was showing between your trackies and top. 

“Mhmm.” He hummed, “She told me that when girls say they’re ‘fine’, they are definitely not fine.” 

“Steve-”

“And that they are most probably angry, or upset.”

“I’m not-”

“Y/N, please. Tell me what’s wrong.” He pleaded, tilting his head until it was impossible for you to avoid his eyes anymore. 

“It’s silly.” You groaned, burying your head into the nook of your arm. 

“Try me.” He cajoled. You took a deep breath, readying yourself.

“It’s just, I feel like you don’t want me.” You breathed out quickly, so quietly it was a miracle he caught it. But of course, he did. 

“Wha-what?!” He asked, utterly befuddled. “How could you possibly think that? You know I love you-”

“I know! I know you love me, it’s just...” You were completely red at this point. “Seriously, it’s dumb. Let’s just drop it.”

There were a few moments of silence before he spoke again.

“Oh,” he said in realisation. “I see.” 

“Steve-”

“Is it because we haven’t, um, made love, yet?” You could barely hold it together, hearing Steve of all people talk like that. 

“I’m not trying to pressure you are anything-”

“That’s not about you-”

“I’m seriously okay with waiting-”

“I’m sorry I made you feel-”

“I’m so sorry I brought this up-”

“I want to do it.” His words brought your rambling to an end. 

“What?!” Your head flew up. His face was completely serious, albeit a little ruddy, but his eyes were clear and looking at you with absolute conviction. 

“With you. Whenever you want, whenever you’re ready.” He nodded calmly, searching your face for a clue. 

“Whenever I’m ready?” You were baffled. 

“Yes, I didn’t want to rush you into anything-” 

“Rush me?” 

“I didn’t want to disappoint you.” It was his turn to look away. Without hesitation, you straddled him and cupped his face tenderly, your book falling to the floor completely forgotten. 

“You could never disappoint me.” You whispered against his lips as his eyes found yours. 

“But I haven’t-” You shushed him, stroking his cheeks with the pads of your thumbs. 

“I know, and I don’t care.” You told him sincerely. 

“Wait, really?” He was shocked, his eyes wide.

“Not one bit.” 

“But I thought girls liked to be with guys who knew what they were doing.” He was so adorably confused that you couldn’t help but smile. 

“I love you, Steve. That’s enough for me, and always will be.” You told him, looking deeply into his eyes so he could see the love and sincerity you had in yours. 

“I love you too.” And with that, your lips met. His hand ran up your back to tangle in your hair, his other hand gripping your hip tightly, pulling you impossibly close. 

You pulled him into a sitting position, your arms wrapping around his neck as you straddled him. He used his hand in your hair to tilt your head back before showering kisses along your jaw and down your neck, nibbling lightly along your collarbone. 

You couldn’t stop tiny gasps from escaping you as you felt sparks dance under his lips. You and Steve had gone this far before, but there was new electricity surrounding the both of you from the promise of something more. 

You began clawing at his shirt, desperate to get it off so you could get to his incredible chest and abdomen. He obliged you with a small chuckle, halting his ministrations on your neck to tug off his top. Once free of it, he threw it across the room dramatically and pulled yours off as well, it quickly following his into the discard pile.

You attacked his mouth again, your hands lowering to his chiselled abs and your fingers tracing each muscle. Each time you saw his body it astounded you that someone this gorgeous could be in love with you. 

His hands dropped to your hips and then further to your ass, which he gripped through your pants, pulling you down on top of his straining erection.  You both let out a moan as your clothed cores met and friction danced between you. 

You ground down on him again, one of your hands sliding between you to cup him through his tracksuit pants. He groaned and bucked up into your hand. You smirked against his lips, revelling in the noises you were pulling from him. 

His hands found their way under your pants and your underwear, the feeling of his skin on yours making you moan. He removed one of his hands and brought it up to your face, gripping your jaw tight. 

“Are you...okay?” He struggled to get out, as even when he was grinding deliciously against you, he still found a way to check up on you. 

You groaned, rolling your eyes playfully at him.

“Could you stop being a gentleman for like, three seconds?” 

“Three seconds? Give me some credit.” He scoffed before pushing you down onto the mattress, your hair fanning out around you. Your chest was rising and falling as you watched him watch you; his eyes devouring your shirtless torso, your breasts almost spilling out of your bra, and your trackies hanging dangerously low on your hips. 

He dipped down, placing a kiss on your navel, and slowly making his way up: between the valley of your breasts, along the top of your mounds and finally up to your lips. By the time his tongue infiltrated your mouth, you were struggling to breathe. 

“Just fuck me already.” You couldn’t take the teasing anymore.

“Language.” He sent you a playful look before hooking his fingers into the sides of your pants and pulled them down your legs, taking your underwear with them. You unclipped your own bra, knowing full well he’d struggle way too much with it, and threw it away along with your pants. All of a sudden, you were completely bare beneath him.

“You’re wearing way too many clothes.” You reminded him after several moments of him staring at you in complete adoration. 

“Oh right, of course.” He shook himself out of his reverie and somehow managed to rid himself of the rest of his clothes without taking his eyes off you.

To be fair, he did almost trip over his boxers. 

He covered your trembling body with his own, and you hitched your legs around his waist, drawing him closer. You reached down yourself and lined him up with your entrance, shivering at the feeling of his tip pressing against you. 

“Y/N, are you sure-”

“Steve,” You gripped his jaw and forced him to look into your eyes, “I swear to god, if you do not-” He cut you off with a punishing kiss, his eyes full of amusement. 

“Yes, ma’am.” He pressed his forehead against yours as he slowly began inching into you, but you had no time for chivalry. Using your ankles that were locked behind his ass, you pulled him forwards into you. He impaled you, a loud moan leaving both of your mouths. 

“Shit, Y/N.” He cursed, his hand gripping the sheets tightly. You yourself were struggling as much as him, your mouth agape and your eyes rolled back.

Goddamn motherfucking super serum-

“Can...Can I-?” He groaned against the skin of your shoulder and you nodded before realising he couldn’t see your face.

“Yes! Yes, please...move.” You gasped, your fingers gripping his shoulders like a vice. 

He immediately began to move, drawing out of you almost completely before slowly sliding back in. His torturous pace was absolutely driving you insane, but you could tell he was struggling not to pick up the pace.

“You can go faster.” You moaned, and he lifted his head and looked at you in concern.

“But I don’t wanna hurt you.” 

You gripped his face in your hands and pulled him down into a sloppy kiss.

“I promise you, you won’t. Now please, Steve, go-” He didn’t even let you finish before he thrust into you hard, leaving you breathless and keening. Curses tumbled out of your mouth as he quickened his movements.

His mouth ghosted over your jaw, his breaths coming out in hard bursts of hot air. Your nails raked down his back, and he groaned loudly. 

“You’re incredible, Y/N.” He whispered into your mouth before capturing your lips with his. You moaned into the kiss, arching your back causing your breasts to press against his chest. His hand cupped your waist, but it was far too polite. You grabbed his hand and moved it to your breasts, encouraging him to knead it. He did so, enthusiastically, and his moaning increased with yours.

You continued to grip him around his waist with your legs, pulling him deeper with every stroke of his hips. The knot in your lower stomach was beginning to build and tighten and you could tell it was the same for Steve.

His pace began to quicken as his breathing picked up.

“Y/N, I’m close, I-” He buried his head in the nook of your neck and shoulder as he tried to control himself.

“Me too, baby, let go.” You gasped out, your nails digging into the flesh of his shoulders.

He let out an animalistic groan as he reached his climax and the feeling of his teeth grazing your neck sent you over the edge. You legs quivered as they tightened around him and you chanted his name like a prayer as you tumbled off the precipice of pleasure. 

He continued to move as he came, riding out your orgasms for as long as possible. After groaning your name once more, he collapsed on top of you before quickly rolling onto the bed, lying half on you. His arm was thrown around your waist and he nuzzled his head into your neck, making you rest your chin on top of his head. 

“If I knew it was going to be that good, I would’ve done it ages ago.” He yawned, drawing your naked body closer to his. You entangled your legs with his and began playing with his hair.

“Getting a bit cocky, are we?” You mused.

“Why? Was it not good?” He was suddenly worried and tilted his head so he could search your face. All he saw was flushed skin and a serious case of post-sex hair. 

“Steve, it was incredible. You’re incredible.” You reassured him, craning your neck to place a kiss on his mouth. Feeling much better, he deepened the kiss, sliding his hand around your waist before shifting until he was hovering over you.

“So good you’re willing to go again?” He smirked against your mouth, cupping your heat with a wandering hand. Having his fingertips graze against your sensitive skin caused your back to arch and a low moan to escape your mouth. 

“You’re never leaving this bed.” You decided and pulled his lips back down to yours in a clash of dominance. 

                                                            ---

“Aha! Told you, Stark!” Natasha cried with joy as you and Steve entered the conference room hand in hand. Her cry jolted the two of you out of your dazed, post-sex state.

“God damn it!” Tony muttered, throwing a 100 dollar bill on the table. You and Steve watched them with confusion. 

“Does someone wanna explain what’s going on here?” Steve ordered with a dark look towards Natasha who was too busy celebrating over her winnings to care.  

“They made a bet about when you guys were finally gonna sleep together.” Bucky filled in for the two of you, causing you both to go bright red and choke on your spit. 

“And I won!” Natasha whooped. You rolled your eyes and went over to join her after Steve pressed a quick kiss to your forehead and stalked over to Tony to probably put the fear of God into him.

“Was it that obvious?” You muttered to Natasha.

“Girl, have you looked in a mirror lately? You’ve got a hickey on your neck the size of Pluto, and your hair is a major mess.” She pointed out and you groaned. “Was it worth it?” She smirked, nudging you playfully with her elbow.

“It was everything.” You smiled across the room at Steve, who sent you a wink back.

You had a feeling things were going to get a lot steamier from here on out. 

[kamino-ink]

Dysania | Byun Baekhyun

✧ dysania - (n.) the state of finding it hard to get out of bed in the morning

✧ Genre: Hogwarts!au, fluff, a speck of angst if you squint hard enough

✧ Summary: Byun Baekhyun was, by far, the loudest man boy you had ever met. A true Gryffindor at his core, Baekhyun is determined to make sure you aren’t late to breakfast every morning. Rather, a nosy but caring Gryffindor worries for his hungry housemate who is always missing the most important meal of the day.

✧ Word Count: 2.2k

                                         ✧

A seeping, warm glow of sunlight managed to filter into the room of the tall tower, covering the floor with stripes of excellent gold and orange streaks. Silence had long consumed the dormitories of Gryffindor tower, as most of its students had since woken up and left to the common room or the Great Hall for breakfast. Of course there was the occasional straggler, struggling to drag themselves out of their rather comfortable beds and shrug on their long robes; but one particular Gryffindor fifth year student had yet to wake at all.

 Another hour passed and all but one lone student had left the tower, her lips parted with quiet snores left unheard to the empty dorm. It wasn’t until something sharp had pecked her nose that she finally woke up, feeling (and looking) quite disheveled. Her eyelids struggled to remain open as she sat up in her bed, the cotton sheets curled around her bare legs. By now the sunlight had become just a bit brighter, now beaming into the mostly empty room as the tired girl let out a mighty groan similar to that of the roar of her house’s symbol.

 “Morning, Una.” She grumbled to the tiny elf owl, watching as her feathered friend hopped off of her bed and onto a makeshift perch merely inches away.

 She glanced over to her shabby bedside table, a puff of air blowing out from between her dry lips when her sleepy gaze landed on the rickety clock, which had been kindly gifted to her by Oh Sehun; a snarky third year Slytherin she had befriended a few months ago. It was his way of attempting to help her get a sense of time, though it had clearly failed; again.

 “Another day without breakfast, I suppose.”

                                         ✧

“Miss Y/N, this is the... fifteenth time you have just barely made it to my class on time,” Snape droned on with a flat tone, a slew of soft snickers ringing in the girl’s ears as she quickly made her way to an open seat, “make sure it does not happen again.”

 “Yes, professor.” She said with a sigh, though there was little to no remorse in her voice. Once the greasy haired man had turned his back to the class, she slumped down into her chair with discontent. Her stomach rumbled a bit too loudly for her liking, her cheeks burning a deep red when a few Slytherins smirked in self-amusement-

 “Here, eat this so I don’t have to listen to your stomach growling every ten seconds.” An amused voice murmured beside her ear, causing her to jump in surprise. Whipping her head to the right, she just noticed who her unsuspecting seatmate happened to be, his pretty pink lips curled upright into a sort of smile, border-lining a smirk. “Do you not eat breakfast like any normal person, princess? You know, at some point you’re going to have to start waking up and eating so that I can stop being your personal caregiver.”

 Byun Baekhyun, a fellow fifth year Gryffindor who was one half of the next generation of Hogwart’s pranksters. He was known to dye his hair every once in a while, and for now he was sporting a deep chestnut brown that came down in gentle waves, perfectly parted in the middle. He was friends with a majority of the school, including the likes of Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter himself - which made for some interesting gossip on his behalf.

 “Did you hear that Malfoy and Potter nearly got into a hexing match last week? Malfoy says that he was sabotaged by Potter in Potions, even told me himself. Honestly, they should just make out and get it over with.”

 Eyes narrowed in annoyance at his small smirk, she snatched the green apple from the spot he had placed it on the desk, almost immediately sinking her teeth into the fruit. Fuck that's good, she thought to herself, part of her pride not wanting to admit to her housemate that she was thankful for the small but filling snack - but she quickly eventually gave into his stupid grin, sending him a tiny smile of her own.

 “Thank you, Baekhyun.” She thanked him quietly, almost inaudibly, before she turned her attention back to the front of the classroom where Snape was starting the lesson of the day. Fortunately for her, Baekhyun heard her soft words and took them in stride, though he couldn't help but think to himself that her smile was enough thanks in his eyes.

                                         ✧

 Another day, another late start - at least, that was what Amber thought when she noticed Y/N Y/L/N still sound asleep in her bed, the blankets pulled up to her chin as her body barely showed that she was still breathing. Time and time again Amber and the other girls in the dorm they occupied had tried to wake the girl on their own, but each time they failed miserably. In fact, most of the Gryffindor girls had tried to wake her up at some point in the year, even the talented Hermione Granger - to no avail.

 “Baekhyun, there is no way you’re going to make it!” A booming voice echoed in the tower, catching Amber’s attention for a moment while her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

 “Watch me, Chanyeol!”

 The sound of quick footsteps baffled the short haired girl, only furthering her confusion and growing concern. Was Byun fucking Baekhyun trying to get into the girl’s dormitory?

 By now, a shrieking sound would be blasting in the tower, a consequence of any person of the opposite gender trying to sneak their way into the girl’s part of the tower - yet there was no shriek, nor did Amber hear any sort of indication that the fifth year had slid down onto the floor of the common room.

 “Morning Amber!” No fucking way. “I’m just here to wake up dear Y/N, no need to worry.” The bright brunette hummed happily, although his thin body shrunk into itself a little bit under the tomboy’s wary glare that shifted between himself and the still snoring girl buried beneath her sheets and blankets. “I swear that's it, I’m not gonna like... prank you or anything.” He insisted. When Amber finally sighed and looked away with a roll of her eyes, he mentally cheered for himself and sauntered over to the only bed with an occupant in it.

 His curious gaze swept over her body as he took a moment to crouch down next to her bedside, lips pursed in deep thought. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he could’ve sworn that he saw a bead of sweat rolling down her forehead. For a moment he debated on whether he should wake her up warmly, lovingly, as his mother used to do with him whenever he slept in purely out of bad habit.

 But that, of course, was thrown out the door.

 “W-what the fuck!?” The startled Gryffindor groaned loudly when a sudden heavy force had toppled onto her sleeping body, a creak resounding from the springy mattress as the impact of extra weight woke the girl up immediately. Snapping her eyelids open, she glared horribly at the beaming head of chestnut hair and blaring white teeth. “Byun Baekhyun, you are a dead man-” She began to hiss in fury, sitting upright and readying her arm to swing at him.

 “Woah, calm down sleeping beauty!” Blurted the slightly terrified man, who was silently taking note to never, ever, wake her up so harshly again unless he had a death wish. “I uh - I brought you a present!”

 Now that peaked her curiosity.

 Seeing that he had the grumpy girl’s attention, he hurriedly reached over to her bedside table and grabbed something that smelled absolutely divine, holding it out to her a bit nervously. “Um, its a chocolate chip m-muffin, there was blueberry but I erm, didn't k-know which own you liked better-” Baekhyun, the confident, goofy fifth year Gryffindor, stuttered like a nervous kid asking a girl to prom. Before he could finish his broken sentence, however, the warm muffin had been graciously taken from the palm of his hand. Nibbling on the delicious bread, the girl was fully alert and awake, her lips twitching into another painstakingly thankful grin.

 “Thanks, Baek.”

 Baek? That’s a new one... Baekhyun thought to himself, his heart thumping madly in his chest as she uttered the nickname and continued to nibble on her muffin, I like it.

                                         ✧

 Three weeks of the same cycle had flown by. Each morning, Byun Baekhyun would somehow find his way to the top of the staircase for the girl’s dormitories and in the room belonging to Y/N, another fifth year Gryffindor he had found himself calling a dear friend - and likewise, of course. Chanyeol and Jongdae, two of his closest friends in the same year, constantly teased him about it.

 “Let me get this straight; you bring Y/N, the girl who is literally known for almost always being late to classes, a chocolate chip muffin every morning so she can wake up earlier and get to breakfast in time?” The shorter Hufflepuff clarified, an eyebrow quirked in slight befuddlement as his gaze shifted between an amused Chanyeol and a blushing Baekhyun.

 “For the last time, yes, that is exactly what I do. Why in the world is it such a big deal?” Baekhyun hissed in agitation and embarrassment, his long fingers nervously going to readjust his tie as the trio approached the Herbology greenhouse, careful not to accidently run into a group of giggling third years standing in the middle of the path. “She is my friend, just like you guys are.”

 Chanyeol and Jongdae both rolled their eyes at their friend, making eye contact with one another and laughing silently at how fucking whipped the brunette was with his housemate. “Uh huh. Then why don’t we get fresh muffins every morning?”

 “Why don’t we get bear hugs when we pass you walking to class?”

 “How come we don't get annoyingly cute giggles whenever we talk?” The mischievous pair protested diligently, only to realize that their comrade had already walked a full three steps ahead and had his lanky arms wrapped around an all too familiar Gryffindor, a giggle bursting from his smiling lips. When the pair had finished catching up for a mere few seconds, the blushing girl made her way past the bemused pair of boys, holding up a hand in greeting.

 “Hey guys!”

 “Hey, Y/N!” They said in unison, watching as Baekhyun’s puppy-eyes followed her all the way back into the castle.

 “Dude, you are so whipped.”

 “Shut it, Dae!”

 Now, the lonesome girl found herself perched on the sill of one of the windows belonging to the Astronomy tower, her watchful gaze looking at the quiet grounds of Hogwarts. She was in such deep thought, gazing upon the grounds, that she didn’t notice the sound of approaching footsteps climbing up the staircase of the stone tower. In fact, she only became aware of the new presence when they made themselves known - by whispering into her ear.

 “Now what on earth are you doing all the way up here so late, princess?” Her shoulders shuddered in surprise at the sudden intrusion, the soothing but familiar whisper falling onto her now beating heart.

 She peeked over to the side, suddenly thankful that the darkness of the night hid her red cheeks when she spotted Baekhyun’s curious yet alluring gaze. No longer dressed in his normally wrinkled uniform, the boy was dawning a simple pair of gray sweatpants and a fluffy, pale blue sweater decorated with a single dreamy cloud in the middle. He was also sporting a pair of rather large glasses, which only had the girl’s heart beating even faster than before. Curse Byun Baekhyun for being so goddamn adorable.

 “I - I couldn’t sleep, Baek,” she managed to utter through parted lips, her attention fully on the taller Gryffindor as he cocked his head to the side in curiosity, “Harry knows t-that I don’t get much sleep, so he lets me stay up here for a while.” She explains, smiling fondly as she recalls the conversation she had with the boy-who-lived a couple of months ago, when he first became a prefect. The messy-haired boy had been completely understanding, explaining (but not going into detail) that he too often had sleepless nights where his brain was muddled with, well, everything. Slipping back into the present, she found herself wondering why Baekhyun’s eyebrows were knitted together in concern and some other foreign emotion she couldn’t quite figure out,

 “Oh... but, why don’t you get much sleep?” The curious boy asks her, stuffing his chilly hands into his pockets. His concern only flourished as she winced at the question, and he noticed how she only curled up into a ball even more so than before.

 “I - I don’t really know why, but earlier this year I started to have reoccurring nightmares,” she speaks up after a moment of silence between them, not daring to look up at Baekhyun as she talked in a hushed tone, “I asked Kyungsoo to make a potion to force me to sleep, but then the nightmares only got scarier whenever I took it. No matter what I do, they’re still there. I come up here to try and relax before bed, but I tend to end up sleeping in because of how late I go to bed.” She finishes quickly, eyes squeezed shut to avoid Baekhyun’s strong, piercing brown gaze. “Obviously I end up missing breakfast most of the time, s-so... when you started waking me up and bringing me down to eat, I guess something clicked in my brain because I’ve actually started to sleep a bit better-”

 Without warning, warm lips press against her own, forcing her to stop her rambling. Her hands come up to hold the face of the boy who is kissing her, her breath hitching in her throat. All too soon he pulls away, but not too far, as he gently presses their foreheads together, his soft breath fanning against her parted lips.

 “If it means that you can sleep better and actually eat every morning, I will gladly do this every day for as long as I live, Y/N.”

 “That’s a bit dramatic, Baek.”

 “What? Breakfast is the most important meal of the day-”

 “Oh - just hush and kiss me again, before Harry catches you up here with me.”

                                         ✧

✧ A/N: the ending is a bit rushed [??] sorry kIDs, anywho I hope you all enjoyed this fluffy fluffy flUFFY Hogwarts au!!

[musclebodybuilders]

The Biggest Muscle Building Fallacy in Bodybuilding

I’ve just read yet another article about bodybuilding which only shows more evidence that writers of this sport or hobby are only too happy to regurgitate the same old tired out information that’s useless at best and a complete crock of doodie at worst. Frankly, I’m getting a little sick of it. And I don’t like seeing other natural bodybuilders spin their wheels by latching onto pseudo-scientific malarkey that only keeps them groping in the dark for something that works. You’ll probably be surprised to find out which widely-embraced and beloved theory I’m prepared to debunk. No, it’s not the one about muscle being incapable of turning into fat or fat turning into muscle. I think even your average five-year-old knows that by now. Neither is it the one about muscles not growing directly from workouts but rather from recuperating between workouts. I have non weight-training, nerdy friends who already have that figured out. No, this is about the much coveted, yet completely erroneous “muscle confusion principle”. For clarity, let’s look at some common assertions that this silly concept hides within: “You need to ‘shock’ your body by changing your routine.” “Once you do a routine for awhile, your muscles get used to it and stop growing.” “You need to change your bodybuilding exercises to keep your muscles guessing.” “Muscles won’t continue to grow unless you keep them ‘confused’. Let me straighten this out: Muscles don’t need to be confused, baffled, perplexed, puzzled, bewildered, disconcerted or befuddled. They also don’t need to be “shocked”. What they need in order to continue growing is to be systematically overloaded and recuperated. Let me repeat that: Systematically Overloaded and Recuperated. Here’s another piece of startling information. In order to systematically overload and recuperate your muscles, you could feasibly use the same exercises in the same sequence for the next twenty years. I’m not saying you need to or should – only that you could. You could do it and keep gaining muscle mass as long as you know how to accurately and unremittingly overload and recuperate your muscles. To check the validity of my claim, simply apply your rational faculty. Why would your muscles need to be “tricked” or “confused” in order to grow? Although they might be connected to neuro-transmitters present in the nervous system, they’re not equipped with little micro-brains that need to be fooled. Simply put, they’re made out of actin and myosin; two proteins that need to be broken down in order to start the process of recuperation that possibly leads to compensatory size increases. Notice I used the word ‘possibly’. If we break the tissue down and don’t allow enough recuperation to not only repair the damage done but also build compensatory strength and size, our muscles simply won’t grow. They’ll stay the same size or even worse, become a little smaller. That’s what can happen from extreme over-training. Where did “Muscle Confusion” Originate? The stimulus that started and perpetuates the muscle confusion lie is another common phenomenon and myth in bodybuilding: the “pump”. This is a phenomenon because it really occurs; people do get a feeling of expansion in their muscles after working them. It’s a myth, however, from the standpoint of believing that this sensation represents evidence of muscle growth. A pumped sensation in a worked muscle is caused by a back pressure of blood flow and lactic acid in the capillaries. It has nothing to do with inter-workout recuperation and compensatory tissue growth. Therefore, regardless of whether a change in our workout routine causes us to imagine or actually feel a better pump, it’s not an indication of real progress. But the facts haven’t stopped it from feeding the muscle confusion myth. People will swear up and down that their change of routine has given them a better pump and a subsequent resumption of progress. My objections are only proven correct when these individuals possess muscles that haven’t grown at all six months or a year later. Why “Muscle Confusion” can hold you back Frankly, too much adherence to the muscle confusion principle can cause feedback confusion. If we change our exercises and routine too often, we won’t accumulate enough feedback to tweak our volume strategy and put it in to the momentous gaining zone. I’ve seen people change their exercises every week. I’ve even been one of those people (years ago). Would you like to know where all that “muscle confusion” got me? Absolutely nowhere – nadda - Zilch! I had good workout pumps. But I experienced no gains at all from massive confusing and befuddling of my muscles and entire body. Some people maintain that they need to change their bodybuilding exercises once in a while to alleviate boredom. That’s fine, as long as it’s not so often as to hamper the ability to read feedback and make adjustments that lead to actual gains. Personally, I never get bored in the gym. There’s something so exciting about seeing continuous muscle growth happening naturally and right on my formerly hard-gainers body. It blows away any fleeting sensation I might have once gotten from merely changing an exercise in the name of… “confusion”.

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[aerialflight]

the devil’s dream (snippet)

Notes: Felt like posting, and I’ve been writing this story and  Extreme foolishness or unsound mind (defines insanity) these past couple of weeks. It’s a rough idea and was just really fun to write, haha. Enjoy!

“Oi! Rabbit man!”

Uh, what?

All Might turned his head, straining to maintain his megawatt grin to hide his befuddlement when a very small child met his sights.

A grin that could rival his own greeted him with genuine cheer, wild raven hair and tanned skin so commonly featured that the boy looked fairly ordinary. By all means, he wouldn’t have looked twice at the kid if it hadn’t been for his loud voice that matched a shrilling train horn. Not to mention that ridiculous nickname.

He idly wondered if the boy’s quirk was something similar to Present Mic.

“Brat!” a horrified adult slapped the back of the boy’s head, looking absolutely mortified and ready to die via second hand embarrassment. “Apologize right now! Don’t you know who he is?”

“Nope.” The boy admitted freely, much to All Might’s shock. As arrogant as it made him sound, no one in the world didn’t know his name or face, especially a child. The woman, on the other hand, didn’t look anything but exasperated.

Running a hand down her face tiredly, she sighed. “Of course you don’t.” she deadpanned. “He’s All Might, the Number One Hero.”

“Hero?” the boy wrinkled his nose, unimpressed. This was turning out to be a day full of firsts for the hero. “I don’t care about that. Hey,” coal eyes zeroed in on the giant of a man, face serious. “Do you have four ears?”

Awkward silence stretched on with every moment. All Might had the odd feeling someone (or his sensei) was laughing at him.

“Uh, no.” he managed to strangle out. “This is my hair style.”

The baffling Brazilian boy’s face lit up, a metaphorical light bulb turned on with dawning understanding.

“So you’re like Franky? Why didn’t you just say so? Shishishi!” he laughed, the sound unique and whistling between teeth.

Franky?

He glanced to the side to shoot a beseeching look at the less confusing half of the pair, only to be met with a helpless shrug. So she didn’t know whoever that was either.

“Um, my boy.” All Might coughed. “Was there something you wanted from me when you called for me?”

As swiftly as the childlike glee appeared, it changed once again at mercurial speed. The smile that stretched the boy’s face was all teeth, oblivious eyes turning sharp and alchemically transforming into fathomless obsidian.

“You’re really strong.” He declared it with confidence people thrice his age couldn’t match, and it struck All Might as odd. He said it too knowingly, not stated as an observation that admittedly most people would’ve concluded to from his physical size and looks alone, but an undisputed fact. All signs of childishness were gone and replaced by something weighty, heavy with knowledge and age.

He swore that for one flickering second, this strange random kid knew about “One for All” and all his secrets that he hid behind blinding smiles. The more disturbing part was how All Might couldn’t bring himself to mind.

Without realizing it, All Might had stopped smiling altogether.

“I am strong.” He confirmed, for once without fanfare or loud declarations. He wasn’t paying attention to anything except for the slow way the boy grinned before tugging on what All Might belatedly noticed was a ratty straw hat swinging behind his back onto his head, casting a shadow over his eyes.

“The strongest?”

“Yes.”

The feral grin impossibly widened. His answer seemed to please the boy.

“Good.” He nodded once solemnly. “Once I find my crew, we’ll fight. I’ll definitely beat you by then.”

A shiver ran down All Might’s spine. He couldn’t bring himself to not believe him, words ringing with preordination. Anticipation not even Endeavor’s challenges could trigger made All Might’s muscles tense, an intrigued grin spreading across his sculpted face.

“Kid, what’s your name?” The Number One Hero rumbled, low and sounding rarely dangerous.

The grin the straw hatted boy shot back matched his own sentiment of finding an equal, all excitement and boldly fearless.

“I’m Monkey D. Luffy, The Pirate King.”

[thebrotherhoodofsleep]

Awakening The Zodiac (2017)

Between the murders which took place in the summer of 1968 and the 2007 release of David Fincher’s masterpiece ZODIAC, there were a handful of feature films inspired by the mystique of the still unidentified serial killer known as the Zodiac. This list includes the 1971 releases DIRTY HARRY and THE ZODIAC KILLER, both released to a public still on edge from the relatively recent murders and ongoing missives from the killer, as well as 2007’s CURSE OF THE ZODIAC, a straight-to-video mess that may well have gotten greenlit and rushed into production to confuse audiences looking for Fincher’s film.

After 2007, there is only one: AWAKENING THE ZODIAC, released in 2017 to an audience that wasn’t really ready to get hyped up about the Zodiac Killer – at least, not until a year later, when law enforcement’s success in using genealogy databases to catch the Golden State Killer reinvigorated the public’s hope that Zodiac, too, could be identified by ancestral DNA connections.

There are any number of reasons for the relative rarity of features about the Zodiac, even in our true crime obsessed moment, I’m sure – fears of exploiting the suffering of real life victims, the complete lack of information about who the killer was despite the copious theorizing – but a big one surely has to be that ZODIAC just casts too large of a shadow. It’s just too definitive, packs too much information into its nearly two hour run time, cycles through too many theories and creates such a distinctive atmosphere of paranoia and obsession that it would be a real challenge for any subsequent film about the Zodiac Killer to distinguish itself

AWAKENING THE ZODIAC takes on that challenge, asking: well, what if we simply try to duplicate that paranoiac pall, but we also add in some spooky film reels like SINISTER and some scary traps like SAW? But not too many, just like one scene of each?

The film early on addresses the potential for exploitation by positing that the Zodiac is responsible for all sorts of unsolved murders not only in California, but across the U.S., and focusing its attentions on these crimes. (This does, of course, raise the question of whether this movie really needed to be directly about, rather than “inspired by”, the Zodiac murders.) However, this isn’t really clear until later in the film, so during the opening scene which depicts the 1968 murder of a couple in their car, you may well think its depicting one of Zodiac’s canonical murders unless you happen to know that none of his documented victims were named Adam and Lula and none took place in Hunter’s Point.

Adam and Lula are dispatched with only the minor hitch of Lula stabbing Zodiac in the ankle with a knife – a detail that has no relevance as it does not affect the Zodiac’s gait later in the film – and after a brief credit sequence of a bespectacled man poring over reels of film, we flahs forward to what is presumably the present day. (There is no title to establish it, but the rest of the film takes place in Virginia in a year that has computers and cell phones.)

Here we meet Mick (Shane West of the Germs) and his wife Zoe (Leslie Bibb), a married couple doing their best to scrape by in their tiny trailer. Zoe’s had to go freelance since the salon she worked for closed, but she’s landing maybe a client a day. Mick owns a landscaping business, but it’s not particularly lucrative in a town that seems to be struggling overall. Mick doesn’t have any concrete plans to haul them out of their financial hole. Instead he dreams of striking it rich selling the contents of abandoned storage lockers with his partner Phil (Matt Craven), the eccentric vet who owns the local pawn shop.

Although he got his start with horror feature NOSTROM, writer/director Jonathan Wright has mostly spent the past decade at the helm of Hallmark romances with titles like LOVE, ROMANCE, & CHOCOLATE and CHRISTMAS JARS. It shows – in a good way! The one factor distinguishing AWAKENING THE ZODIAC from most exploitation thriller schlock is the surprising charm, humor, and affection shared by Zoe and Mick, despite their frequent and completely reasonable conflicts.

Zoe often feels the need to be the funkiller / adult in the room in response to her husband’s recklessness, but it’s a role that even she recognizes is thankless, so more often than not she gives in to the fun. Mick characterizes himself as congentially unable to take shit from anyone, but this doesn’t extend to his wife’s completely reasonable anger at him doing shit like spending their grocery money on what is basically a blind bet in hopes of striking it rich.

The action begins when Mick spends that grocery money to go halfsies on a $1200 locker, rumored to be owned by a rich old woman. They don’t find any antiques worth more than a few hundred bucks, but they do find a box of dated film reels shoved into an old dresser. One of these reels depicts the murder of Adam and Lulu, with the camera well positioned to catch the Zodiac’s full hood and black clothing with its characteristic symbol. The film once again avoids direct exploitation when the reel which was presumably going to depict the 9-27-68 murder of Cecilia Shephard (and attempted murder of Bryan Hartnell) burns before it can depict the action. Mick and Zoe are freaked and befuddled, but Harvey quickly explains who the Zodiac Killer is to these two dumb kids and we’re on our way.

Which way? Well, fortuitously, the San Francisco Police have recently reopened the case and are offering a $100,000 reward for information that leads to the identity of the killer. Aren’t film reels depicting the Zodiac committing murders and the lead about the storage locker sufficient information already, given that the police could follow those leads to figure out who rented the locker?

Mick watches a lot of Unsolved Mysteries, and he says no – they need to bring a definitive identification to the police in order to claim the reward. Instead, our amateur investigators decide to follow the leads themselves to discover the identity of the storage locker owner, which mostly involves a lot of breaking and entering.

It should go without saying, but: these are not actions you take if you are planning to turn over information to the police in order to claim a financial reward and not go to prison for breaking and entering. These are actions you take if you are planning to turn all this illegally obtained information into clout for your pseudonym on your murder mystery message board – and not even one of the respectable ones.

While they’re on the trail of a man who is presumably in his seventies and may very well have let his rent payments lapse because he’s dead, the film feels the need to establish stakes – and get in a rare gore scene – by having a mysterious figure kidnap and murder the manager of the U-Store-All. Mick also begins to receive some heavy breathing phone calls and hears noises outside of his trailer, becoming increasingly paranoid as the film goes on and he grows more obsessed with the case by reading message boards and listening to audio recording of the Zodiac over and over.

The film desperately wants to capture the neurotic mood of ZODIAC as the trio tracks leads, does research, solves ciphers, argues over suspects, and devolve into obsession, but it just can’t. It populates its tiny cast with red herrings – including Mick and Zoe’s neighbor Ray who portentously warns Mick, “Don’t mess around with shit you don’t understand,” claiming to have heard through the thin walls of the trailer that he’s investigating the “absolute genius”  Zodiac – but even with the established fact that the Zodiac is still alive and murdering, the stakes feel low. He’s old, guys. He’s old and you can go to the police at literally any time.

THIRD ACT SPOILERS!

Our intrepid ding-dongs eventually alight on a potential suspect – Ben Ferguson (Kenneth Welsh), the son of the woman whose name was used to rent the storage locker. He was in the military! He used to live in San Francisco! He has reels of 8mm film in his house! He wrote an article about the Zodiac, positing that he was involved in a series of murders across the U.S.! He’s totally not the killer, though, and as Mick and Zoe get no closer to the Zodiac, he gets closer to them. After murdering Harvey and Ben, the Zodiac manages to kidnap Zoe and leave a coded message for Mick, demanding that he meet him at an abandoned slaughterhouse to trade the film reels for his wife.

And who is the Zodiac? Surprise, guys – it’s Stephen McHattie, the recognizable actor who gets an “and” title in the opening credits and who previously popped up for one line as Ben Ferguson’s neighbor. Once that was established it could never be anyone but Stephen McHattie.

At this point the film devolves into farce as Zodiac sings a creepy rendition of Yankee Doodle Dandy (it’s no Hurdy Gurdy Man) and confines Zoe to an electrified cage maze, telling her “I left you a way out, if you’re brave enough to try.” He monologues for a while about his “legend”, why he’s in Virginia (he stalked Ben Ferguson across the U.S., intending to kill him, but ended up liking the town), and why he missed his payments on the storage locker (his memory isn’t what it used to be). Eventually Mick arrives for the showdown and he and Zoe, who managed to find that way out, take Zodiac out for good.

However, THE LEGEND CONTINUES because even with a body, the authorities still can’t figure out the Zodiac’s original identity. At least Mick has learned a lesson, though – he tells Zoe that his former boss offered him his old job at the factory and he’s accepted: “It’s time to make a real go of things, baby.” No more storage lockers and serial killers for this couple.

Mick also decides to take some responsibility by going outside to fix a flickering light outside their trailer, which leads to maybe the most baffling ending I’ve ever seen in a film. Zoe gets freaked out after hearing a noise outside, not immediately assuming (as most would) that it’s her husband fixing that light. As we cut to outside, Mick is nowhere to be found. There is, however, a man who steps forward with a black boot – cut to credits.

That’s right – this film ends by implying that there is a SECOND Zodiac Killer who is at large and for some reason in this trailer park!

God love it, this film is a mess. A well-intentioned mess, a not completely incompetent mess (it’s dingy as hell, attempting to capture the desaturated atmosphere of ZODIAC, but it’s well-filmed), a surprisingly charming mess, but a mess regardless. It’s also the kind of mess that I almost wish was even dumber that it is – like, how great would it be if it turned out Zoe was the Zodiac Killer’s secret daughter? Once you’re in this far, you might as well go whole hog.

I watched this on: Hulu

[amertsi]

To Hell With It - Chapter 1

The newly deceased finds his way to Hell. Gilbert thinks there’s been a mistake. Roderich knows there hasn’t.

Heaven and Hell AU of sorts. This is more of a prologue than a chapter one, but oh well. Human names used. Eventual PruAus. Chapter warnings: mentions of death and torture, religious implications.

Read on FFN. Read on AO3.

Next Chapter>

Despite the screams and howls of the damned, Hell was an organized, professional business. Check in at the counter, where the smiling receptionist would have you wait, read an outdated magazine to pass the time, a seat between each body to provide personal space. Or politely, you’d apologize, and sit next to strangers, for no other seats are available, and you keep your legs pressed tight together, arms across your chest to avoid brushing against your neighbors. You’d wait, until a man in doctor’s scrubs would open the door and call your name, and you’d follow, the same nerves in mind that you’d have at any office such as this. A slight anxiety present in the back of your thoughts, but not so overwhelming that you might panic. You might even forget why you’re here. You’d forget and think, “Oh, this isn’t so bad now, is it?” And you’d be lead to a room, fitted much like your everyday doctor or dentist’s office. You’d be told to have a seat, which you would, and the door would shut.

Yes, a business was what they liked to call it, those who worked there. It was much nicer sounding than eternal punishment or something else of the sorts, even if behind the spotless counters and crisp suits that’s what it was; Hell. The door would shut, and the doctor would take out your file and read it aloud, and you’d remember suddenly why you’re there. On the file are not medical conditions or pills taken daily, but a list of sins. He’d read them aloud, explain your position, perhaps give a sympathetic, almost apologetic smile, for he too was once like you, a damned soul, filled with dread, fear, guilt. You might try to apologise or claim there must be some mistake, but you know there have been none. You are meant to be here, that list is proof. Hell is a business, a tightly knit one, and they do not make mistakes.

You might try to run, but you are already restrained to the chair. The doctor is opening drawers, pulling out the tools of his trade, and your blood runs cold at the sight. And you wish, oh how you wish you could take it all back! Start over anew, make amends, you wouldn’t live your life how you did, not knowing that this is the result.

But there are no second chances in death.

Gilbert was tired of this routine. Lead in a patient, to the office, read to them the list of sins, sigh and ignore their pleas, then get on with it. Hell was Hell, and no amount of clean cut doctors and smiling receptionists and old timey magazines could hide it once you were locked in. In the beginning, he’d relished in the thrill of it all. How silly the patients were, thinking they could just beg and they’d be let go! No, once you’d made an appointment with Hell, you stuck through with it. No turning back, no delays. It was almost comical, the fear in their eyes as he’d prepare his tools, as if they didn’t expect damnation to involve pain. He’d thrived on their shrieks and screams and the warm blood that would stain his once pristine coat. He had to. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have been chosen for this job. Mercy was not an option for the doctors. They were to do their job without thought, and if they enjoyed it, well, that was just a bonus, wasn’t it? But after so many years, after so many patients, the process grew boring and mundane. Gilbert used to be baffled by the older doctors who complained about the monotony of their work, but now he cursed it as well. It was so predictable, each patient the same as the last. He hadn’t even bothered to look at this one yet or read his file beforehand. What was the point, after all? He’d forget this patient’s face, just like the rest, ignore his screams and begging as he worked, then go home for the day, just to come back and start the process anew.

But he couldn’t go the entire time without greeting the patient who so obediently followed him into his room, one of thousands, and sat in the chair he wouldn’t leave for days, years, centuries, perhaps. So, a look of absolute boredom on his face, Gilbert observed his newest patient.

He was a young man, too young to have died of old age. An accident perhaps, then, or sickness. Fair skinned, glasses that framed violet eyes, and an expression that was almost a pout, as if he were inconvenienced by being here. Gilbert had to shake himself from those eyes, for they were beautiful, just like the rest of his delicate features. He wondered, laughing to himself as he tried to imagine what such a gorgeous man could have done to land himself here. He wasn’t bulky, in fact, he seemed to lack extra muscle entirely, so he could be no killer. Perhaps, then, he’d done something more sinister, more manipulative, something befitting such sharp eyes. He seemed like a smart man, but then again, no man smart enough would land themselves in hell. Perhaps it was just the glasses.

Gilbert reached for the clipboard holding the files of this man, a rare curiosity in his mind. He skimmed the outline, speaking as he did so.

“So. Welcome. I’m Doctor Beilschmidt, but just call me Gilbert, we’re gonna be spending a lot of time together, so might as well.” He paused, searching for a name. “Edelstein, huh? Nice name. Roderich’s nice too, but Edelstein’s one hell of a surname.” Gilbert chuckled. “Can I call you Rod? Roddy?” He looked up to glance at the man, but he was silent, calm almost, not even seeming to mind the restraints on his wrists and ankles keeping him bound to his chair. Gilbert shrugged. “Okay then. Rod it is.”

“Anyway, Rod, I’m just gonna go over the basics for you. You’re in Hell, obviously, and I’ll be the doctor treating you during your eternal damnation, or however much time you got here. Doesn’t really matter how long. Of course, you probably wanna know what landed you here, so lemme just go over your file and we’ll find out, ‘kay?”

As he fished out the list of sins, Gilbert paused. His eyes narrowed, face falling into a confused frown. As the silence persisted, the man, Roderich, spoke, his voice soft, like a songbird trapped amongst ravens.

“...Is something the matter, Doctor?”

And Gilbert, a look of utter befuddlement on his face, thought that maybe, just maybe, for the first time since creation, that Hell had made a mistake.

Roderich’s file was empty.

[plxyboi-blog]

Confused about what to eat? Science can help

New Post has been published on https://healthy4lives.com/confused-about-what-to-eat-science-can-help/

Confused about what to eat? Science can help

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(The Discussion is an impartial and nonprofit supply of information, analysis and commentary from academic experts.)

P.K. Newby, Harvard University

(THE Discussion) Do you experience like nutritionists are always shifting their minds? Do you want science-primarily based facts about eating plan but do not know whom or what to imagine?

If you’re nodding in arrangement, you’re not alone: More than eighty% of Individuals are befuddled.

Nonetheless it is a lament which is acquiring rather tiring – if you’re a diet scientist, that is. So a lot so that I refocused my career to glow scientific mild on today’s important foods discussions, which have profound impacts on community health and fitness and the surroundings. My mantra: From farm to fork, what we take in issues.

In simple fact, did you know that eighty% of chronic conditions are preventable by way of modifiable lifestyle alterations, and eating plan is the single premier contributing aspect?

Science states crops are better for you and our world

Thoroughly clean taking in or keto? Paleo or gluten-absolutely free? Total 30 or vegan? Overlook fad weight loss plans, due to the fact science has the responses – there is far extra arrangement about eating plan and health and fitness than you could know. The scientific report from the 2015-2020 Dietary Rules for Individuals, for illustration, concluded that a plant-primarily based eating plan is best for human health and fitness and the surroundings alike. More than seventy five% of your food really should comprise greens, fruits and complete grains, and protein sources really should incorporate beans, peas, nuts, seeds and soy.

Canada’s 2019 Food Manual is equally plant-focused, as is Harvard’s Healthy Ingesting Plate, while Brazil emphasizes meals “mainly of plant origin.” These tips and other individuals also worry the worth of restricting processed and ultra-processed meals.

There is also consensus from the Food and Agriculture Group of the United Nations and other individuals that plant-primarily based weight loss plans are extra sustainable, mainly owing to the high electricity inputs and environmental injury of livestock.

Even though it could audio like a fad, a “plant-based” eating plan has been studied for a long time. Recognition escalated as it addresses two urgent community health and fitness challenges: the chronic ailment epidemic and the weather adjust disaster. It is a get-get for human health and fitness and the surroundings. Plant-primarily based weight loss plans can be adapted to suit your flavor tastes, traditions and cultures, as the Blue Zones, or regions of the planet the place persons generally are living for a longer period than common and with less chronic conditions, show.

If science has the keys to a health and fitness-endorsing, ailment-protecting against, world-saving eating plan, why are persons so baffled? A nearer glimpse will arm you with the capabilities to form simple fact from fiction.

There is funds in confusion

Superstar junk science is an evident participant. It may even be cloaked in scrubs, like Dr. Oz – even though chastised by the Senate for his quackery. (Medical professionals, in normal, have little to no training in diet.)

Celebs garner monumental platforms, generally clouding the reality (or drowning it absolutely) the deal between Netflix and Gwyneth Paltrow, whose corporation Goop was sued about a particular jade egg, suggests that science is dropping the struggle.

1 needn’t be a celebrity to keep sway, even so. A list of the Top a hundred influencers showed that most were being bloggers or athletes with no skills. (None were being scientists.) These voices obtain substantial traction on social media. Health and fitness Comments, a community of scientists who critique the accuracy of on-line information, performed a analyze with the Credibility Coalition and observed a minority of content articles been given a optimistic rating, with most “exaggerating the advantages and harms of a variety of meals.”

Classic media do not always get rid of mild, alas. One-analyze sensationalism is ubiquitous – for illustration, glyphosate in oats, coconut oil and body weight, coffee leading to most cancers – and results absence context.

And science journalism has taken a hit, and is perhaps why CNN interviewed an anti-science zealot. Or why the Los Angeles Moments tweeted that there’s a “growing belief” about the health and fitness advantages of celery juice. (Pro suggestion: It is not a detail.)

Encompassing the din of bogus nutritional guidance and media buzz is a backdrop of science denialism, which legitimizes anti-science when espoused from top stages of government. Science illiteracy also plays a part.

However, there are information gaps: 57% of Individuals have never found the nutritional illustration from the U.S. Deparment of Agriculture named MyPlate or know little about it, and sixty three% noted it was hard to identify sustainable choices. Buyers also claimed that determining healthy foods was tricky (eleven%) or reasonable (61%). Unsurprising, perhaps, considering the fact that 48% looked to crowded foods offers for guidance: Some labels are significant while other individuals are little extra than advertising. (All natural, any person?) In truth, powerful foods and agriculture lobbies still exert influence on nutritional tips and obscure the science.

By way of all of this, I imagine the diet science community has tacitly contributed by failing to participate collectively in the community discourse. Nor have we adequately defended our self-control when attacked, irrespective of whether by journalists, doctors or foods writers.

Altering the dialogue

Powerful societal powers build a tradition of diet confusion that not only obfuscate the reality about eating plan, they undermine science as a complete. A few methods will enable eaters navigate this rocky terrain.

Start out by inquiring important queries when digesting eating plan information. Does the writer have an superior degree in diet, or does she or he have skills in science journalism? Are there references to peer-reviewed research or scientific companies? Is the supply credible? Are miracle cures or quick benefits promised? Are there high priced price tag tags for magic bullets? Does it audio like clickbait? Questioning the who-what-the place-why-how is paramount.

Next, recall that what flits by way of our newsfeeds generally arrives by way of algorithms that empower information to careen by way of our echo chambers and elicit affirmation bias, factual or not. Offline, way too, we are extra likely to share beliefs with buddies and loved ones, our tribe. Getting curious about what you take in and why it issues outside of your ease and comfort zone is important: You could will need to “unlearn what you have realized.”

Eventually, check out this on for size: Diet. Is not. Confusing. We all have cherished traditions and values – what we take in is not just about the science. (At the very least, I hope not.) But it is time to study the elementary foods and diet points that will inspire you to harness the power of foods to boost health and fitness, stop ailment and shield the world. Alter is possible – and the reality is out there.

This posting is republished from The Discussion underneath a Creative Commons license. Browse the initial posting here: http://theconversation.com/baffled-about-what-to-take in-science-can-enable-118745.

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