#Vibrating Fork Point Level Switch

[trumen-indore]

Trumen is a technocrat driven organization aimed at providing top-of-the-range and high quality level measurement and process control instruments. Formed by the pioneers who devoted their respective lives in development, design and delivery of solution to the problems faced in the field of level sensing and process measurements. Trumen has a fixed point agenda about “sensing matters”, and each device created at Trumen is thoroughly tested to pass the quality norms set in-house, in order to give the best performance in all operating conditions.

The products designed and manufactured by Trumen confirm to various international quality standards. Instruments having best in class IP-68 certified enclosures, Ex-proof enclosures suitable for hazardous area and gas group IIA, IIB and IIC and PU Epoxy coated enclosures suitable for harsh environment. Trumen also produces instruments with SS enclosures suitable for food and pharma industries and PU enclosures suitable for chemical industries.

Address: 39, Mangal Nagar, Behind Sai Ram Plaza, Near Rajeev Gandhi Circle, AB Road, Indore, Madhya Pradesh 452001

Web: https://trumen.in/

Contact: 0731 497 2065

[sepublic]

            So some HCs on Raine’s magic;

            Raine can attune their soundwaves to a target’s resonant frequency; It could be a specific material, or even a person. So if they managed to hit someone with their instrument or a soundwave, they can figure out that frequency because every strike creates vibrations on some level.

            From that point, every soundwave that Raine sends off will pass through any other objects or materials without harming them, and only damage that which they’re attuned to. It’s a handy way to get past hostage situations or barriers.

            Raine can only attune their soundwaves to one resonant frequency at a time; If they want to switch to a different frequency, they need to hit their target like a tuning fork to match it. And if they want to hit everything, then Raine has to drop the frequency and regain it with another strike.

            Raine’s whistling operates independently from this sort of thing, so while not as powerful as their violin, it’s a good backup for when Raine wants to commit to a specific frequency, but also desires a general attack. Their whistling helps them attack people by surprise because Raine can also echolocate!

            This allows them to internally map out an area and whatever’s around them, though they have to consciously activate and focus on this spell; Combining this with Raine’s attuned soundwaves makes for a lethal assassin that can attack through walls. And since sound bounces off of surfaces, Raine can send waves that ricochet across whatever they hit, a scattered attack; These ones aren’t attuned to any particular frequency, so they can hit everything.

            Raine’s whistling can also mess with the frequency of molecules’ vibrations, making them shake enough to break down their molecular bonds; Hence their whistling breaking down the compounds in Terra’s potion to render it ineffective. Their whistling can also increase vibrations to raise heat and cause spontaneous combustion.

            Not only can Raine deconstruct and shred things apart with their vibrations, but these can also be used to transmute materials by affecting their atoms and molecules, hence the Apple Blood trick; This is a case of applying Potions principles to Bard magic, an idea either unheard of or discouraged in most schools.

            But their magic isn’t just offensive, Raine’s whistling/violin can create a small radius to ward off enemies and attacks, stopping them mid-air or tearing them apart; It’s like a shield of sound, which Raine can also generate around others. And since bard magic can make things float, Raine can levitate their boots to walk on air.

            Perhaps their most clever trick is the ability to bring sound effects to life; Storing the sounds of different things, to recreate those same effects on anything those released soundwaves hit. So if Raine hears something breaking, they can capture some of that noise into their violin, and then release it onto someone or something else; Anything hit by the soundwaves will break. The same goes for burning, exploding, splashing, etc.

            Raine’s predecessor was Scooter Crane, who could use the power of music like a conductor to animate objects and even people’s bodies, like Fantasia. He could summon literal music notes and lines to attack with, and anything hit would be forced to bend to his will. Crane primarily used this to perfectly coordinate covenscouts during the Coven Crusades, watching from afar; While Graye is a director, Crane is a conductor, and both proved to be control freaks who felt others couldn’t match their vision.

            Katya’s tambourine takes resonant frequencies to their max, making objects she strikes vibrate until they shatter. It’s simple yet effective, working on anything Katya chooses to hit.

            Amber’s recorder induces feelings in others; They can cause people to sleep, to calm down, or feel invigorated with any other emotion. It’s a subtler support role, although she’s learned some transmutation from Raine, allowing Amber to make objects rust with her notes.

            Derwin’s bassoon summons weather magic, which is a double-edged sword; It’s surprisingly easy to summon something as devasting as a hurricane… But weather magic is incredibly chaotic and uncontrollable; You might summon a storm, but you’ll find yourself just as subject to it as your enemies. So while it’s a low entry level to produce powerful attacks, most avoid weather magic for this reason.

            Bard magic deals with sound, frequencies, and animation; It’s the power of art, bringing words and pictures to life, and making things dance and move. It deals in the realm of emotions. But it can be tricky and roundabout to pull off more fantastical feats; Some witches find more straightforwardly powerful tracks, such as Plants or Abominations or Construction, which deal in physical strength, to be more to the point. Otherwise, Bard magic is seen as related to the arts, as well as writing and even legality, with many contracts written in Bard magic; It brings words to life, after all.

[ptlevelindic85]

Point Level indicator

Understanding Point Level Indicators: Applications, Types, and Benefits

In industrial processes where precise measurement and control are paramount, point level indicators play a crucial role. These instruments provide essential information about the level of liquids, solids, or powders in tanks, silos, or vessels. Whether it's monitoring inventory levels, preventing overfilling or emptying, or ensuring efficient operation, point level indicators offer reliable solutions across various industries.

1. What is a Point Level Indicator?

A point level indicator is a device used to detect the presence or absence of material at a specific point within a container. Unlike continuous level sensors, which provide continuous measurement, point level indicators simply indicate whether the material level has reached a predetermined point. This simplicity makes them ideal for applications where precise level control at specific thresholds is required.

2. Types of Point Level Indicators

a. Mechanical Level Switches: These switches use mechanical mechanisms, such as floats, to detect material levels. When the material reaches the designated level, the switch is activated, signaling the presence of material.

b. Capacitance Probes: Capacitance probes utilize changes in capacitance to detect material presence. When the material comes into contact with the probe, it alters the capacitance, triggering a signal.

c. Vibrating Forks: Vibrating fork point level indicators consist of two prongs that vibrate at their natural frequency. When material covers the forks, the vibration frequency changes, indicating material presence.

d. Optical Level Sensors: These sensors use light to detect material presence. When material obstructs the optical beam, the sensor triggers a signal.

e. Conductivity Probes: Conductivity probes measure the electrical conductivity of the material. When the material reaches the probe, completing an electrical circuit, it triggers a signal.

f. Rotary Paddle Switches: Rotary paddle switches employ a rotating paddle that is stopped or impeded when material reaches a certain level, signaling its presence.

3. Applications of Point Level Indicators

a. Inventory Management: Point level indicators are commonly used in inventory management systems to monitor material levels in storage tanks or silos. By providing timely alerts when material levels reach predetermined thresholds, they help prevent stockouts or overfilling.

b. Process Control: In industrial processes, maintaining precise material levels is essential for ensuring optimal operation and product quality. Point level indicators help control material flow, preventing equipment damage or production bottlenecks.

c. Safety Monitoring: Point level indicators play a crucial role in safety systems by detecting high or low material levels that could lead to hazardous conditions, such as spills, leaks, or equipment failures.

d. Pump Protection: In pump systems, point level indicators prevent dry running by signaling when the liquid level is too low, protecting pumps from damage and extending their lifespan.

e. Overfill Prevention: In storage tanks, overfilling can result in environmental hazards, regulatory violations, and costly cleanup efforts. Point level indicators help prevent overfilling by signaling when the tank reaches its maximum capacity.

4. Benefits of Point Level Indicators

a. Reliability: Point level indicators offer reliable performance in detecting material presence or absence, ensuring accurate monitoring and control.

b. Versatility: With various types and configurations available, point level indicators can be adapted to suit different applications and materials, from liquids to solids.

c. Cost-Effectiveness: Compared to continuous level sensors, point level indicators are often more cost-effective, making them an economical choice for many industrial applications.

d. Easy Installation and Maintenance: Most point level indicators are straightforward to install and require minimal maintenance, reducing downtime and operational costs.

e. Safety: By providing timely alerts and preventing overfilling or emptying, point level indicators contribute to a safer working environment and help mitigate risks associated with material handling. Point level indicators are indispensable tools in industries where precise level measurement and control are essential. From inventory management to process control and safety monitoring, these devices offer reliable solutions for a wide range of applications. With their versatility, reliability, and cost-effectiveness, point level indicators continue to play a vital role in optimizing operations, enhancing safety, and ensuring efficient resource management across industries. As technology advances, we can expect further innovations in point level indicator design and functionality, continuing to meet the evolving needs of modern industrial processes.

[bondivibes1]

Enhance Your Massage Experience: Exploring Massage Gun Attachments for Grown-Ups

In the realm of modern wellness, Massage Gun as Vibrator have become an increasingly popular tool for providing relief, relaxation, and muscle recovery. These handheld devices offer percussive therapy that targets muscle soreness and tension, promoting overall well-being. To tailor the massage experience to individual needs, a variety of massage gun attachments have been developed. In this article, we'll delve into the world of massage gun attachments designed for grown-ups, exploring their unique benefits and how they can elevate your wellness routine.

Understanding Massage Gun Attachments

Massage gun attachments are interchangeable heads or tips that can be affixed to the massage gun's head. Each attachment serves a specific purpose, delivering targeted therapy to different muscle groups and addressing various concerns. These attachments allow you to customize Massage Gun Attachments for Adults and technique according to your preferences and needs.

Types of Massage Gun Attachments

Ball Attachment: The ball attachment is a versatile option that mimics the palms of a masseuse's hands. It's ideal for general use and can be applied to large muscle groups like the back, thighs, and calves. The rolling motion helps release muscle knots and tension.

Bullet Attachment: The bullet attachment features a concentrated, pinpointed design. It's perfect for targeting specific trigger points, smaller muscle groups, and areas that require more precise pressure, such as the neck and shoulders.

Fork Attachment: The fork attachment consists of two prongs and is designed to simultaneously target muscles on both sides of the spine. This attachment is particularly effective for the muscles surrounding the spine and the upper back.

Flat Attachment: The flat attachment provides a broader surface area, making it suitable for larger muscle groups like the quadriceps and glutes. It's a great choice for delivering a deep and even massage across a wider area.

Wedge Attachment: The wedge attachment is designed to target specific angles and edges of muscles. It's effective for areas with tightness caused by muscle imbalances or repetitive movements, such as the IT band or the calf muscles.

Benefits of Massage Gun Attachments

Customized Relief: The array of Massage Gun Attachment allows you to tailor your massage experience to your body's specific needs. Whether you're looking for a deep tissue massage or a gentler touch, there's an attachment that's suitable for you.

Targeted Therapy: Each attachment focuses on different muscle groups and areas. This enables you to address specific concerns, whether it's post-workout recovery, tension relief, or relaxation.

Variety of Techniques: By switching attachments, you can employ a variety of massage techniques, such as kneading, tapping, or percussion. This versatility ensures that you can adapt your massage routine to varying muscle needs.

Using Massage Gun Attachments

Consultation: Familiarize yourself with each attachment's purpose and benefits. Consider consulting with a wellness professional to determine which attachments are best for your body.

Start Slowly: Begin with the attachment that corresponds to your desired pressure level. Gradually experiment with different attachments to find the ones that suit your preferences.

Communication: Listen to your body and adjust the attachment as needed. If you experience discomfort or pain, switch to a gentler attachment or reduce the intensity.

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Elevate Your Self-Care Routine

Massage gun attachments open up a realm of possibilities for personalizing your massage experience. Whether you're an athlete seeking muscle recovery, an office worker combating desk-related tension, or simply someone looking for relaxation, these attachments allow you to curate a massage that caters to your unique needs. As you explore the world of massage gun attachments, remember that wellness is a journey, and finding the right attachments for your body can help you achieve a higher level of physical comfort and overall well-being.

[jayceeech]

Vibrating Fork Point Level Switch For Liquids

Vibrating Fork Point Level Switch for Liquids use the piezo-electric-crystals inside the tuning fork, which makes the fork points vibrate at their natural resonance frequency in free air. When fork points are immersed in liquid, the frequency of fork vibration falls due to the density of the liquid.

[vishalnimbalkar1325]

Jayceetech is best Vibrating Fork Point Level Switch for Liquids supplier, Vibrating Fork Point Level Switch for Liquids Manufacturer Company in pune, Maharashtra, India.

[nimsajlove]

Waiting

So I guess I wanted Ahsoka to struggle with recovery from the blue shadow virus. So here is that. 

This includes a panic attack and forced breathing with a tube (whats the word again?)

Brothers-AU      Ao3

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„Droidbait, stop that.“, Echo grumbled and threw his brother a disapproving look over the table. Puffing, Droidbait put the fork, which he had been nervously twisting between two fingers, on the table with a little more force than necessary. Fives, who was sitting next to him with his arms crossed, gave him a annoyed look. But he couldn't stop looking nervously around himself. Cutup seemed to have given up in the meantime, he was sitting next to Echo and had his face flat on the table. Only Hevy had himself halfway under control, he at least tried to eat his rations normally. The other men in the canteen ignored their behavior. Everyone was nervous. The General had been off since returning from Naboo, General Kenobi had already moved on to his next mission and no one had seen the Commander in days. Except for the medics. The Captain had been back in the corridors for about the last 24 hours, but very few of them were really reassured. The 501st had just gotten used to her tiny Commander and had even grown fond of the girl. Kriff, she was part of the family! Everyone kept an eye on the young Jedi, especially Torrent.

Jesse and Hardcase sat down at the table, Droidbait nearly jumped. Cutup didn't even look up. „Did he eat anything at all?“, Jesse asked, gesturing with his fork at Cutup's ration. He mumbled something against the table top. Sounded suspiciously like an insult. Jesse took that as an answer, Hardcase smirked. „Heads up, she'll get back onto her feet.“, he muttered, Echo shrugging. His expression was cautiously neutral, Fives gave Hardcase a tired grimace. Hevy nodded, he actually looked confident. Cutup looked up, his chin still on the table. „But she's so small!“, he whined and Droidbait gave Hardcase and Jesse a concerned look. „And young and strong, you'll see. She'll be stealing your dessert again in no time.“, Jesse joked.

„Kriff Kix, your shift was over 2 hours ago!“, Coric growled and shook the shoulder of the other Medic. Kix shook it off indistinctly and lifted his datapad a little, Coric didn't recognize at first glance what was on it. No reports at least. „I'm not working.“, Kix mumbled and buried himself again in whatever he was reading. He had his legs stretched out, his crossed feet resting on the side of a bacta tank. The girl inside had been stable for almost two days, thank the kriffing maker. None of the medics had been sure how long her tiny body could have withstood the constant strain anymore. Coric was tired. Very, very tired. Torrent worked at least double shifts so that the Commander was never left without supervision for a second. Kix was one of those troopers who liked to take on triple shifts, and Coric had overlooked that for quite some time. But now they were all slowly getting to a point where even the Medics had to lie down for more than a couple of hours. Tano was stable, she would get back on her feet. „Go to sleep Kix, you've been here for over 24 hours.“, grumbled a Medic from Hail Company, Kix looked like he would like to throw something at his head. Sighing, Coric rubbed his face with one hand, then grabbed the younger Medic by the shoulder and pulled him to his feet. „You're going to sleep, now. You can come back when we get her out.“ Ah, his command tone seemed to reach him. Kix gave him a tired look and sighed, he switched off the datapad, with slumped shoulders he nodded. „Of course, Sergeant.“, he muttered and Coric watched with satisfaction as Kix finally left medical and disappeared.

*~*

Ahsoka was no stranger to the feeling of weightlessness! There had been exercises before she became a padawan, something that had only been introduced with the outbreak of war. But this wasn't just floating, her sense of balance assured her that there was still an up and down. So maybe more like swimming? It was only when muffled voices vibrated through her montrals that it occurred to her to open her eyes to get a real look at the situation. Kark, great. It didn't burn in her eyes, but it was like seeing through a veil. Okay where was she? The last memories she could get out were blurry, when exactly did she leave the bunker on Naboo? Despite her slightly blurred vision, she dared to say that the many bright and harsh colors did not belong to Naboo. Her cruiser maybe? She carefully felt the room with all her senses, some shapes moved. She could identify them quickly, she had seen Coric often enough to identify him safely in the Force. She also brushed her master briefly. So the medical station. Okay, great. Then this was probably her first visit to a bacta tank. Why? She wanted to take a deep, controlled breath, it was all almost creepy. Did not work. She could breathe, but not at her own discretion. Something was blocking her airway and throat, forcing her to take slow, regular breaths. What the? Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew that a ventilator was nothing to fight against. Still, her hands shot up, a strange feeling in the thick bacta, and frantically tugged at the thing above her mouth. It had to get out, immediately!

*~*

To his shame, Coric had to admit that he almost dozed off if the door hadn't opened and revealed two figures. He looked up, recognized the General, and jumped to his feet. „Sir?“ Rex next to him didn't seem worried or hectic, just tired, so Coric relaxed again and came towards Skywalker. „She's coming back.“ A strange greeting, but the General sounded firmly convinced and Coric followed his gaze, the Commander was still floating peacefully in the bacta tank. Coric wasn't sure how General Skywalker could be so sure, but he didn't dare to argue. „We want to get her out shortly before the end of my shift, that would save her from waking up in the tank and-“ She blinked and Coric interrupted himself. Everyone paused and watched as the disoriented girl let her gaze wander. Then she lifted a hand a tiny bit higher and Skywalker grew half a head taller. He should straighten his back more often... „She has to get out of there.“, instructed the General and one of the medics went to the controls to prepare the tank for a slow emptying. „Now!“, exclaimed the General and when Coric looked from the Medic to the Commander, he realized why Skywalker was urging him to hurry. With both hands she tugged in panic at the mask that held the tube, that supplied her with air, in place. That was a panic attack! „Get her out, immediately!“, Coric barked himself and all the medics in the room raised their eyes. A hectic rush broke out.

Rex reflexively grabbed General Skywalker's upper arm as the Jedi tried to jump forward. Better not to get in the way of the medics. They both knew that, though Skywalker was fond of forgetting. It was only when two men set the soaking wet, whipping girl down on the cold durasteel floor that Rex allowed himself a moment to worry. If she continued like this, Ahsoka would hurt herself! Skywalker hurried forward and helped the medics to get her frantically clenched hands under control. „Ahsoka, hold still.“, he muttered and although she rolled her eyes to be able to look at her Master, her panic didn't seem to subside. It wouldn't work like that, Rex watched the whole thing for exactly two seconds. Skywalker himself was still tense and Rex didn't know much about the Force, but he understood that Ahsoka knew very well when Skywalker was angry or tense. She needed a calm thing to concentrate at, something other than the unfiltered concern of the other Jedi. Without thinking further, he put his helmet to one side and hurried over to the girl with a few steps. She had squeezed her eyes shut. Was she crying? Quickly, but without wanting to appear too hasty, Rex crouched down and thus at Ahsoka's eye level. „Calm down kid.“, he instructed her and she reacted immediately to his firm tone, her eyes snapped open and she stared at him with wet eyes. She was crying. „That's good, just look at me.“, praised Rex and lowered his voice a little, he had her attention. Until one of the medics moved frantically to get some towels. Ahsoka immediately tried to turn her head around and under the mask she had drawn back her lips and dug her teeth deep into the tube in her fear. Before she could look away completely, Rex grabbed her face with one hand by the chin and forced her head back. „Eyes on me.“, he growled and when she returned his gaze, her eyes no longer just looked panicked, she was hurting. The medics would have sedated any clone by now, but not even Coric dared to leave his place directly behind Rex. „You’re okay.", muttered Rex, gesturing with his free hand to Coric to open the mask. This time Ahsoka remained calm, she had fixed her eyes firmly on Rex and carefully he raised his second hand to her jaw as well. „Soon over.", he muttered and Ahsoka blinked a few times hastily before she simply closed her eyes again. As Rex forced her jaws open with both hands, he saw from the corner of his eye how Ahsoka's small hands clenched into fists. Then Coric leaned over next to him again and pulled the mask from her face with one fluid movement, the tube followed and when Ahsokas was hardly released, she gasped violently for air.

*~*

Kix was on his way to medical anyway, but the fact that General Skywalker had him called made him hurry. With quick steps he came through the door and stopped suddenly, the scene had changed tremendously in the last few hours. The bacta tank at the end of the room was empty, a droid busy cleaning it. The medics seemed to be putting together the things from Ahsokas treatment. Kix was glad that after the last few months with the 501st, he had gotten used to the mess. He was able to locate Skywalker quickly. He was sitting on one of the beds, Coric and Rex standing with him and a slim figure leaned against Skywalker's side. As he got closer, he realized that Ahsoka had wrapped herself in one of General Skywalker's robes. Her eyes were closed, but her shoulders pulled up a little as Kix got closer. General Skywalker looked up, the corners of his mouth curling up in a relieved smile. „Kix, I want you to keep an eye on Ahsoka. Can you do that?“, he asked in a unusual calm voice and Kix forced himself to look at Coric first, after all it was he who arranged the shifts and it was far from Kix to simply agree over his head. Coric met his gaze with furrowed eyebrows, but he nodded. „Of course Sir.“, Kix replied and Skywalker nodded satisfied, carefully patting Ahsoka's head with one hand and the girl opened her eyes. „I have to get back to work, Kix is staying with you. Okay?“ She nodded and when her Master got up Kix saw her swaying briefly, Rex's hand was immediately there to support her. Everyone waited until the General left the room. „What happened?“, Kix asked quietly, he had learned Ahsoka's treatment plan by heart quickly and this was not part of it! Coric made a tired face and took out a datapad. „A panic attack, we had to get her out. I don't think we'll get her into a tank again anytime soon.", he muttered to Kix and showed him a snapshot of her vital signs, huh. That was maybe even a new record. Okay... „I want you to take her to the quarters.“, Rex contributed and with one hand he helped Ahsoka to her feet. She was trembling all over, under the robe she wore the clones' blacks that were far too large for her. At least she wouldn't be cold. Carefully, Kix wrapped an arm around her and took her from Rex. „Copy that.“ The way to the quarters was long, although Kix had wrapped his arm around the Commander so tightly that he practically carried her, they made slow progress. She still looked disoriented and scared, so Kix decided to do the only thing he could think of now. Not as a medic, but as a brother. „Do you remember the nap with the others? When you where sitting with Commander Cody?“, he asked softly as they passed two men. The sleep cycle had already begun, and few eyes followed them, even as the news of her recovery would spread like wildfire across the ship. Ahsoka muttered an affirmative sound against Kix's side and he smiled. „That's exactly what we're going to do now.“

Jesse shot up as soon as the door opened and the bright light from the hallway poured into the quarters. He blinked a few times, then the door slid shut again and in the dim light of the night lights he recognized Kix and Ahsoka, who was pressed tightly to his side and clung to his armor with both hands. In one jump he was out of his bunk and with them. Jesse wrapped an arm around Ahsoka's other side. „Commander!“ Droidbait and Cutup almost fell out of their bunks in their rush and now the others were fully awake too. Kix headed for a wall with Ahsoka and Jesse and picked up his blanket with one hand on the way. „What's that supposed to be?“, Hardcase asked and got up, Jesse smirked when Kix grinned broadly, he loved it when his brothers was relaxed enough to lose up a bit. „A nap.“, Kix replied and immediately Hardcase was on his feet, grabbed his own blanket and threw himself on the floor in front of Kix. „I've heard that one before!“, the heavygunner grinned and took the girl from Kix and Jesse with surprisingly gentle hands. Jesse had always known that Hardcase was one of the girls favourites. But it was still incredibly cute to see Hardcase wrapping his long arms around her and Ahsoka curling up on him, sniffing softly. „A nap?“, Echo asked from behind them and Jesse shrugged before sitting down next to Hardcase and opening an arm, without hesitation Kix let himself be pulled into a hug. „Yep, a good old nap. You are welcome to join.“, smiled Hardcase and cautious movement came into the remaining clones. Cutup plopped quietly to the other side of Hardcase, one hand landing on Ahsoka's back. „You really gave us a hard time vod'ika.“, muttered Droidbait and stretched out in front of them all. Kix chuckled as the others settled on the floor for the rest of the sleep cycle. „If that was already a shock to you, talk to Coric tomorrow.“, he muttered and Fives grumbled as he placed his head on Echo's shoulder. „Better not, he slept even less than you.“, Hevy mumbled and after a last grin, they went silent. Their tiny and fragile Commander was okay and with them. It would be okay.

[glennjaminhow]

“You’re only getting away with pampering me because I don’t have enough voice left to tell you to go away.”

Christmas Eve 2009 Philadelphia, PA 7:30 PM

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the apartment, not a creature was stirring, not even a Dennis.

Because Dennis is curled like a cat on the sofa, soft green blanket pulled up to his chin. He’s half-asleep, listening to the crackle of the portable fireplace and watching the snowflakes fall, encasing Philly in a beautiful white glow.

He moved the couch earlier to face their fire escape and give Dennis a better view of the world outside, the world he’s been cooped away from for the past two weeks while he recovers from double ear infections that turned into laryngitis a few days ago. Mac isn’t sure how it’s humanly possible for one dude’s immune system to be so unbelievably shitty. But, given how little Dennis eats and how generally weak his pussy ass is, his germs have gotta be like ten thousand times more germy than the normal person’s germs.

Mac doesn’t get sick because he never gets sick. He’s got the body of an ox. A strong, buff ox.

Anyway, Den’s been going crazy around here, bored out of his goddamn mind. They’ve watched all their DVDs four times each. They’ve marathoned Lord of the Rings and Indiana Jones and the Alien and Predator series twice, all with the captions on because Dennis still can’t hear for shit. Seeing him with cotton balls stuffed in his ears has been real entertaining, but first the dude can’t hear and then he can’t talk. He’s congested and cranky and not even a patented back massage from yours truly can help. Fuck, Mac even tried giving him a handy, but Dennis just scowled and pushed Mac away. Same goes with kissing or dry humping or nibbling at his neck like Dennis likes.

Which Mac guesses he understands. Dennis isn’t feeling good, so hand jobs and stuff can’t feel good either, right?

So that’s why Mac’s been waiting on him hand and foot, serving him bowl after bowl of steaming chicken noodle soup and fluffing the pillows behind his head. He’s been keeping the apartment blazingly hot, to the point where it’s 80-something degrees in here, and he’s taken up just wearing boxers and sleeveless tees in December. He makes sure Dennis takes regular baths to wash the toxins off his skin, all while shampooing and conditioning his hair because Dennis sure as shit isn’t going to do it by himself while he’s feeling like this.

“You’re only getting away with pampering me because I don’t have enough voice left to tell you to go away,” Dennis wrote in his notebook a couple days ago after his third fever-induced bath that day, showing it to Mac; Mac just rolled his eyes and ran his fingers through Dennis’ hair instead. Eventually, Dennis settled in for the afternoon, falling asleep with his face buried in the crook of Mac’s neck and snoring so painfully loud that Mac nearly smacked him but didn’t have the heart to.

The last two weeks have been a pain in the ass, but not because of Dennis, not really. Sure, the guy’s whiny and irritable, but given how fucking sick he’s been, Mac is honestly surprised he hasn’t been 8,000 times more of a dick. He guesses it’s because at first he couldn’t hear himself enough to insult Mac, and now he can’t verbalize it.

But the shittiest thing about this experience is that it’s Christmas, and Dennis is sick, and Dennis hates Christmas enough as it is. Mac went all out with decorating this year, but that’s only because he’s been cooped up too, seeing as the gang doesn’t exactly function the best without them around. Who knows what the hell they’ve been doing since Mac and Dennis holed themselves up in their apartment, but he doesn’t care. He’s been trying to make the holidays special. He gracefully put up 7 mistletoes, hanging them in places he knows he’ll be able to kiss Dennis whenever he wants. There’s a Christmas tree – fake, but still – and lights and that garland shit that tracked little pieces of paper shit everywhere.

It’s Christmas Eve, and Mac figures it’s time to put his plan in motion.

He finishes plating the pancakes and eggs. He puts a couple dots of maple syrup in the middle of Dennis’ pancakes, knowing he’ll throw an absolute bitch fit if there’s too much; Dennis won’t even touch pancakes with too much maple syrup. Mac drowns his in syrup because it’s so fucking good, but Dennis is like a different species, and Mac wants to make tonight special for him. He makes Dennis’ coffee just the way he always does – a ton of French vanilla creamer and a pinch of sugar. Mac takes his black because he isn’t a pussy.

Mac carries Dennis’ food and coffee over to their currently misplaced couch. He sets the stuff on the heater and takes in the sight of Dennis, illuminated by the white of the falling snow outside. His cheeks are flushed red, and there’s a shine of sweat on his forehead. Mac will get his antibiotics after food, just like he’s been doing since they switched Dennis’ prescription because the ear infections were resisting them.

For now, Mac shakes his knee gently. “Den,” he whispers.

Dennis slowly blinks awake as Mac keeps rubbing his knee. His eyebrows scrunch, and he opens his mouth to talk, but he knows firsthand no noise will come out; his voice is shot to shit.

“I made breakfast,” Mac says softly. “I know it’s like pretty late, but you need to eat, and it’s Christmas Eve, and I thought, ‘hey, Christmas Eve calls for pancakes!’ I also made scrambled eggs too ‘cuz I know how much you like ‘em.”

Dennis eyes him skeptically.

“They’re not burnt. Promise.”

They’re a little burned.

But Dennis takes the plate anyway. Mac sets a black plastic tray over Dennis’ lap. Mac puts the coffee and napkins there while Dennis settles the plate with trembling hands. He pokes at his food while Mac situates himself on the couch beside him. Once Mac starts pretty much swallowing without chewing because he’s the next level of hungry, Dennis follows suit, daintily cutting up his pancakes and scooping eggs onto his fork.

The only noises heard are the crackling from the fireplace and the scraping of utensils. They’ve been having quiet moments like this a lot more often, and it’s refreshing from their usual lifestyle of kicking ass and planning schemes and drinking till the sun comes up. Since they started hooking up, things have been better, and Dennis seems so much happier.

Mac’s thankful for that.

Dennis slurps his coffee until there’s nothing more than a dribble left in the mug. His plate is half gone.

“Want some more?” Mac asks as he finishes the rest of his eggs. “I got like a shit load left, dude.”

Dennis shakes his head. He looks tired, like he could fall asleep any second. He shivers.

Mac moves the tray to the floor. “C’mere, Den,” he whispers.

Dennis lays his head on Mac’s shoulder immediately. Mac wraps him up in his arms and kisses the top of his sweaty hair.

“T-Thank you,” Dennis forces out, long after Mac thought he’d fallen back asleep.

Mac snaps out of his snow-watching trance; fuck, Philly really is beautiful when it snows.

“For what?” he asks. He wants to tell Dennis to save his voice and rest up, but he doesn’t.

Truth be told, he’s missed Dennis’ voice a lot. Like so much more than he thought possible.

Dennis grabs Mac’s hand and rubs his thumb over his knuckles; Mac practically vibrates out of his skin. “Taking ca-care of me… Loving me.”

His voice is a scratchy, garbled train wreck, and, honestly, Mac can barely understand him, but the words are sincere. Ever since they started banging, Dennis has been more and more open with him. Less angry. More willing to resolve their fights without resorting to low blows and scratches. When they get upset, they talk. They hold hands. They make out. They play footsies under the covers. They just… get each other.

Mac knows this can’t go on forever. Knows he’s living in sin and eventually must go back on God’s path. But these few kind words from Dennis fill his heart with happiness and the sense that maybe – just maybe – this can be sustained.

“You don’t have to thank me, Den. I love you. I want to take care of you.”

Dennis nods and snuggles in closer, tangling their fingers together and nudging the back of his head into Mac’s collarbone.

Eventually, Christmas Eve turns into Christmas Morning. They fall asleep on the couch, Dennis with his head in Mac’s pillowed lap and curled into his stomach and Mac slouched to the side against a mountain of blankets.

Snow continues to fall, and the artificial fire burns as bright as the love in Mac’s heart.

[havenoffandoms]

Just Fine (Aiden/Lambert)

Based on Kashimalin’s 50 Types of Kisses Prompt List

Read on Ao3

Prompt:  “Pulling away from a kiss, whispering words of love against each other’s lips.”

Summary: 

Today is the day. Lambert knows he should feel more excited at the thought of his boyfriend returning home, to the safety of Lambert’s embrace, but he can’t help the anxiety building inside him and twisting his stomach in a way he doesn’t care for in the least.

Lambert knows that he should be excited, but the sentiment is tarnished by his crippling anxiety, and he feels like the worst boyfriend in the world.

Warnings: mention of amputation, modern AU

“So, today’s the day, huh?” Eskel smirks as he watches Lambert positively vibrating with excitement where he’s sat on a chair opposite Eskel. The coffee shop is mostly empty, save for another couple in the corner exchanging kisses and giggling carelessly as they rejoice in their puppy love. Lambert chose this place because it’s closest to the airport, but admittedly the place isn’t half-bad and the coffee doesn’t taste like piss.

“Stop that, it’s creepy,” Lambert grouses as he stuffs another forkful of chocolate cake into his mouth. When he notices Eskel’s confused frown, Lambert rolls his eyes and adds pointedly, “you, being all excited on my behalf. That’s unnatural. Stop it.”

“Whatever.” Eskel takes a sip of his tea - because Eskel is the kind of person who likes to drink tea for fun - before levelling Lambert with a look that the latter knows all too well. “You’re allowed to be excited about his return, you know? It’s been a year since he-”

“I know,” Lambert quickly interrupts before Eskel has a chance to finish his sentence, “I am excited.”

“Tell your face, then.”

“Shut up, prick.”

“It’s gonna be fine, Lambert.” Eskel reaches across the table to squeeze Lambert’s clammy hand. “I know you’re worried because of his injury, but you’ll both figure it out together. You don’t love him any less for it, right?”

“Of course not,” Lambert snaps in response as he snatches his hand away, angry at the mere suggestion that his feelings for Aiden would disappear for something as superficial as a physical injury, “of course I don’t love him any less for it. It’s just…”

Eskel doesn’t press him, and Lambert is grateful for that. Truth be told, he’s not entirely sure why he feels so anxious at the thought of seeing Aiden again. It’s been a long year without his boyfriend there to warm his bed and his life. Aiden is the life of Lambert’s entire life, and a year without him felt like the longest time. A whole year went by since Aiden was deployed and has been fighting overseas, taking part in a war that has lost all meaning. He missed birthdays, holidays spent with family around a hearty meal, milestone anniversaries... A year of Lambert staying up late at night, calling Aiden whenever his connection permitted it or writing letters to send his boyfriend when speaking to him proved too difficult. A year of Lambert switching the TV or radio on every morning before heading to work, listening for the announcements and hoping he wouldn’t hear Aiden’s name listed among the soldiers that perished as part of this senseless war.

Just over a week ago, Aiden called Lambert from a military hospital overseas a short two days after he was involved in an explosion that cost the lives of hundreds of civilians and soldiers alike. While Aiden survived the blast, he sustained a considerable injury to his leg. The doctors couldn’t save it, Aiden told Lambert over the phone, the leg had to come off. Lambert remembered crying on the phone that night, not because he mourned the loss of Aiden’s leg - they were tears of relief because Aiden came this close to dying in the blast that killed so many people. Lambert came this close to losing the most important person in his life. Come home, baby, Lambert remembered begging Aiden over the phone, I need you to come home. Today is the day. Lambert knows he should feel more excited at the thought of his boyfriend returning home, to the safety of Lambert’s embrace, but he can’t help the anxiety building inside him and twisting his stomach in a way he doesn’t care for in the least. As a result of the injury he suffered, Aiden had to retire from the military early. While Lambert was happy to have his boyfriend return to him, he knew that Aiden struggled with the thought of retiring at the prime of his career. Not only is he out of a job, but his job prospects are not looking too bright, either. Aiden will have to spend time in physiotherapy, physical rehabilitation courses, counselling… Lambert knows the next months will be tough on his boyfriend.

Lambert knows that he should be excited, but the sentiment is tarnished by his crippling anxiety, and he feels like the worst boyfriend in the world.

“It’s gonna be just fine, Lamb.” Eskel sounds so sure, so confident, that Lambert is almost inclined to believe him. “I promise, brother. You and Aiden will be just fine.”

“I hope you’re right, Kel.”

The drive to the airport is longer than Lambert remembers it being. The car is filled with the sound of heavy rock and heavy metal, the loud emphatic beats and distorted guitar solos washing over Lambert in calming waves. His brothers call him weird for finding this kind of music ‘soothing’, but it works for him, so his brothers can kiss his ass. The sun is beating down on the world below, forcing Lambert to crank up the A/C in the car. He drives along miles of barbed wire, “KEEP OUT” signs and parked aircraft. Lambert checks the time on his dashboard and realises that he’s a whole half an hour early. It isn’t exactly unheard of for soldiers’ families to arrive early and prepare for their loved one’s arrival - either by setting up signs, powdering their noses or getting the children to practice a welcome home song to celebrate their parents’ triumphant return. Lambert usually just waits in the shadows until Aiden comes into view, at which point he pulls his boyfriend close to him so they can get reacquainted away from prying eyes.

Lambert pulls into the airport multistorey parking complex, and thankfully he doesn’t have to spend ages looking for a parking space. As he pulls up into a tight space, Lambert’s heart sinks in his chest. Aiden will probably be travelling in a wheelchair - and he will be using one for a while, at least until he gets his prosthetic leg fitted. There’s no way in hell that Aiden will be able to comfortably step into the car if Lambert stays parked in this spot, but what other choice does he have? He doesn’t have a disabled parking permit yet, but Lambert guesses that’s something they’ll have to think about now. Until then, all he can do is park further away from the door and hope that no one will use the bay next to the passenger side so Aiden has enough space to move comfortably. So that’s precisely what he does. Shit, is Lambert overthinking this? Is he looking for problems where there are none? The last thing he wants is to tiptoe around Aiden’s disability. The last thing he wants is to make Aiden feel like things have changed because he lost his leg.

Shit. Why is he crying now? He should be excited, goddammit.

Lambert angrily wipes the tears and steps out of the car. They’ll be just fine, that’s what Eskel said. Eskel sounded so confident, so sure of himself, but hell, what if he’s wrong? What if Aiden leaves Lambert? What if Aiden pushes Lambert away? It was probably a mistake to read up all those army wives’ blogs and the nightmarish stories about husbands shutting down and falling into depression after sustaining a serious injury. Shit, what if Lambert isn’t good enough? What if Aiden thinks that Lambert is a lousy boyfriend who can’t take well enough care of him?

Deep breaths, Lambert. In, out. In, out. In-

Shit, why are there so many people in this fucking airport? Lambert stands in his usual corner, shying away from the crowds, averting everyone’s eyes as he stares at his phone. He shoots his brothers a text in their group chat - Have I ever told u guys how much I h8 crowds? - hoping that they will understand and distract him from the panic welling up in his chest. As he waits for an answer from either Geralt or Eskel, Lambert switches to his Facebook app and scrolls through his feed. He doesn’t have to wait long until the group chat pings with Geralt’s response.

G: You’ve mentioned it once or twice… or 100

Lambert snorts as he shoots a sassy comeback.

So mentioning it 1 more time won’t hurt. I fucking h8 goddamn crowds.

A quick glance at the arrivals screen tells Lambert that Aiden’s plane landed a few short minutes ago. Not long before they are reunited and able to hug it out in the middle of the airport. At this point, Lambert doesn’t give a shit anymore about what other people think of them. He almost lost Aiden, so he will go on his knees and hug him, wheelchair be damned. Lambert looks around him and sees many families and loved ones itching to welcome the soldiers back. Some of them brought flowers, or the puppy they bought last week as a welcome-home present, and even newborn babies. Lambert wonders if he should have bought Aiden a gift to commemorate the beginning of his retirement. He feels like that would be in bad taste considering Aiden’s feelings on the matter.

The first soldiers start to filter through the door, eyes scanning the room and lighting up when they land on familiar faces. Many people cry tears of joy and relief, others manage to keep a modicum of composure, and some even let out shrill cries of joy as they are finally reunited with the people they love and cherish the most. There is still no sight of Aiden and part of Lambert worries that something happened to him in the week it took the military to organise his repatriation. Feeling the panic well up in him again, Lambert pulls out his phone and opens the group chat window. L: What if he doesn’t come back?

It doesn’t take long for his phone to vibrate with Eskel’s response.

E: As if he’d pass up an opportunity to come back to his pain in the ass boyfriend.

L: Ass.

G: He’ll come back, Lamb. He’ll come back and he’s not leaving again.

Lambert takes a deep breath as he lets these words run through his mind. Aiden is coming back. He’s coming back. He’s-

“Why, hello there,” a familiar voice breaks through the storm raging in Lambert’s head, “come here often?”

Aiden looks so… so like himself. He’s sporting that familiar cocksure grin and his eyes shimmer with all the emotions he can’t bring himself to voice. His voice sounds so self-assured, even though Lambert knows he’s only a breath away from losing it and crying tears of relief. His hair is slightly longer and Lambert can make out the familiar dark curls he loves so much. Aiden looks so much like his old self that Lambert forgets, for a short minute, that he’s missing the lower half of his left leg entirely.

“Aiden. You’re here.”

“No place I’d rather be.”

Lambert doesn’t feel himself fall to his knees until they hit the solid surface of the airport floor, cracking in protest at the impact. He lunges forward and wraps his arms around Aiden’s middle, squeezing tightly and burying his face in his boyfriend’s stomach. He’s unable to bite back the tears this time, and if Aiden notices that the soft material of his t-shirt is soaked right through, he doesn’t draw attention to it. Instead, he cards his fingers through Lambert’s short hair, softly shushing him and whispering heartfelt reassurances in the air pocket between them.

“I’m here, baby,” Aiden tells him over and over, “I’m back. I’m here, sweetheart. I love you.”

“I missed you,” Lambert hears himself say, “I missed you. I was so scared, Aiden, you don’t understand-”

“I’m here, Lamb. I’m here. You don’t have to be scared, anymore.”

They’ve got so much shit to figure out, Lambert knows. They need to think about all the adjustments they need to make to their lives, all the paperwork they’ll have to fill out, therapy sessions they have to book and medical insurance they need to update. All these things that terrified Lambert a few hours earlier, all these plans that made panic well in him and want to run for the hills… all these worries weighing him down disappear the second Lambert feels Aiden’s arms around him, squeezing him, comforting him.

“I’m not scared,” Lambert assures Aiden, pulling back and straightening up so he can place a soft kiss on Aiden’s lips. They still feel the same against his own, they still taste the same, too. Nothing has changed. Aiden is still Aiden. “Not anymore.”

“Anymore?” There’s a teasing edge in Aiden’s voice, a mocking grin tugging at his lips. “Ah, kitten. You don’t have to worry about a thing. I gotcha. Now shut up and kiss me again.”

Lambert happily obliges Aiden’s request. Their lips slot against each other like they didn’t just spend a year apart. Their kiss is tender and soft at first, but Lambert is quick to deepen it by licking Aiden’s bottom lip. Neither of them cares about the potential eyes on him - nobody is likely to pay attention to them, not when they’re all lost in the joy of being reunited with their own family members. Lambert breaks the kiss briefly to whisper a soft ‘I love you’ to Aiden. His cheeks turn red as he speaks those three words which still feel too intimate to be loudly proclaimed in public, even after all these years. Aiden steals another kiss before reciprocating the sentiment, his breath ghosting over Lambert’s lips and sending a peasant shiver coursing through his body.

They have lots of shit to figure out, but Aiden is here and he’s not going anywhere. Aiden is here, and neither of them has to deal with the situation on their own. They’ll be just fine. Everything will be just fine.

[trumen-indore]

Trumen came into existence in 2009 and initially started with manufacturing of Tuning Fork Level Switches for liquid and solid applications. With time, the manufacturing range increased with addition of Capacitance Level Transmitter & Capacitance Level Switches, RF Admittance Level Switches, Rotating Paddle Level Switches, Conductivity Type Level Switches, Vibrating Rod Level Switches, Hydrostatic Level Transmitter, Radar Level Transmitter & Ultrasonic Level Transmitter. Trumen is a technocrat driven organization aimed at providing top-of-the-range and high quality level measurement and process control instruments. Formed by the pioneers who devoted their respective lives in development, design and delivery of solution to the problems faced in the field of level sensing and process measurements. Trumen has a fixed point agenda about "sensing matters", and each device created at Trumen is thoroughly tested to pass the quality norms set in-house, in order to give the best performance in all operating conditions.

Address: 39, Mangal Nagar, Behind Sai Ram Plaza, Near Rajeev Gandhi Circle, AB Road, Indore, Madhya Pradesh 452001

Web: https://trumen.in/

[rainbowcaleb]

Stardust

{thirty solar years ago}

Essek understood that what he was planning could be considered reckless endangerment, or it would be if it wasn’t him planning it. He’s attempted spells before that were adjacent in nature, even if not quite at the same strength, and he was certain he knew the theory precisely and accurately.

The only true lingering problem was one of components.

Essek needed stardust.

He had already poked around his own lab, in-disguise around town, and even sent a few coded messages to his less than above board contacts. In a fit of frustration he had re-read six tomes of arcana and triple checked his already-scrutinized spellwork. There was no getting around it. Meteorite shavings did not work, attempts with star ruby spell gems did nothing, even a mote of pure energized light was no replacement. The spell needed stardust, freshly collected and as close to alive as it could be. Essek was confident in his own power, and graviturgy was a delightful field of study, but he could not possibly be expected to yank down a star from the very sky just to use for a component?

Perhaps that’s why this particular magical feat had never been attempted before; it required a long life of patience to wait until a star fell your way, or the power to rearrange fate into a more favorable position.

Essek left the familiar space of his lab to head up to his observatory. If he had to pace fruitlessly while pondering this problem, he might as well have a more pleasing visual. He strode up his stairs to the highest point of his tower, stepping outside the lab space onto the narrow balcony that surrounded the top. From here he had a full view of the spread of the city beneath him, lamplights bright among the ever-darkness. Above him it was mirrored, distant pinpricks of stars scattered across the sky, twinkling in a frustratingly joyful way. Essek could be patient. He had centuries ahead of him, perhaps more. He gripped the edge of the banister, the cold metal sharp under his palms. He had not gotten to where he was now by waiting on something to randomly click into place. As he watched the slow turn of the interlooped rings that charted the ley lines of magic in the world, he knew what he had to do and how.

He pushed back inside his tower, raising his arm as he did so. One quick movement later and he pulled his spellbook from the air and into his hand. Essek felt he was stacking risk onto risk in his pursuit of this goal, but if he was correct (and many years of life had taught him he usually was) then with adding this spell he could trade centuries of waiting for mere decades. 

He stepped into the middle of the room where the carved sigils and runes on the floor were most concentrated. A stripe of crushed agate here, a dusting of fossilized wood, bones of a mouse trapped in amber set in the middle, and then Essek stood above his little pile with a forked metal tool in hand. With a sharp burst of power, he struck his metal rod into the pile like a match and the components burst into flame. The bright red only lasted a split second before the flames rolled into yellow, pure white, and then into a simmering grey. Essek kept his hand to the illusory fire to ensure an even burn across the tool in his hand, clenching his teeth from the unsettling chill of the spell, until the last of the flames flickered out with a last dusty gasp.

He stood up straight, turning the rod over in his hands. The once-gold metal had burnished into an iridescent black that seemed to eat up the light in his room. He stepped out into the night air once again, keeping his eyes on the sky above. He raised the tool up, and without looking away from the stars on the horizon, he flicked the fork. Essek could feel the rod reverberate in his hand, but the sound was too high for even his ears to pick up on. He held the fork skyward until the very last of the tremors in the metal stopped.

Essek sighed. That was the easy part.

Now he had to wait.

{present day}

It had become a habit. Every day before meditating Essek would traverse the familiar steps up his tower, and up and up until he reached the highest point. He would step outside onto the balcony (now since widened for easier access) and walk a slow circle around his ever-swirling ley links to observe the night sky. He would hold his fork in his hand as he paced, hoping that tonight the rod would ring again.

At this point it had been three decades of waiting. And while Essek had grown accustomed and somewhat fond of his slow nightly stroll around his observatory, there was the smallest nagging voice that perhaps in the overconfidence of his youth he had performed the spell wrong.

He was beginning to believe those thoughts tonight. He continued his circular pace, the rod loose in his hand, and instead he started to ponder improvements, experiments, and another attempt….

Essek dropped the rod suddenly as he was utterly shaken from his thoughts. He picked it quickly back up, bringing it to eye level. Even if the trembling metal in his hand wasn’t confirmation enough, he could see that the fork element of the rod was ringing, and the glossy black surface seemed to shift and warp.

A star was nearby. 

He scanned the horizon quickly. It was possible he was distracted, or facing the wrong way, and had missed the telltale streak of light. But the fork would tell him, it would point him the right way. Essek floated down his stairs, opting to put on an illusion disguise rather than wasting any time with his mantle as he rushed out his door. The rod was singing under his hand, the metal growing warmer as it rang. Some force of power was pulling him down this path, guiding his movements left, right, right again, as he hurried through the city. He felt magnetized and the fork was yanking him towards the very thing he sought. The missing piece of his spell. The final piece.

In a matter of minutes he was outside of the Lucid Bastion. Essek knew in his disguise he would not be let past the guards, he would have to switch to Shadowhand Thelyss if he wanted to venture in. It wasn’t that unusual for the Shadowhand to arrive at the Bastion very late or very early, depending on what work needed to be done. The magnetic pull of his path was almost forcing his hand out in front of him, so Essek snapped his generic drow disguise off and pulled his mantle from his pocket dimension. It took a moment longer than usual, as he did not want to let go of the trembling metal fork for even a second, but with the Shadowhand persona firmly reaffixed, Essek swept into the Bastion and started down its labyrinthine halls. 

He floated as briskly as he could without catching attention, but his giddy anticipation sped him through salon after salon, the wind of his movement sweeping his mantle out behind him. He only paused when he heard noisy overlapping voices, accents he couldn't quite place, and most interestingly all speaking Common. 

Essek slowed and peered around the corner, the fork tremors shaking up his wrist into his forearm now. He caught the tail end of a group being led past the double doors at the end of the hall, into the antechamber before the court of the Queen. Even at this distance his eyes were drawn immediately to the two humans in the ragtag group. It was extremely unusual to see in Rosohna. He had just seconds to catalogue all details he could see before they disappeared behind the tall doors. Essek’s gaze flitted last to the human male, bright red hair catching his attention. 

The vibrations in his hand surged in intensity, making him pull away from the wall in fear of involuntarily knocking against it. Essek could barely hold the rod anymore. It wanted him to go forward and now. 

Even as he was conjuring up a plausible excuse to enter the antechamber, a message rang through and interrupted his mind. It was a summons. The Bright Queen had called a meeting of the full court within the hour.

Essek summoned his full concentration to open his pocket dimension and forced himself to drop the fork within. He could not have that distracting him or alerting any prying eyes. He did not need questions about his private affairs. He drifted back down the hall from where he came and his thoughts pondered that odd group of strangers and the redhead human. Essek did not believe in coincidences, and so the meeting must involve these people. And the fork...it’s pull had definitely directed his hand in their direction.

He had many questions (how did such commoners stumble upon a star? what would they want it for? how were they containing it’s essence alive, and not letting it fall chill and inert as stone?), but all answers seemed to point, once again, to patience. 

The star was still potent, he was sure of it, and it was within hand's reach somewhere in the Bastion. This was the closest he had ever been to his goal. Essek couldn't stop the uncharacteristic grin from spreading across his face. 

Nothing could stop him now.

{ day 2 prompt from @finelyfrenzied ‘s fictober list, I am so slow to write these haha. I’ll catch up eventually! }

[jungxk]

just one (vi)

notes: the only guy on campus who’s track record trumped that of your best friend’s - park jimin - was jeon jungkook. not that that was a problem…until he set his sights on you.

warnings: smut (f recieving), protected sex

genre: drama, romance, humour, college!au

wordcount: 5.3k

part i // part ii // part iii // part iv // part v // part vi // part vii // part viii // part ix // part x 

you watch sadly as you tip your case of empty paint tubes into the bin. they were your absolute favourite, a birthday gift from jimin almost two years ago. you had been so careful and stingy with them all this time to preserve as much as possible - at least to get you to the end of the semester - so it was disheartening to have to finally throw them out. oils were always your favourite. still, there wasn't much time for moping; if you were to get your next piece finished by the deadline you better start now because of the drying period between layers of watercolour.

"maybe jungkook has a hairdryer..." you mumble to yourself before padding over to his room. he's sitting at his tiny little work desk with his back to you when you peek over his shoulder. "kook, do you have a hairdryer?"

he points without removing his eyes from the screen. "the bottom drawer over there."

"thanks," you do a double take as you pass him with the appliance in tow, his eyes a little bloodshot and face twisted into what looks like terror. usually you couldn't so much as clean a paintbrush without jungkook all over you while you were at his place, but he barely spoke the whole afternoon. you take a tentative step towards him, because if he was anything like jimin when he's stressed he might get rabid. "you alright?"

"i dunno, am i?" he collapses back into the chair, threading his fingers through his hair which was getting wonderfully long. but the only thing you can pay attention to now are his panicked eyes and jittery knees. "i don't know what the fuck any of these numbers mean! why do i even need this for photography-"

"what is it?" you smooth your hand over his back, muscles stiff.

he deflates under your touch. "i agreed to peers taking questionnaires about my portfolio so far and i fucking regret it, noona. this stats software looks nothing like minecraft. i dont know what this all means. my prof said it'd help with cohesiveness - whatever that means - but he's off on one if he thinks this has done anything other than confuse me and ruin my life."

you try your best to hold back a smile, but jungkook is so cute when he's pouty and frustrated. "okay, well what are your variables?"

"my what? baby, i'm not in the mood right now-"

"no you dipshit, like," you gesture with your hands. "what are the things you're measuring? in the questionnaire?"

jungkook stares at you blankly. "i'm...what?"

you roll your eyes, grabbing the back of his chair to swivel him and plop onto his lap. "let me see."

jungkook has no idea what's going on, both because he doesn't know what you're talking about and also because you're covering the screen so he's spared of having to follow your clicking and tinkering. all he knows is that you fit nicely on his lap and that your bare thighs are warm on his, and it's much easier to focus on that anyway. especially since you aren't wearing underwear. after a few minutes he hooks his chin over your shoulder to at least try to keep up. "what are you doing, noona?"

"just cleaning up your dataset," you mumble. you finally perk up after a few more minutes. "oh, okay! so all you want to know is if the people who like the first half of your portfolio like the second half just as much, and whether that opinion affects the other? like a correlation, right?"

he sits up excitedly. "yeah! yeah, that's it," he stares at your profile in disbelief while you waste no time in running the analyses. "how do you know about this stuff, noona?"

"i did stats in my science major. the software i had back then, now that was a real pain in the ass. but this one isn't so bad," you reply absently while jungkook keeps staring at you like you're an angel that descended from the heavens especially for him. he has yet to believe otherwise. "hmm, you know i think you can skip all the sample level descriptives and cronbach's alpha scores and go straight to pearson's r if all you're looking for is a correlation. what would you prefer?"

he breathes in your hair; coconut, jasmine. his cologne. "you’re so sexy when i don’t understand what you’re saying."

x

x

x

jimin's face twists when he tests the contents of the pan. "can you tell me why this tastes like tae's dirty socks?"

“can you tell me why you know what tae’s dirty socks taste like?” you lean over the counter, swiping a finger over the ladle before bringing it to your mouth. you always used to cook for your family when you were younger, and although you had gone off it after what happened, you didn't mind when it was with jimin. with him, you didn't think about the memories of cutting onions with your father or grinding chillies with your mother and sister. it all felt new again, something that was never tarnished. which is why jimin is the only one you can stand to cook with even if he's unable to make anything but mojitos and a single pasta dish. "not enough garlic."

he squints at his phone while you manoeuvre him out of your way. "but it says two cloves in the recipe?"

"it's never two cloves," you take the knife and start to crush and peel more. "always start with four, maybe five."

"can't we just order takeout?" jimin pouts pathetically. he just washed his hair so its still damp, cheeks a rosy from the bathroom steam. you only wish his long line of hookups could see their ladies man now, bundled up in a powerpuff girls  sweater that he stole from you months ago.

"no," you pluck his phone from his hand before he can dial, replacing it with more cloves for him to peel. "you've been having takeout all week! all that oil can't be good for you, what's the point of sweating your tits off in that gym if you're just gonna eat shit?"

"i don't always eat shit!"

"jimin. we share a just eat email account. i know the chinese place isn't sending me customer loyalty codes," he rounds the stool where you're sat in the small place between your back and the wall, his palm skirting behind your waist to move you gently aside. "just let me see you eat a vegetable today, i'm begging. so if you keel over tomorrow from IBS i'll feel less guilty."

"alright alright," he huffs, rubbing at his puffy eyes with his sleeve before picking up the knife again. "i don't see what the big deal is, if i was breaking out then that'd be another issue but my body can clearly handle it. maybe it's like that episode of drake and josh where his body becomes accustomed to all the junk food he eats and-"

"please don't use drake and josh as a marker for your health."

"fine," and then without missing a beat, "but what about kenan and kel? all that orange soda and kel was totally fine. healthy even."

"physically, maybe. but did you see the screw in the tuna episode? don't tell me he didn't have inner demons that may or may not have been increased by an overly processed diet," you pause. "wait, am i the kenan in this friendship?"

"depends. i want to say you're the brains but i've also seen you try to open a can with a fork, so."

"hey! that wasn't my fault!" you exclaim, but jimin ignores you purposely. "taehyung told me you fucked yeri in the kitchen, how was i supposed to know what was and wasn't contaminated?"

"___, the fork was plastic."

"well what else would you have me do, starve?"

"what is this, the fucking famine? you said it yourself, we share a just eat email so the smart thing to do would be order. besides i dunno what makes you think i'd fuck a girl with a can opener in my vicinity anyway-"

"um, you're you," you chastise. "so i rest my case."

"then i'm definitely kenan," jimin laughs when you swat at him before your phone vibrates, one after another until it almost falls off the kitchen counter if you didn't grab it in time. you don't dare to unlock your phone when you see the contact name on the screen, too hyper-aware of jimin eyeing you over the chopping board. even he sees the gist of the messages jungkook sent you.

[jungkook 7:13pm] u left ur shirt here again noona

[jungkook 7:13pm] at this rate ur never gonna get it back are u :)

[jungkook 7:14pm] i'm free all day tomorrow

[jungkook 7:16pm] wanna come over?

[jungkook 7:16pm] i still haven't washed it btw so

[jungkook 7:17pm] we can do laundry together :))

[jungkook 7:18pm] or maybe later tonight ? i can pick u up ?

you don't even get a good read of the messages - all those smiley faces gave you enough of an idea. it wasn't a surprise or anything, but you still switch your phone to do not disturb and leave it face down on the counter like you have something to hide. which you don't. so why did it feel so wrong? so disrespectful, here in jimin's kitchen? you gnaw at your cheek.

jimin has his back to you so thankfully you're spared of having to gage his expression. he's probably sent a million thirsty texts so he knows what they look like, knows that he shouldn't be surprised. still, he shifts from foot to foot uneasily. the only thing that makes him stop is you leaning wordlessly over him to lower the stove to a simmer, turning the tap on to wash some rice and hum quietly. here was jeon jungkook, arguably the biggest stud on campus blowing up your phone on a friday night but nothing felt different. you'd always choose him and jimin knew that.

"what do you think of egg fried rice?" you ask over your shoulder. "i haven't made it in ages. the one with the veggies?"

jimin smiles. "i love that one,"

x

x

x

"he's not back yet?" you ask when yoongi lets you into the flat, shoulders deflating childishly. he gives you a lazy shake of his head before nudging you to the sofa to take up your usual spot on the matted cushion in the corner, kicking your shoes away and sitting cross legged. yoongi and namjoon's flat was only round the corner from jungkook's, a worn down little two-bed that smelled rather questionable at times, but it quickly became a familiar place. a safe place. especially because of how often you'd come over while jungkook was running late at class or the gym or photo-hunting. coming to terms with the fact that you were sleeping with jungkook wasn't that hard, but being friends with his friends was.

"it's leg day. you know how jungkookie feels about his chicken calves," yoongi says before flopping down next to you. namjoon was tucked into the other side with a book, effectively squishing you into yoongi with his big shoulders. if jungkook was here he'd pout about having nowhere to sit and the thought only makes you more pleased. "he'd be there until sundown if you weren't waiting for him."

"are you sure you're one to talk about chicken legs?" you reach to tickle yoongi's knees and he barely manages to flinch away in time.

"i love my chicken legs the way they are, thanks. can't say the same for your boyfriend though."

you freeze. "i told you to stop saying that, yoongi. you know he hates the b word. one more slip up and you won't ever see me here again. last time he avoided me for two weeks!"

"never see you again? doubt it. your hair clogged the shower drain yesterday so you pretty much owe rent at this point," yoongi keeps flicking through the channels on the television. "besides, i know what a man with a monkey on his back looks like. kookie just doesn't like being reminded of it because unfortunately for him there's no rehab to quit you."

a rush of blood goes straight to your cheeks. yoongi loves to tease you and you know that, second only to jungkook who actually does get off to it, but you still tap nervously on the carpet with your toes while desperately hoping for namjoon to step into the conversation with a weird conspiracy theory or black hole fact he read on an astronomy blog. anything to dig you out of this metaphorical hole you and jungkook are hellbent on ignoring. yoongi sees the way you curl in on yourself slightly, a sensible and collected flower like you reduced to a fidgety school girl. it's cute.

"hyung," namjoon says with his eyes still glued to his book. "stop winding her up or her face'll explode and then jiminie will come for your throat."

yoongi scoffs. "and? what's that short-ass gonna do, cry on me to death?"

"you're like two inches taller than him."

"two and a half, actually."

"so he really was a crybaby?" you scoot to fold your legs under you. "jungkook told me before but i didn't believe him! i've tried everything but i can never get a reaction out of jimin...i mean, if horny isn't an emotion."

"oh yeah, totally," namjoon puts an arm on the back on the back of the sofa behind you when he looks up. his silver hair brings out the beautifully rich undertone of his skin and it's difficult not to stare, being so close. "if the patriarchy hadn't fucked him up he'd be a real tree hugger, i'm sure of it. but the last time i saw him cry was...hmm..."

"five years ago," yoongi chimes. "when jungkookie got caught."

"ooooh yeah," namjoon nods. "but jimin and jungkook were super close back then. he was so protective of him, waited in the custody office for hours until they finally-"

"wait," you look between them. "caught? what do you mean?"

the boys exchange a glance between them. it's not like you didn't know that yoongi sells weed and often with namjoon's help. in fact, they often told you about their wild stories and close calls. but they had never mentioned jungkook being involved with any of that stuff, and neither had he. you always just assumed that he'd kept his head out of it, being a college student and all but yoongi's shrugging and namjoon's pursed lips tell you otherwise.

"jungkook got charged with possession as a minor," yoongi says. "i mean, seventeen but still. too baby-faced."

"jungkook sold for you?" you repeat, not quite believing your ears. he had always been the better off out of his friends that often did shadier things, but the more you got to know him the more you felt like the jungkook you heard about and the jungkook you knew were two different boys. it really shouldn't have come as a surprise, since he had practically grown up with yoongi, namjoon and jimin. his hyungs were his family and he'd do anything for them, there was really no reason he wouldn't take up their trade.

"oh yeah, almost a year. he was good at it too," namjoon laughs. "our kookie's good at everything if you give him enough chances."

"so what happened?" you press. "does he...does he still sell?"

"are you kidding? we got him out of all that shit the second he stepped out the office," yoongi rubs the back of his neck. "jungkook isn't like us. he's a good kid with a lot of talent and he didn't need to be doing all that you know? we convinced him to go to school instead but even then, jimin made us swear to look out for him because he left earlier than kookie."

"wow, jimin really hasn't changed," you lean back. "in like, taking care of people i mean. so is that when jungkook got into photography? he did talk about getting his first camera when he was like eighteen or something..."

namjoon nods happily in recollection. "yup! we were so proud when jungkook got accepted into university, especially after jimin and hobi. people from our town don't usually pursue higher education-"

"especially with kookie's record," yoongi laughs.

"why?" you blink at him.

"the weed was one thing, but jungkook also got a strike for violence."

namjoon winces. "hyung, he's gonna throw a tantrum if you tell her..."

"i don't care. she's fucking him, she has a right to know," yoongi retorts evenly, dark eyes swivelling to meet yours. his light hair is matted from under his beanie, barely missing his lashes. "a few years ago jungkook beat a guy so bad he had to go into emergency. it was pretty gross. broken nose, missing teeth, you name it. he's been on thin ice since but he doesn't act like it."

you take a second to digest the information. "do you...do you know why?" you waver, unable to keep the horror from your voice. "knocking a guy's teeth out? people don't just do that!"

"kookie did," namjoon sighs.

"but why? it's so...i just can't imagine jungkook doing something like that..."

"something like what?"

your head snaps to the doorway where jungkook can be seen only partially when he bends over to unlace his shoes, namjoon and yoongi simultaneously pinching your legs to wipe the wide-eyed look off your face. it was one of the many times when wearing your heart on your sleeve did not do you any favours. you just about manage to look normal enough within the half a second it takes for jungkook to come in, hair mussed from his post-gym shower and tee wrinkled from being stuffed into the bottom of his bag. his eyes look extra big today, nose and knuckles blushed pink from all the lifting. he couldn't look farther from the violent offender yoongi and namjoon described. in fact, the sudden urge to kiss him hello was near suffocating.

"i was telling her about the time you wore hyung's underwear for two weeks," namjoon explains, years of lying paying off with how smoothly he returns to his book.

"what!" yoongi splutters. "are you kidding?! a whole week, jungkook that's disgusting-"

the younger boy winces. "not the same pair!"

"wait. you took more than one?!"

"um..."

"how many. tell me right now you little shit."

"i promise they were clean!" jungkook says defensively, but his buck teeth show in a defensive little grin. it's impossible to be mad at him. "my washing machine broke, remember? and i never have change so i didn't go to the laundrette's and-"

"which ones?" yoongi's voice becomes obnoxiously loud with dismay. "tell me right now so can go upstairs and burn them. jesus jungkook you could have at least asked me, now i have to live with the knowledge that your bollocks is acquainted with mine until i die-"

"hyung they were clean," jungkook insists. "and if i asked i knew you wouldn't have let me borrow them!"

"yeah because it's gross! why didn't you just take joonie's?"

"i did. but he caught me and told me to take yours instead."

you just about manage to insert yourself between yoongi before he can grab a fistful of namjoon's hair while jungkook throws back his head in a loud cackle.

x

x

x

[jimin 7:58pm] you dont mind do u?

it's hard not to roll your eyes at his message, momentarily leaving your phone on the bed while you unclasp your bra. it wasn't the first time jimin had bailed on you last minute because of some girl he'd picked up for longer than expected. you're just thankful that this time he had the courtesy to tell you before you got to his house and burst into his bedroom without knocking only to see areas of your best friend you really did not need to see. even though you shudder at the memories - yes, plural - the sinking feeling of disappointment can't be masked. it's movie night.

[you 8:01pm] yh its fine

[you 8:02pm] but u owe me one i put on a bra for you asshole

[jimin 8:04pm] ofc babe

[jimin 8:04] just skip it next time :)

you snort before locking your phone and throwing it on the bed, padding over the room in your knickers to select some sleeping shorts off the floor. jisoo went home for a family birthday and seulgi had a deadline for monday, so it was safe to say you were alone for the weekend. you were used to being alone but you didn't like it; it was the reason why you'd always trudge to jimin's if the girls weren't home or even yoongi and namjoon's, even if it was just to take a nap on their sofa. you needed the noise, the background bickering. that's why there's only so much paint brush washing and kitchen cleaning you can do before reaching for your phone and messaging jungkook.

or at least that's what you tell yourself when he's in your bed within the hour, head resting on your stomach and his leg thrown over your ankles. you trace along the tattoo on his bicep closest to you, admiring the cohesiveness and line placement while jungkook dozes off, like he often does after sex. he's had a long week so you let him sleep, hair sticking up and mouth open like a toddler, so impossibly cute you can't help combing through his nape. jungkook doesn't often spend the night at yours so this was a rarity, and you had to admit he did look a little out of place in your tiny little room. he was far too big for your bed, one foot already hanging off, clothes and jacket hurled into the corner with only cheap fairy lights to rely on so you don't go tripping over his shoes at the door.

you could draw him like this. jungkook's eyelashes are short and pin-straight, eyebrows angled and distinctive. quick, sharp pencil strokes. he's got the faintest shadow above his top lip from where didn't have time to shave today. you'd use charcoal for his hair, black with a slight wave. a swooping curve for his nose, a more gentle line for his jaw. he looks harmless like this: not at all resembling the boy yoongi described.

"why are you so quiet, noona?" he grumbles into the duvet, eyes still closed. "you should be snoring my ears off by now."

you pout. "i'm too busy wondering how i'm gonna get your river of drool out of my pillow."

he snorts. "throw your sheets in on a fast cycle and voila."

"what fast cycle? i just press every button on the machine until it starts."

he opens his eyes. "you're an animal."

you laugh, tugging on the roots of his hair where your hand is still nestled inside. "how do you know so much about washing machines anyway?"

"my mum worked a lot growing up," jungkook yawns. "hyung did the cooking and i did the laundry."

you freeze. "you have a brother?"

"i swear i told you that," he scoots across your stomach, taking the pillow with him to position it over your hip so he can look at you properly. his eyes look glassy in the lights, lids hooded and hair pushed back. a real dreamboat wrapped in a hello kitty duvet. "two years older, same as jimin."

"no wonder jimin cares about you so much," you keep playing with his hair, watching his eyes droop closed. "he may as well be your brother." jungkook hums in reply, growing more and more drowsy from all the petting. "so...how come your mum worked so much?"

his eyes open to look at you, hesitating. "dad left when we were young. she didn't really have a choice."

"i didn't know that jungkook..." you pause. "that must have been hard."

he rolls to face the ceiling, like he's thinking twice before he answers. "not really. eomma's a badass, there's nothing she can't handle. yeah money and stuff wasn't easy, and it sucked when i was younger and didn't understand why hyung and eomma were so upset after what happened, but it's whatever. the three of us are so good together, you know? i like it like this."

you nod. because you do know. or, did. you wonder now if that's the reason jungkook got involved with yoongi and namjoon in the first place, to help out his family, but even you know some questions are better left unasked. instead, you chip away at jungkook while you can, since you know barely anything about him beyond student life and his friends. who knows when he would be in the mood to open up again. "so what does your brother do?"

"an accountant. for some fancy law firm in the city," he smiles. "hyung is super smart. like you."

you laugh. "you know i didn't finish my first major, right?"

"by choice. not because you weren't capable," he finishes, and to that you have no choice but to shut up. no one had ever put it that way before. "he's super quiet like you too, keeps to himself. gives really good advice. oh my god, and his kimchi pork stew - amazing!" his teeth gleam take up his whole mouth when he smiles, lines creasing around his eyes. "so many times when me and mum would argue, hyung was the reason why we'd stop. guess i got her temper."

you watch him closely. "you argued often?"

"at one point, yeah. not because we didn't like each other or anything, just..." you can see him hesitating again, cheek sucked in from where he chews it while staring up at the ceiling as if the memories are playing back at him on a projector. you keep quiet, let him get there on his own. "mum went through a phase where she dated a lot. felt bad that neither of us had a father figure and all that bullshit. she brought home some real dickheads, some top tier cunts i'm telling you. and i...wasn't exactly nice to them. ever since then i just hate seeing girls be pushed around by assholes, you know? it does something to me, i dunno. here," he lays a hand over his stomach. "i can't just watch. i can't. it's like i'm gonna be sick."

it's hard not to cry listening to him, seeing the lines in his forehead appear along with the crinkle above his nose. it made sense now, what yoongi told you about before. thinking back to the whole escapade with jinyoung in your kitchen, the whole thing hit you differently.

jungkook was exactly the kind of boy your old family would have frowned upon, reckless and thoughtless and emotionally-driven in the face of adversity. absolutely everything you were taught not to be. but you admired him for those very reasons. before you can start crying you sit up, silencing jungkook with a kiss before he can ask you what's wrong. it's firm and deliberate, your hands holding both his cheeks. he's breathless. "you seriously fucking worry me, slick."

"oh?" his eyes stay focused on your lips while he moves to you, positions you underneath him on the foot of the bed, pulling your thighs around his hips so you gasp at the feel of his semi on your soft inner thigh. he dips his head to kiss along your sternum, hand ghosting over your breasts before closing his mouth around your nipple.

"i nev-never know what you're gonna do next," you exhale shakily, arching into him involuntarily at the sensation. jungkook takes the opportunity to rub the pads of his fingers against your cunt, using the remnants of your arousal to help you along. sure enough you accept his fingers greedily, but he takes his time in stretching you out and easing in further, further.

his thumb gently passes over your clit and you shake. "never? not even now?"

you have to forcibly yank his face away from your tits to kiss him, slowly and with passion. his skin grows damp under your hands, muscles rippling under your touch from where he holds himself up on his forearms. he likes feeling the softness of your tummy against his, your thick thighs cushioning him snugly against you. just like always, it's torture having to pull away from you for a brief second to grab a condom, but the familiar chuckle you breathe out to see him speed back into your arms almost makes it worth it. you take the packet from him, about to tear it open before he grabs your hand with a cheeky smile. "in a minute."

before you can question him about it you yelp he tugs you by the hips, sliding up to angle your ass so your knees have no choice but to hook over his shoulders. jungkook's arms wind around the top of your thighs, thick and secure, nails scraping gently through your coarse curls before he pulls your legs apart as wide as they'll go and lowers his mouth onto you. the noise you make is just as embarrassing as always, so loud and uncontrollable, hysterical even. you've gotten used to being jungkook's fourth, fifth and sixth meal of the day but he steals your breath away every time, leaves you squirming and trembling and this instance was no exception. today he was feeling indulgent so he eats you out messily, makes sure he's loud enough for you hear every squelch and slurp. you physically shake when he sucks a gently kiss to your clit, proud of yourself for not screaming. jungkook, however, isn't happy about that and keeps sucking until you do. harder, harder, and then filling you up with his fingers so you have something to clench around when you cum all over him in a rush.

your back is still off the bed when he reaches your eye level again, the family sound of the foil wrapper ripping from the condom packet making you lift your head up to look at him. he's already rolling it down his length when he peer downwards, and even though you only get a glimpse of his blushing head he's sticky and hot with pre-cum. you wiggle in anticipation and jungkook laughs at your cuteness before leaning back down, taking your hands in his for a change. he can see the appeal, interlocking your fingers with his palms against yours and using only his hips as leverage to push into your sopping center, letting you move against him so he's lodged in as deep as he can fit before he starts rocking into you.

your moans are his favourite song, maybe that's why he wants to listen to them all day. he'd like to make you cum again but it's difficult for him once his hips start stuttering uncontrollably, no matter how much he tries to slow his pace. you let go of his hands then to take his face, his eyes closed when he feels you press your smooth lips to his cheekbone; an encouraging kiss. a go on, i want you to kiss. the moan he let's out before giving in is fragile and wispy, nose digging into your neck while he ruts against you to his end. you clench around him harder just to hear jungkook whimper again, pliant and weak in your arms. all of a sudden, out of nowhere you wish you could feel the rush of his cream spilling from you when he pulls out to discard the condom. he nestles back into your breasts afterwards, smelling himself on your skin. 

jungkook falls asleep smiling.

[gingermcl]

Weaponization of music

Did you know that the standard music frequency is 440 hz and this is an unnatural frequency? A 440 hertz frequency disrupts the mind and the body. 432 Hz resonates with 8 Hz, same as the Schumann resonance, the documented fundamental electromagnetic “beat” of Earth. 432 Hz simply feels better.

Research shows music tuned to a 432 hertz frequency is easier to listen to, is brighter, clearer, and contains more dynamic range. Music with this tuning does not need be played at high volumes, thus reducing the risk of hearing damage. However by the 1950s the worldwide music was tuned to 440 hertz instead of 432 hertz.

If musical performances were going to sound the same all over the world, standardization was required. Having a universally accepted tone is why a piano in Toronto sounds exactly the same as a piano in China. There is nothing wrong with standardization, it is the choice of 440 Hz that was strategically calculated to disrupt the psyche of humanity as a whole.

In 1885, the Music Commission of the Italian Government declared that all instruments and orchestras should use a tuning fork that vibrated at 440 Hz, which was different from the original standard of 435 Hz and the competing 432 Hz used in France.

In 1917, the American Federation of Musicians endorsed the Italians, followed by a further push for 440 Hz in the 1940s by Nazi Germans.

In 1953, a worldwide agreement was signed. Signatories declared that middle “A” on the piano be forevermore tuned to exactly 440 Hz. This frequency became the standard ISO-16 reference for tuning all musical instruments based on the chromatic scale, the one most often used for music in the West. All the other notes are tuned in standard mathematical ratios leading to and from 440 Hz.

432 Hz is said to be mathematically consistent with the patterns of the universe. Studies reveal that 432hz tuning unifies the properties of light, time, space, matter, gravity and magnetism with biology, the DNA code, and consciousness. When atoms and DNA start to resonate in harmony with the spiraling pattern of nature, our sense of connection with nature is magnified. The number 432 is reflected in ratios of the Sun, Earth, and the moon as well as in the precession of the equinoxes, the Great Pyramid of Egypt, Stonehenge, and many other sacred sites.

So what’s the big deal? It’s just a difference of 8 Hz. It’s actually quite a nefarious plan. The recent discoveries of vibratory or oscillatory nature of the universe that happened recently show that this contemporary international pitch standard may actually generate an unhealthy effect or anti-social behavior in the consciousness of humans.

There is also a theory which says that the change from 432 Hz to 440 Hz was dictated by Nazi propaganda minister, named Joseph Goebbels. He used it in order to make people think and feel a certain manner, as well as to make them a prisoner of a certain consciousness. 440 Hz is an unnatural standard tuning frequency, is removed from the symmetry of sacred vibrations, and has declared war on the subconscious mind of Western Man.

The powers that be are successfully lowering the vibrations of not only the younger generations but of all of us. Such destructive frequencies turn thoughts towards disruption, disharmony, and disunity. 440 Hz also stimulates our brain – the controlling organ of our body - into a disharmonious resonance, which ultimately creates disease and war in the world. All disease is a disruption in frequency. Atoms are made of waves and vibrations. Therefore everything is sound. A disruptive or unhealthy frequency can cause big problems in a world made of sound waves!!

Both vibration and frequency hold a critically important yet hidden power to affect us, our lives, health, society; our whole world. The science of Cymatics, the study of visible sound and vibration, proves that frequency and vibration are the master keys and the organizational foundation for the creation of all matter and life on planet Earth.

When the sound waves move through a physical medium, such as sand, air, water, etc.; the frequency of the waves has a direct effect upon the structures that are created by the sound waves as they pass through that particular medium. The same will happen with cells in the human body.

Frequency isn’t the only way music affects our civilization. Music lyrics are known to cast spells on the masses. Modern society may not treat music as a magical thing now, but once music was considered to be one of the highest forms of magic. If we look back to ancient times, drums and other instruments were used to celebrate holy-days, invoke trance-like states, or announce the start of a battle. The people in ancient times who sang, danced, and made music were once thought of as spiritually-gifted individuals.

Music magick is still alive and well in modern times. We might not see it in the mainstream music industry, but it’s there if we dig a little deeper. First – think of the way music makes you feel. Music is known to rouse energy and stimulate emotions. Given that energy is what magic is all about, music is a fantastic tool for spellcasting!

A spell is defined as

1- A form of words used as a magical charm or incantation.

2- A state of enchantment caused by a magic spell.

3- An ability to control or influence people as the one had magical power over them.

The intention of any song could very easily be spell casting and the masses would have no idea. The term MC stands for Master of Ceremonies. Concerts are ceremonies. Ceremonies are where ritual magic is done. Are you seeing what is happening here? The masses are being placed under spells and casting negative spells on themselves via their favorite music all the time! They’re also generating energy for these celebrities satanic ritual abuse ceremonies! I’m not saying that you don’t need to listen to music but I am saying you must be very mindful of what you do consume in every way. That includes what material you let into your consciousness. There are apps in every App Store one can download that will switch your music to 432 Hz. I advise everyone to do this. Increase demand could mean more and better apps that convert music to the proper frequency.

One simple song can invoke feelings of joy, sorrow, laughter; essentially every emotion under the sun. One song can whisk us away to a past moment in our lives, good and bad. Music can be used in mental and physical therapy to aid in healing the body, mind, and soul. One can use the emotions felt through music and its unique, fluid energy in magic. Intention can and does make music witchcraft.

Witches can help improve or focus their magic by incorporating music into spells and rituals. Lyrics aren't the only consideration. Beats, measure, instruments, etc. can also be used in music magic.

Music is also used on the people as a form of mind control. Mind control techniques have been noted throughout history dating as far back as Ancient Egypt. Mind control did not enter the realm of modern science until the 1930’s when a physician by the name of Josef Mengele brought it into full practice within Nazi concentration camps. The majority of Mengele’s research within mind control remains classified to this day, however some has slowly come to the surface including the recognition of it being the basis for the covert CIA research program MK Ultra.

Joseph Mengele sounds like a psychopath by all accounts and his mind control programs are nothing short of inhumane. The number of crimes committed against humanity by those in power is too many to count. All celebrities are forced to undergo MK Ultra programming to some degree. This programming breaks down the human spirit and can create alter egos. It is done in order to brainwash these people into doing anything their masters and “fame” requires. Several celebrities have begun speaking out about the torture and programming they endured at the hands of the Hollywood and music industries.

Symbolism is used heavily in mind control programming. The all-seeing eye, demons, and baphomet are just a few of the reoccurring themes that love appearing in entertainment; often in completely unrelated ways to the content. These themes can be noted throughout music videos, movies, and TV shows. The existence of this symbology is one thing I feel can be stated as fact. The symbology is clearly there. Watch see any of the following music videos and then tell me the symbology and themes are a mere coincidence or are directly related to the songs content:

* Lil Wayne – Love Me (Explicit) ft. Drake, Future

* Ke$ha – Die Young

* Lady Gaga – Alejandro

* Katy Perry – Wide Awake

* Britney Spears – Hold It Against Me

If you truly feel that the symbols were fitting and not purposely placed, I will respect that opinion. However I encourage you to search for a breakdown of the above listed videos in order to make sure you are made aware of symbology and themes. There may be some you missed or may not be aware of. It’s also worth noting that these 5 videos are not the only videos out there, they are simply a handful of the hundreds (if not thousands) of music videos that feature these symbols to some degree.

Assuming that these symbols/themes do recur, the question becomes why? Is it a level of programming that they are attempting to inflict on us the viewers? Could it be to desensitize us to their existence and placement throughout society? Or could it simply be artistic coincidence? The answer to these questions lie within. Let this article be a starting point for your own research and findings on all of the aspects of 440 Hz, music magick, and Monarch mind control programming (MK Ultra.) There is a lot of information and well-formulated opinions out there, many worth considering.

Once you have done your research, see what resonates with you as true and don’t be afraid to stand by it even if it isn’t in-line with popular opinion. No matter which side of the spectrum you stand on having an awareness towards this subject is important, and that’s why I felt inspired to write this article.

[revreadsblog-blog]

Royal Enfield Meteor 350

https://revreads.com/2020-royal-enfield-meteor-350/

From the past few years, Royal Enfield is evolving with its machines and want something that their machines can do a long journey without any hassle, fewer vibrations and something that rely on for a comfortable journey. Royal Enfiled already had Classics, Trails, Adventure Tourer, and 650 Twins with the parallel-twin engine. But the company is lagging in cruisers and less vibey engines with a capacity of 350cc. The company already has thunderbird 350 & 500cc. But these are somewhere lagging in terms of performance.

So, the company wants something that fits in this segment also like there other machines are the market’s finest competitors. This time Royal Enfiled comes with the Meteor 350cc with an all-new engine, instrument cluster and introducing navigation system to its machine.

Styling :

The perfect cruising machine when it comes for the cruise at some certain speed with sit low positioned seat height and relaxed position for a longer period. But round headlights, tank shape and some design element somewhat remind of thunderbird. But it makes up with the all-new seat, front wind-shield visor and switch gears U-shaped 10 spoke alloy wheels, LED DRL ring in the Halogen headlamp, backrest for the pillion which makes it premium.

There are three variants- the fireball, the steller and the supernova. The windshield is only available in the top variant and the backrest is available in top two variants.

Engine :

The Royal Enfield meteor gets an all-new engine powered with 349cc with fuel injection BS-6 compliant and produces 20.2 BHP at 6100 RPM and 27 nm of torque at 4000 RPM. The numbers are quiet decent enough, to be practicle these numbers are not too great and even are not class leading, but it can easily give you a better feel for day to day ride and occasional cruising.

But what we are expecting this time from Royal Enfield is refinement and we are happy to say that this engine is very much smoother and gets a very refined ride through out the ride.

The engine has linear power delivery with some peppy nature which helps in city conditions and also have a higher top-end and reaches very quickly at its peak when it compare with the thunderbird and classic.

Gearbox :

Like the engine, the gearbox is also new as-well and gear shift are also smooth. Gear ratio is somewhat on the taller side and doesn’t feel its stressed out even in the triple-digit. But the slipper clutch and sixth gear is also missing.

The output of this transmission is decent and get an efficiency of 35kmpl which lasts 525 km of range with the 15 litres of fuel tank capacity.

In conclusion, the all-new engine and transmission is the meteor 350 is a complete blend of refinement and peppier version of RE’s and making it’s one of the best motorcycles of Royal Enfields.

Instrument Cluster :

The cluster is very much clear and easy read for the rider. Cluster gets a gear positioning, fuel meter, 2 trip meters, clock and odometer in digital part and gets an analogue meter for the speedometer. And a basic telltale lights. The speedometer also has a reading in MPH format.

The second display consists the Royal Enfield’s new tripper navigation system which can connect with mobile phone via Bluetooth

But the worst part of the instrument cluster is the fuel indicator it gets confused all the time and does not show the proper fuel level until and unless the bike gets stable. Every time we have to calculate from the trip meter from the last fuel stop.

Tripper Navigation System, its the first attempt that Royal Enfield is doing something new with the electronics. The new tripper navigation system is powered by the Google maps which very simple to use and read and easily connects with via Bluetooth of mobile phone. It has all the necessary symbols shows while riding through merging traffic lanes.

The bike also has a dedicated USB slot for charging up devices On The Go.

Ergonomics And Suspension:

The ergonomics of the is pretty much familiar with its predecessor thunderbird. The riding posture is foot forward position with forwarding footpeg positioning. The riding position is relaxed sit back type the typical cruiser style.

The suspension of meteor 350 is using 41 mm front fork and 6-step adjustable twin shock setup at the rear. The rear suspension setup is slightly firm, could have been softer side, while the front suspension setup is on the softer side which leads in difficulty into the cornering at higher speeds.

Brakes and tyres :

The meteor gets the bigger 300 mm front disc at the front and bigger 270 mm rear disc. The brakes are having a good bite and ABS also performs very well. The bike gets a dual-channel ABS as standard which ensures that the rider has confidence over the bike in the panic situations. And wheelbase is also on the longer side that also helps in better stability of the bike.

The meteor 350 equipped with the Ceat rubber which gets 100/90–19 at the front and 140/70–17 at the rear. Its get a U-shaped machine cut alloy wheel setup which looks quite well with the overall fit and finish of the bike.

The final verdict: The Royal Enfield Meteor 350 (ex-showroom price is 190,500 Supernova variant) is not the cheapest bike. But when it comes to its predecessor thunderbird it gets an updated engine, brakes, smoother ride, better features, new instrument cluster, the most important the tripper navigation system which is power by the google maps, the more premium fit and finish. The bike gets a whole new experience with the older RE’s is somewhat justified to its price point.

It’s definitely the head turner in the traffic and people get more curious about the machine. But we Indian have a habit of comparing each and everything with its competitor. The Honda H’ness CB 350 is also a good bike and standing head to head with this baby.

[artificialqueens]

nobody knows where we might end up, chapter four (branjie) - holtzmanns

(read on ao3) | (tumblr)

“Dr. Cain told Dr. Miller who told Dr. Edwards who told me that she saw you two practically ready to bite each other’s heads off in the hallway a few days ago.” Dr. O’Hara ends her statement with a bite of her salad, eyes expectant.

“Jesus, what is this, the hospital from Grey’s Anatomy? Do y’all ever actually work or just gossip here?” So maybe she’s feeling a little grumpy about it. Also because she’s not sure which time it is that Dr. O’Hara is talking about.

AN: Thank you so much for the sweet responses to this story! I love it so, so much. In this chapter, we have soft baby gays in the past, and a bit of hospital gossip in the present. Writ is the most wonderful friend and beta ever.

(then)

“Has anyone told you that you’re nuts? ‘Cause you’re nuts.”

Vanessa’s staring at Brooke’s review for the midterm, and holy shit. The colour coordination. The diagrams. It’s as if she’s going to be graded on artistic ability.

Brooke snorts at her dumbstruck face. “Honestly, it helps me to consolidate all the information, making it all pretty and organized. It’s helpful. My notes aren’t as extensive as yours, though.”

Brooke reaches out to grab Vanessa’s midterm review, a haphazard collection of handwritten notes that she’s meticulously copied again and again. Vanessa’s found a strategy that works for her, especially when it comes to information heavy subjects - rewrite, rewrite, rewrite.

Though it does make her notes look a bit chaotic. And unreadable to anyone who isn’t familiar with her handwriting.

But hey, it works for her.

“Organized chaos, is what mine is.” Her wrist aches with a phantom pain as she thumbs through the pages, remembering the strain as she wrote line after line.

Vanessa leans over the table, looks over at the diagram that Brooke is drawing of the renal system. Her coloured pencils are spread out beside her, because of course Brooke has coloured pencils to make her diagrams even more pretty.

Vanessa picks up the yellow coloured pencil, a smile playing on her lips. “Don’t forget this one when you have to colour in the pee.”

Brooke wrinkles her nose. “Ugh, when you say it like that-”

Vanessa snickers. “Nephrology is wack. I’m glad we’re both in agreement about that.”

“It is cool, though.” Vanessa can see the gears in Brooke’s brain start to turn as she traces a finger over the diagrams that she’s drawn on the page. “Like the fact that sodium is so involved? And the amount that our body retains water is totally dependent on balancing concentration levels in a substance, which is something we learned in what, grade ten? I love it.”

“You’re cute when you’re all excited over pee.” Vanessa can’t help but cackle when Brooke groans at her statement.

“I’m not excited over pee- ”

“Yes you are. Pee lover.”

“Hush.” Brooke lifts up her notes to lightly smack Vanessa’s shoulder with them, making her squeal and lean back in her chair. The action nearly makes Vanessa fall off, and when she catches herself on the edge of the table, the two of them are laughing hard enough that Vanessa’s sure that a librarian is going to come to shush them at any second.

They get back to work after Brooke goes to the bathroom (‘don’t get too excited about going pee in there’), finishing up their respective midterm reviews and quizzing each other. Vanessa checks her watch, sighs as the time for her 6 pm lecture ticks closer and closer.

“I gotta go.” Vanessa doesn’t want to. Switching to a different lecture so that she can spend more time with Brooke would be silly, right?

She tells herself that for now.

“Have fun in class. I’ll study nephrology all by my lonesome.” Brooke fake pouts up at her, and Vanessa rolls her eyes good naturedly.

“You say that as if you’re not going to have the time of your life.”

Brooke sticks her tongue out, a gesture that Vanessa returns right back at her. She pauses when she’s packed up all of her things, letting the words rush out before she loses the nerve to say them.

“Hey, if you’re still studying in the evening and don’t have dinner plans, wanna come over later? I was planning on making something in our suite kitchen. We can keep quizzing each other while making food, if you want.”

Because, yep, that’s the only reason she’s asking Brooke to hang out even more today. To study while they cook.

She’s so transparent that she can see through herself sometimes.

Brooke blinks up at her before grinning, and she’s back to her shyness from when they first started talking. “Yeah. Sure, that would be fun. We’ll be even more prepared for the midterm then.

Yep. Prepared for the midterm.

Vanessa will take it, though. Because really, school is the priority, right?

She grins at Brooke. “Perfect. I’ll text you when class is done?”

“Sounds good.” Brooke waves her phone around in her hand. “I’ll be waiting.”

“I bet you will. Now go back to learning about pee so you can quiz me about it later.”

Vanessa skips down the hallway as Brooke groans, smiling to herself. The two hours of lecture she has to get through before their dinner better fly by.

“Silky. Silky. What have I done?”

“You’ve inv-“

“I’ve invited her over to make dinner together, Silky!” Vanessa practically yelps it, vibrating with nervous energy as she dances around their suite’s kitchen, pulling ingredients that she had bought earlier in the day from the communal fridge and cupboards.

“Do you think she even likes stir fry? I just bought the stuff in the morning ‘cause it’s easy. I didn’t think I was gonna invite her for dinner. ” Vanessa punctuates the last four words with raps on the counter.

Silky munches away on her own dinner at the table, watching her as if she’s a nature documentary. “Who doesn’t like stir fry? It’s easy as shit and always tastes good.”

“What if she has some sort of weird stir fry trauma? Had food poisoning with it and now hates it more than anything in the world?“

There’s a rap on their door, then, and Vanessa looks at Silky in panic.

“Well, now you get to find out. I’m taking my dinner to our room.” With that, Silky takes her plate, shutting the door behind her.

She can do this. It’s only another studying session, this time with food involved. She opens the door to the suite, finds a wide eyed Brooke behind it.

“Hey, I brought two bite brownies for dessert? I wasn’t sure if you liked chocolate or not, but two bite brownies are always good, and they were in the campus store, and-”

Vanessa can’t help but melt as Brooke cuts herself off, drawing in a breath. Did she really have anything to worry about?

“Sorry.” Brooke looks at her sheepishly, taking a step into the suite when Vanessa holds the door open more to let her in.

“For what?” Vanessa grins at her. “You like stir fry?”

They work together as a team, chopping the vegetables and making the noodles like a well oiled machine while tossing questions from the nephrology unit back and forth at one another.

“True or false,” Brooke starts as she drains the noodles, “Renin secretion is influenced by potassium.”

“False.” Vanessa points the spatula at Brooke. “Sodium influences it. Low sodium means that more is released. ”

“Perfect.” Brooke grins at her, bringing the noodles over so that Vanessa can pour the stir fry mix on top. “You’ve been killing all these questions.”

“So have you. I feel pretty good about this unit.” Vanessa sticks her hand out for a high five, one that Brooke returns. “What do you say we take a studying break and eat?”

They curl up on the couch, and Vanessa barely has a chance to bring a bite to her lips before Brooke exclaims loud enough to be heard by the rest of the floor. “Vanessa, this is so good!”

“Yeah?” Her answer is muffled by her bite but she’s thrilled nonetheless, feeling like she wants to get up and dance around. It’s a feeling that only increases when Brooke nods.

“Yeah. I’m definitely gonna need seconds. Maybe thirds? Kind of want to sneak all this back to my room with me. Who knows?”

Vanessa grins. “No need for that, B. You can always come back and we can make it again.”

Brooke points her fork at her. “I’m going to take you up on it.”

“Why else do you think I offered?” She knows that her grin in Brooke’s direction is stupidly happy, solely for the fact that Brooke is reflecting the same facial expression back at her.

Vanessa likes her. A lot. More than just in class, more than when they just study together.

Not that it’s a big deal.

Brooke nudges her side with her elbow. “We spend so much time talking about school and class-”

“-and currently pee, thanks to the nephrology unit-”

Brooke snorts. “-and currently pee. As I was saying, we barely have the chance to talk about anything else, it’s so rare. So, I want to know you more. Tell me something.”

“Like what? That’s an open ended question.” What does Brooke even want to know?

Brooke shrugs. “I don’t know. Tell me more about your family, maybe?”

Vanessa leans forward in her spot, taking a sip of her drink before she speaks. “Okay. Well, it’s me and my mom and my older brother. And my abuela. We make a nice little unit.” She loves her family, really does. Misses them like crazy while she’s at school, especially her mom's cooking, which she appreciates now more than ever after having being made to cook for herself.

“That sounds nice. Are you all close?” Brooke leans her cheek on her hand, listening intently, and her focus makes Vanessa flush under her gaze a bit.

“Yeah. Real close. My mom’s always been supportive, y’know? Through everything. Gotten a couple of ass whoopings along the way, but they’ve always been deserved. I was a demon child.” Vanessa thinks back to herself as a kid, giving her mom more stress than she deserved at the time, acting out.

“But we’re closer now. Which is nice.” Vanessa shrugs, smiling a little. She needs to call her mom soon, catch up with her. “Being away at school makes us appreciate each other more.”

Brooke smiles back. “She sounds like a lovely mom.”

“She is.” Vanessa nudges her. “What about you, what’s your family like?”

Brooke shrugs. “They’re okay. I like being away at school, if that tells you anything.”

Vanessa raises an eyebrow. “That bad, huh?”

Brooke shifts in her chair, trying to explain. “No, not bad, per se. Just…stressful? Wound up?”

“That’s not easy, though.” Vanessa’s glad that her mom isn’t like that. She wants to do the best she can, make her happy, but her mom never acts as if she’s anything but proud of her.

“No. It isn’t.” Brooke fiddles with the couch cushion beside her. “They’re just always expecting perfection on my end, y’know? And I’m trying to give it to them. I want to. I should be able to.”

Now that makes a lot of sense. It explains Brooke’s need to do the absolute best, her panic that sets in when she feels like she hasn’t studied enough. The way Brooke calms down during their study sessions when she starts to understand things better.

“You can’t, though. No one can. No one’s perfect.” Vanessa has to resist an urge to grab Brooke’s hand, rub her thumb in little circles over her palm. “You can only do the best you can.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Brooke doesn’t look too convinced.

“If everyone was perfect, we’d all be boring as shit. Nothing fun to make us all different. We wouldn’t have anything to still work towards, either.” Vanessa pulls her feet up on the couch, scooching closer to Brooke. “You work your ass off and it already shows. I’m sure they can see that.”

Brooke bites her lip. “I hope so.”

“If not, I see it. Everyone else here sees it. You’re amazing.” The words tumble from Vanessa’s mouth before she can stop them, making her want to clap a hand over her mouth.

Way to make her feelings known. She’s probably gonna scare Brooke off.

She wants to take the words back, apologize for overstepping, but Brooke’s smile is soft on her face. “You’re the amazing one, helping me study and feeding me and being more than amazing company.”

“I’m glad I sat beside you during our first class. Not that I had a choice.” Vanessa thinks back to their first lecture, where she had come in late and it had been plenty embarrassing.

“All I remember from that class is how much your leg was shaking for most of it.” Brooke looks at her with a grin. “Thank goodness you don’t do that all the time.”

“I was nervous! It was the first class! Plus, I was sitting beside you and you looked really intimidating.” It’s true. Brooke looked mean at first glance.

Brooke looks at her in surprise. “Really?”

Vanessa scoffs. “Please. As if you didn’t know that already. You were glaring at me the whole time.”

“Oh god. I’m so sorry.” Brooke’s cheeks are pink. “In my defense…I was nervous too?”

Vanessa snorts. “Sure, whatever. It’s all good. Your tune changed real fast as soon as I opened my mouth to talk to you, anyway.”

“How so?”

“You got all shy on me.”

Now Brooke is the one to look indignant, eyebrows raised to contradict her statement. “I did not.”

Vanessa snickers. “Yes you did. All stuttering on your words and shit.” As if Brooke doesn’t make her stumble on her own words, too.

“That is completely false and you know it.”

Vanessa is about to retort, words on her tongue about how she’s nothing but truthful, but then Brooke is tickling her sides, making her squirm on the couch.

“Playing dirty!” Vanessa sticks her hands out to tickle Brooke back, give her a taste of her own medicine, but Brooke doesn’t even flinch under her touch.

“Wait.” Vanessa pauses, narrowing her eyes. “You’re not ticklish?”

“Nope.” Brooke pops the ‘p’ at the end of the word, with a grin at Vanessa that is way too smug.

“Unfair!”

Brooke giggles at her dramatics and it spurs Vanessa on further, flopping herself lower onto the couch.

“Unbelievable. Not even ticklish.”

“But you are. And it’s a fact that I will absolutely use to my advantage.” Brooke looks too happy, too thrilled about the turn of events.

Vanessa fixes her with a look. She wouldn’t. “Don’t you dare.”

“Don’t I dare what?”

“You know exactly what-” Vanessa shrieks because Brooke tickles her again, climbing on top of her as they’re both giggling.

“Mercy, mercy.” Vanessa holds a hand up and Brooke acquiesces, stopping. It’s then that Vanessa notices that Brooke is still on top of her, close enough that she can smell her shampoo, feel her hair that’s falling in front of her face and brushing against her arms.

Woah.

Brooke evidently notices at the same time, her eyes widening. She’s about to say something, maneuvering her arm so that she doesn’t fall off of Vanessa when-

“Sup, bitches?”

Vanessa groans, dropping her head against the back of the couch. Typical.

“Hi?” Brooke climbs off of Vanessa at lightning speed, straightening herself out in the couch beside her.

Silky fixes them both with a knowing grin. “Don’t mind me, grabbing a snack.”

Vanessa sighs as Brooke is back on her side of the couch, introducing herself to Silky as she fixes herself a sandwich.

Moment gone.

(now)

Vanessa pulls off her gloves, gown, and mask, tossing them into the waste disposal before washing her hands. She grins as Dr. Michaels comes up behind her, smile of approval clear on the woman’s face.

“Nice job, Dr. Mateo. Off to a great start.”

Her first surgery at her new job? Successfully completed. Sure, it had been a simple ablation procedure, but Vanessa feels great.

She’s been hired here as the cardiothoracic head for a reason. She’s gonna show everyone that the chief made the right decision.

“Thanks. You were great to work with in there. That ablation was smooth.”

“You’re damn right about that.” Dr. Michaels holds out a fist, and Vanessa bumps it right back.

Dr. Michaels pulls off her scrub cap, holding the door open for Vanessa to go through. “Lunch?”

“Absolutely.”

They grab a table in the cafeteria, joined by Dr. O’Hara and another doctor that she’s never met who looks like she should still be doing her undergrad degree. Vanessa sticks out a hand to introduce herself.

The woman shakes it. “Dr. St. Clair. Cardiothoracic resident.”

Vanessa’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “You’re a resident? I swear I thought you were-”

“An intern?” Dr. St. Clair laughs, shaking her head. “Yeah. I get that a lot. Looking young as a doctor isn’t the most helpful in getting patients to respect you.”

“So,” Dr. O’Hara’s voice is conspiratorial as she takes out her lunch, “what’s the gossip on you and Dr. Hytes?”

Vanessa nearly chokes on her sandwich. “What do you mean?” It’s interspersed with coughs, prompting Dr. Michaels to pat her on the back.

“Dr. Cain told Dr. Miller who told Dr. Edwards who told me that she saw you two practically ready to bite each other’s heads off in the hallway a few days ago.” Dr. O’Hara ends her statement with a bite of her salad, eyes expectant.

“Jesus, what is this, the hospital from Grey’s Anatomy? Do y’all ever actually work or just gossip here?” So maybe she’s feeling a little grumpy about it. Also because she’s not sure which time it is that Dr. O’Hara is talking about.

She and Dr. Hytes have fallen into a routine of sorts for their joint consult on the upcoming surgery. Vanessa feels like she’s defending her fucking thesis from the way that Dr. Hytes continues to question her abilities concerning the procedure. It’s absolutely infuriating, and lead to many shouting matches in the conference rooms.

The Brooke she remembers from undergrad would never have been like this. Disrespecting her at every turn, acting like a fucking bitch. Acting like she’s better than everyone else. But Vanessa knows her, and Dr. Hytes is not. Vanessa has never wanted to put her in her place more.

But she’s also just started. She doesn’t want to look unprofessional and get fired before she can make any leeway as an attending surgeon.

Besides, if she gets fired, it means that Dr. Hytes wins.

“You didn’t answer the question.” Dr. Michaels and Dr. O’Hara look like a buddy cop duo, resting their elbows on the table, while Dr. St. Clair watches attentively.

“She just rubs me the wrong way, that’s all.” No way is Vanessa going to bring their history - ancient history, at that - up to her coworkers. No one else’s business.

Dr. Michaels shoots a conspiratorial look at Dr. O’Hara. “Seems like a lot of emotion for just rubbing someone the wrong way.”

Vanessa shrugs. “Maybe I’m just an emotional person.” It’s not a lie, not really.

“Not only from you,” Dr. O’Hara lowers her voice, “From her, too.”

“Yeah?” Vanessa raises an eyebrow.

“Mhm.” Dr. O’Hara nods at her. “I’ve seen that woman have maybe five emotions max while working here. She’s usually unflappable. Since you’ve gotten here, though? The woman is pissed.”

Vanessa can’t help the satisfied smile that settles on her face. “Good.”

Let Dr. Hytes be pissed. Especially since she’s been causing Vanessa so much grief. It’s what she deserves to feel.

“See!” Dr. O’Hara points at her. “There’s something you’re not telling us, and I know it. We’re gonna find out.”

Vanessa snorts, taking another bite of her sandwich. “Good luck with that.”

“Dr. West, you wanted to see me?”

“Come in.” Dr. West’s voice is warm when Vanessa knocks on her office door, though it does little to assuage the way her heart feels like it’s sinking in her chest.

She doesn’t know why the chief of surgery has called her in for a meeting, though has a sneaking suspicion it’s about a certain neurosurgeon attending. Maybe Dr. West has had it and wants to get rid of her - Vanessa wouldn’t be surprised if Dr. Hytes has complained about her. The bitch.

“I wanted to touch base with you about your first few weeks here, see that everything is going away.” Dr. West is smiling at her, and doesn’t look too mad - perhaps a good sign?

“It’s been great so far. Everyone is incredibly welcoming.” Not a lie, for the most part - not that she’s going to bring up Dr. Hytes, not when her and Dr. West seem like they’re friendly with each other.

“That’s good to hear.” Dr. West is looking at Vanessa with an expression she can’t quite decipher, and it makes her want to squirm in her seat. She can’t tell how much the chief actually knows.

Vanessa’s pretty sure that Dr. West hadn’t been in the attending locker room in the morning. when Dr. Hytes had interrupted her conversation with Dr. Miller about ICU stay lengths at her previous hospital, muttering that it seemed to be counterproductive for patient health. So maybe Vanessa had to give Dr. Hytes a piece of her mind - so what if such arguments are becoming a daily occurrence? As long as they’re not disrupting patient care, Vanessa’s going to fight back every time.

Vanessa’s not one to take things lying down. She doesn’t care if the other doctors in this hospital are. Dr. Hytes doesn’t scare her. Sure, the way her eyes narrow in her direction and the way she stares down at her make her heart feel like it’s  beating a little faster sometimes - but it’s just adrenaline.

“So.” Dr. West leans forward in her seat, opening up her clipboard. “A change I implemented here a few years back when I became chief was more opportunities for interdisciplinary collaboration. More work with doctors outside our immediate disciplines - to build more connections between everyone despite all of our differences and interests.”

“Okay.” Vanessa nods, not sure where Dr. West is going.

“I understand that you already have a joint surgery coming up with Dr. Hytes soon.” Dr. West looks up from her clipboard, holding Vanessa’s gaze for a little too long.

She tries her best to keep her face neutral. “That’s right.”

“How has the preparation for the case been going so far?”

Vanessa channels her best poker face. “It’s been alright, thank you. Dr. Hytes is incredibly smart.” Not a lie.

“I’m glad you think so.” Dr. West goes back to her notes, pushing her glasses up on her nose with her index finger. “One initiative I’ve started with new surgery hires is having them shadow surgeries in a few other disciplines. Have the opportunity to see how others do things, ask questions about unfamiliar procedures, participate in interdisciplinary information sharing.”

“I see.”

“I know you’ve been here for a few weeks and seem to be settling in well. Would this still be something that you’d be interested in?”

From the way that Dr. West is looking at her, she’s not sure if she has a choice in her answer. “It would be pretty educational to shadow in some other disciplines. Haven’t done that since I was a resident.”

Vanessa isn’t lying, per se. It would be pretty cool. It’s just that she already as an idea of who Dr. West wants her to shadow for neuro already-

“I think it would be a great idea for you to shadow Dr. Hytes for one of her procedures, especially before your joint one in a few weeks. You can get to know her a bit more. We can start with that.”

Fuck.

“The surgery is to remove an arteriovenous malformation. Do you happen to know what that is, or do you need a refresher?” Dr. Hytes sneers it at her as she braids her hair back (still as blonde, still as long as it used to be) and Vanessa wants to smack the smug look off of her face.

“I’ve taken neuro, Dr. Hytes, my memory isn’t that shit.” Vanessa scoffs. Of course Dr. Hytes is on her high horse already.

Vanessa is not looking forward to shadowing her in the least. She doesn’t care how she operates, she doesn’t give a shit over how people fawn over her. Hell, if it weren’t for their joint surgery coming up, she probably would have found a way to decline Dr. West.

But at the same time…she needs intel. Needs to know what to expect before they have to step into an operating room as colleagues, so that it doesn’t blow up in their faces.

Doesn’t mean she has to be happy about it.

“If you say so. Keep out of my way in there. This is my surgery, and I’d like to keep it running as smooth as the rest of the ones I do.” Vanessa rolls her eyes at Dr. Hytes’ words. So damn cocky.

“I want to be here as little as you do. As if I’d want to be up in your face during this. Chill.” She pulls on her scrub cap, one with little dogs all over it that she couldn’t resist buying as a resident. It remains her favourite.

“Whatever. Just don’t get in my way.” The words are cold as Dr. Hytes pulls on her own scrub cap, and Vanessa has to suppress a groan because of course .

Dr. Hytes’ scrub cap has little cats all over it. Typical.

“Fine.” So what if Vanessa’s a bit haughty when she says it? “As long as you don’t get in mine.”

The growl that emanates from Dr. Hytes in response is enough to make her smirk more than she should.

[babygirlofwakanda]

Rule The World | Prologue

CHARACTERS — Adrien X Chiron

CONTENT — Nothing to see here, yet. 

PLOT — The introduction of Adrien and Chiron. 

Inspired by the song, Cell Therapy X Goodie Mob.

NARRATIVE — The slouched figure sitting at the chipped table dominated the space of the midnight diner as groups of local college students whispered, waitresses winked and even the lingering prostitutes dared to glance at him instead of keeping a close eye on the brick of money resting between their fingers.

Disregarding the stares the deep earth-toned male aggressively scraped his fork against the aged plate as he chomped down on the soaked waffles and thin hash browns. Wearing a prominent scowl refusing to reveal his gaudy slugs or show any satisfaction from the breakfast filling his stomach Chiron stayed quiet as he ate. Concentrating on his food the silent man exhaled as the quiet night and almost dull scenery helped the tensed male forget about the adamant sins he had his team committing while he detoxed.

Taking away from his underlining stress the slow diner eased Chiron’s mind as the setting distracted him from the imprinted vision of wiping the crimson blood dripping from his glock while the deep aroma of coffee replaced the poignant smell of marijuana.

Drowning his thoughts with the bitter taste of coffee sliding down his throat Chiron exhaled and rolled his shoulders once he attained a level of content. A level where he could tolerate the punishing outcome from his ruthless decisions without being in an alternative state of mind. Clenching his teeth against the silver fork, Chiron chewed on his soggy waffles before he heard a distinct chime followed by an abrupt gasp echoing throughout the southern restaurant.

“—breaking news, there are reports of multiple gun shots fired at popular nightclub, Mansion Elon. We are now receiving word that we have channel 2’s Monice standing outside of the club right now.”

Silencing the diner within seconds Chiron turned his head towards the point of focus and stared silently at the television as the news reporter hinted at one of his intimidating tactics gone wrong.

“—yes, Vivian. I’m outside and as you can see from behind, the ambulance is here assisting those injured and the police have blocked the entrance to the club.

“—and as of right now we have learned that there were four gunmen involved and that there are two casualties reported at this moment.”

While he vaguely listened to the news Chiron quickly slid his vibrating phone out of his back pocket before unlocking the device with his thumbprint. Tapping on the lime icon he watched as the messages continued to vibrate his phone. “—shit.” Black exhaled roughly, before he continued to spit out harsh curses.

Attempting to get information about the coercion Black didn’t register the adamant bell of the diner’s door opening before the obnoxious clacking of heels and chatter filled the southern restaurant. Lifting his eyes off of the phone for a second Black quickly took notice of the mahogany beauty sitting at the barstool with her attention captured into her own phone. Clad in a black dress he observed the material stretching over her curves, but just as his eyes began to travel further down to glance at her plump ass his phone vibrated again with an update to the shakedown.

Immediately looking back at his phone Black read the latest messages from his second in command, Dolla before he abruptly felt his repressed mindset switch back into the murderous temperament.

The character that became completely enthralled with unloading a clip into someone’s child, the man that thrived off of the taste of the backwood hanging from between his lips and the individual who became enamored while he watched digital zeros appear and double up as money flipped through his machine.

With his heart thumping intensely in his ear Black abruptly stood up creating a loud screech as his chair slid across the faded tile. Disregarding the nosy looks shot his way the alarmed man reached into his wallet and threw down more than enough money to cover the bill before making his way around the table and heading towards the exit until the low revelations coming from the counter caught his attention.

“—bitch, I told y’all that nigga looked crazy. If we woulda dipped earlier like I said so we wouldn’t of had to duck from dem’ bullets in the club!”

Halting his footsteps Black listened to the women’s conversation before they absentmindedly confirmed that they were at the same club as the shooting.

Approaching the counter Black cleared his throat making his presence known as all four women talking instantly flicked their eyes towards him. “—we’re y’all at Mansion Elon tonight?” He questioned, as his eyes fixated on the angelic face of the brown beauty.

Hearing the studdering replies from the women until the one sitting closest to him timidly nodded Black began to press for information. “Did y’all just so happened to see who was the nigga shootin’?”

With the question lingering in the air Black watched as the women shared a puzzled look with each other before the anonymous beauty spoke. “Why should we tell you? So you can stalk us or toss our bodies into Lake Lanier or a dumpster? Nah, play boy.”

Cocking his head to the side Black watched as she bought her glass up to her lips with a smirk tugging at the corners. Keeping his eyes fixated on hers Black heard her friends apologize for her response, “Adrien can be critical at times, but we swear she doesn’t mean any harm.” they elaborated, making Adrien scoff at their apparent bullshit and bluff.

Watching her scrunched facial expressions Black chuckled lowly at her answer before slowly brushing his palm over her mouth. “No, babygirl here is right. Y’all don’t know me from a hole in the wall and I understand, so y’all be stay out here aight.”

Timidly shifting away from the countertop Black maintained his gaze with Adrien leaving her with a look of hesitant before he turned towards the door.

Only footsteps away from the entrance Black heard the annoyed tone of voice call out to him. Showing off a glimpse of his grillz he paused his movement before turning around and seeing Adrien swiveled around in her chair with a smug smile on her face.

Huffing out she began to detail the self-proclaimed shooter, “The man was wearing a tan shirt with these big ass rocks in his ears. Oh, and he had a baguette pinky ring.” She winked. Faltering in his footsteps Black was surprised that she knew her diamonds.

“How do you know it was a baguette?” He asked, hands still pressed against the handle. “I know my jewelry.” She smiled, before steadily licking the top row of her teeth showing off the small shiny gems.

Raising his eyebrows Black nodded his head in gratitude before yanking the door open and maneuvering through the second one.

Making Adrien frown, she watched as his broad shoulders bounce until his figure escaped the dim lights of the diner. Feeling herself began to wheeze from the loss of his presence Adrien let her curiosity get the best of her and before she could even blink she was fumbling out of her seat disregarding the calls of her girls and jogged out of the restaurant before spotting Black and calling out to him.

“—hey, you! Wait up.”

Watching the brawny back pivot around Adrien caught the amused look on his face before she rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Ahh, now look who’s stalking who.” Black mocked, failing to hold back his grin. Poking her hip out in her stance Adrien scoffed before smacking her lips to say, “Nuh-huh don’t get smart with me baby, I just came to see what’s your name, damn.” She asked, with a tilt in her head.

Smirking at the agitated beauty Black chuckled in her face before saying, “Your cute.” before turning around and walking back to his all black nineteen seventy-eight Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme.

“Cute? Nigga I’m a dime, please.” Scrunching up her face Adrien flipped her ponytail behind her shoulders before twisting around. Walking off with the clapping of her heels hitting the pavement trailing behind her, Adrien heard the baritone voice answer, “Chiron.” making the brown woman instantly turn around.

Nodding her head she repeated his name before saying, “Hmm, I like it.” She cheesed. Still smirking she began walking backward as she continued to talk to the enticing man, “Aight, well I’ll catch you around Chiron.” She spoke, as her eyebrows quirked. Seeing the cocoa colored man faint dimples reappear under the hazy post light Adrien heard him call out, “—be safe out here babygirl.” before ducking into his car.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — Calling all the Trevante stans! If you wanna be added or removed from the taglist for my upcoming Hood!Chiron fics and mini-series just message me to let me know! Much love bbys!

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