#X-Rite Color Challenge

[thecurioustale]

The X-Rite Color Challenge

I tried to reblog this from somebody else, but instead the page refreshed and the post was lost.

The X-Rite Color Challenge quiz by Pantone is a much simpler, more casual version of a genuine diagnostic color perception test. I took it and got a 0, the perfect score. It's interesting; give it a shot. There's no obnoxious signup or e-mail required.

I found that I was not able to directly discern the order of the gradations, but that I could easily spot discrepancies when one or more tiles was out of order. My confidence mode was "If it doesn't look wrong, it's right." That turned out to carry me all the way to 0!

The aquamarine-to-lavender spectrum (No. 3) was the hardest for me to resolve color breadth on, when the spectrum was still in its disorganized form, so even though I sorted it perfectly this probably represents the region of the spectrum where my discernment is lowest.

I took my time on this; probably spent around 5 minutes on it. If I'd gone faster I would definitely have made mistakes, because I did a lot of A/B testing to verify that many of my null reads were in fact the absences of errors.

The results page notes:

Did you know that your score on this test is influenced by the lighting around you, the background colors at your desk area, your level of tiredness, your gender, and even your age?

For me, it is early in my day (so I am well-rested), dark outside, the background behind my computer is black (an inactive monitor screen), and there is moderate-low room lighting in the "warm" temperature range.

According to their results, the "worst score for my gender" is "696969696," while the "best score for my gender" is "-696969696." Lol...

[whoredyceps]

"OH LOVER BOY!" || 28 Days of Love: A Valentine's Challenge + Series

day eight: fuzzy pink handcuffs

ᰔ pairing: din djarin x reader

ᰔ summary: the mandalorian is on another bounty mission. he expects to find who he's looking for, not himself cuffed in your bed.

ᰔ author's note: i read a post by @psyzook that talked about how din is more awkward and touch-starved, and i knew when i made this list, i had to put him in the fuzzy pink handcuffs. it's like a rite of passage. also i am not a big star wars girl so please forgive any misuse of information. i did so much research, but i'll always be a trekkie at the end of the day ✋😔 i tried my hardest— anything for my baby din

ᰔ content warning: 18+ // MDNI!!!! sub!din, dom!reader, oral (m!receiving) afab!reader (mention of breasts), din is is silent and awkward, premature ejaculation, fuzzy pink handcuffs

Din felt as if he had met his match when it came to you. He had seen it all, every corner of the never-ending universe threw a fastball at him. He had seen the depraved and the greedy in every form. It was hard to look towards the light when he had been face to face with darkness time and time again.

When he agreed to take a bounty job on Zeltros, he knew it would be a struggle from the start. Many who had tried to follow through with war or overtaking had failed due to the nature of the planet. Din had heard of the failing of other bounty hunters, but he was sure he was stronger than whatever temptation the others had faced.

The mission was easy enough. Find one of the wealthiest residents and return them to the Imperial Center. Din knew to not dig his helmet into business that wasn't his, but he wondered what was so important that the bounty was well beyond the standard price. Whoever's head it was must have been important if he had to bring them in alive.

Easier said than done, but the Mandalorian didn't back down. He had faced a few zeltrons in his time, and this one was no different.

You, though?

You were beyond anything he had seen in his time, in any interaction he'd had. Din was unsure if it had been the way you held yourself, or how easily you had tempted him with your sweet words.

"I believe I've heard of the head this bounty is plastered on. Please, follow me." You turned, not waiting for him to accept the invitation. Even the way your sheer red robes flourished as you ascended the front steps had Din bewitched. He followed without a word, his head ducked down as if to hide how his chest tightened.

"You could tell me the information out here," Din returned. Despite his argument, it didn't stop the way he followed you. He hoped to find the information he needed and continue on with the hunt for his bounty. He was on a mission.

"And have others listen where they're not welcome? I prefer to speak in private. As a follower of Mandalore, I'm sure you understand the importance of privacy." You glanced over your shoulder with a smirk.

"I suppose." Din left it at that. He kept a bit of distance between you. As he took in the decor, he was surprised by the lively coloring and flourish that had donned each piece of furniture.

"You mentioned this bounty had to be brought in alive. May I ask if they've provided a reason why?" You led him into the open space that was the center of your home. It was covered in warm oranges and pinks, sleek and polished in preparation for any visitor. On the walls and in display cases were various art pieces you had collected over time.

Din took notice of each item. He recognized some of the art styles, all front different sectors of space he had been in. How you had acquired some pieces, he wasn't sure. As he took in the details of your space, he realized how little he knew about you. The tip to talk to you had been an anonymous message, but it was as good a place to start as any.

"I tend to not ask unless it's imperative to the bounty." He kept a hand on the blaster on his hip. It wasn't subtle, but Din only relied on the art of subtlety when there was something at stake.

"You amuse me, Mandalorian. I hope I can be of service," you mused. You waited for a response, but there was a silence that filled the air. Din cleared his throat, and you turned to see what he was looking at.

"Ever seen anything like it?" You smirked as you moved towards the case. In the tall glass case was your most novelty possessions, some from your home planet and some from stretches beyond your sector. Even with the mask on, you felt his gaze follow your every move as you opened the glass.

At the center of a black velvet pillow was a set of cuffs. Din had seen plenty of bindings for every set of appendages on the body. From high tech to basic, they had all been similar in shape and fashion. These were unlike any he had seen; never before had he seen something so frivolous.

"No," Din finally quipped. "They look useless."

It was true. If he had tried to use pink, fuzzy handcuffs on a bounty of his, they'd laugh right in his face before they made a break for it. Not that he blamed them, considering they looked flimsy from where he stood.

"I suppose in your line of work, they would be," you chuckled. "However, I must attest to their usefulness in other situations." You held the handcuffs, brushing a thumb over the exquisite fur that donned it. It had been sourced from a loth-wolf pelt and dipped in fruit dye— that, you had done yourself. The muddled white and grey did no justice for your tastes. Now, it was a vibrant pink thanks to the meiloorun fruit you had wrung dry.

"How? I fail to see how you could detain someone with these." You let the Mandalorian take the cuffs out of your hand so he was able to examine them. It was amusing to see him shift them in his hands, his gloved thumb brushing over the fur.

You were quiet for a beat before you moved closer to the bounty hunter. As you did, you shifted your shoulder to let the edge of your robe slip. Even with the chill in the air, you didn't mind how it left your skin exposed.

"It's not so much what you detain them with, but how you detain them. You should know that well enough, Mandalorian. I'm sure you've captured your fair share of brutes with far less than those."

Din was quiet for one beat, followed by another. He marveled at the handcuffs, then your shoulder. While he had been propositioned by plenty of people, both bounties and bystanders, this felt different. His body felt tense as it dawned on him, what you were implying.

"I have," he broke the silence. "It's about the situation— how you keep them compliant." His gaze flicked towards your face. He hadn't missed the smirk on your lips, not that you tried to hide it.

"Exactly. These require submission." You grabbed for the cuffs again, yet you didn't put them back in the case.

"Submission?" Din asked. You nodded and reached for his hand, which he let you take. It surprised both of you, but neither acknowledged it. Instead, you popped one side of the cuff open and placed it wound his wrist. It settled in the leather divot left where the two metal pieces of his armor divided.

You gently tugged Din's hand, and it moved without much resistance. He was thankful for the mask; it hid the way his eyes had widened. He had never been willingly cuffed, let alone moved without force.

"I'd like to show you just how useful they can be." You waited until his helmet shifted, a slight nod that you made out. Without another word, you led him down the hallway by way of the other cuff in your hand.

Din felt stiff and awkward with each clunky step towards your bedroom. He wasn't sure what to say, how to break whatever simmering tension had built between you two. Out of all the propositions he had faced, why did he falter at yours?

Just like the rest of your home, your room was vibrant with hues of oranges and pinks cast across the furniture. Din noticed the large window that allowed him to take in the vast horizon of Zeltros, an overview of the bustling city below.

As Din took in the sight, you gave another gentle tug towards your bed. He hesitated, his movements stiff as he shifted in his spot. You started to speak but before you managed to get anything out, he sat on the bed. His back was flush against the headboard, which had been made of repurposed copper pipes.

"When using these," you began as you sat in front of him. "You must relinquish some control. Unable to use your hands, it requires the ability trust in your partner." Your robe slipped further down to expose your bare chest as you looped one of Din's arms through the pipe. As you clasped the other cuff around his other hand, you felt him sink further into the bed. You glanced down to see your breasts spilled out of your robe, right above the bounty hunter's helmet.

Din had never been more thankful for the safety of his face covering. He was completely flush; it would have been impossible to hide the way he stared at your breasts. He cleared his throat before he spoke up.

"Why should I trust you?" Din was even more thankful for the modulator, which warped the tense tone in his voice.

"You have no reason," you shook your head. "Just as I have no reason to trust that you won't break one of my prized possessions." You settled between his legs, both your hands on his sturdy thighs. Even through the fabric of his pants, you saw what effect the pink handcuffs had on him.

"You use these often?" Din asked, as if deflecting distracted him from the ache in his cock. It had been ages since he felt any sort of release, and even longer since it had been at the hands of someone else.

"No. Only for special occasions." You moved for his belt and fiddled with the latch. It dropped off his waist, pooled underneath as it fell on the bed. He watched your hands under the armor chest plate to undo the button on his pants.

"What makes this so special?" Din asked. He felt his chest tighten, his breath short as you released his cock from the confines of the linen pants.

"It's not every day that a Mandalorian comes to my home, looking for my help." You didn't give the answer much thought, your own form of deflection. Instead of focusing on the conversation, you brushed your thumb over the head of his leaking cock as your hand ghosted over his shaft. You smirked as he shifted at the gentle touch.

"How long has it been? Since you've felt the touch of another." As you spoke, you leaned down to press a light kiss on his slit. Even the voice modulator couldn't hide the choked back sound he made.

The Mandalorian was silent, as you expected. His hips shifted as you swiped your tongue along the underside of the tip. The way he twitched in your hand only made you swipe your tongue again.

"Not one for casual conversation?" You mused in a teasing tone. "I suppose that comes with your occupation, bounty hunter." When your lips weren't on his cock, your hand was wrapped around his shaft as you slowly jerked him off.

Din was overwhelmed by the slow, tantalizing pace at which your hand moved. He resisted bucking up into your hand, to chase the high you gave him, but it felt near impossible. He had denied himself so much over his life, and this moment of weakness ate at him. He had to remain strong—

Your head dipped down again, the warmth of your mouth too much for him to handle. Before he managed to speak, hot, thick ropes hit your tongue and the back of your throat. Your hand continued up and down his shaft as you coaxed him through his orgasm.

"Sorry," Din's voice was gruff, even with it being altered. He felt a different type of heat crawl up his neck and all over his face.

"No need to apologize," you assured him once your lips popped off his cock, not without a string of white saliva popping as you pulled away. "The throws of pleasure can do things to us that we cannot predict." Before you sat up straight, you wiped at your lower lip and licked your finger clean.

"It's... it's been some time. Since I've found myself in someone's bed," Din admitted. Even after the pleasure that had shuttered through him, his body craved more— anything you were willing to give him.

"Well, if you ever crave a warm bed to find yourself in," you leaned in and braced yourself on his sturdy shoulders. "You find me. Maybe I'll wear the handcuffs next time, if you think you've learned your lesson."

You pressed a kiss to the top of the bounty hunter's helmet before you tucked him back into his pants. While you wanted to keep him there for hours and keep him pliable, you knew he had other business to tend to.

You just wondered how long it would take him to realize that his bounty had been right under his nose this entire time. Amazing what a set of fuzzy pink handcuffs could do.

[chaoticlycollected]

like what?

So I stumbled upon a post that had a color testing website for shades. Lower the score the better, but like the f*ck?

Website here: Free Online Color Challenge and Hue Test; X-Rite

I got a zero? I'm a band kid not art. I can see color?

[a-headless-angel]

Redamancy - Zestial X Angel!OC

Chapter Four: Descend

Synopsis: In the shadowy realms of Hell and the celestial heights of Heaven, two souls grapple with the ache of unrequited love. Zestial, the formidable demon overlord, commands respect and fear. His past has forged a reputation that isolates him. Resigned to a life of power and isolation, he yearned for companionship and understanding, knowing that his intimidating demeanor made such connections seemingly impossible. Gabriela, once a radiant angel, admired the archangel Michael from afar, her heart swelling with unspoken affection for his divine strength and kindness. Casted into Hell on a mission, she now struggles to survive in a world where danger lurks at every corner, her angelic essence buried beneath a demonic exterior. Amidst the chaos of Hell and the secrets of Heaven, a profound and forbidden love ignites between them, challenging the very core of their beliefs.

Chapter Four: Descend Chapter Five: Michael

Word Count: 3,537

*********************************************************

I open the grand doors and step inside. Immediately, my eyes are drawn to a distant figure standing near an intricate furnace, its flames dancing in a spectrum of vibrant colors. The figure is Sera, her seraphim appearance unmistakable. Her six radiant wings are folded gracefully behind her back, shimmering with a soft glow. Her white, flowing robe is adorned with celestial patterns that seem to shift and change like the stars themselves. Her long, silver hair cascades down her back, framing her ethereal face which bears an expression of deep concentration as she studies the furnace's flames.

As I approach her, Sera notices me and turns, a serene smile spreading across her face. I bow deeply, a gesture of respect. "Greetings, Sera."

She waves her hand dismissively. "Please, there is no need to bow. I am grateful for your prompt response on such short notice."

I straighten up, slightly taken aback by her informality. "It’s an honor to be here, Sera. How may I assist you?"

Sera's expression turns serious as she continues, "I have been observing your impeccable record as a guardian angel. Your hard work and dedication to our cause have not gone unnoticed. For this reason, I wish to assign you a special task."

My mind races. "A special task?" I repeat, my voice barely containing my excitement.

She nods, her eyes shimmering with resolve. "Yes. If you manage to complete this task, you will be promoted to Archangel."

My heart skips a beat. "Archangel?" I can hardly believe what I'm hearing. This is an opportunity of a lifetime.

Sera carefully observes my reaction, a knowing smile playing on her lips. She steps closer and, to my surprise, takes my hands in hers. "I believe you are the only one capable of completing this task. The only one I can trust."

Confused, I furrow my brow. "Why me? Surely, there are other angels with more… experience"

She senses my hesitation and gently explains, "The nature of this task is delicate and requires subtlety. An archangel's presence would draw too much attention."

I take a deep breath, steeling myself. "What will I have to do?"

Sera's expression grows somber. "You will have to go to Hell."

I pull my hands away, my eyes wide with disbelief. "What?!"

Sera tries to calm me. "I know it’s a huge undertaking, but I truly believe you are the only one who can do this."

I take a moment to process her words, then nod slowly. "What exactly will I have to do in Hell?"

Sera leans in, her voice lowering to a whisper. "What I am about to reveal is of extreme confidentiality. You cannot speak a word of this to anyone."

Flashes of my ordination by Sera, the oath of consecration I recited as I became a guardian angel under Michael's mentorship, come rushing back.

I remember the day vividly. The Ascension Rite, in which select angels would be ordained to become guardian angels. The ceremony took place in the Elysian Garden, a sacred and serene place filled with ethereal beauty. The garden was bathed in a golden light that seemed to emanate from the very air itself, casting a divine glow on everything it touched. Flowers of every conceivable color and fragrance bloomed in perfect harmony, their petals glistening like precious gems. The air was filled with the gentle hum of celestial choirs, their voices intertwining in a melody that resonated with the very essence of purity and grace.

In the center of the garden stood a magnificent altar made of the purest marble, intricately carved with symbols of light and protection. The altar was adorned with garlands of lilies and roses, their delicate scent mingling with the incense that burned in golden censers, releasing spirals of fragrant smoke that drifted heavenward. Around the altar, stood the elder angels of heaven, and the six archangels of heaven, Michael, Rapael, Uriel, Joephiel, Camuel, and Azarael, all brothers, and Sera and Emily stood in silent reverence, their wings folded in solemn respect.

Sera and Emily, resplendent in their seraphim forms, approached me with their serene smiles. 

Michael, my soon to be mentor, stood by her side, his presence a comforting anchor. His white skin gleamed in the golden light, and the red circles on his cheeks contrasted beautifully against his serene expression. His strong, reassuring gaze met mine, silently conveying his confidence in my abilities.

As the ceremony began, Emily held a golden chalice filled with a luminous, holy liquid. Sera dipped her fingers into the chalice and gently anointed my forehead, drawing a symbol of light that seemed to pulse with divine energy. Her touch was warm and comforting, and I felt a surge of strength and purpose flow through me.

"Dei Gratia Omnipotentis," Sera intoned, her voice resonating with authority and love, "Consecramus te, Gabriela, angelum custodem. Manus, oculi, cogitationes, verba, motus, actus tui sint instrumenta iustitiae. Ut sis pharus spei et tutelae, ductoris et custodiae. qui sub tua cura.”

I knelt before the altar, my heart swelling with devotion. The celestial choirs sang a hymn of consecration, their voices rising in a harmonious crescendo that seemed to lift my very soul. I recited the oath of consecration, my voice steady and clear, "Consecrans cotidie Tibi. Condo manus meas, oculos, cogitationes, verba, passiones et actiones meas tibi quotidie. Offero ea tibi in arma iustitiae. Haec omnia sanctifica, ut sint. hostiam vivam, sanctam, Deo placentem.”  

As I spoke, a radiant light enveloped me, a tangible sign of my new divine purpose. The light flowed around me, caressing my form before gathering at my halo. I watched in awe as the light absorbed into my halo, infusing it with a brilliant, ethereal glow. I felt the weight of the responsibility settle on my shoulders, but also a profound sense of honor and readiness to fulfill my sacred duty.

The ceremony concluded with Michael placing his hand on my shoulder, his touch firm and reassuring. "Welcome to the ranks of the guardian angels, Gabriela," he said, his voice filled with pride. "May you serve with unwavering dedication and grace."

Returning to the present, I felt the same surge of strength and purpose that had filled me on that day. I looked at Sera, my resolve unwavering. "I understand and I will not speak of it to anyone. I am ready to serve."

Sera's eyes shone with approval, and she gently squeezed my shoulder. "Thank you, Gabriela. Your dedication and loyalty are invaluable.”

With a final nod, I step back, ready to embark on the most challenging task of my life, the words of my oath echoing in my mind. "When do I start?" I ask, the weight of the task already settling in.

Sera looks at me, her expression serious. "Tonight," she says. "Everything has been prepared for your departure to Hell."

Before I can respond, Sera walks to the furnace with colorful fire. To my awe, she reaches into the fiery depths and pulls out an orb, her hand unscathed. The orb floats in her palm, a swirling mass of light and energy.

 "These souls, such as one I’m holding right now, are being cleansed of all impurities before they enter Heaven," she explains. "The orb I hold now is destined for redemption but must undergo purification.”

She continues, "This soul's name is Sister Celeste Avila. She was a devoted nun in her time, but at the time of her death, her memories were completely blacked out. Whatever she experienced caused her to block those memories, and she cannot ascend to Heaven until they are recovered. If you descend to Hell as Celeste, you can potentially uncover her memories and help her soul."

I take a deep breath, the enormity of the task settling in. "I understand. I will do my best."

Sera nods, her expression softening. "I know you will. Now, let's start.”

She pauses for a moment.  “I have received a report from the pride ring in Hell that Lucifer’s daughter, Charlie, is attempting to open a hotel that will redeem sinners to Heaven."

I process this information. "I've heard rumors of Lucifer having a daughter, but I always thought they were just that—rumors."

Sera nods. "Indeed, it’s a lot to take in. But this is where you come in. You will go to the pride ring as Celeste. Your initial task will be to monitor this hotel from a distance and gather intelligence on any suspicious activities from the overlords of Hell."

As she speaks, Sera conjures a mirror that shows the hotel, Charlie, and various overlords of Hell. The terrible scenes of Hell are reflected back at me—chaos, torment, and suffering.

I swallow hard, the weight of the mission settling on my shoulders.

She places a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “I have faith in you. Remember, this mission is not just about observing but about understanding the dynamics at play. Your success will pave the way for a safer and more harmonious existence for all."

I listen intently, my mind racing with the implications. Sera continues, "If you descend as Celeste, you will help her soul in the process. By understanding and recovering her lost memories, you can aid in her purification and thwart the efforts of Charlie's hotel.  It’s a win-win situation."

I take a deep breath, absorbing the gravity of the mission. "I understand, Sera. I will do everything in my power to help Celeste and ensure the success of this mission."

Sera's eyes soften with gratitude. "Thank you. Your dedication means more than you know. Remember, you are not alone. I will be guiding you as much as I can. Trust in yourself and in the divine purpose you serve."

Sera stood before me, her serene eyes reflecting the gravity of the moment. "Gabriela, to undertake this mission, I must temporarily strip you of your angelic essence. Your halo and wings must be concealed, and your essence must be drawn into your halo. Are you ready?"

I nodded, a mixture of apprehension and determination surging within me. "Yes, I am ready."

Sera extended her hands towards my halo, her fingers glowing with a soft, ethereal light. "This might feel strange, but trust in the process," she murmured gently.

As her fingers made contact with my halo, I felt a warm sensation spreading through me, as if the very essence of my being was responding to her call. The golden light of my halo began to pulse and shimmer, reacting to Sera's touch. Slowly, she began to draw her hands downward, and with them, the light of my halo followed, stretching and elongating like liquid gold being drawn from my core.

I felt a powerful yet gentle force enveloping me, pulling my essence upwards into the halo. It was an indescribable sensation—an intimate unweaving of my very self. My wings, symbols of my divine duty, began to fade, their feathers dissolving into specks of light that drifted away like embers from a dying fire. I felt my connection to the divine gradually sever, leaving me feeling exposed and vulnerable.

Sera continued her careful extraction, and my essence flowed upwards, concentrating into the halo. The room was filled with a shimmering glow as all of my essence coalesced into the halo. I could feel the lightness in my back where my wings had once been, and the absence of my essence left me feeling strangely bare.

With a final, gentle motion, Sera gathered the last remnants of my essence into the halo. She looked at me with a mixture of sorrow and resolve. "Gabriela, your essence is now contained within your halo. This is necessary for you to assume Celeste."

She carefully lifted the halo from above my head, and as it left me, I felt the last traces of my angelic nature depart. My wings disappeared entirely, and I stood there, devoid of my celestial attributes, feeling the weight of my mortal form.

Sera held the glowing halo in her hands, its light pulsing with the entirety of my being. "This halo now holds all that you are, Gabriela. It will be kept safe until your return."

I looked at her, the reality of my transformation settling in. Without my halo and wings, I felt profoundly different, yet I knew this was the only way to undertake the mission ahead.

Sera’s expression softened. "You are now ready. The essence of Celeste will now merge with your own being, allowing you to become her in every way."

She brought Celeste’s orb, a radiant light. I watched, entranced, as the light began to flow towards me, entering my being. As the light touched my skin, I felt a surge of warmth and emotion, an influx of memories and feelings that were not my own. Celeste's soul, her life, her experiences, all began to meld in me.

A cascade of images flashed before my eyes—scenes from Celeste's life, her joys and sorrows, her devout faith, and the dark void of her final moments. I felt her presence settling within me, her essence becoming intertwined with my being. My senses were overwhelmed, and for a moment, I felt as if I were both myself and Celeste simultaneously, our souls coexisting in a delicate balance.

When the light finally receded, I opened my eyes and saw Sera's gentle smile. "You are now Celeste, in essence" she said, her voice filled with both sorrow and hope. 

I looked down at myself, feeling the unfamiliar weight of Celeste's essence within me. My wings were gone, my halo absent, but a new sense of purpose and resolve filled the space they had left behind. I was ready to embark on this mission, to uncover Celeste's memories and bring her peace, all while protecting the delicate balance between Heaven and Hell.

"Before you depart," Sera continued, "take this." She handed me a small, ornate compact mirror. "This will allow us to communicate discreetly. Hold it and focus your thoughts when you need to reach me, and I will hear you. Be cautious and only use it when you are certain you are alone."

I took the compact mirror, feeling its subtle warmth. "Thank you, Sera. I will be careful."

"And remember," Sera added, "if you need to send a message without speaking, draw this sigil." She showed me a complex symbol, its lines and curves intricate and beautiful. "It will glow faintly when a message is sent, visible only to us."

I nodded, committing the sigil to memory. "I understand."

Sera's serene expression became somber. "Gabriela, the descent to Hell will be a painful process. I cannot shield you from the pain you will endure, but it is necessary for the mission."

I nodded, steeling myself for what was to come. Sera raised her hands, and with a graceful motion, she conjured a shimmering portal. The air around it seemed to ripple, and within the portal, I could see a glimpse of the Zone of Judgment—a vast space filled with towering, ancient elevators.

"The Zone is currently closed for an hour, and Peter is on a break," Sera explained. "This is your chance to go unnoticed. You must go now."

I took a deep breath, stepping towards the portal. As I passed through it, Sera's voice followed me. "Good luck, Gabriela. The fate of many rests on your shoulders." 

The portal closed behind me.

On the other side, I found myself in the eerie silence of the Zone of Judgment. The space was immense, filled with an almost oppressive stillness. Guardian angels, who had guided souls on earth, gathered here to receive the souls and guide them to the gates of Heaven. Today, however, the Zone was empty and quiet.

Before I approached one of the elevators, my thoughts drifted to Michael as I felt the weight of his knife in my pocket. If I could successfully complete this task, I would be promoted to Archangel—a position of immense honor and responsibility.

Becoming an Archangel meant more than just a title. It meant standing closer to Michael, both in rank and in spirit. Perhaps then, he would see me in a different light, not just as another guardian angel, but as a true equal. 

As I stood at the precipice, ready to descend into Hell, I turned back to look at Heaven from a distance. The sight was breathtaking. Heaven's perfection stretched out before me like an endless tapestry of light and beauty. The golden spires of the Celestial City shimmered in the divine glow, and the gentle hum of harmonious energy filled the air. Everything was in its place, immaculate, serene, and perfect. Yet, deep down, I felt a pang of inadequacy. Amidst this flawless realm, I couldn't help but feel that I wasn't perfect myself.

The doubt gnawed at me, but I reflected back on Michael's words in the garden. He had spoken of finding my purpose, of embracing my unique path even when the way seemed unclear. Those words had given me strength, a reminder that my journey was my own to forge. And now, standing on the brink of the unknown, I knew there was no turning back. I had to find my way.

With a deep breath, I took one last look at Heaven's gates and the Celestial City from the far distance. The gates stood tall and majestic, a symbol of the purity and peace that lay beyond them. The city, with its radiant architecture and ethereal gardens, seemed to beckon with an almost palpable warmth. But I knew that my path led elsewhere, into the depths of Hell, where my true test awaited.

I approached one of the elevators and pressed the button. The doors slid open with a soft chime, and I gingerly stepped inside. The door closed behind me, sealing me in a small, metallic chamber. The screen above the door displayed a zero. Beside the door was a single button. I pressed it, and the words "Heaven" and "Hell" began to flash on the screen, spinning like a wheel of fate.

I watched with bated breath as the words flickered, my heart pounding in anticipation. Finally, the spinning slowed, and after what felt like an eternity, the word "Hell" appeared and stayed. The light in the elevator turned a sinister red, and numbers appeared on the screen, counting down from zero.

The elevator lurched violently, beginning its rapid descent. As it fell, the numbers on the screen dropped quickly. A burning sensation spread through my body, growing more intense with each passing second. 

I screamed. The agony as the heat seared through me, my skin feeling like it was being torn apart.

The numbers continued to descend, and the pain became unbearable. My vision blurred, and I felt myself slipping into unconsciousness. Just before I blacked out, I saw the number 456 flash on the screen. Darkness swallowed me.

When I woke up, I had no sense of how much time had passed. The elevator was still bathed in red light, and the first thing I noticed were the large, bright numbers on the screen: 666.

 I struggled to stand, my body still aching from the descent. I pushed the button to open the doors.

As the doors slid open, the full horror of Hell greeted me. The air was thick with the stench of sulfur and decay. The sky above was a tumultuous swirl of black and crimson, filled with ominous clouds that crackled with red lightning. The ground was a barren wasteland, covered in jagged rocks and rivers of molten lava that flowed like veins of fire.

Everywhere I looked, grotesque creatures roamed. Demons with twisted forms, their bodies covered in scales and spikes, prowled the landscape. Some had multiple heads, each one more hideous than the last, with eyes that glowed with malevolent hunger. Others had wings made of tattered flesh, and their shrieks pierced the air like the cries of tormented souls.

In the distance, the buildings seemed to pulse with a life of their own, the cries of the damned echoing from within. Fires burned in vast pits, casting a hellish glow over the entire scene.

I stood at the threshold, taking in the nightmarish vista. This was Hell. A realm of eternal suffering and despair. My mission had only just begun, and I could already feel the weight of it bearing down on me. With a deep breath, I stepped out of the elevator and into the infernal landscape, ready to uncover the secrets of Celeste’s past and to begin my assigned journey into Hell. 

*********************************************************

Latin to English Translations (Courtesy of Google Translations): 

Sera:  "By the grace of the Almighty…. We consecrate you, Gabriela, as a guardian angel. May your hands, your eyes, your thoughts, your words, your emotions, and your actions be instruments of righteousness. May you serve as a beacon of hope and protection, guiding and safeguarding those under your care."

Gabriela: "I consecrate each day to You. I consecrate my hands, my eyes, my thoughts, my words, emotions, and my actions to You every day. I offer them to You as instruments of righteousness. Sanctify all of these, that they may be living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God."

Story available on AO3

Chapter Five: Michael

[carphotoeditinglab]

The Ultimate Professional Photography Equipment List

In the world of photography, equipment plays a pivotal role in capturing the perfect shot. Whether you're a seasoned professional or an aspiring enthusiast, having the right gear can make all the difference in achieving stunning results. From cameras to lenses, lighting to accessories, the options can seem overwhelming. That's why we've compiled the ultimate professional photography equipment list to guide you through the essentials of what you need to take your photography to the next level.

Cameras

DSLR Cameras Digital Single Lens Reflex cameras remain indispensable tools for professional photographers due to their versatility and exceptional image quality. They offer versatility, high image quality, and interchangeable lenses. Popular models include Canon EOS 5D Mark IV and Nikon D850.

Mirrorless Cameras: These compact and lightweight cameras offer similar image quality to DSLRs but without the bulky size. Sony Alpha series and Fujifilm X-T4 are renowned for their performance and portability.

Medium Format Cameras: Ideal for studio and landscape photography, medium format cameras like the Phase One XF IQ4 deliver exceptional detail and resolution, making them a favorite among commercial photographers.

Lenses

Prime Lenses: Known for their sharpness and wide aperture, prime lenses like the Canon EF 50mm f/1.2L and Nikon AF-S NIKKOR 85mm f/1.4G are perfect for portraits, low-light situations, and achieving beautiful bokeh.

Zoom Lenses: Offering versatility, zoom lenses like the Canon EF 24-70mm f/2.8L II and Sony FE 70-200mm f/2.8 GM are great for capturing a variety of subjects, from landscapes to events, with minimal lens changes.

Macro Lenses: Designed for close-up photography, macro lenses such as the Nikon AF-S VR Micro-NIKKOR 105mm f/2.8G are essential for capturing intricate details and capturing stunning images of small subjects like flowers and insects.

Lighting

Speedlights: Portable and versatile, speedlights like the Nikon SB-5000 and Canon Speedlite 600EX II-RT provide on-camera and off-camera lighting solutions for various shooting conditions.

Studio Strobes: For professional studio setups, studio strobes such as the Profoto D2 and Godox AD600Pro offer consistent and powerful lighting for studio portraits, product photography, and fashion shoots.

Modifiers: Light modifiers like softboxes, umbrellas, and reflectors help control and shape light to achieve desired lighting effects, such as softening shadows or creating dramatic highlights.

Accessories

Tripods: Essential for achieving stability and sharpness, tripods such as the Manfrotto MT055XPRO3 and Vanguard Alta Pro 263AB provide a sturdy base for long exposures, landscape photography, and self-portraits.

Camera Bags: Protect your gear while on the go with durable and functional camera bags like the Peak Design Everyday Backpack and Lowepro ProTactic series, featuring customizable compartments and weather-resistant materials.

Memory Cards: Invest in high-speed and reliable memory cards like SanDisk Extreme Pro and Lexar Professional to ensure fast write speeds and ample storage for high-resolution images and 4K video recording.

Filters: Enhance your photography with filters such as polarizers, ND filters, and graduated neutral density filters to control reflections, reduce glare, and balance exposure in challenging lighting conditions.

Post-Processing Tools

Editing Software: Adobe Photoshop and Lightroom are industry-standard software for editing and retouching images, offering powerful tools for adjusting exposure, color, and composition.

Calibration Tools: Ensure accurate colors and tones with monitor calibration tools like Datacolor SpyderX and X-Rite ColorMunki, essential for maintaining consistency across different devices and print outputs.

Storage Solutions: Back up and organize your digital assets with reliable storage solutions such as external hard drives, NAS (Network Attached Storage), and cloud storage services like Dropbox and Google Drive.

Conclusion

Building a comprehensive photography kit involves careful consideration of your artistic vision, shooting style, and budget. While the options may seem endless, investing in quality equipment that suits your needs can significantly enhance your photography experience and the quality of your work. Whether you're capturing breathtaking landscapes, timeless portraits, or compelling commercial imagery, having the right tools at your disposal is essential for achieving your creative vision. So, equip yourself with the essentials from our professional photography equipment list and embark on a journey of endless possibilities in the world of photography.

[jjungkooksthighs]

Claws of Carnality | jjk (m) (14)

Pairing: alpha jungkook x omega reader

Genre: fluff and angst, abo/werewolf,  fantasy

Rating: 18+/nsfw

Word Count: 8.8k

Summary: The Duels of the Chosen begin, and the alphas battle the right to take the omega as their own. 

Warnings: CHARACTER INJURY, LOTS OF BLOOD MENTIONS, GORE (this will not be for people who are squeamish with blood/gore), dom!jungkook, alpha!jungkook, alpha!Taehyung, alpha!Jimin, sub!reader, omega!reader, cursing, praising, possessive!jungkook, teasing, dirty talk, marking, manhandling

A/N: Hello, all! It’s been some time, but we are back again with another update! I have been very busy with work and school, so that was one of the reasons this took so long. The other reason was that I knew a lot of you were waiting specifically for the long-anticipated fight, and so I became overly critical of myself and didn’t like anything I wrote. This is a chapter that was one of my first ideas for this story, so I wanted it to be as perfect as I envisioned it in my head. Nothing I wrote could match that, and finally I became resolved to just writing without stopping or editing until the end. I hope that you all find this to meet your expectations, given that it is over twenty pages long. Oh, and let me know what you think about that cliffhanger at the end (or anything about this chapter because comments are like the bread and butter of writers), yeah?

Series Masterlist

It is as if time itself has grown tired as the seconds slowly tick by, the silver circlet twining itself around your head becoming heavier the longer it stays nestled there.

It saps your senses and strength away to leave you entirely incapable of movement and thought. In some cases, it even dulls emotions. It was why the substance was forbidden to be used except in ceremonial rites like the Duels of the Chosen.

Soon, even managing a thought becomes a challenge in how the silver intertwists you in numbness in your own head. Even your eyelids fall lower over your eyes in how leaden they have become.

The sound of something distinctly metal comes from somewhere near your feet. It takes a moment for you to drag your irises down your mate’s body to where his hand is fiddling with the bolt holding the first latch closed on the brown wooden box at your feet. The box, like its counterpart that has yet to be opened, is bigger than the one your diadem had come from.

His long fingers easily flick up on the last latch to the second of the three wooden boxes that are of a sepia, umber, and burnt sienna make. It is the second largest box of the three. What your alpha reveals is on a bed of white velvet and you see not one, but two pieces laid under one another that shine in the moonlight.

They are identical and appear to be a kind of cuff for your wrist in their size.  They, like are your diadem, have twisting and tangling silver strands that root from the bottom of the piece to the top, and interspersed throughout the bevy of liana-like tendrils, you can make out small, intricately forged flowerets not unlike the curtain of vines that flowers of all colors and sizes cling to along the stony wall hiding the creek that you used to habit.

It's a task to summon the memories of that place with the circlet that siphons away your cognition. Every time you try, what you are searching for seems to swim away from you in the sea of darkness that has swept your mind in its sway.

“Forgive me, my beautiful flower,” your mate’s voice lifts your very soul as you watch him undo the clasps of the first piece, his digits working the hook with ease and, from his knees, he reaches for your arm while he says, “the tradition is that you must be bedecked in silver before I am allowed to go fight. I fear I may not even make it that far if I do not do this now.” His calloused fingers wrap around your forearm and he turns it so that the underside of your arm is extended to him as he lifts the silver cuff toward it with the other. He doesn’t release your forearm, but instead curls his fingers tighter over your bare flesh as he says, “But gods, you test me so.”

Trying to put together words or sentences is like trying to fish in a dark, murky river. As for your emotions, even they have begun to grow dormant under the waters of dullness that try to quiet them.

It's all you can do to let your head fall to the side in question, the leaf-shaped crystal hanging from the middle of your diadem reflecting the light of the moon.

Attuned to you as ever, your alpha grins, “All I meant is that you have a very, very powerful effect on me, my love.” He guides your arm forward until the back of your hand rests on his shoulder. Then, his fingers are gone and he fits the adornment over your wrist as he hooks the first of the five blossoming fastenings along the undersurface of the bracelet over one another while he confesses, “I wanted to keep kissing you,” he closes the last of the fastenings over your wrist before bringing it to his mouth and placing his lips over your bloodied palm before he turns your now limp arm back over so that you can put your dead weight on his shoulder. Then, he’s grabbing your other so that he can adorn it, too, as he tells you, “I wished to keep tasting you,” a pink tongue glides along his lip where your blood now coats it, a groan slipping from him whilst he secures the fixing on the other wrist cuff as he admits, “And I wanted to keep exploring your body.”

You can only whimper in answer, but even that sound is now muted to your own ears as if you have cloth stuffed in them while the silver sifts out the energy from your body like a drain where the metal touches your flesh. It is heavy as a rock, and your wrist is trapped within it as you whimper.

Your alpha’s eyes soften at that, and still on knees, he reaches for the third and largest of the ornately carved boxes. Somehow, his digits work even slower now on this one.  

You do not think about why. All you can do is sit and watch as a tethering torpor climbs up your arm like a fungus from where the silver cuffs bind them.

“You probably have already realized it by now, omega,” his eyes are locked on yours when his fingers find the hem of your gown behind your ankle and then he’s balling it in his hand, “but it gives me no pleasure to bind you up like this. I am very well acquainted with what silver does to our kind. I made this silver for you, but I also had to make it for myself, too.” He’s careful to lay both of your hands on your lap, “the only reason I am still capable of basic movement while touching it is because I seem to have made myself somewhat tolerant to it with how much I’ve had it on me during my ruts,” golden irises find yours when he adds, “ruts that I could not spend with you until you had accepted me.”

Your heart gives a weak pang against your ribcage at that.

“I’m almost done, sweetheart. Bear with me.” He tugs up on the ovular clasp on the third, final and biggest of the wooden boxes–this one the length of your calf in its size–before pushing inward, and then he’s lifting up the top of the box to reveal two grandiloquent adornments that you’ve never seen anything the likes of before.

It takes some time to process what they are, but you cannot ignore how wondrously they glint in the firelight that makes them sparkle bright as the stars.

With his hand still gripping at your skirts, your alpha coaxes your knees apart so that he can resituate himself and put one of his knees between yours.

It is a strange thing to be so silent, but you know if you didn’t have this silver on you right now, you would be begging.

Your alpha must know it, because he chuckles when he coaxes your left leg up and onto his so that your foot rests on his thigh, and gods, the sight of him on his knees for you has familiar heat stirring between your legs as your sex cries for him.

The wind chooses that moment to wind around you, and then your alpha is cursing under his breath, his fingers tightening in your skirt as he cusses, “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, omega.”

His movements hasten then, and his eyes dilate in desire. You feel your skirt ascend and climb along your leg until he’s got it bunched up atop your knee, but it is a blur after that the muted sound of a clink. You don’t even realize that he’s fitted the piece over your calf and pulled together the three clamps only with one hand along the back of your leg before he’s heaving a heavy breath and leaning forward to utter, “It is a good thing I am touching this silver and that it deafens my senses to an extent, because if it didn’t,” his lips brush the inside of your knee as he mouths, “I’d have likely been unable to stop myself from standing and taking you against this fucking tree you sit on.”

You have half a mind to tell him you want it, that you want him, but words do not come. Every time you seek them, they bury themselves in the silt of your brain and no matter how hard you try, the silver circling your head hides them from you.

All you can manage is a stuttered,” Ah..al…alpha.”

At the sound of your voice, your alpha’s irises contract from between your thighs as he looks up at you. “Here, my love. I am here.”

You wish you could speak more to him. You wish you could touch him. You wish he would-

“I can hear your desire as much as I can smell it, my love,” your alpha tells you as he brings his lips over to the other side of your knee and he presses his mouth to your skin, “your pre-heat is making you fucking needier as the seconds pass, pretty girl.”

You make an effort to make your thighs meet, but the leg that he’d just wrapped silver in does not heed your mind or your instinct.

You pout. It’s all your body has energy left to do.

You hadn’t noticed it before now, but the usual softness, warmth and wetness of his mouth and fingers was gone. Stolen by the silver that drew sensation away until little to none remained.

Suddenly, there’s something hard gliding along your upper shin, and when your alpha’s mouth leaves you, two fresh, new punctures dot your skin along the base of your knee.

You had not felt him bite you. There had not been any pain due to the dulling effect of the silver just beneath his mark.

Crimson now lines his mouth and he lets it descend from the middle of his lower lip and down his bare neck. You lick your lips as you watch it, your tongue dense as a stone.

Jealousy hangs low in your gut over you in how your own blood gets to trail down his body and you can only watch. Your alpha’s mouth curves up at that, and two canines, each red with your blood, protrude from under his lips.

“Worry not, my love,” your alpha’s fingers find your other ankle and he guides it up so that your foot rests on his leg, his head dipping between your thighs while his digits tug the ball of fabric of your skirts higher so that he has more access to you, “I will satisfy every single one of your fantasies, every single one of your dreams, and every single one of your cravings,” his mouth finds the tender flesh of your inner thigh as he angles his head to the side, your own lips parting as his tongue slides from between his to lick you as he says, “I’ll let you have me anyway you wish, my love. Anything to make you happy, pretty.”

You latch onto that word. You try to follow the line he’s thrown you in the river of languor, and you can manage through the current of listlessness, “Y-yours…w-want to-“

You try again, but attempting to get your head above the water of stupor that has settled around you is too much.

Your alpha coos, “Oh, my omega. I hear you. I see you,” He suckles at your flesh before lightly biting down the same time you hear that clinking sound again, his freed hand placing the other silver adornment along your shin only for the sinking of all of his teeth into your flesh to feel as if he were only nipping you. “I feel your very blood trying to give itself to me like this. How badly I want to give in to you, my little vixen.”

“Pack Alpha Jungkook,” your grandmother’s voice sounds in the distance from where she stands on her place at the edge of the timbered stage, “It is time. She is more than ready for you to go to battle.”

“Give me a moment,” your alpha declares.

You do not hear her at first. The sounds and vocables mix together and you can only discern bits of pieces of it.

Not…not ready…alpha…

They are the only words that you can remember long enough to think them.

In front of you, your alpha’s tongue drifts to and fro over the wounds he’d left on your thigh.

I must, my love. I must.

His voice finds you even though his mouth doesn’t move.

You attempt to reach for him, to get closer to him, but it’s as if a weight has been attached to your arm and no matter how much you attempt it, it is too heavy to move. As if to soothe the frustration you let out in the form of a shaky sigh, he gives you featherlight kisses anywhere and everywhere that he can along your thigh before he turns his head inward toward your other and opens his mouth to mold it against you, his tongue laving at you ardently.

The attention has your core clenching around nothing.  

Before he departs from between your legs, his digits finish their work in securing the clamps along the back of the other piece of silver he’d put over your shin.

Like the air, his fingers are ever present and wind over the silver etchings he’d forged for you until they roam to the front of the adornment he’d just attached to you. The knuckles of the hand he has tangled your skirts has gone snow white in the tight grip he has on the thin fabric.

He’s holding it like it is a lifeline, and honestly, it just might be. He’s all that is grounding you right now.

“Stars above, my love, you charm me even when silence and stillness have stolen what is only mine to have,” he gently helps you to put your feet back on the grass, his golden irises sowing themselves deep into yours as he does, “I used to think about what you might look like all tied up and bound for me, but none of my imaginings could ever be as good as this.” He rises to stand above you and it only takes two of his fingers under your chin to lift it enough so that you can keep your gaze on him, your bare neck exposed for him as he inspects his handiwork while he goes on, “You haven’t any clue just how seductive you can be when you aren’t even trying, omega. Look at yourself.”

Distantly, relief trickles over you at how fucking responsive your alpha is to you. You wouldn’t have otherwise been able to move your head so that you could look upon him given that the rest of your body isn’t responding to what the apex between your legs has been sobbing over this entire time.

Your wolf sluggishly stirs at his command, and you do as you are told with your head empty of everything except the need to satisfy him.

 It takes some effort. Drawing your eyeline away from him is like towing an anchor through a muddy seafloor. The red paint of your own blood that you’d etched all over him has darkened even more in its dryness across his muscled arms and corded chest. Lighter trails of it have swept themselves down his neck from where it drips from his lips from his earlier ministrations, and with the hooded look in his eyes and wild black hair that curls around his chiseled face, he looks like he wants to devour you.

You know that you’d let him. In the back of your mind, the image of him with his head trapped between your legs, your ankles thrown over his shoulders and his lips wrapped around your pussy flashes. It sends wetness between your already slicked folds.

“Lustful little thing,” your alpha groans when your scent reaches his nostrils, “Stop thinking about getting fucked, pretty girl. I told you I would take care of that when this is over. Now look at yourself,” he orders.

His fingers that he’s kept under your chin lower your head so that you have no choice but to look ahead where he wants you to. You don’t have the strength to move it on your own anymore.

 The first thing you notice is that he’s still got your skirts rolled up between his now snow-white knuckles. The second thing you notice is the skin of your thighs is now painted in bloodied trails of your essence that circle and tread toward the very bindings that your alpha had just put on you. The third thing you notice is that just below your knee, rivulets of silver run along your shins and calves. Like they have dripped from the rocks of the creek you often played in as a child and found respite in as an adult, the silver drizzles down your leg until it pools around your ankle in the thick band of metal that encircles it.

“C-creek?” you let the heavy, rolling tide of that thought bring the word forth from your lips.

“Yes, sweetheart. I had hoped to capture the essence of the places you love the most in all of the pieces I made by hand for you,” his fingers loosen around the clump of your skirts under his fingers, and slowly, it descends down your knee, your shin, and then finally your ankle as you both watch. “It’s not a perfect replication, but a lot of silver passed through my hands in my mission to make something only you would be able to wear and bear.”

Affection courses through your veins as steadily as the blood that runs through your body at his words.

“Pack Alpha Jungkook,” the sound of wood rattles against the platform she stands upon when your grandmother strikes the timbered stage with a staff of oaken bark to announce, “With your preparations complete, you must now head to the battle grounds you have chosen where your challengers await your arrival. If you have anything else you wish to say to your intended or to the pack, you must do so now.”

Without taking his eyes off of you, your alpha answers, “I do have something to say.” He coaxes your chin upward with the fingers he still has planted there, and then sunlight in the form of irises finds yours. His voice is carried only to you in the small breeze that blows over you. “I want you to know, omega,” his thumb slides along the cleft of your chin, “that I love you. And this fight…I do it for you. Everything I do and have done up until now has all been for you, my love.” He tilts his head up, his lips finding the spot between your brows just under the crystal that hangs from your circlet and then mouthing, “Be a good for me until I come back to you. I will return shortly.”

You bite at the log he’s thrown you, only a few words leaving you because the rest had sunken under the murky waters of thought in your head.

“Good,” you can’t even scrunch your brows together in consternation anymore because of how leaden even those have become. Your jaw hardly even moves when you speak, because doing so is impossible with the muscles that refuse to respond to you as you say between parted lips, “b-be good for…for y-you. R-ret…return shortly.”

That seems to satisfy the alpha, for he rumbles against you in response. “That’s my girl.”

His mouth leaves you, and though you can’t really feel their warmness or softness anymore because of the silver, you miss them already.

He gives you one last glance, and in those eyes of his, and compassion clings to them as they cross over you.

You want to reach for him. You want to feel those arms of his around you. You want him to stay with you. That thought sinks away from you even though you try to swim after it.

Stay… alpha.

Your alpha steps back, shaking his head as he does.  

I will never have to leave you once this is over, my love. Trust in me.  I will not fail you.

With those words he sends through your bond, he turns away from you. Panic somehow worms its way into your gut as you watch.

Your alpha’ voice is firm as a tree stump and sturdy as the bark of one when he speaks again as the grass crunches under his feet. “To any alpha here-mated or unmated-do not go near the omega. My omega,” he adds. “Get within in one foot of her, and I will hunt you down.”

Before him, the males put an arm over their front and pound their fist into their chest one by one.

The sea of alphas and omegas part like a river for him, and no one stands in his way as he walks, his shoulders set proudly as he moves with confidence cording his muscles.

You try to whimper, but the sound is lost somewhere in your throat.

The other wolves cluster to one of two sides so that you have nothing blocking your sight from him as he treads on through the grass that catches his feet, the firelight of the braziers set every few feet bathing him in a golden glow. The red paint of blood he wears like a second skin, and it is a dangerous warning to the three that stand several paces apart from each other in the distance ahead.

The continual crunch of grass under your alpha’s feet continues until the grass yields to the dirt of the plain by the old knoll that had stood since the old times.

Your alpha halts, resolve now set in those eyes of his.

Before him to his left, Taehyung stares with a sneer on his face. In the middle of the field, ahead of your alpha is Yoongi, the russet-haired male that has his arms crossed over his chest. To his right, Jimin bares his teeth.

Your alpha reveals his own teeth to them all.

“Pack Alpha Jungkook,” the voice of your grandmother descends over the plain as she ambles, with two other elders, down the stage toward the mound before the plain, “As you have been named the Omega Y/N’s champion, you have been granted the battle rights and so you may choose the terms of this battle.” She peregrinates still, the thick furs around her shoulders unmoved even in her shaky footfalls, “No one may contest your decisions, and your choices are final once given. If any wolf breaks these terms, he will be disqualified and deemed unfit to take the omega as his own. Do you all understand?”

“Yes,” your alpha, without missing a breath, answers.

The other three males nod.

“Very well. Chosen one, do you wish to take on all of your opponents at once, one at a time, or in any sequential order?” She makes it to the top of the knoll, her knees popping as she does.

“I will take on Yoongi alone. The other two I will fight together. It matters not to me which I battle first.” Jungkook asserts.

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Scared, Jeon?”

Taehyung laughs under his breath. Jimin cringes at the sound.

“Keep dreaming, Yoongi. I know how dirty you play,” Jungkook picks an invisible fleck of dust off his shoulder.  

“Will you fight in your human form, or will you shift to your lupine form?” The elder in grayed, wiry furs is unphased.

“The first battle I will fight as a human. My second I will fight as a wolf. The others will do the same.”

“Will you be using any weapons in your first fight?”

“Hands, teeth, and claws,” your alpha decides.

“Will this be to the death or to the surrender of the fallen combatants?”

“To the surrender. I do not wish to lose any of my alphas. Even if they are a pain in the ass.”

“Are there any other conditions you would like to set, Pack Alpha Jungkook?”

Your alpha’s eyes harden on each of the males before him. “Any wolf that falls in combat will bear those marks for the rest of his life. I will allow no healers or menders to their side unless the injury is life-threatening.”

“Those conditions will be met. Anything else?” The elder beside your grandmother asks.

“Yes. One more thing,” your alpha is unwavering as he takes a step forth, “No challenger may leave the perimeter of these grounds we stand on until the victor has been declared.”

“As you say,” the aged wolf on the other side of the lead elder says.

The rustle of trees sweeps over the land from the woodland around, and the fire of the braziers circling the arena of dirt is swept with the wind until all is quiet again.

Your alpha keeps his back to you, and so fixated on him, you do not see your grandmother lift her hand, the sound of horns filling the air as the two elders beside her blow into the wooden tusks with holes cut into them that they’d produced from the folds of their furs that cover the whole of their body.

“I will remind you, Jeon Jungkook, that as you are the current Pack Alpha, your title and rank will be stripped from you should you lose this battle. The victor will take your title, rank, and your intended should you be unable to beat them in combat,” The two elders at your grandmother’s side speak together, their voices melding into one, “Do you understand and agree to these terms?”

Your alpha doesn’t even flinch at the prospect. “I am aware of what will happen should I fail to be victorious. I consent to those terms.”

“Should any alpha fail to comply with these conditions, they will be exiled, and if it is the victor’s decision, he may decide to exile or end the lives of those he defeats.” The elders wait for all four males to acknowledge this with affirmations before: “Now, with the terms and agreements that have been given,” the elder in gray from atop the knoll who stands as the intercessor of the four alphas below voices, “Let the battle begin.”

For a few moments, all the males do is stand and stare between one another, no one willing to make the first move.

Your alpha is patient, so he waits. He has spent a long, long time waiting for you.

Worry snakes around your chest, its slithery movement slow and lazy as you watch your alpha’s muscles in his back tense as if he’s preparing to be attacked.

As if he can smell your concern, he turns his head to the side, his irises softening as they silently seek yours.

Worry not, my love. Just watch me. This will all seem like a dream in only a short while.

“The hell with this,” comes a dry remark from Taehyung, who shrugs off his black rabbit furs, the bones cracking from between his knuckles as he claws at his black linen shirt so that it falls in shreds at his feet, “I’ve been waiting for a chance to get revenge for what you did to my fucking shoulder, Jeon,” Taehyung covers the five circular wounds in his flesh, his eyes boring holes into your alpha, “and I will finish what I started with the female and make you grovel while I do it.”

“Oh, shut up already, Taehyung,” Jimin throws off his own furs, his eyes narrowing on the brown haired wolf who had just spoken, “I should destroy you first for what you did to my sister. To me,” he rips his own shirt from his body, “You fucking asshole.”

“Can you both just come at me already? I’m getting bored over here,” Your alpha stretches an arm behind his back, “Unless you’d like to let Yoongi have a go at me first?”

“Fuck off, Jeon,” Yoongi picks at his nails, “you two had better start ripping into some limbs, or I will.”

“No,” Taehyung pushes off his haunches and is off, “he’s mine.”

Jimin is on his tail the second he moves. Your alpha is still even though there’s a male running toward him and another behind that one. Taehyung’s arm lifts, his claws in the air and then he’s upon your alpha.

Fear constricts your stomach at the sight.

The brown-haired wolf draws his arm down in an arcing motion as if to slash at your alpha’s chest, but before it can make it there, your alpha’s hand, fast as lightning, races through the air and he grips Taehyung’s wrist with force, each of his nails sinking into the alpha’s wrist as if it were water. The brown-haired alpha barks in pain, his eyes unseeing of the other alpha behind him as he does.

Jungkook smirks, and with no effort, he swings his other arm back, his fingers clenching into a fist and then that fist makes contact with Taehyung’s stomach. Hard. The brown-haired alpha is flung like a pebble into the air and the impact of the throw has his head colliding with Jimin’s so that there’s a loud thud as Taehyung’s skull hits the other’s that is hard as a stone.  

“Surely you both can do better than that? I’m a little disappointed. I wasn’t expecting much from Taehyung considering he’s never been that great a fighter,” your alpha wrinkles his nose in disgust at the fresh blood that now coats his hand as he looks down at it, “but Jimin? You usually are faster than that. It’s unlike you.”

“Basta-“ Jimin is silenced when Jungkook impels his foot down on his abdomen to knock the breath out of him.  

Your alpha’s tone is devoid of any warmth when he chides, “I thought I told you not to address me with such disrespect.” He stomps on the downed alpha’s chest again, the rib beneath it cracking like a twig as Jimin yips in affliction.

Taehyung gets to his feet and swings, but Jungkook uses the body of Jimin like he’s a stepping stone to jump to the other side so that Taheyung misses and your alpha tuts, “Ah, ah, ah, Taehyung. It is rude to try to punch someone when they’re looking.”

“Like I give a fuck,” Taehyung curses, and when he swings again, Jungkook jumps back with inhuman speed. Across from him, he just narrowly misses Jimin who had rolled to his belly and pushed off his hands to get up.

Jungkook flicks his bloodied hand toward the ground as if to get it off and red dots the ground before he taunts, “You know, I’ve always thought you smelled absolutely rancid, Taehyung,” he wipes the remains on his trousers, “but I didn’t think it was possible for you to smell worse than the bottom of a fucking bog.”

Taehyung responds by yelling out the Pack Alpha’s name, and then he’s making another dash for him. Jungkook isn’t even phased by it. He just steps sideways so that the alpha’s claws and open maw miss him completely. Jimin comes for him next, but he dives toward the ground and rolls when the other alpha tries to swipe at his side from below.

 Yoongi, the passive bystander, stays where had been since the beginning and files at his nails using a rock he’d picked up.

Meanwhile, Taehyung scampers like a wild man toward Jungkook. Anger has turned the whites of his eyes red, and his movements only grow more erratic the longer he battles.

When Jungkook rises to his feet once more, he grins at the sight. “Always so quick to anger,” he spins when the brown-haired alpha’s arm descends downward, “and always so easy to defeat.” He rotates the other direction when Taehyung’s attempts to uppercut him, “I knew you would not be difficult to defeat from the moment I threw you against that tree in the fucking forest when you talked back to me. When you dared to disrespect and defile my intended with your tongue,” Jungkook’s fist ascends toward his maw, but the brown-haired wolf holds up both arms in front of his face to block. The force of the blow knocks his arms away from his face, one of his elbows pushed up into an area of his arm that it doesn’t belong as he curses loudly and the wolf staggers backward away from Jungkook, who mocks,  “I should take your tongue for all its slander, but taking that ego and pride from you will hurt you more than that ever could.”

Jimin sprints so that he’s waiting on the opposite side of your alpha, but before his outstretched foot can make contact with Jungkook’s stomach, his calf is caught by Jungkook’s fingers. Your alpha keeps that leg in his hold, his claws elongating and puncturing the flesh there so that Jimin winces and cries out.

Momentarily seized by the pain, Jimin grabs at his leg while Jungkook reprimands, “and you, Jimin…You used to be such a good friend to me. I have missed your presence and friendship.” He headbutts the male, “Were you not distracted by Taehyung, you might have actually made me break a sweat.”

The scraunch of dirt sounds from behind him, and Jungkook crouches as Taehyung catapults himself toward him. He hurls Jimin to the ground, and Taehyung’s teeth embed themselves into Jimin’s chest as the two tumble to the ground. In the scuffle, Jungkook’s claws that had been lodged in Jimin’s thigh had cut through his flesh like it was fluid, and blood sprays all around them before Jimin lands with a deafening thump on the dirt that is stirred up in a cloud around the males.

When it clears, a motionless Jimin is lain under Taehyung, who extracts his claws from around his heart and rises without even glancing his direction. Crimson gushes from the downed alpha’s wounds, his skin torn and mangled from his thigh all the way to his foot where his lifeblood flows out of him like a red sea. Bone peeks from beneath the five angry incisions that sever his skin from itself along his leg and his chest heaves with labor where the blood pushes itself out from the five punctures around his heart.

Agitation dots your alpha’s face where Jimin’s blood does not, his entire chest now speckled with crimson that you had not put there.

He had not wanted this to end in death for any under his charge.

“This is your fault, Jeon,” Taehyung spits, “If you had just fucking stood still, you would be on the fucking ground right now, and your little bitch would already be mine.”

That has your alpha’s irises lifting to his. They are colder than ice as he narrows them, “First you defile Jimin, who became your friend because I told him to, and then you insult my intended. Tell me, Taehyung, whose fault is it that you can’t even use your fucking shoulder where my claws severed some of the nerves there when the sun was setting?”

“Hmm,” Taehyung puts a bloody hand to his chin, “I would say it was the she-wolf who is to blame. I wanted to fuck her, and she didn’t want me to. You got in the way.”

“You will never touch her,” Jungkook lifts his lip so his teeth are on display, “and you will never have her,” your alpha growls, “not as long as I live and fucking breathe. I’ll break every bone in your body starting from your toes to your ribs if that’s what it takes to make you understand that.”

“Just as long as it’s not my face. I need that,” Taehyung’s sarcasm is loud, “the bitches I screw love it too much.”

With that, Jungkook roars so even the mountains beyond shake, and he rushes forward toward the brown-haired alpha. He moves with such speed that even the wind cannot blow past him, and it is over in seconds.

One second, your alpha is in front of the older wolf. The next, he’s sliding along the ground under Taehyung’s parted legs, the dirt scattering around him like the bones of prey after a hunt. Jungkook puts one arm out to steady himself before he turns off his heel and rises so he’s stood

behind the unexpecting alpha, and there’s no time for Taehyung to react before both of your alpha’s bloodied claws cut through the air like daggers and he’s dug them deep into the other alpha’s shoulders. Taehyung wails in pain as his freshly dressed wounds are reopened next to five new wounds on his other shoulder where red drips slowly from both shoulders down his bare, naked chest.

He thrashes in your alpha’s hold, but your alpha is stronger, and he knocks Taehyung’s knees out from under him so that he falls onto them in the black dirt.

“You’ve lost once again, you fool,” Jungkook utters, his claws tearing at the other’s flesh every time he thrashes, “now you can atone, at least a little, in your defeat.”

As they are, they both face you, and your alpha’s irises pierce yours when he orders, “Tell my intended that you’re sorry for debasing her with your speech and your actions. Tell her you will never do it again. That you’ll never pursue her again.”

Taehyung snaps, “This isn’t over yet.”

“Oh, but it is,” your alpha decides with derision, “It very much is.”

Taehyung attempts to wriggle out of his hold. Jungkook punishes him, his flesh tearing and ripping where Jungkook twists his claws deeper into him. Taehyung bellows in agony. More blood scatters down his back.

Jungkook huffs, only to extricate his claws from the male’s shoulders and kick him square in the back so that he falls to chest, his arms giving out on him with the way that the nerves had been cut and rearranged in the gory mutilation of his shoulders where flabs of skin barely hang on by a thread.

“Say it,” Jungkook orders as he stands tall above him. “I’m growing weary of waiting. I don’t want to have to use Alpha’s Bidding on you, but I will if I must.”

Taehyung remains silent minus the coughs where more blood spews forth from his lips. He must have bitten his tongue in the fall.

Though he can’t use his dislocated arm, he can still use his other one. That, and his legs.

Before he can even get his first foot on the ground, Jungkook’s hand darts out and his fingers project themselves over and around Taehyung’s neck so that he is held up under Jungkook’s digits. The Pack Alpha squeezes with enough force that Taehyung’s face begins to turn red, his breaths stuttering as his arms unsuccessfully attempt to pull the raven-haired alpha off.

“You’re weak, Taehyung. You always have been, and you always will be. Now give the fuck up already.” Your alpha urges him, the bite in his tone making the wolves around you shudder.

“I’d rather be fucking exiled.” Taehyung attempts to throw his only remaining good arm behind him, but Jungkook seizes his bicep in an iron grip.

Your alpha sighs with exasperation, tsking, “You really should know when to give up, you motherfucker.”

 “You don’t say,” Taehyung goads.  

Jungkook’s eyes narrow, his golden irises flickering as he mulls it over. Those irises settle on yours, and then your alpha’s lips set in a thin line before he acts.

 There’s no hesitation when he twists Taehyung’s arm into an unnatural angle, the crack of bones filling the air in warning as the wolf on his knees hisses and howls in agony.

“No,” Jungkook determines, “that would be too easy.” Jungkook’s teeth sharpen and shift so that they are pointed like blades as he growls, “Running would let you forget. But suffering, “ his canines elongate until they extend below his lower lip, “your suffering will haunt you as a wraith for the rest of your life.”

The word has hardly left his lips before Jungkook wrenches Taehyung’s thin arm up, his teeth flashing menacingly before they disappear into Taehyung’s hand, the sickening crack of bones breaking under his teeth as he bites down hard enough that his teeth penetrate the opposite side of his appendage. The male screams, his fingers twitching uncontrollably as blood bursts forth into Jungkook’s mouth.

It is fetid as bile. It is putrid. It is gamy, and Jungkook blanches at its disgusting tang so unlike the sweet sugary taste of your own.

“As much of a thorn in my side as you’ve been, I do not want to see any of the males under my watch be killed. However,” Jungkook throws his head back, his teeth dislodging from around Taehyung’s palm so that an ovular junction of dark holes arc over and under both sides of his hand and then Jungkook’s hoicking crimson spit from his mouth, “that doesn’t mean I won’t hurt you for what you’ve done.” He releases Taehyung’s deformed arm that is now bent at an odd direction, his jaw clenching as he says, “It doesn’t mean you are not due for discipline since you seem to have forgotten basic respect and decency.”

“I’ve got plenty of th-“

Before the downed mall can finish, Jungkook slices his serrated claws once across the brown-haired alpha’s back, his expression hardening even though the captured male yelps through the stinging sensations left in his wake, “Silence. I will not hear any more defiance or disrespect from you. You will give me your fealty, or I will make you hurt so much that you’ll never even remember what it was like when you could wake up in the morning and use all of your fucking limbs,” he yanks back on Taehyung’s neck, four of his fingers pricking crescents on one side and his thumb pressing tightly in on the other, his claws dangerously hovering over his nape. Like this, your alpha presents the fallen male to you as he continues, “and you will beg for forgiveness on your hands and knees for daring to deflower my mate in mind and in body, “with the hand that does not hold Taehyung captive, Jungkook’s long, curved claws shear the fallen alpha’s back along the unmarked half, and Taehyung’s eyes go white at that, blood bubbling in his throat as the will to fight falls from him with his blood while Jungkook finishes, “and you will bear these marks I’ve scarred you with for eternity, so that not even the gods may forget your faithless acts of lies and licentiousness with the unknowing omegas you defiled.”

It takes until his cheeks begin to turn blue for him to give a choked sound of defeat, his arms falling loosely at his sides as Jungkook tosses him to the ground as if he were nothing more but a piece of meat next to Jimin, who is still as a corpse next to him.

You grow wetter between your thighs at the display of your alpha’s power. You’d always known he was capable and that he was formidable, but seeing him reduce the pack’s strongest to nothing…it was arousing.  

Your alpha bends over between both of the fallen wolves, and then grabs a fistful of hair atop both of their heads and lifts their chins up so that you can see both of their faces.

Taehyung’s face is almost untouched save for the dirt and blood that have caked themselves onto his chin and cheeks. Jimin’s lids are slow to open and close, crimson dribbling from both sides of his stained lips. He is still lain on his back with pieces of his flesh hanging from his leg, the white of his bone peeking through small sections down his leg while his pectorals rising up and down heavily as he heaves air out of his system. His life essence trails sadly down the sides of his ribs.

Taehyung has not fared any better. The bones in both of his arms have been shattered and moved to areas that bones didn’t belong, and his back is marked in several puckered, open valleys of red, angry skin joined by rivers of crimson that make an ‘x’ shape down his back.  His limbs are thrown about him where he is prostrate in the dirt next to Jimin.

“This battle is over.” Jungkook states with finality. “Neither of you can continue.”

“I,” Jimin weakly rasps through the blood that bubbles up his throat, “I yield to you, Jungkook. You have beaten me.”

Jungkook’s fingers unthread themselves from Jimin’s hair, his skull landing softly on the ground as Jungkook guides it down. Despite everything, Jimin had once been his friend. Seeing him like this…it was not easy even for the Pack Alpha.

“Get him to the healers. He will bleed out if he’s not tended to immediately.” Jungkook commands, the emotion in his voice held at bay because he knows Taehyung, like a hound, can sniff weakness and prey on it.

Two males depart from the crowd of wolves around them. They do not question your alpha as they lift him carefully off the ground and onto a mat of grass that is attached to a set of wooden poles on each end for them to hold. Before they can walk away, Jungkook holds his only free hand out.

The two males stop immediately.

“You will answer to me from here on,” Jungkook’s eyes blacken in the eclipse from light to dark, his words deep as he spills them, “voice to me your regrets before I have you removed from my sight.”

Jimin can hardly keep his eyes open anymore, his throat aching from wailing too much. Drowsiness from loss of blood makes his eyelids droop, and it’s all he can do to incline his head downward, his eyes closing as he manages, “I have many regrets. One of my biggest,” he hiccups,” was that I thought I could win against you.” Remorse shakes his voice as he lets Jungkook know, “The other was letting Taehyung manipulate me and losing not only our friendship, but the female, too, because of it.”

With that, he’s carried away into a dreamless sleep and the two males extricate him from the battlefield.

“Pussy,” Taehyung hacks up more blood.

“I don’t recall telling you that you could speak. Perhaps I need to give another demonstration to you of just how weak you are,” Jungkook’s other arm raises up, but before it can go near him, Taehyung cringes and buries his face into the dirt.

Taehyung shrieks, “No! Not my face!”

Jungkook lowers his arm, “You’re pathetic, Taehyung. Now give up.”

“Fine. Just don’t ruin my face,” he screws his eyeballs shut, “I was bluffing about what I said before, alright? Alright?”

“I have tried to be a reasonable male,” Jungkook’s fingers bend inward where he still grasps the other male’s hair, and Taehyung’s expression twists in discomfort as your alpha cautions, “But my patience with you is at its end. Yield to me before I break some more bones.”

Taehyung bites down on his tongue, but he has no other options. He knows he’s lost and that he now has no choice but to swallow his pride.

“I…I yield.”

“Good. Now tell her you’re sorry for everything. You had better mean it, or I’ll hurt you even more than I already have.” Jungkook warns.

“Like hell I’ll apologize to a woman.” He defiantly counters.

Your alpha growls, and he stomps with force down on the back of Taehyung’s knee, the bone shattering as he does. “I didn’t ask for your fucking opinion. Do it. Now.”

Taehyung shakes his head into the ground, his trembling digits digging into the dirt as the threads of pride that remain in him all but sever.

“Gods, that pride of yours is really something. Perhaps by losing it, you’ll finally gain some sense again.” Jungkook provokes before his heel bears down powerfully on Taehyung’s other knee, the ligaments beneath fracturing and splintering upon impact.

Taehyung groans in torment, and what little of his pride had been left is torn from the very base of his being as Jungkook whips Taehyung’s head back so that his spine is curved up at an odd angle.

A little while away, some alphas observe Taehyung with expressions of disinterest, disgust, and dismay contorting their countenance for his misconduct toward their leader. The others watch their leader with delight dancing in their eyes. As for the omegas, many cling to another at the gory spectacle. A few glare with hatred toward Taehyung, but many more look in awe at your alpha.

“Cough up the last of your pride, you imbecile, because none will be left after this. If you will not submit of your own accord, I’ll just make you.” Jungkook tosses him to the ground as if he were nothing but a ragdoll, his irises darkening like the night, his words cloaked in the veils of shadows. “I command you to get on your hands and knees. You are to beg my mate for her forgiveness for any time you so much as looked at, thought of, or treated her in a way you knew I would be unhappy with. Then, you’ll pledge your loyalty to me.”

How anyone could refuse Jungkook would never be anything you could comprehend, but under Alpha’s Bidding, no wolf could disobey he who was the strongest of them all.

Taehyung grunts as the wolf inside him moves, and despite the unbearable pain that it causes him, he cannot help it.

He bows his head and his mutilated arms, maimed back, and disfigured legs all fold under him as he bites out between blood, “Forgive me, my lady.”

Words do not find you with the silver dampening all thought in your head. And in your gut, you can’t find it in yourself to care what this male thinks, says, or does.

All that matters to you is the one who stands behind him. All that fills your vision is him, and soon, he was going to fill you.

“The days of your disobedience are over. You obey and you serve me. Tell me this is true.” Jungkook demands, his eyes black as ash and his voice gravelly.

Taehyung can’t even pick his head up, for he’d landed on his nose in the dirt. With his dilapidated arms, he’d not been able to break his fall. It’s a struggle for him to speak between sputtering out the dirt, but he cannot ignore the male standing above him even if he wanted to.

His wolf speaks for him, his defiance dripping out of him with his blood onto the ground at the victorious wolf’s feet. “You are true in what you say.”  

Jungkook considers him before bidding, “You will never seek my female ever again, and you will do as I say when I command it of you without question, or I will sever your fingers, your toes, your legs, and your fucking arms from your body with my own hands if I have to. Is that understood?”

Taehyung’s skin crawls at the order, fear setting its teeth on him.

The last of his resolve slithers away from him, his muscles slackening as he concedes, “Understood, Pack Alpha.”

“What does it feel like?” Jungkook cocks his head to the side.

“What does what feel like?” Taehyung’s shoulders slump weakly.

Your alpha’s grin is vicious when he reveals rows of sharp teeth, his canines protruding from under his upper lip, “To lose.”

Those golden irises of his land on you and then they’re scaling over you as in a silent journey to appraise you of injuries even though he’s the one in the middle of the battlefield. They grow brighter the longer they are set on you, and with his attention deposited only on you, he doesn’t hear the pounding of paws against the dirt behind him.

All the veins in your body run cold, panic stabbing you through like an icicle. You are frozen in place under the numbing silver, but don’t care about the throbbing in your head from under your circlet that threatens to drag you into dark unconsciousness. Not even that can snuff out the scream that cuts through the air as a shrill sound rifts through your throat in the pitch of it that leaves the ears of every wolf in the vicinity ringing.

Those golden irises that are bright as the sunrise go dim as the dusk under the shadow of russet fur and snapping jaws.

[nemycchi]

Enter the Deep Golden Ocean

A Childe X Lumine Fanfiction

Secret Santa gift to Dandeleon from the Chilumi Nation Discord

Tags : Eye Communication, Maskless Delusion Childe

Childe’s eyes, at first glance, seems fittingly dead.

For someone of his profession, Lumine does not wonder why this is so. Perhaps, years of witnessing various immoral deeds have snuffed the life out of them. Really, she is not anymore surprised.

What she is very interested in though, is the fact that even without the sheen in them, his eyes seem to tell a story of a thousand words. If she would describe it in some way, Lumine thinks that the ocean is the best descriptive to use. Deep, dark and mysterious. Precisely—maybe a storm in the sea, with the swirl of his blue depths expressing what he truly feels.

Now, do not get her wrong. She does not make it a habit to go staring at people’s eyes for a long period of time, but for her, it was just too easy to use his as a predictor of his emotions.

“Ojou-chan!”

Ah, speak of the devil and he doth appear.

The outlander turns around and her gaze automatically locks on to his. The sea of turmoil seems absent today. He’s quite… happy.

“Childe, what are you doing here?”

They are currently in Cuijue Slope and it is not common to come across this man in this place—away from his station at Northland Bank.

Lumine takes note of the way the dark blues of his eyes swirl in mirth before it closed and crinkled on the sides.

“No reason in particular, I just want to tag along!” he says in a sing-song voice.

She sighs. There is no purpose to shoo him away— after all, traveling alone can be quite lonely and she must admit that right now, without Paimon—for the little pixie decided to ditch her in favor of Xiangling’s food-filled adventures, she can feel the dredges of melancholy swimming quietly in her body already. Perhaps, things might get a little interesting with Childe around—what with the man’s penchant of bringing some kind of trouble wherever he goes.

“What are you up to anyway?” he snaps her back to reality.

“Oh, I was just about to go fight the Pyro Regisvine. I need some Agnidus Agates.”

She watches as the colors shift again at the mention of fight and she sighs once more. This fightsexual man.

“Well, what are we waiting for then? Let’s go kick that plant, ojou-chan!”

 

--**--

 

“Say, do you like staring at people this much or am I just a special case?”

Lumine chokes on the half-eaten Jade Parcel in her mouth at his sudden remark.

Picking up her tea, she sips slowly first, patting her chest lightly to soothe the pain from earlier. Upon setting the cup down, her gaze moves up to stare back at his.

There is definitely mischief swimming in those depths, but there’s also a challenge there as he tilts his head to the side as if testing to see if she will lie about her ‘habit’.

Two can play at this game.

The traveler spies the myriad of blue shades pass in a split-second when she returns the look in his eyes with her golden ones as she rests her chin on her palm propped on the table.

“What do you think?”

He obviously tries to fight the smile from appearing on his face but his eyes are a dead giveaway of what he feels right then. Lumine cannot be more thankful that she has learned to read his mood in another way than just his general demeanor for it makes challenges, such as this, way easier to pick up on her end.

“Come on, ojou-chan. How about you just tell me in return since I’m paying for this dinner anyway.” he playfully replies.

You already know, don’t you? What’s the use?

She knows that he knows that it is exclusively a thing she does reserved for him and him alone. The way his eyes regard her in that moment tells her that much.

Again, she is not one to go look directly into other people’s eyes but somehow, in some way, the deep blue ocean of his seems to pull her right in—asking hers to read, to understand that which lies beyond the azure abyss.

And so that is what she does most of the times. Does she like him enough to extend this much effort into knowing him? It is quite hard to tell. Maybe, maybe not. She does not want to put a name to the feeling but watching the way various shades of blue shift in his blank-looking gaze fills her with warmth.

“How about you try to pick up food successfully with your chopsticks first?”

“Ojou-chan!”

 

--**--

 

Yaoguang Shoal has been known to be quite a refreshing place to be in for peace and quiet and so, it is quite a surprise to Lumine when she finds Childe there, lying on one of the jutting rocks on the beach, holding a starconch to the sky in his hand.

Noticing her arrival, he sits up and acknowledges her presence with glee.

But his eyes tell a different story. He’s… conflicted.

“Hey there, ojou-chan! What brings you here?” the turmoil in the blue depths betray the smile on his lips.

Seeing that he isn’t about to share whatever the cause of his distress is with the way he greets her, she decides to drop it and not pursue it at all. The shadow of gratefulness for her avoidance flickered in his gaze for a second.

“Just collecting some starconches.” she mumbles, walking towards the closest one to her.

“Oh? What for?” he stands up and walks to her direction.

“No reason. It’s a habit.”

She notes how he slowed to a stop a few feet away from her. Lumine turns around and frowns when he avoids her stare and he instead looks out into the ocean, the pretense of being happy a ghost on his lips.

“Mhm. That reminds me. Aren’t you supposed to be with Zhongli-sensei for the finishing touches to the rite of parting?”

A cold breeze washes across the shore and she closes her eyes, feeling the moment.

“He’s away for some business right now.”

“I see.” his voice sounded a lot closer.

The outlander opens her eyes and was almost taken aback, not by the considerably shorter distance between them, but by the intensity with which his blue gaze regards hers.

There lies a question left unsaid.

“I see, then.” he uncharacteristically reiterates in a quiet manner.

Her eyes of gold unabashedly search his for some kind of understanding and for a reason she cannot quite explain, she feels as if she heard his voice through their connection.

‘When the time comes, will you be able to stop me?’

Lumine does not know what to think of that. Perhaps, she is just trying so hard that her mind came up with the most random explanation for the look in his eyes.

Instead of dwelling on it, she just hums and picks up the almost forgotten shell in the sand.

 

--**--

 

The ground cracks beneath her and she falls down, down, down below.

There she is, in Golden House, facing Childe—no, facing Tartaglia, the Eleventh Fatui Harbinger, in a battle set to decide the fate of Liyue. She vaguely remembers seeing a flash of purple before the floor collapsed and as she falls, Lumine is oddly reminded of that day in Yaoguang Shoal.

Perhaps, that really was the question hidden beneath his ocean eyes. Will you be able to stop me?

Can she?

She grunts as she slams against the cold, hard ground of the mint.

“Lumine!!!” she hears her fairy companion shout from somewhere behind her as a looming figure clad in an armor of grays and violets lands in front of her.

She abruptly stands back on her feet, sword in hand, as she raises her gaze to meet her enemy. Right there and then, she realizes how much she hates this situation she found herself in—not because of the blood slowly trickling down her arm. Not because of the fatigue thrumming in her veins. Not because of the sorry state of the Golden House.

But because of the unfocused and unreadable look in his stormy ocean depths.

She grips the hilt of her sword tighter, anemo and geo energy bubbling back up in her system. She hates this. She hates this.

With resolve, she charges ahead—a sole answer to a perhaps forgotten question burning across her golden eyes.

‘Childe… I will stop you.’

[joon-ipersgirl]

O2 - the bloody build-up

genre: mafia!au, angst, fluff, slow burn, mystery-thriller

pairing: namjoon x reader

summary: charismatic. beautiful. fearless without question. the ambitious team of seven young men in charge of spiral, downtown district’s hottest new club, go above and beyond to provide 100% satisfaction to their clients.

after an eventful night out, you have no choice but to join the team for property damages greater than your intern salary. challenging a series of events that can no longer be left to coincidence, secrets threaten to burst at the seams as your professional and private life collide, and another - more sinister - debt is added to your total. 

how far are you willing to go to pay back your pound of flesh? remember, nothing is ever as it seems...

word count: 4.6k

warnings: cursing, some mentions of blood, mentions of guns (someone does get shot, but nothing super crazy), some violence, mentions of alcohol consumption 

a/n: thank you guys so much for the love on the first part! i really appreciate it. i hope y’all aren’t confused about their nicknames and stuff, like which member is which, but let me know and i’ll clarify 😭 this part might be a little far-fetched towards the end, but stay with me lol. i’m still working on my masterlist, but please check out my updates page which includes my works-in-progress. i’m actually pretty excited about what’s coming up next. as always, feedback is always appreciated and encouraged. thank you again to @alversia​ for reading this and supporting my writing. pls enjoy! 

full masterlist // series masterlist // previous // next 

“You expect me to head to Spiral tonight? Dressed like this?” You look down at your white button-up and black pencil skirt. Laura was out of her damn mind.

“Oh come on! It’ll be fun. Just some coworkers getting together after a hard week’s work. You haven’t been out with us in forever!” she exclaims, standing up from her desk.

“You know Amani doesn’t like us like that, Laura.” Paul does have a point. It wasn’t that you didn’t like them as people - well, that would be a lie. You didn’t. It’s just, who would want to spend their Friday night drinking with their coworkers when you could be at home, curled up with your cat, and tucking into whatever delicious dinner your roommate had prepared?

“I never said that I didn’t like you guys -”

“Out loud,” Paul says, interrupting you.

“- I just wasn’t planning on going out tonight. I’m not even dressed for the occasion,” you continue.

“It doesn’t matter. It’ll be dark anyway,” Laura tries again. “You said you had a good time the last time you went,” she reminds you.

You remember your brief run-in with Suga and the sleazy man at the bar. It’s been three weeks since then and the bruises on your arm have faded. Aside from that minor incident, you did have fun. The music was good, the bartender was attractive, and the drinks weren’t too pricey. In fact, Suga did say that the next time you came, drinks were on the house.

“Plus, you missed James’ birthday celebration 2 weeks ago.” You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

“Alright, alright. Fine, I’ll come,” You tell them.

“Great! Let’s go!” Laura squeals and grabs your coats.

It was going to be a long night.

The small group of you huddle together in front of the door to Spiral like penguins in the dead of winter. The wind is harsh but expected on a cold December night. You pull up the collar of your wool coat to shield your face as you wait in line and wish you had remembered to bring your scarf. Spiral was fairly new and you assume that more and more people were coming to experience the place with its modern goth vibe. Your feet hurt from the 4-inch heels that your manager, Mrs. Kim, insisted on young women wearing to “keep the spirit of professionalism going”. Honestly, you just thought she wanted to see you suffer the way she did all those eons ago. A rite of passage, if you will. After fifteen minutes, you’re finally at the door where the bouncer and two other men stand talking.

“Is everyone here ridiculously attractive?” Laura whispers to you. You glance up to look at her.

“Who are you talking about?” She points at the three men by the door.

“Ah,” you say, acknowledging them. It was on second glance that you realize Min is one of the men in the group. You groan as you remember your brief conversation the last time you were here.

“You okay there?” Paul turns to ask you over his shoulder. You nod. “Just making sure you weren’t thinking about bailing on us,” he says with a grin. You roll your eyes and punch his shoulder as you wait to get your IDs checked. It seemed as though security had increased.

“Well if it isn’t my little snack?” You groan again as Min grins at you. His silver hair stands out among his dark-haired companions, though he’s shorter than the other two.

“Your who?” the man next to him asks, confused.

“My snack,” Min emphasizes. “Suga wouldn’t let me have her though,” he says with a pout as he turns to you again.

“I wouldn’t let you have me,” you mumble and shift closer to Laura who’s watching the scene unfold with wide eyes.

“What was that?” Min asks, his grin growing again as he steps closer to you.

“Min, leave her alone,” the bouncer says as he waves through the first half of your coworkers after checking their IDs.

“You guys really never let me have any fun.” Min’s laugh rings through the air as he steps back next to his friends.

“Do you know him?” Laura asks you. You shake your head. She doesn’t need to know that story.

“I’ve only seen him once and very briefly at that. Come on,” you say nodding towards the entrance after taking back your ID.

You brush past her and the three men and head down the stairs ignoring the eyes that follow you. The heat from the club hits you like a brick wall and you immediately pull off your coat. You follow Paul’s tall figure through the mass of people on the edge of the dance floor. The music is just as loud as you remember and you welcome the thumping bass music as it pounds through your veins and echoes in your chest. You slide into the booth next to Paul and Laura follows closely behind you.

“This place is so cool! We have to come back!” Laura yells over the music into your ear. You wince at the sound.

“Laura, we just got here,” you tell her while putting some distance between you though there isn’t much room as seven of you have squished into a booth probably meant to seat five.

“I know, but this place is awesome!” she yells back with more enthusiasm. This was going to be a very long night and you could not do it sober.

“I’m going to get a drink from the bar,” you say, excusing yourself and squeezing past Laura to exit the semi-circle shaped booth.

“Why don’t you just wait for the server?” Paul asks while holding up a menu from the stack placed on the table.

“Because I need something strong before I can sit down and socialize with you guys,” you reply with a sourly sweet smile.

Paul shakes his head and you head off to the bar ignoring his judgemental stares. You take the long way, bypassing the dancefloor to avoid any prolonged standing on your already aching feet trying to shuffle through the thick crowd. Though there are more people here tonight than the first time you came, you’re able to squeeze through relatively unscathed. Sometimes being small did have its perks. You find an empty barstool close to the spiral stairs that led to the second level and sit down.

“What can I get for you?” the bartender asks. You narrow your eyes at him. This was not Jin.

“Where’s Jin?” you ask him.

“He’ll be here later. Do you -”

“And Suga?” you ask, cutting him off. How were you supposed to get your free drinks when this guy didn’t know who you were?

“Who’s asking for him?” he retorts, his eyes narrowing at you. His tall frame takes up most of the room in front of you as he leans across the bar, inches away from your face.

You try your best not to cower as you stare each other down, but his presence is powerful. His platinum blonde hair shines purple under the fluorescent colored lighting and his brown eyes are dark. His lean muscles sprawl taut under his skin and his black t-shirt stretches across his broad shoulders. Your hypothesis was right: everyone who works here is fucking beautiful.

“A valued customer,” you tell him. “He told me the next time I came in, drinks were on the house.”

“Suga said that?” the blonde asks incredulously. He lets out a boisterous laugh. “Now I know you bumped into me pretty hard a few weeks ago, but I didn’t think my chest was that hard,” he says while slapping it.

“Bumping into you? I don’t know what you’re talking about. If you don’t believe me, why don’t you ask him?” You cross your arms. “While you’re at it, you can make me an Old Fashioned.”

“Bossy, aren’t we? Honcho!” He waves his arm to someone. You turn and see the other man from outside walk over with a tray in his hand. Of course, he works here too. The all-black uniform should have given it away. Apparently, all the attractive men who live in this city did.

“What’s up?” he asks while passing him a ticket most likely filled with drink orders. He isn’t as tall, but his build is athletic and you can tell he works out.

“This young woman says that Suga told her next time she came in, drinks were on the house,” the bartender tells him, a teasing tone in his voice. The second man turns to look you up and down.

“Suga told her that? Babe, I think you’re thinking about the wrong man. Maybe it was Min? I know we all kind of look alike in the dark,” he suggests.

“That’ll be $10.50, sweetheart. Definitely seems more like Min’s type,” the bartender agrees, giving you a once over. He sets the Old Fashioned down in front of you. You scowl at both of them.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? You think I’m making this up? Fine,” you say, hopping off the stool. “I’ll prove it to you. I’ll go get him myself.”

You hate most people and you hate most clubs, but one of the things you despise the most is being called a liar. You pride yourself on being a woman of integrity and you would not let these assholes paint you to be something you’re not. As you turn to head up the stairs, you feel someone grab your wrist and you whip your head around.

“Where are you going?” Honcho asks, his dark eyes sizing you up.

“Let go of me,” you tell him and yank your arm from his grip. You weren’t doing this again, not tonight.

“It’s okay, Honcho. Let her go,” you hear the bartender say as you walk away.

You climb the stairs and strut across the walkway. Below you, the blonde bartender and Honcho, arms crossed, watch you as you make your way to the office. Motivated by their doubt, you walk a little more confidently towards the office door. You stop short, take a deep breath, and then bang on the door. There’s no answer. You knock again. Nothing. Just as you go to knock for the third time, the door flies open.

“Who the fuck is -?! Kid? What are you doing here? You can’t just walk up here!” Suga yells at you.

“Your employees are being assholes and don’t believe that you said I could have free drinks for some reason,” you tell him, ignoring his outburst.

“You came all the way up here to tell me that?” he asks, eyes wide. “Do you even know - You know what? It doesn’t matter,” he finishes.

“I don’t like being called a liar,” you state.

“You’re bold, kid. I’ll give you that.” He shakes his head and shuts the door behind him, locking it.

He walks past you and heads down the stairs. You turn and follow him back to the bar. Though Suga is short and you are in heels, he moves much quicker than you expect. By the time you make it downstairs, he’s already leaning against the bar and signaling for the bartender to come over. Your Old Fashioned is sitting right where you’d left it. The bartender walks over and grins at you.

“I see you found him,” he says with a smile.

“Moon, why are you patronizing our customers?” Suga sighs. The bartender laughs.

“Always gotta check orders, boss,” Moon chuckles. Suga narrows his eyes at him.

“Look, just give her what she wants okay? You know I have other things to look at right now and I can’t have you fucking around.” You grin smugly behind Suga’s back, your short stature barely visible over his mint-green head. You didn’t like to think of yourself as cocky, but most times, when you were right, you were right. You saunter towards the bar and climb back onto the barstool you’d previously vacated. Moon’s eyes narrow and he glances over at you.

“Alright, Suga. I’ll stop fucking around and get the job done like you asked,” Moon spits. You survey Suga’s face as it falls and you feel the mood shift drastically as unspoken words pass between the two men.

“Can I have a new one? You never know what crazy people will do around here, you know?” You ask and add the please at the end, smiling sweetly at Moon, drawing the attention back to you.

“Y/N!” You barely hear Laura yelling your name over the music. “Y/N, are you okay?!” she screams over the music. You watch her hobble over to the bar with her drink in her hand. You know her feet hurt just as much as yours do and it shows in the way she walks.

“Paul and I saw you go up the stairs and I wanted to make sure everything was okay,” she continues when she gets closer.

“Everything’s great. Hey, do you want another one of those? Moon was it? Could you make her a strawberry daiquiri along with that Old Fashioned?” You ask. You shouldn’t enjoy this as much as you are.

“She’s real bold,” Moon says, turning to Suga, the mood seeming to return to its previous vibe though you can sense the tension between the two of them.

“That’s what I said.” You grin at Suga.

Moon sets your drinks down and you take a small sip, savoring the taste of the brown liquor. Observing Moon and Suga over the rim of your glass, the two of them have hushed words in a corner. Though Suga supposedly owns the club, it seems as though Moon is calling the shots based on their body language. Laura sits next to you and interrupts your examination as she starts talking about work-related issues. Laura is a sweet girl and as much as you want to be an active listener, paying attention to her drone on and on about Paul asking Melissa to lunch every day instead of her can only be so interesting after 20 minutes of the same story.

“Look Laura, I’m gonna go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back, okay?” She nods and you leave her at the bar after finishing the last bit of your drink.

It wasn’t a surprise to see the line to the ladies’ room outside the door, soft chatter filling the hallway as you wait. This was one of those times when being a woman wasn’t fun. At the rate this line was going, you would have permanent blisters on your feet. The heat isn’t as stifling and you’re grateful you remembered a hair tie as you scrape your curls into a low messy bun. You shuffle forward with the rest of the women as the line advances and you thank the sweet gods when you can finally see the stalls. A few more minutes pass and then it‘s finally your turn. You practically run into the stall, slamming it behind you. Once you’ve finished and flushed, you exit the stall and hear screaming.

You rinse your hands quickly and peer around the propped open door. The line had disappeared and the small hallway and rest of the restroom was empty. This was not regular partygoer screams of fun. No, this is something much more gruesome. You peek quickly down the hallway again from your hiding spot. The music is still blaring, but now it sounds eerily quiet for a Friday night at one of the most talked about clubs in the city. Something is wrong.

You slip off your heels and tuck them under your arms. You sigh softly as the blood rushes back to your toes. If it came down to it, they could be used as a weapon, but only if you had the element of surprise. Sneaking a look around the corner, you immediately draw back. A gun. Fuck. You turn back and quickly hide in one of the stalls on the left hand side of the restroom and crouch over the toilet, holding onto your heels with one hand and using the other to stay in place. You shut your eyes and try to even out your breathing. How the fuck were you supposed to get out of this?

The sound of a walkie talkie alerts you to the second presence in the room. Their steps are even as the person systematically checks the stalls. There are five stalls between yourself and the first door and you need to figure out something fast. The person had checked the second door and was moving onto the third. Taking a chance, you balance your shoes on your lap and shift your weight gently so you’re holding one foot in your dominant hand. Just as whoever is pushing open the third stall, you throw your shoe diagonally across the room under the stall next to you and hear it skid across the floor.

“What the fuck?” A man. Fuck. You pray that he hadn’t been looking too closely to see the initial direction the shoe had come from and was only focused on its destination.

Peeping through the small crack between the stall wall and the door, you see that his back is towards you. You take your second shoe and slide it in the direction of the main door of the bathroom. Through the small crack, you watch as he turns toward it again.

“Where the fuck are these shoes coming from?” You knew you only had a few seconds before he would forget about the shoes and resume his search. You take your chance.

As quietly as you can, you hop off the toilet seat and bolt out of the stall. Before he could fully turn after hearing the banging of the stall door against the wall, you jump on his back and wrap your arms around his throat as tight as you possibly can. He lets out a strangled cry as he drops his gun where it clatters to the floor. You press on his throat harder using the muscles in your forearm to apply more pressure. His hands are desperately clawing at your own as he stumbles around the room. Your grip around his waist falters when he slams you back into the glass mirror mounted on the wall. You hope the music is still blaring as the shattered pieces fall to the floor. The force of the blow has you slipping to the ground and you feel lightheaded. You know you can’t give up if you want to live.

“You fucking bitch!” he yells out hoarsely while clutching his throat. He turns to retrieve his gun from across the room and you grab the longest shard of glass from the ground that you can find before you launch yourself at him again.

You stab him in between the joint of his right shoulder, praying you’ve shoved it deep enough to sever the muscles and ligaments holding it together, leaving him unable to use his arm. Blood pools in your palm and you bite my lip to stop yourself from crying out. His shout is loud and you dive past him to grab the gun while he tries to remove the glass. You flip over onto your back and aim at his left knee as he charges towards you, right arm hanging down at his side, limp. Missing, you hit him in the thigh as he falls on top of you, groaning in pain. You scramble from beneath him and stand as he clutches his bleeding leg wound. Your breathing is heavy as you realize you had just shot a man, the cut on the back of your hand evidence as the gun had kicked back and cut you. Granted you have every right as he was trying to kill you first, but you’ve never fired a gun before yet here you were standing over the body of a potentially dead man.

“Don’t move,” you tell him as he writhes around on the floor. “And shut the fuck up before I give you something else to scream about.”

You look down at your stained clothing and ripped stockings. Blood is splattered around the room and the stinging in your palm intensifies. You can’t have him calling for help. Tucking the gun into the back of your skirt, you remove your stockings and shove them into his mouth, creating a makeshift gag. His breathing is shallow and you roll him onto his side so the glass is no longer pressing into his shoulder. You grab the walkie talkie and realize your hands are shaking as drops of blood hit the floor. Your skirt is ripped and your hair has fallen out of its bun. Your adrenaline rush is starting to fade and you can feel the pain radiate from the back of your skull outward. The faint splattering of blood against your fingers makes your stomach churns slightly at the sight. Fuck. You were probably concussed.

Glancing back down at the man who now seemed to be unconscious, you walk quietly back to the main door of the bathroom and poke your head around. No one is in the hallway. You realize that the music is off but the strobe lights are still going. You assume that you shot the man while the music was still playing and that’s why no one had come running. Both hands on the gun and held at your side, you inch your way closer to the end of the short hallway. You’re trying to stay alert and keep your breathing even, but it’s becoming more difficult as time passes.

Crouching down by the entryway to the main floor, you try to scout the location of everyone. You can no longer see Laura, but Paul is across the room hiding under the table with some of your other coworkers. The rest of the partygoers are all laying down on the floor as the lights continue to pulse and flash. Min is by the door leading to the stairs to exit with the bouncer, a man pointing a gun to both of their heads. Honcho and the DJ are on their knees in front of the small stage below the DJ booth with another man holding guns to their heads too. The strange thing is neither Min, the bouncer, Honcho or the DJ look scared. In fact, they were staring at Jin, Moon, and Suga behind the bar, as if they were waiting for something.

“You guys mean to tell me that you know nothing about our loss of business?” the man in the center of the room asks. “Nothing at all?” You count three men pointing guns at the three men behind the bar, but know there are probably more upstairs.

“Nothing man. We’ve never seen you guys before,” Moon answers.

“Bullshit! That’s not what they told me,” he replies. He waves his pistol around aimlessly.

“Whoever gave you that information was wrong. We have no idea what you’re talking about. Just let the people leave and we can talk this out,” Moon says again.

The man in the center looks like he’s growing visibly agitated as he paces in the small open area of the dance floor. You can hear the soft whimpers from some of the people on the ground. You breathe out softly and try to keep your eyes focused on the man in the center. He’s tall and skinny with deep lines etched into his forehead as if he’s never experienced peace. His coat is thick and looks just as expensive as the suit he wears underneath it. You know there’s no point in taking any aim anywhere the coat covers because it would never make it past the first layer of fur.

“You little shits think you’re so smart, huh? As if I could let any of these people go after they’ve seen my face.” He chuckles. A horrified shriek echoes in the room.

“Shut up!” he screams and points his gun in the direction he thinks the sound comes from. Though he’s fairly young, you can tell he can’t hear very well as the shriek comes from the left side of the room and he was facing right.

“You fuckers moved to a big city and think no one would think to check you out and figure out what you’re really up to, huh?” You also realize he can’t see very well. Anyone looking at him would think he’s glowering at the three men behind the bar, but you can tell he’s squinting to try and see them better through the bright lighting; he’s nearsighted.

“Listen you crazy fuck, if you wanted to talk business, you could have walked in here nicely and asked about us instead of terrorizing our customers,” Suga spits. This was not going to end well.

“And who the fuck do you think you are?” The man roars, walking closer to the bar.

You watch as Moon’s jaw visibly clenches and unclenches as he tries to deescalate the situation almost in rhythm to the strobe lights. You know you’re running out of time before things potentially become bloody. There’s no way in hell you’d be able to hit a moving target; you’d figured that much out when the gunman charged at you and you shot him in his thigh instead of his knee. You try to stay calm and think of the best possible solution, but the lights are bothering your eyes. The fucking lights! If he could barely see with all the bright flashing lights, his range of vision should reduce with less light in the room. You have to shoot out the lights.

“Suga, shut the fuck up,” Moon grits out through clenched teeth. You squint and try to count the number of lights hanging from the ceiling.

“You gonna let him talk to you like that, sweetheart?” The well-dressed man cackles while holding his belly, his head thrown back. “Are you his bitch?” He sneers. Suga lunges forward and you hear guns cock. It didn’t matter how many lights there were, you just need to hit as many as you can.

“You think you’re tough kid? We’ll see how tough you are with a bullet in your brain,” the man says coldly, taking another step forward.

Just as he’s taking aim at Suga, you fire the first shot and miss the lights closest to Min. Your coordination is off. You feel seven pairs of eyes snap towards you and you make eye contact with Min from across the room.

“Fucking shoot her!” someone yells. You duck down as a rain of bullets fired toward your direction.

Screams echo around you as people try their best to get away from the danger. You ignore the guns pointing at you, firing, and stand up to take better aim at your target. You pray there are enough bullets in the chamber to get the job done as you squeeze the trigger repeatedly, aiming as best as you can. Your ears are ringing from the shots which are wild and you’re surprised as you manage to hit three sets of lights before you run out of bullets.

“Get down!” You focused back on the scene in front of me. You hear the shots fire and start to duck, but you weren't fast enough. With your arms still outstretched holding the gun, a bullet grazes across your upper arm. The skin burns and you cry out in pain. You drop the gun as Jin grabs you and pushes you closer towards the restroom, shielding you with his large body. Fuck, it was going to be a really long night.  

full masterlist // series masterlist // previous // next

ⓒ joon-ipersgirl, 2020

[izabelladigital]

8 Design Games

Procrastination that develops design skills.

http://flexboxfroggy.com Flexbox Froggy, a game where you help Froggy and friends by writing CSS code

https://time.com/3743739/company-logo-quiz/ See How Well You Remember 10 Famous Company Logos

https://landing.adobe.com/en/na/products/creative-cloud/69308-real-or-photoshop/index.html Real or Photoshop?

http://kolor.moro.es Choose the right colour

http://www.rgbchallenge.com/ RGB Challenge

https://www.xrite.com/hue-test The X-Rite Color Challenge and Hue Test

http://www.typeconnection.com/index.php A Typographic Dating Game

http://ilovetypography.com/fontgame/ Font Game

[q-gorgeous]

woooo i got a perfect scoreee

[watercolourferns]

Perfect score. I can’t believe it... 

[preppernewstoday]

Throughout history, mankind has chosen to record information using a variety of media: clay tablets, pieces of bone, slabs of wood, palm leaves, stone, parchment, papyrus, paper, USB drives, and a host of other media. Some of my favorite media are Rite in the Rain notebooks. I recently tested the Rite in the Rain No. 954 notebook, and found it to be an excellent choice for everyday carry. It is durable, moisture resistant, and reasonably priced (available at the time of this writing directly from Rite In The Rain for $6.95 plus shipping). I highly recommend it. The Backstory For many decades, I have carried small notebooks of various sorts in my left hip pocket, next to my handkerchief. I first started carrying a notebook in order to write down expenditures that I needed to enter into the budget each week. As time went on, I found the notebook to be useful for recording a host of other details that I might otherwise forget: phone numbers, door codes, passwords, parts numbers, etc. The greatest challenge faced by my pocket notebooks was wear and tear. My pockets are a harsh environment for the objects they contain. The continued flexing motion produced by sitting on a notebook, standing up, and sitting on it again puts quite a bit of stress on the cover and the pages. Over the course of time, I have tried notebooks made by Avery, Mead, Barnes and Noble, Moleskine, and a host of other vendors. Most of these notebooks fell apart after about a year of use due to the stress of pocket carry. In January of 2016, I ordered a Rite in the Rain No. 754. It was a 112 page, black, 3.5″ X 5″ notebook made with a special water-resistant paper by the JM Darling company of Tacoma, Washington. That notebook held up well to six years of continuous use and abuse. The cover eventually ripped, but I patched it with black duct tape, and the notebook just kept functioning. I gradually filled its pages with carry out orders for fast food, part numbers for pieces of equipment, numeric codes for the key pads of the doors at my church, addresses, telephone numbers, packing lists, shopping lists, and (of course) expenditures that needed to be recorded in the budget. The notebook endured. I finally got to the place where there were only a couple of blank pages left in the book. It was time to look for a replacement. Since old No. 754 had served so well, I decided to stick with a Rite in the Rain product. I contacted the JM Darling company and asked if they could supply a No. 954 for testing and evaluation. They were kind enough to agree. Several days later, a package arrived from Tacoma, Washington. No. 954 Old No. 754 is black, but the No. 954 is green. I wanted a more natural color that would blend into the surrounding environment better during field use. Like all other Rite in the Rain products, my new No. 954 is made in the USA. The information printed on the packaging in which the notebook is marketed advises that when the notebook is wet, one can write on the pages with pencil, a Rite in the Rain pen, wax marker, or crayon. Online reviewers have also noted that Fisher Space Pens work well on wet Rite in the Rain pages. I found this to be true in my testing. If the pages are dry, they can be written on with permanent markers or ballpoint pens. I used black ballpoint pens almost exclusively in old No. 754, and had good results even under somewhat damp conditions. JL Darling does not recommend using water-based inks, gel pens, most highlighters, fountain pens, or water colors on Rite in the Rain paper. The packaging indicates that the notebook, “will not only survive a downpour, it will also hold up to: sweat, mud, grime, and laundry.” Based on my experiences with old No. 754, I can attest to the accuracy of that statement. The notebooks are unconditionally guaranteed against defects. If failure occurs during normal use, they request that the notebook be returned directly to JL Darling LLC, 2614 Pacific Highway E, Tacoma, WA 98424. The JL Darling company was established in 1916.

The packaging that came with the No. 954 reports the company history as follows: The Rite in the Rain story began over a century ago in the forests of the Pacific Northwest. Entrepreneur Jerry Darling recognized the logging industry’s need for a durable material that could be written on and survive in poor weather conditions. Jerry developed a special coating that created a unique moisture shield on the hand-dipped sheets of paper that he and his wife, Mary, processed at their home. From these humble beginnings, our first all-weather paper was born. Over the many years we’ve perfected and patented our environmentally responsible coating process. Still located in Tacoma, our continued mission is to provide innovative products for professionals and enthusiasts who brave the outdoors. Like old No. 754, the No. 954 measures 3.5″ X 5″ X .25″. It has 56 leaves (112 pages) between the covers. The covers are made of a slightly heavier material than the pages. The inside front cover includes a 1/25,000 – 1/250,000 meter scale, a 1/50,000 meter scale, and a 1/100,000 meter scale. It also has a number of US to Metric and Metric to US Conversions, a table of various English Linear Measurements, and a number of Map Scales–English and Metric. The back cover has inch and centimeter rulers printed along the edge. I had torn so many pages out of old No. 754 over the years, that I had forgotten how thick the notebook was when new. But even with all 112 pages intact, the new No. 954 fits in my pocket quite comfortably. I did find that it was somewhat difficult to button the left rear pocket of my best pair of suit pants while that pocket contained the No. 954. Since I generally carry my notebook in a jacket pocket when I am wearing a suit, that is not a significant problem. Pocket Testing Pocket testing consisted of copying some useful information into the No. 954, putting in my back pocket, and carrying it every day. It proved to be a worthy successor to old No. 754. More than six weeks of daily carry and use under a variety of conditions resulted in no significant signs of wear and tear. I was very pleased, but not surprised based on my experiences with old No. 754. The Water Test I tore a page from No. 954, filled a two-gallon bucket about half full, and immersed the page in the bucket. I then took a Fisher Space Pen that I tested for a recent article, and used it to write on the page underwater. Both paper and pen functioned flawlessly in this difficult environment. Notebook History Most early writing media were unsuitable for notebook use. Clay tablets were too heavy, and papyrus tended to be too fragile. One medium that was widely used for taking notes in the ancient world was broken pieces of pottery upon which notes were written with ink (ostraca), Another early medium that was adapted for notebook use was wax tablets. A thin layer of wax on a thin layer of wood was light and compact enough to allow several such tablets to be fastened together notebook style. Another benefit of this medium was that the wax one the pages could be smoothed over to erase previous writing and allow the pages to be reused. Parchment was even more suitable for notebook use. It was strong and flexible enough for pages to be sewn together along one edge to create the “codex” or book format. Small scraps of parchment from the trimmed edges of larger sheets could be bound together in this way to form the first small pocket notebooks. Paper was developed in China sometime in the last couple of hundred years B.C. It gradually made it way west during the ensuing centuries, finally becoming common in Europe by the 15th century A.D. Early paper was made primarily from rags. As demand for paper outstripped the supply of rags, other sources of fiber suitable for paper making were sought. In the 1860s, it was discovered that wood pulp would work as a substitute. Rag fiber paper is generally better than wood pulp paper, since most wood pulp papers have a tendency to become brittle and turn yellow and then brown over time.

But wood pulp paper is so much less expensive than rag fiber paper that it has largely replaced it in daily use. Early paper notebooks were largely self-made, with notebook making considered an important skill for educated people. Then, with increasing industrialization, commercially produced notebooks came to predominate. Conclusions I have found Rite in the Rain notebooks to be durable, moisture-resistant, reasonably priced notebooks for everyday carry and a host of other uses. They are a good choice for those who need to write things down outdoors under field conditions. Disclaimer JM Darling LLC was kind enough to provide me with a Rite in the Rain No. 954 notebook for testing and evaluation. I tried not to let their kindness influence my evaluation of the product, and believe that I have succeeded in remaining objective. The Fisher Space Pen Company was kind enough to provide me with a model #SM4B Military Space Pen for testing and evaluation for a recent article. I did not receive any financial or other inducements to mention any vendor, product, or service in this article.

[questlation]

GIGABYTE Holds Global Campaign "AERO 16 Relay Challenge" Featuring Color Accurate Laptops For Creators

GIGABYTE Holds Global Campaign "AERO 16 Relay Challenge" Featuring Color Accurate Laptops For Creators

TAIPEI, Aug. 17, 2022 /PRNewswire/ — GIGABYTE, the world’s leading computer brand, wowed the creator community with its completely re-designed AERO series laptops since their launch earlier this year. Above all, the AERO 16 creator laptop is particularly designed with graphic designers, video editors, and photographers in mind, delivering X-Rite™ certified and Pantone® validated (Delta E<1) color…

[m4n71c0r3]

No Sacrifice No Victory: A Warrior Tribal EDH Deck

Why Warriors?

Because you’re not a COWARD, are you?

In all seriousness though, Battlebond, the upcoming 2HG set features some pretty neat Warrior cards in almost every color, including a super sweet new 5 color Legendary Warrior to head up your EDH deck.

Now that the spotlight has been put onto my favorite tribe in the game I’d like to show off the current incarnation of my 4 Color Warrior EDH Deck looks like. With all that said, let’s get down to business!

NO SACRIFICE, NO VICTORY

Warriors as a tribe are much more than just attacking. Don’t get me wrong, we’ll be doing a LOT of turning creatures sideways, but the tribe has a lot of synergies that are often overlooked in the place of just swinging face. What my deck focuses in on is generating tokens and taking advantage of +1/+1 counter generation to make a big army that can win either through direct combat or by other various means which I’ll elaborate on later.

OUR COMMANDER(S)

For a while I initially used Saskia just for her colors, but after a while I saw that I just wasn’t casting her, so I decided to go with a much more powerful partnership.

Not only is Reyhan a Warrior, but her ability to transfer counters from our dying creatures plays a key role in the deck and I’ve had more overall consistent results with her in the Command Zone instead of the 99.

Bruse is pretty much just here for his colors, but having something gain double strike and lifelink in a pinch sure doesn’t hurt either. 

CORE CARDS

These are what I consider to be the core cards of this deck. Reyhan and Kresh are able to make a powerful engine that let us trade in both token and nontoken creatures for additional counters onto Kresh. Primal Vigor lets our various token generators get out of control while Cathar’s Crusade and Bramblewood Paragon gives them the necessary counters when they enter the battlefield, while Death’s Presence lets us net additional counters from them dying. Daghatar the Adamant is probably the most efficient nontoken creature for the strategy considering he’ll yield the most counters on death, and Dragonscale General lets us get even more out of our unrelenting assault with even more counters.

This core package of cards essentially enables us to relentlessly press the attack with little concern of what lives and dies because either way we still get value regardless of outcome.

REMOVAL AND SACRIFICE

Nothing too outstanding with these cards, just some ways to remove threats on Warrior bodies. Kindred Dominance is more often than not will wipe everything except your side of the board, and Utter End is there just to make sure that any extremely annoying permanents don’t stick around after the wipe.

There is a neat little interaction between Champion of Stray Souls and Butcher of Malakir that lets us retrieve creatures from our graveyard wile forcing our opponents to sacrifice their own creatures. Not the most efficient way to clear a board, but in the face of some graveyard hate it can save anything in the yard from being exiled and punish opponents for trying.

TOKEN MAKERS AND DOUBLERS

This package of cards lets us generate an obscene number of Warrior tokens. Anointed Procession, Parallel Lives, and Second Harvest are pretty self explanatory.

Oketra’s Monument rewards us for casting nontoken creatures while also reducing the cost of White cards by a bit. Doesn’t seem like much but with a few of our doublers out we can get a good bit of tokens out of one creature cast.

We can often mitigate the X/X Treefolk token that Sylvan Offering gives an opponent with some forced sacrifice from the previous package, and our opponents generally aren’t able to get as much value out of their X 1/1 Elf Warriors as we are so it’s pretty negligible.

Mercy Killing is an odd card because more often than not we will be targeting one of our own creatures that would be killed by targeted removal.

RAMP AND ACCELERATION 

Mostly because of my own hubris the little bit of ramp/acceleration is creature-based like with Cryptolith Rite and Growing Rites. Civic Wayfinder is a neat little Warrior that gets us a basic, and Black Market will reward us for all the stuff that’ll be dying. Other than that we have some signets and a Pillar of Origins to fix for any colors that we don’t have.

(If you have the money for it though a Cavern of Souls would be pretty amazing for the deck, but since I don’t it’s not included here.)

MISC. WARRIORS

These are just some nontoken Warriors that were good enough to make the cut. Brighthearth Banneret is good cost reduction in addition to a +1/+1 if we draw it too late for it to be useful. Champion of Lambholt is good with this kind of strategy because she can get out of control relatively easily and grand make our whole army unblockable. Den Protector is a slower Eternal Witness but with the relevant tribe. Grand Warlord Radha can help with mana issues and Reassembling Skeleton can help us abuse our ETB counter effects.

Boldwyr Intimidator is mostly just a flavorful inclusion that won’t let COWARDS BLOCK WARRIORS and makes our opponents creatures COWARDS.

 Herald of Dromoka and Chief of the Edge are pretty self explanatory, although it’s worth noting that the reason I’m only running Chief of the Edge and not Chief of the Scale is because of Kresh’s ability since it only cares about power and not toughness.

CARD DRAW/DECK DIGGING

All of these cards can either help us find what we need or draw us some cards. This Garruk is just an absolute card draw monster in this deck, plus his minus 3 and ultimate can really just let us go to town with getting things onto the board. Duskwatch Recruiter does a good job of imitating Garruk’s plus 1 with letting us filter through our deck and has cost reduction on his other side. More often than not we can cast out a pretty big Kindred Summons and get a good amount of creatures onto the battlefield.

Herald’s Horn gives us some nice cost reduction plus an additional card every now and then, while Vanquisher’s Banner boosts our army and gives us a card every time we cast a Warrior. Inspiring Call doubles as a card draw/combat trick in this deck that can make all of our creatures with a +1/+1 counter on them indestructible for the turn and give us a card for each. With the way this deck plays it’ll pretty much always net us a nonzero amount of cards.

I’m sure that Birthing Pod needs no introduction needs no introduction, but to those who are unfamiliar the card will let us sacrifice a creature to get one out of our deck which is super sweet.

Greater Good is a nice free sacrifice outlet that can get us cards in exchange for some powerful creatures and also has some nice interactions with Garna, the Bloodflame that I’ll talk about in the next segment.

BIG FINISHERS

This deck has a lot of very consistent ways to close out the game depending on how it’s going. Cards like Kessig Wolf Run, Stonehoof Chieftain, and Stoneforge Masterwork are great if you’ve managed to build up the board with big Warriors and can generally finish the game off just through combat alone.

But this is EDH and things are rarely that simple so luckily the deck has a few ways to deal with that. Blood-Chin Fanatic, Goblin Bombardment, Roar of the Crowd, and Throne of the God-Pharaoh all give us ways to close out the game in a board where we might not be able to directly attack our opponents.

Throne provides some nice drain early on with a Cryptolith Rite and a few creatures, but can also just end the game on its own later on if we’ve managed to build up a big enough board to just dome everyone else at the table.

Blood-Chin Fanatic and Goblin Bombardment fill the same kind of direct damage as Throne, but work better in different board states, although sacrificing a lot of tokens with +1/+1 on them and then a big Kresh to Blood-Chin Fanatic is probably my favorite way to end a game. Bombardment also has a nice bit of utility in the face of a mass exile like Merciless Eviction or another similar spell.

Garna is a very recent addition, but she’s served the deck well in that short time even if winning with her is really janky. Essentially what we would want to do is sacrifice almost everything to Greater Good and discard as many creatures as we can, then play out Garna and return everything for one big swing. It’s not very consistent but it’s still a very satisfying way to win.

LAST CARDS

These are mostly just things that I had laying around that I thought would slot into the deck pretty well, and so far they have.

Metallic Mimic is an honorary Warrior since it grants an additional +1/+1 counter to every other Warrior that enters the battlefield.

A NEW CHALLENGER APPROACHES!

With the reveal of Najeela a lot of people have started to show interest in my favorite tribe, and though I claim no authority on the matter, I thought I would take some time to show off some options that I would consider adding to this deck as well as some cards from Battlebond.

BEAT EM BLUE!

If you’ve been following my blog for a while then it should be no secret that Blue is my least favorite color, so if you haven’t I’m just making my bias known. Even with that being said though, the pool for Warriors in Blue is extremely shallow, but the few that do shine through are pretty sweet.

Grimgrin, Ezuri 2.0, and Herald of Secret Streams already fit really well into the counters theme of the deck and push it just completely over the top, while Surrak makes all of our creatures uncounterable and grants Trample to the whole team. 

And even though I don’t like Blue very much I’d like to take a second here to specifically talk about Grimgrin and how good of a card he is for Warrior tribal. Specifically though, how he goes infinite with Presence of Gond.

Once you’ve got Presence of Gond onto Grimgrin all you have to do is tap him to make a Warrior token and then sac the token to untap him and get a +1/+1 counter onto him. That’s good enough on it’s own but with Cathar’s Crusade, Death’s Presence, and Primal Vigor you’ve pretty much got infinite Warriors with infinite +1/+1 counters for your whole team.

Sure, it’s super sweet, but if you run this combo then you better be able to close out the game on that turn or be prepared to become the target of the table.

BATTLEBOND

The pickings from Battlebond are pretty slim for this deck, but the ones that make the cut are pretty decent. Rushblade Commander is a nice haste-enabler for our Warriors. Decorated Champion slots into the +1/+1 counters subtheme of the deck and makes for a nice juicy target for Blood-Chin Fanatic as well. Blaring Recruiter is just more token generation, Mindblade Render is more card draw, and Thrasher Brute pings an opponent every time a Warrior enters the battlefield which will be pretty frequent. Thrilling Encore is basically just another Garna effect which, while not super consistent, can still be really fun.

Anywho, that’s the rundown on Warrior tribal! This is by no means a comprehensive analysis of the viability of the tribe or anything like that, it was mostly just me gushing about my favorite tribe in all of Magic! I hope that y’all see what I love about the tribe and maybe consider giving them a chance for your next EDH deck!

(@queen-marchesa​ @rhonas-indomitable @gardianforce @dad-nixilis I remember y’all wanted to see it the most so here it is!)

[cheezicakes]

My score was 0. My color vision is excellent 😳

(0 means perfect score)