#alternative title was bargaining chip.

[saewokhrisz]

deal

[ourladyofomega]

Do you remember life as it was pre-internet and pre-smartphone? Is it something you are nostalgic for? What aspects of your life still are like the pre-internet days that you anticipate to stay that way (at least for 10 more years)?

Absolutely, because I experienced it. Specifically, the last few years before grasping PCs full-time in community college. Back then, my diaries weren't written with pen and paper. I hit ‘record’ on my tape deck and have it write it all for me. I listen to those cassettes (that I still have and have been all digitized) and they instantly return me to the alternative and hip-hop / rap's golden era; back when we had Biggie and 2Pac. The feelings were different. The style, the vibe, the type of people around me. There was this constant camaraderie because everyone was around you. I always had friends and plenty of moments within reach. Meeting people outside the neighborhood was way more interesting because they were the type mine didn't have.

Each song that I'm listing right now still gives me a very specific moment and feeling experienced by me, for me, and only me. Songs like Da Youngstas' "Hip-Hop Ride" and Stone Temple Pilot’s “Vasoline” when my family and I took the ferry to Mashantucket, listening to Crooklyn Dodgers' eponymous track on my Walkman when I walked home from school, or Soundgarden's "Black Hole Sun" as a bargaining chip to win the favor of girls from another neighborhood. Notorious B.I.G. & Method Man “The What” and O.C.’s “Time’s Up” were the soundtrack to when I spent a week in Staten Island with my then-hood cousins. Sitting on my friend’s curb while listening to The Doors' "Light My Fire", or hearing Cutmasta D.C.’s “Brooklyn’s In The House” while I was crushing on someone I never met before. I can go on ad infinitum. The music meant so much to me that I started making seasonal mixtapes to revisit those moments anytime I want. Those feels still get to me to this day. I could also say the same for VHS. I literally have hundreds of tapes stored with me. It was a race to record every Philadelphia deathmatch and classic (Seventies and Eighties) game show because us fans feared they’d be lost forever. All of us has some Marion Stokes in us. Some more than others. I still kept hitting ‘record’ while I began record-shopping and found rare titles through backpage catalogs, bought compilations and magazines to discover new artists, and relied on word-of-mouth and mixtape trades amongst friends. This was what music-chasers had before MP3s amplified it all for everyone, including myself.

Even gaming. Going out of your way to the video store and literally borrow or buy and keep physical games - the solid state-era. Fighters were so much fun when you had everyone on the block at your house with no actual fist-fights and crucial shit broken. Or, having a literal crowd of people surrounding you during a one-on-one at Street Fighter found at every pizzeria, stationery, or laundromat. Human interaction was king back then. It was somewhat of a less toxic aura of life before smartphones, social media, or downloading took the mystique out of everything we experience now and poisoned us with repetition re-enforcement.

Now? We’re all used to it. It’s routine for everyone. The same ubiquitous being shoves all the world’s ills and hard pills to swallow down your throat while giving you an equal amount of solace, wisdom, and outreach in return. We traded in all the mystique of discovering things we once never knew of for the convenience of finding and getting what we want, when we want - with quick decisions to boot. We’ve taken it for granted. I still do everything I’ve done timelines ago, albeit differently now. I’ve always stayed in touch with the past while always moving forward and grasping the moments ahead.

Things changed when my uncle gifted my dad a Dell desktop and monitor. He loved free music. We were surprised that we could get anything we wanted instantly. We never looked back since. My music knowledge exponentially exploded through the roof thanks to the digital tide. Still does. I’ve always appreciated the classic synthpop, industrial, golden-era hip-hop / rap, alternative, hardcore, and electronic era while staying in touch with sampling, and discovering d.i.y., synthwave, noise, d-beat, indie, metalcore, long-lost African tapes, and deafening shoegaze over the last few years.

Discoveries of the last calendar decade are part of my current experiences. I can hear Crystal Castle’s “Pap Smear” in my head every time I drive to the radio station in cold Winter nights. The sounds of Suicide’s “Cheree” marked the time I re-connected with a former potential. L.I.E.S. Music For Shut-Ins, Dum Dum Girls’ “Bhang Bhang”, and Tantor’s “Niedernwöhren” stamped my time in Lindenhurst, Hauppage, and Ronkonkoma respectively. Bereket Mengistaab’s “Lebay”, Antwon’s “Helicopter”, and Gong Gong Gong’s “Siren” defined all the walks to the neighborhood veteran’s park. Black Marble’s “A Great Design” forever reminds me of that sunny June day in Greenpoint waiting in line to see Cold Cave. Both pandemic shut-ins and a day out with a mutual / potential would meet at Jade Imagine’s “Remote Control” and Eddie Russ’ “Zaius”. Yard Act’s “Dark Days” for the pinball arcade revival and the drive out to Williamsburg’s Rough Trade. And how can I forget Blonde Redhead’s “Melody Experiment” to mark a triple crown September weekend of family reunions in Staten Island, Cold Waves XI, and a drop-dead birthday gift from one of my all-time favorites?

I still spend hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars carefree on vinyl, cassettes, and discs while acquiring and salvaging everything digitally. No more magazines, replaced with tons of music sites and outlets. (Again, downloading and the endless-open of accessing sounds made it too easy.). You used to buy blind at the record store and be totally walloped at something you never imagined before. Now, you’ll find it everywhere online with no effort. Have all the free cards, spins, and rolls you want. I remember making my first online order ages ago, and smelled the production those fresh packages of vinyl records and discs in the mail. I’ll still purchase rare musicks online that I won’t find in stores.

Backseat rides with Walkmans were replaced with iPods and now iPhones on train lines to New York City; allowing me to carry flat, faceless MP3s rather than physical art, liner notes, thank-yous, and that sugary smell of plastic, booklets, and J-cards. It all still produces new memories and visions to this day. The mixtapes were replaced by CD-R’s for a few years before creating simple personal playlists I still make to this day.

Former childhood memories of opening / closing credits and themes, station i.d.’s, production credits, commercials, and chyrons are re-captured again with a quick rip. Most of the essential shows of my wasted youth becamse a few keywords away. Emulation leaves the door open to an era when it was simpler, more charming, and fun. Not today with the endless parade of stoic first-person shooters devoid of personality and micro-transactions nickel-and-dime you while providing misogyny / misandry, endless shit-talking, swatting, and fault-finding in everyone - all enjoyed by your lonesome online.

So many people assumed that vinyl records, cassettes, and video / pinball arcades fell into the wayside because of “better” technology. They surged back because we still appreciate and want the real thing. We’ve done a great job carrying everything over digitally and still kept it all.

Oh, I almost forgot. About people:

We’ve been facing technology as a double-edge sword bringing out the best and worst out of all of us, pushing out everything for the whole world to see. Remember what I mentioned earlier about one hand poisoning you while the other cures?  

It’s amplified world ills that always existed but made more apparent: rigged elections, the media selling war and dictatorships, disinformation, online gambling, political division, trauma and desensitization of violence and sex, losing privacy - all in an accelerated rate. We worried more about it now, now more than ever.

We never stressed over constant triggers, reminders, fear of missing out, or seeing your life in stasis as friends, families, rivals, and enemies move on (as a form of unintentional competition) like we do now. We shelve daylight and beautiful days for the hypnotism of constant mind-numbing updates, communication, and lethargy. Or, how young girls are constantly told they’re not good enough, learn about the double-standard, be gaslighted, or put themselves out there all-or-nothing to be noticed.

Dating was way easier back then because we didn’t have the bad ideas we have now. Dating sites created a power to pick and choose easily who our next potential or interest is; for winners to treat people like a commodity, dispose of, and ghost them. A comedy of errors for the losers starring broken-down self-esteem and self-confidence, paranoia, blatant intentions, loneliness, and game-playing more apparent. All the hands played are face up and for all to see. Draw, play, and discard at will.

It used to be that you wouldn’t know or believe what former classmates, co-workers, significants, or associates were up to through hearsay. Now it’s all within reach. Imagine being floored when you see your exes- have families, kids, or criminal records. Feel the sting when former #1’s smile with their new partners, or be totally surprised when others lives didn’t turn out as expected. Careers, money, marriage, relationships, adventures, accomplishments, births, deaths, suicides. Some have made you feel vindicated, at level with your peers, heartbroken, or missing out while everyone moves forward.

We throw rocks at people or hurt feelings from a distance, run, and get away with it. We pick and choose who lives and careers we can ruin in an instant, who to ridicule, or define someone with a ten-second meme for the rest of their lives. Or the many new ways people in general can be nasty towards each other. There’s so much bitterness, one-upsmanship, snarkiness, and manufactured drama because we allowed (social) media to run our minds for us. No middle-ground. Pick a side and vilify anyone who disagrees with you because we’re always right, even when we’re wrong. Demonize those who do the same things you do as well. It’s made us into miserable troublesome animals.

But…

Life for me has been so different since the divide that I’ve experienced quite a few events I normally wouldn’t. I started using this hellsite years ago to create an online journalism portfolio - which later on became a place for design, writing, and photography. It’s allowed me to document my time in radio (WUSB) and also show everyone how diverse, original, and open I am about myself and music. I love the gratification when someone reaches out to me about a favorite artist or record, and I love sharing some rare or obscure things only I know about that no one else does. It’s made what I do a unique experience.

I’ve met mutuals that I’d never even thought I’d ever meet (including two from my neighborhood!). There’s specific mutuals who untapped my potential, who I’d do wonderful things for that I wouldn’t for anyone else. These are the same people who I learned to trust and allowed me to be open with, minus the hair-trigger persecution, judgment, and ridicule from the rest. I keep my lines open for my closest ones trapped in destructive addiction, anxiety, bi-polarity, and isolation.

I’ve taken social and world events more seriously. It’s made me to give support who are worse off than me, to have compassion for people, to see opposite side of things, and recognize the real from fake. I have no patience for sensationalist tabloid garbage or the new reverse of ‘fake news’, and go right to what really matters to me: police brutality, the ongoing Palestine / Israel war, LGBTA rights, women’s rights, and other issues at hand.

I returned to my childhood I once abandoned since YouTube was very young. I constantly find everything jazz, sample, and crate-digging from that era to stay in touch with who I am.

Not even ten years ago, I couldn’t even fathom the concept of working at home. I left a decade of physical retail to do remote sales, and still stayed with the company to keep my health insurance, savings, and my time-off. I don’t deal with people’s attitudes, awkward interactions, or be forced into uneasy situations anymore. A literal live-saver.

Conversely, the post-internet era had introduced some hardcore pain in my life. I had one instance when a local mutual I wanted to meet tore my heart right out. Real bad. She’s why my journey into anxiety, depression, and mental health advocacy all started. No thanks to her. Another potential I met entered into my life thanks to social media (pre-Hellsite). She was someone who later on became an addict and I dated her for three months. She dumped me and burned her bridges when her boyfriend overdosed and died. I’ve also reached out to interests and potentials whom I made plans with; only for them to cancel at the very last minute. Their actions left me a “what-if” moment that’ll stay with me forever. It’s an all-or-nothing game we’re faced to play if we want to win. I look back and ended up accepting things I used to be dismissive of, and learned some things about myself I never expected to.

Yeah. Crazy to think that we experienced a change in our lifetimes - a Pandora’s Box - that we can never close. What used to be a novelty is now the norm, and what we used to take for granted is now a novelty in itself (the Othello effect). I know all these major constants will continue on, through whatever form or favor they become. Lord only knows what it will be. Place your bets now. **********

You’re more than free to ask me the same question again in 25 years. By then, you might ask me if I remember life as it was pre-dictatorship, what I’m nostalgic for, and what aspects of my life have stayed the same since. Count your lucky stars we don’t end up there.

[neopuff]

title: teamwork word count: ~1600 ships/characters: white, six, holiday, scarecrow summary: Being in a cage won't stop Scarecrow from messing with the team. ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51867424

It was impossible for him to be anything other than pissed off.

Rex was an emotional mess, Holiday didn't want to talk to anyone, and Six was pacing the halls of the base like he didn’t know what to do with himself. As if the three of them were confused by what had happened, they chose to isolate instead of take their struggles as an opportunity to come together as a team.

Knight took their reactions as another reminder that they weren't really soldiers, not like him. Six and Rex didn't know how to be on a team and Holiday held her grudges too closely. None of them knew how to truly push their own feelings aside and focus on the mission at-hand. At least this gave the three of them a nice reminder of why Knight was leading them.

The most surprising thing to happen in the days after capturing their invader was hearing Holiday suggest they kill him. White would never get sappy with her, but it was the first time he really felt like he understood her.

Six had been suggesting they kill him since day one. But Knight knew they needed to keep Scarecrow alive as a potential bargaining chip - or at the very least, he was someone they might be able to extract information from. Rex would've probably understood had he come back to base - he'd gone zero contact after leaving.

The entire team was as embarrassed as they should've been - the ease of which they were infiltrated all because of Rex’s stupid hormones was downright humiliating. White Knight prided himself on running a tight ship, but having a lovestruck teenager as part of the team made things a lot more difficult.

Dealing with their prisoner had proven to be a challenge. He was immensely satisfied with the work he'd done on Black Knight’s orders and didn't hold back on bragging about it.

He also loved to brag about the details of what he'd done, in an obvious attempt to make everyone uncomfortable with one another. Mostly it was just furthering the gap between Six and Holiday. In the past, Knight would've enjoyed seeing the two of them fall apart. But he needed his team to be a team.

One attempt at teamwork was alternating who had to bring their prisoner food. Six went first and ended up leaving the food on the floor right in front of Scarecrow’s prison - in plain view, out of reach.

It was very annoying to have to send the monkey in to make sure Scarecrow didn't starve.

“You can't let him get to you, Six. This is kid stuff,” White complained after watching what happened on their security feed.

“You saw what he did. I'm not rewarding him after a stunt like that,” Six answered coldly. “We should just take him out.”

Six’s hands stayed in his pockets and his facial expression showed complete calm, but Knight knew him well enough to know the man was irrationally angry.

It was somewhat understandable. He did see (and hear) what happened. Scarecrow turned into Holiday and started teasing Six - touching himself and moaning and being altogether inappropriate. It was unpleasant for Knight and no doubt uncomfortable for Six. 

But Six and Holiday had let too much slip about their relationship situation (or lack thereof) and the consequences were hitting them like a freight train.

Holiday went down the next day, and Knight was pleasantly surprised that Scarecrow technically got his food. She threw it directly at his face and watched it drip down his weird, mutant skin - but it was still edible.

When she returned, he decided not to say anything to her. The fact that Scarecrow had done something to her while pretending to be Six was clear to everyone. Exactly what he'd done was still a bit of a mystery.

Listening to Scarecrow make comments to her about how he'd love to continue what they did before, how he’d be fine if she wanted to moan Six’s name, how he already knew what she looked like naked since he could turn into her…it only made Knight more concerned. Holiday’s emotional well-being would never be a priority for him, but if this thing really did assault her then maybe Knight could just let him starve after all.

He already didn't like Scarecrow. He already thought the freak deserved an electric chair. Listening to him talk to Dr. Holiday like that just encouraged him to let Six have his way.

On the third day, since Rex had yet to return, Knight decided to feed the prisoner himself. He'd been excluded from the emotional torment and didn't anticipate any issues coming up. He didn't want to be the person to have to feed this cretin for who-knows-how-long, but if Six and Holiday were incapable then it'd be between him and the monkey.

Scarecrow was smirking wide when he came into view, and Knight was sure the EVO had been trying his best to come up with some way to make their interaction uncomfortable.

“Hoo boy, the big man himself. To what do I owe this honor?” Scarecrow said sarcastically, bowing as much as his cage would allow.

White held up a tray. “Lunch.”

“You should have the Doc come bring me food again,” he said with the smirk still plastered on his face. “She's feisty. I love that in a woman.”

In less than a second, he'd transformed into Dr. Holiday once again. As with Six, the expression on the doctor’s face was sultry and radically out-of-character.

“I'll bet you'd love to get those big beefy arms around me,” Scarecrow said in Holiday’s voice. “Too bad you're stuck in that ugly, putrid suit!”

White simply rolled his eyes.

Scarecrow pouted at that reaction and then, after another moment, transformed into Six.

“Maybe I read you wrong…” Six’s voice said, once again in a deeply sultry and out-of-character tone. “Watching me follow around the sexy doc like a sick puppy…it must make you sick!” He laughed in a way that was distinctly not Six.

Again, White rolled his eyes. He took a step forward and placed the tray right into Scarecrow’s hands, not reacting as the EVO transformed back into himself.

The disappointment in his face made the asinine experience of talking to him almost worth it.

“Y'know what you've given me, Scarecrow?” White said as the EVO popped a french fry in his mouth.

“What's that?”

“Proof that Black Knight has absolutely nothing on me.” Knight smirked at the glare he received as a response. “If those were your only attempts to get under my skin, then you're working off crumbs. It's pathetic.”

Scarecrow stuffed a few more fries in his mouth and scoffed. “Whatever, old man. The only person I really wanted to torture was Rex, so who cares?” He shrugged as if the entire conversation meant nothing to him. “Where is he, anyway? You haven't sent him down to feed me yet.”

“That's none of your concern,” Knight answered quickly. turning to leave.

Scarecrow took note of the man's reaction and moved fast to continue his work. “Last I heard, you're an expert on torturing Rex. Got any tips for me when he gets back?”

White paused, standing in front of the door, hands at his sides. As much as he hated to admit it…that comment got to him a little.

He didn't regret how he treated Rex over the years. He was under immense pressure, with millions of lives at stake every single day. When Rex acted up or goofed off, people died, and Knight would do anything to protect human life.

But he did like Rex a lot more now than he used to. White still had pressures on him, but without a Consortium watching his every move, he was able to live a bit more freely. Which gave him a bit of perspective on what Rex was missing at Providence and why he was always defying orders.

Plus, well. He was a teenager.

It'd been a long time since White Knight was a teenager, and despite the respect for authority that his Air Force father imbued in him, he’d had his reckless years, too. So in the months of isolation from one very annoying teenager, he'd had plenty of time to remember what it was like to be young and restricted.

It sucked. 

And if he'd had an authority figure treat him the way he'd treated Rex, he would've hated them, too. So White understood why Rex couldn't stand him most of the time. It didn’t matter, so long as they could work together.

As previously stated, he didn't regret anything. Not even the Noah situation.

But that didn't mean he liked to be reminded of how his actions looked from the outside.

Knight turned his head, giving Scarecrow a blurry view of his profile. “Your intel's a bit off there. Rex is the expert in torturing me.”

He left the room as Scarecrow started to say something else - deciding that he didn't really care anymore what the EVO had to say. Initially, they'd decided to keep him alive because they could get something out of him. But it was becoming more and more clear that Scarecrow wasn't worth jack to Providence.

The decision not to kill him wasn't easy. But it was the one moral grace they could have over Black Knight, and no one wanted to disappoint Rex further.

White Knight closed the door behind him and turned the security camera feed back on, wanting to be sure they were monitoring Scarecrow at all times. There was always a chance he'd try to contact Black Knight and White didn't plan on missing it.

With a sigh, he looked off in the direction of Rex’s room. The kid still wasn’t back, and the only person he was talking to was Bobo.

Scarecrow was good at his job, Knight had to give him that much. Their team had a lot of repairing to do.

[augment-techs]

I don’t know if @ajgrey9647​ was making an implication or an ask, but here’s something, anyway. Title: in a different place and time Rating: Unrated Relationships: Lord Drakkon/World of the Coinless Jason Scott; World of the Coinless Billy Cranston & Ranger Slayer Kimberly Hart; World of the Coinless Billy Cranston/World of the Coinless Eugene Skullovitch & World of the Coinless Adam Park; etc. Characters: Lord Drakkon; Coinless Jason; Ranger Slayer Kim; Coinless Billy; Sentry Skull; Sentry Adam; Coinless Bulk; Coinless David Trueheart; Coinless Zack; Coinless Trini; etc. Additional Tags: Domestic Imperfections; Rebuilding the World; Alternate Universe - Drakkon isn’t a TOTAL lost cause; Major Illness; Physical Violence; Blood and Gore; Sleepy Cuddles; Hardcore Sex; Hurt/Comfort; Angst with a Happy Ending; Alternate Universe - No Shattered Grid. Summary: Perhaps a bargain could have been made, between the moment Drakkon snatched up the White Light from Jason and when he assigned himself as ruler of all the Earth. Perhaps it wasn’t so much that he wanted everything, just... a few small things that he always found were missing from his life. Before Rita, there was a woman who tried to be his mother, but never managed to properly bond with him. Before that there were only group homes and the streets and the half-there memories of a hand only a little bigger than his reaching for him and screaming while he was being taken away. Drakkon--...Tommy spent so long feeling like he’d never be good enough for anything, so once he had everything he couldn’t help feeling a sort of...disquiet. He took Jason to his new palace; he snatched up Cranston months later instead of shooting him through the chest; he did not use the obedience spell on Kim first thing after she’d tried to put arrows through his head a year after that. Once he had three of them, the Green Dragon that had made a home in his chest since the Sword of Darkness was broken seemed to be less hungry, wanted to scream and rail like a barn door in a hurricane less. He put them in a massive set of rooms, made sure they were cared for, and...heard them out instead of goading horribly when he asked them about what they would do to make the world a better place through him. Cranston was actually rather perfect for infrastructure, Kimberly was lovely when it came to people and helping him find a way to sort of...settle the Coinless into assisting the new world order. Jason could not and would not be held in place like a pet; kept thinking everything was a trick and tried to fight him at least once a month. So, of course, the best that Drakkon could think of to make him knock it off, was take him to his training stadium, kiss him on the mouth, and watch the chips falls where they would.

[magpiejay1234]

So, Episode 85. End of Serena vs. Yugo.

The fact Yuya, and Yugo are synchronized is a bit downplayed here compared to Shingo duel, since this is Yugo's final serious win.

I didn't post this before, probably, but Action Magic, Miracle's effect is based off Yuma's Half Unbreak.

The episode's title is Crystal Wing, though it uses the same "Hyo" (Ice) Kanji later associated with Rin.

The audience member screaming "I LOVE YOU" to Serena is a girl. So you know.

Serena doesn't get Yuya is synchronizing with Yugo when he says Yuya's line, but she starts assuming when Yugo says the "sore wa do kana" (are you sure about that?).

Serena refuses the Action Card Roget set up for her. Yugo talks about how his childhood friend (Rin) told him to get any chance he gets, but since this is a continuation of a line Yuya synchronized with, the implication that Yuya is also talking about Yuzu, and differences between Yuzu, and Serena.

This is supposed to be a hint of Z-ARC's ideology steeping in, but it is presented in a way that implicates Yuzu, and Rin (who are, to be fair, are basically at least %1 Z-ARC).

Yuri is watching the duel from the top of the dome, since Starving Venom is also agitated.

Yugo fails to find the catchphrase, but Serena does the "Ladies, and gentlemen", implying she knows what's going on, to an extent. Serena is fully egaofied at this point.

Leo Dancer has some obvious design references to Starving Venom, that we talked about before. Though these will become more obvious with Greedy Venom.

Yugo does a victory symbol, in reference to Yuzu.

So let's talk about Crystal Wing Synchro Dragon. In ARC-V each of the three of the Four Dimension Dragons get an upgrade:

**Clear Wing-Crystal Wing

**Dark Rebellion-Dark Requiem

**Starving Venom-Greedy Venom

Odd-Eyes Dragon technically gets Odd-Eyes Saber Dragon, if you want to count it. Crystal Wing is the start of this trend, though due to Z-ARC, none of the upgraded forms will reach to Level/Rank 12.

In Series 11 main sets, each Dragon will get alternate upgraded forms, Arc Rebellion, Crystal Clear Wing, and Starving Venom Predapower.

There isn't much to talk about Crystal Wing right now, until the Rin duel anyway. It has an ice theme to reference Rin, though you won't know that right now. Design-wise it is supposed to be Yugo's analogue for Majestic Star Dragon, but it is kinda too weak for that. Its statlines are similar to Scarlight Red Dragon Archfiend, so it sets up the red herring of Yugo going against Jack.

The duel ends with Serena recognizing Yuya's laugh in Yugo. After the synchronization ends, Yugo notices Yuri.

Next episode is Reira vs. Security.

Other tidbits:

Serena will not get a non-brainwashed duel after this, so this is the last hurrah of Lunalights. They will return in VRAINS era for Legend Duelist 4/Sisters of the Rose, since Serena has long replaced Yuzu's role as the main girl, but they won't get future Pendulums.

Roget wanted Serena to win primarily because since she was the only female duelist remaining, it is implied that he wanted to use that to unify Commons, and Tops for his goal. Serena also is a nice bargaining chip against Academia, and a good trooper who can be coerced to his side, if not outright brainwashed, but outside of the episode prior to this duel (83) this plot point was not introduced prior. He just wanted to use her as a bargaining chip for Academia initially.

Top 4 of Friendship Cup has 1 vs. 3 match-up, 1 main cast member vs. 3 Synchro Dimension characters. So at this point, Lancers lost the faith of the Executive Council, leaving Yuya, or possible entrance of Yugo (again, as a continuing red herring) to rebalance things. Since Yuya will be partially brain-controlled, the situation is seemingly in Roget's favour, except for Yugo potentially ruining things. So he will get rid of him soon.

[towritecomicsonherarms]

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The Closet - “ A tale of existential familial horror by JAMES TYNION IV (THE DEPARTMENT OF TRUTH, RAZORBLADES) and GAVIN FULLERTON (BOG BODIES, Bags). Thom is moving cross-country with his family and dragging the past along with them. His son, Jamie, is seeing monsters in the bedroom closet and will not let them go.“

The Ward - “From the writer of Star Wars: The High Republic comes an intense medical drama brimming with fairies, trolls, and real human pathos. St. Lilith's is a secret hospital for supernatural creatures. The personnel are overworked and the facility is underfunded. It's a place, and a life, Dr. Nat Reeves thought she left behind. Until a wounded woman (with a tail) appears on her doorstep.”

The Lonesome Hunters -  “An old and out-of-practice monster hunter in hiding crosses paths with a young girl that forces him to confront these chaotic creatures. As the beasts invade their tenement, they set off on a supernatural road trip to stop these ancient evils in a story that explores the ways that youth informs adulthood and how early traumas can haunt us of in old age."

Mindset - “When an introverted tech geek accidentally discovers mind control, he and his friends do something unexpected - they put the science into an app to help users break their technology addiction. But as their Mindset app achieves a dangerous cult following, lies, conspiracies, and murder come to light. Are they helping people or controlling them?”

=============================

Image Comics killing it as usual.

[destielomegaversebigbang]

Rapscallions

by the_scrubjay | art by @solstheimart

Rating: Explicit

Summary: 

Castiel was expected to be the Omega heir to his father’s kingdom. Upon presentation as an Alpha, he was stripped of his title and privileges, now a pawn to be used as his father saw fit.

Dean, as his father’s eldest son, was expected to present as an Alpha and eventually assume the throne. When he presented as an Omega, he became just another bargaining chip at his father’s disposal.

When the Kings strike a deal for an alliance, Dean and Castiel are expected to mate to join the two nations together. On the night, the two find themselves unable to follow through and instead agree to play along to avoid the wrath of their fathers.

Once settled in the joint territory they’re intended to oversee, they find that the world is much different than it is at home.

And maybe back home wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

Tags: 

background jody/donna, Alpha Castiel (Supernatural), Omega Dean Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Sam Winchester, Omega Gabriel, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Historical, Prince Dean Winchester, Prince Castiel, Prince Sam Winchester, Prince Gabriel, Mutual Pining, Arranged Marriage, Fake Marriage, Language Barrier, Mating Cycles/In Heat, POV Alternating, Mentions of past abuse, References to Mpreg, Jealousy, Fluff, Angst, Masturbation, Slow Burn, Alcohol, Knotting, Mentioned Sam Winchester/Eileen Leahy, Mentioned Gabriel/Kali - Freeform, Strangers to Friends to Lovers

Link to fic | Link to Art

[jkknight98]

My Dream Smp Reader Headcanons

This will be the post where I do my best to place each of the readers into a canon that would mesh well as an alternative to the pre-existing canon, doing the best I can manage since I can’t catch every stream/vod. If you guys have any ideas that you think would work well I am happy to implement them to make a better flow. I will have them sectioned under each Pred and their specific reader will get their own title, such as Dream’s reader will be written as D-reader and so forth. I hope you guys enjoy these little story bits. Will continue to be updated as new ideas and stories are made. 

This is just for fun and an explanation for the small nitpick that's always mentioned in other reader insert stories.

Dream

D-reader came into the server just before Tommy did, but decided against living near the community house and the rest of the server since they were an explorer at heart. They helped a lot with mapping the general area and helped newer members find places to build their homes.

They decided to remain neutral during the time of the disk saga, though sided more with Dreams side when asked, finding that the whole issue could have been solved way sooner and that fighting over disks was childish. The only thing that they contributed was to hide the disks for a short while (which explained why Tommy didn’t find them in Dreams base  when using the composter glitch) and returned them to Dream when he went to trade.

During the L’Manberg war D-reader decided to spend some time traveling away from all of the drama, which did cause some strife between them and Dream, they were clear that they didn’t want to be part of another scuffle, but still gifted supplies to Dream when asked. 

They return to the main smp towards the middle of the L’Manbergian elections era, becoming quick allies with J-reader and helping them with their legal potion shop near Nikki’s bakery, despite being nearly killed by Tommy a few times for being ‘just as bad as the green bitch’. They quickly leave the main Smp again once jschlatt becomes presidant and banning their new ally.

They return just in time for Dream to have them to begin placing war flags around the smp in secret, letting the rest of the server to still believe them to be traveling, though feeling guilt, they start providing supplies for Tommy in secret.

They join the rest of the smp to confront Jschlatt in the Campervan and are the one’s to help J-reader to return to their normal size, but not before having to flee the area when Philza joins the Smp and everything descends into madness, realizing that the supplies that they gathered for Dream were to help Techno create withers. They get into a large argument with Dream over this one the danger has ended, but are quickly brought back to his side with little resistance.

They then spent the majority of their time helping J-reader with their trama, working with Sam on creating the giant prison, and going on secret visits to Tommy after following Dream secretly to Logstedshire, promising to hide a set of armor and weapons hidden from Dream safe in their own ender chest for when he needs them but will do nothing more than that for him. They do visit Tommy’s beach party to comfort him once Dream logged off, but leaves when Tommy screams at them not to pity them.

They rush back to logstedshire once Dream returns to their home ranting about Tommy not listening to him and keeping secrets, having to first calm down Dream. They arrive just in time to see Tommy coming off his tower, agreeing with the boy that dream was manipulating him, but refusing to run away with him once Tommy points out that they also are being manipulated. They subtlely point him in the direction of Techno's home, Having found the cabin themselves while looking for their own place to fully move away from the drama.

They have one last meeting with Dream before his battle with Tommy and Tubbo, somewhat complimenting them for his idea of controlling everyone's attachments, but telling him that his methods screwed up that idea.  Dream then tells them about how he has a backup plan if everything goes wrong, he has the knowledge of a revive book and can use it as a bargaining chip. They don’t believe the idea will really work, but wish him the best as they explain that they were leaving the area completely to avoid being pulled into another battle. They give Dream a map to where their new base is, stating that it can be a place for him to hide away when he finally stops trying to control everything. (This map is how Sam finds them in the story)

Jshlatt

J-Reader joined the smp with the rush of new members before the election era, but quickly because rivals with Wilbur as instead of running a drug caravan, they open up a true potion shop with the help of D-reader.

[gameshenh757]

What folders does an external hard drive need to be used for gaming files on ps4

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[staycatcher]

Anguish 001- Anguish

“Out  of  genuine  free  will,  I,  Lee  Minho,  exercise  the  divine  right  to  reject  my  sacredly  designed  soulmate.”

Member: Lee  Minho / Lee  Know  x  Femme  Reader  (she / her)

Au: Frat Boi! Minho  +  Rejected  Soulmate  AU

Genre: Angst  (some  comedy?,,  this  series  is  gonna  be  angsty  because  of  the  whole  ‘rejected  soulmate’  thing)

Rated  T  for  a  whole  lotta  swearing,  a  frat  party,  crowds,  usage  of  alcohol  and  mentions  of  drugs,  intensity,  reader  is  a  bit  socially  anxious (please  lmk  if  any  other  warnings  are  needed!💞🥺)

Word Count:  4k  &  manually  double  spaced  between  words  &  paragraphs  for  ease  of  reading!!!!🥵🤠🥰

Note: this is dedicated to @trixareforlix, they’re the first-ever friend I made on here and they’re the one who sparked this frat au idea!! Ilysm always angel!!<33

Edited: 201015 (Original: 190813 )

Anguish series 1/?-  ~001~, 002

The  anticipated  day  where  you’d  become  magnetized,  the  world  around  you  becoming  a  blur,  your  heart  falling  into  perfect  sync  with  the  one  destined  for  you  truly… was  not  like  that  at  all,  actually!  No,  the  stars  were  cruel  to you,  perhaps  you  did  something  awful  in  your  past  life  to   deserve  this,  but  maybe  what  is  more  likely  is  that  your  soulmate’s  just  an  asshole.  After  all,  one’s  soulmate  was  the  complete  opposite  of  one’s  self.  Soulmates  were  the  yin  to  one’s  yang  and  vice  versa  and  all  that.  To  keep  one  balanced,  or  whatever. 

Now,  you  aren’t  the  angel  everyone  may  claim  you  to  be.  You  weren’t  angelic,  not  at  all.  Eating  ice  cream  for  breakfast  was  not  above  you.  Your  nail  polish  was  perpetually  chipped.  You  couldn’t  stand  to  keep  your  hair  in  the  same  style  for  too  long;  chopping  it  all  off  or  seeing  how  long  it  could  grow,  dying  it  as  bright  as  you  could,  and  everything  in  between.  You  adorned  yourself  with  two  or  three  more  piercings  than  your  parents  could  get  behind,  bless  them,  you’re  beginning  to  have  trouble  hiding  your  new  tattoo.  Habitually,  you  were  sensitive,  soft,  a  bit  emotional,  and  tended  to  be  a  bit  of  a  smartass.  You  weren’t  blessed  with  physical  grace,  ceaselessly  tripping  over  yourself,  spilling  and  knocking  over  anything  in  your  path,  and  dancing  out  of  beat  to  blasted  songs. 

More  often  than  not,  you  would  go  to  bed  later  than  planned.  Tonight  was  one  of  those  nights,  but  it  was  not  because  of  your  natural  preference.  You  were  not  too  figuratively  dragged  into  this  by  someone  who  held  the  title  of  your  best  friend,  someone  whom  you  were  currently  thinking  of  ways  of  revoking  that  title  from. 

  “C’mon,  dummy!  We’re  almost  there!”  Jamie  elbowed  you,  her  eyes  crinkled  in  laughter,  whacking  you  on  the  back  a  bit  too  hard. 

 “Jamie,  I  must’ve  forgotten,  but  why’re  you  even  dragging me  to  this  frat  party  again?  Why  not  just  go  to  your  sorority  instead?”  You  groaned,  your  two  left  feet  were  dragging  behind  you  on  the  aged  sidewalk,  your  fake  Doc  Martens  feeling  like  cinder  blocks. 

“‘Cause  Chris  invited  me  and  he’s  being  a  little  bitch  about  it  because  I  keep  canceling  on  ‘im!  He  keeps  saying  that  my  soulmate  might  be  there!”  She  reminded  you  for  the  umpteenth  time,  rolling  her  head  and  eyes  back  in  frustration,  sighing  before  continuing.  “And  now  it’s  like-  I  might  as  well  try  and  see!  I  mean,  come  on!~  I’m  starting  to  think  he’s  right!”  And  for  the  umpteenth  time  today,  you  question  why  she’s  falling  for  this.  She’s  sharper  than  this.  But  for  some  reason,  just  this  once,  she  found  a way  to  shoehorn  Chris’s  dumbassery  to  logic. 

 In  reality,  you  could  meet  your  soulmate  at  any  time  or  place,  so  to  say  that  one's  soulmate  might  be  there  is  like  saying  it  might  rain.  Sure,  it  might.  But  it  also  can  rain  in  any  season  so  you  can’t  be  wrong  with  saying  that  it  might.  It  doesn’t  always  rain  every  day,  all  the  time,  so  it  also  isn’t  that  likely.  Rain  depends  on  a  lot  more  factors.  But  right  now,  you’re  a  little  buzzed,  so  it  sounded  pretty  sound. 

 “So  he  knows  your  soulmate?” 

 “I’d  hope  so!  If  not,  I’d  rip  his  bleached  hay-hair  right  out  of  his  thick  skull!”  Now,  this  is  the  Jamie  you  knew  and  loved,  you  couldn't  help  the  endeared  smile  on  your  face.  “When  we  could’ve  been  eating  takeout  and  watching  a  musical-“

 “So  which  frat  are  we  going  to  again?”  You  had  to  interrupt  her  for  her  sake.  Takeout  and  a  movie  would  always  remain  superior  to  parties  in  your  mind  and  you  already  didn’t  want  to  be  accompanying  her  to  a  frat  house. 

 “Hmm…  It’s  like-  uh...  Signal  kite  zing-  wait  no-  hold  on-“

You  guys  must  be  tipsier  from  the  pregaming  than  you  thought.  “Sigma?  ‘Signal’  isn’t  greek,  I  think  you  mean  sigma!  And  ‘kite’  isn-”

 “Right,  whatever!  Anyways,  the  abbreviation  is  SKZ-“

 “Ohhh!  We’re  friends  with  some  of  them-  We’re  like  best  friends  with  Chris!!  Why  didn’t  you  say  it  was  Chris’s  frat  in  the  first  place?”  Your  laugh  projecting  out  of  you  unattractively  with  claps  and  swings  of  limbs  which  led  to  slapping  a  little  too  hard  at  Jamie's  shoulder.  This  clarification  did  make  you  feel  a  bit  better.  This  wasn’t  a  shitty  fraternity  you  didn’t  know,  this  was  a  shitty  fraternity  you  inevitably  tolerated  since  you  knew  and  even  approved  of  some  of  its  members! 

 SKZ  was  home  to  a  hodgepodge  of  eight  brothers  who  were  pretty  individual  as  far  as  frat  dudes  go.  Some  of  which  you  were  genuinely  fond  of,  like  Chris,  or  simply  acquainted  with,  like  Jisung,  whom  you  shared  a major  and  program  with.  Others,  you  couldn’t  even  remember  the  names  of  or  who  they  are  in  general.  It’s  also  the  smallest  frat  on  campus,  so  they  try  to  get  as  many  people  to  come  to  events  as  possible,  which  is  honestly  exhausting  as  a  concept  to  your  introverted  self.  Thus,  you’ve  never  actually  attended  one  of  theirs  until  now,  now  that  Jamie  is  dragging  you  along  with  her.

 “Ow!  I  don’t  know!~  I  thought  you  were  smart  enough  to  figure  it  out  when  I  mentioned  Chris!”  She  teased,  making  the  two  of  you  laugh  harder,  you  couldn’t  defend  yourself  on  that  one.  The  two  of  you  just  continued  your  idiotic  banter  the  rest  of  the  way  to  the  Sigma  Kappa  Zeta  house  aka  the  SKZ  frat.  

 The  walk  to  SKZ’s  lair  was  a  bit  much,  more  than  you  and  Jamie  bargained  for.  You  were  so  kindly  carrying  her  platforms  for  her  until  she’ll  put  them  back  on  again,  only  for  you  to  probably  end  up  kindly  carrying  them  again  later  tonight.  The  cool  breeze  of  the  September  night  helped  with  the  humidity  and  sweat,  and  the  sun  beautifully  set,  leaving  a  delicate  lilac  color  in  its  wake  which  was  becoming  darker  and  darker  the  further  you  walked.  The  hazy  streetlights  added  to  the  whimsy  atmosphere,  yet  to  be  ruined  with  the  sound  of  an  intolerable  amount  of  bass  and  the  overbearing  smell  of  beer  and  weed  when  the two  of  you  arrived  on  site.  

 “Okay,  I’m  pretty  sure  it’s  this  house!”  Jamie  halted  her  steps,  turning  towards  you,  her  hair  swaying  along  with  the  belled  sleeves  of  her  mesh  turtleneck  she  had  under  her  dress.  The  two  of  you  really  dolled  yourselves  up  for  the  night,  her  hair  was  perfect,  your  hair  was  perfect,  outside  was  perfect,  and  it  brought  you  sobering  back  to  the  not-so-perfect  earth.  The  idea  of  going  inside  a  suffocating,  putrid  house  majorly  crowded  with  drunk  and  hormonal  peers...  was  not  appealing  to  you  in  the  least.   

 “Yup,  and  now  it’s  time  to  turn  back  around!”  You  quipped,  ensnaring  her  arm  with  your  empty  one,  about  to  steer  the  two  of  you  in  a  three-point-turn.  This  was  your  final  chance  at  getting  out  of  your  predicament,  and  now  that  you’re  here  you  regret  playing  along.  Sadly,  Jamie  was  just  as  stubborn  as  you,  and  your  turn  around  was  met  with  a  roadblock. 

 “Oh  my  god,  Y/n,  you’re  joking!  We  walked  the  whole  ass  way  here!”  She  got  out  in  between  puffs  of  airy  frustration,  her  socked  heels  digging  into  the  ground  as  you  attempted,  gracelessly,  to  steer  the  two  of  you  around.    

 “Okay,  okay,  fine.  We  did  come  all  this  way  and  now  our  drinks’ve  worn  off.”  You  acknowledged  with  an  irritated  huff.  “Okay-  how  about  we  go  in  and  get  some  drinks,  and  then  we’ll  leave?!”  Your  pitch  going  up  with  each  word  of  your  attempt  to  negotiate  before  forcing  out  a  chuckle,  your  laugh  did  its  best  to  hide  the  fact  that  your  body  was  beginning  to  stick  with  sweat  and  anxiety. 

“No,  ‘and  then’  we’ll  find  Chris  to  hook  me  up!”  She  playfully  fought  back  but  it  was  hard  to  take  her  seriously,  or  yourself,  with  how  the  two  of  you  were  laughing,  hers  genuine,  yours  not  so  much.  

 “Jesus  Christ,  you  really  are  set  on  this  ‘finding  your  soulmate’  thing.”  You  breathed.  As  much  as  you  hated  social  gatherings,  you  loved  your  best  friend  much,  much  more,  therefore  you  were  willing  to  be  won  over  in  the  name  of  friendship.  Though,  she  would  owe  you  for  this!  Fortunately  for  her,  food  and  drink  is  fair  trade  in  you  and  your  wallet’s  eyes. 

 “I’m  lonely,  okay!  I’d  prefer  winning  the  lottery  but  this  is  the  next  best  thing!”  Jamie,  as  per  usual,  brought  the  two  you  back  right  to  laughter  instantly.  She  had  her  mind  made  up.  Plus,  with  you  giggling  it  made  it  all  the  easier  for  her  to  haul  the  both  of  you  right  up  the  steps  of  the  SKZ  Frat  House  stairs.   

Once  in,  Jamie  stuck  close  to  your  side,  literally,  but  not  that  she  had  the  natural  choice  or  much  of  an  alternative;  this  place  was  packed  to   the  gills!  Jumping  up  on  her  now  platform  clad  feet,  looking  for  anyone  she  recognized  or  any  signs  of  Chris,  while  you  led  the  two  of  you,  hopefully,  to  a  kitchen.  You  were  practically  kicking  yourself  each  step  of  the  way  as  you  shoved  your  way  through  the  crowd.  The  air  was  stuffy  and  possibly  even  toxic,  to  say  the  least.  The  scent  is  much  more  foul  than  last  you  remember,  pungent  with  alcohol,  sweat,  cigarettes,  weed,  hints  of  puke,  and  dashes  of  all  sorts  of  pheromones.  Despite  the  few  times  you’ve  smelled  this  scent,  it  never  failed  to  make  you  wish  you  didn’t  leave  your  safe,  sanitary  bed.   

 There’s  jabbing  elbows  and  flailing  parts  of  strangers  everywhere  that  had  to  be  watched  out  and  dodged  for,  sloshing  cups,  sometimes  drunken  flirtatious  hands  grabbing  at  you,  not  at  all  fazed  by  the  pretty  companion  you  had  your  elbow  linked  with.  The  sway  of  the  hoards  of  people  was  beginning  to  get  you  motion  sick,  but  you  were  determined  to  keep  wading  through,  trying  to  hike  through  this  high  tide,  but  you  couldn’t  help  but  feel  vulnerable.  You  were  cursed  with  a  soft,  approachable  face  that  just  begged  to  be  messed  with.  Even  in  times  like  these,  where  your  thoughts  are  nothing  short  of  bitchy,  the  message  would  never  get  across  with  a  resting  bitch  face.  Your  love  for  dark  attire  didn’t  matter.  Your  baby  face  and  aura  won  every  match.  Not  even  the  eyeliner  and  dark  lipstick  you  preferred  could  save  you.  All  you  could  do  is  hope  that  your  best  friend’s  intimidation  and  delightfully  loud  presence  was  enough  for  the  two  of  you  as  you  keep  planting  one  foot  after  the  other.  

“Fucking  hell!”  You  barely  gasped  out,  finally  freed  out  of  the  main  room,  and  now  into  the  hallway.  The  seasick  claustrophobia  no  longer  had  its  poisonous  grips  on  your  soft,  easy  to  bruise  skin,  though,  you  did  need  to  catch  your  breath.  

 “Finally!”  Jamie  sighed  loudly  and  melodically,  patting  you  on  the  back  and  easily  recovering.  Before  she  headed  straight  into  the kitchen  to  scope  out  the  place,  possibly  for  anyone  she  knew  and,  perhaps,  her   Special  Someone.  

 “So  did  ya  see  anyone  you  knew,  Jame?”  You  called  after  her  upon  entering  what  appeared  to  be  a  stereotypical  scene  of  the  kitchen  during  a  college  party.  Cliche  red  solo  cups  scattered  everywhere,  filled  at  varying  degrees.  A  beer  keg  or  two,  some  cheap  bottles  of  vodka  splayed  about,  remnants  of  ash  from  blunts,  a  couple  or  two  aggressively  making  out  against  the  wall,  and  four  or  five  random  stragglers  fidgeting  with  their  phone or  talking  overly  loudly  to  each  other.  You  know,  the  usual.  

“Ughh,  no”  She  answered  reluctantly.  “They  have  to  be  somewhere  else,  maybe,  like  upstairs  or  downstairs,  right?!”  

Before  you  could  reply,  behind  you,  you  heard  an  enthusiastic  “Jamie!!”  then  a  muffled,  “you  finally  made  it!!”  The  familiar  voice  had  you  jerking  your  head  to  see  if  your  ears  were  failing  you,  evidently,  they  weren’t.  Right  away  you  see  Chris  tackling  Jamie  in  a  hug  before  he  met  your  eyes  with  his  comically  wide  ones.  

“Aaaahhh!!  Y/n’s  here  too?!”

 “Yeah!  Don’t  we  look  cute?”  Jamie  fluffed  up  her  cropped,  newly  dyed  hair  you  helped  her  do,  yours  also  in  a  similar  state.   

“Yeah,  but  Y/n  looks  better.”  He  teased,  giggling  and  slapping  her  in  the  arm;  unsurprising,  as  it’s  their  usual  fashion.   

“Oh  my  god!  Why  did  I  come  here?!  Okay,  we’ll  leave  then,  Chris.”  Jamie  joked  right  back  at  him,  snatching  at  your  hand  like  it  was  a  prize  to  be  won  and  taking  you  away  with  her.  Unfortunately  for  you,  this  was  just  a  well-meaning  joke,  you  weren’t  going  to  be  set  free  from  a  party  anytime  soon.   

 “Nooo!  Don’t  go!!”  He  dramatized,  grabbing  onto  at  Jamie,  halting  her  from  leaving  with  you  in  tow.  Giggling  so  hard,  he  had  to  throw  his  head  back  to  project  it  all.  You  snorted  a  “thank  you”  a  bit  late,  too  busy  laughing.  He  just  gave  you  a  brotherly  slap  on  the  arm,  on  his  way  to  leave  before  Jamie  stopped  him.  

“Wait!  What  about  my  soulmate?  You  said  they'd  be  here,  remember!”  

“Oh?”  Chris’s  eyebrows  scrunched  in  confusion,  Jamie  nodded  with  stern  wide  eyes  which  seemed  to  spark  back  his  doubtful  memory,  “Ahhh…  downstairs…  maybe…  I  think-  hangin’  out!  There’s  a  game  about  to  start-  Oh,  yeah!  That’s  why  I’m  here-”  he  giggled  to  himself,  “to  get  this!”  He  then  snatched  a  full  bottle  of  vodka  from  a  sneaky  cabinet  you  didn’t  know  about  before  ushering  you  guys  along  to  follow  him.  Honestly,  Chris  didn’t  make  it  sound  too  promising  that  Jamie’s  soulmate  could  be  down  there,  but  it’s  the  best  lead  you  got.   

Shyly,  you  followed  behind  the  two  as  he  led  the  way  to  the  basement.  With  Chris  as  your  guide,  it  was  relatively  smooth  sailing,  the  crowd  parting  minimally  to  make  way  for  the  president  of  the  frat.  Before  you  know  it,  you’re  walking  down  some  nasty  ass  carpeted  stairs,  forcing  your  eyes  from  questionable  stains  to  look  for  a  rail  instead  to  hold  onto.  Strangely  enough,  walking  down  the  steps  was  comforting  somehow,  the  feeling  as  if  it  were  inviting  you  in.  Like  it  assigned  you  a  duty  instead  of  the  alienating  fish  out  of  water  experience  you  had  earlier  on  the  main  floor.   

 “I  picked  up  some  stragglers!”  Chris  cheered  as  he  turned  into  the  room.   

 “Yeah,  but  did  you  bring  the  alcohol?”  A  brazen  voice  you’ve  never  heard  before  shot  straight  through  you.  You  could  feel  it  run  through  you  with  tingles  down  your  spine  and  goosebumps  up  your  arms.   

“Hell  yeah  I  did,  ya  jackass!”  

 When  the  two  of  you  turned  the  corner,  the  world  slowed  down  and  your  muscles  instantly  seized  up,  halting  you  into  place  without  consent.  Your  insides  clench  tight,  wrapping  itself  into  a  knot.  Suddenly  you  were  sweating,  but  in  contrast,  your  vision  looked  as  though  you  were  looking  through  a  nice  refreshing  glass  of  pink  lemonade.  Normally  steady  hands  were  now  shaky,  your  ears  and  cheeks  beginning  to  glow  beet  red.  You  could  feel  yourself  beginning  to  sweat  at  the  nape  of  your  neck  and  underarms;  all  this  from  the  sudden  voice  of  the  stranger!  -What?  What’s  going  on?!-    

 Immediately,  your  gaze  pans  around  the  room  before  they  landed  on  the  source,  long-lashed  eyes  holding  a  dark  chocolate  glaze  and  shivering  you  to  the  bone.  Like  a  hooked  fish,  you  couldn’t  look  away.  The  initial  astonishment  of  just  the  sensations  couldn‘t  compare  to  exploring  the  face  in  front  of  you.  

 Chiseled  cheeks,  and  angular  brows.  Pouty  naturally  downturned  lips  were  discovered  underneath  an  impossibly  perfect,  pointy  nose.  Everything  about  him  was  like  the  artwork,  his  slightly  covered  forehead  was  somehow  artistic  as  if  even  the  space  between  the  brow  and  the  hairline  was  something  new  that  your  narrow  mind  could  never  possibly  understand.  His  hairline  soon  revealed  a  head  of  luscious  black  hair,  unrealistically  voluminous,  shiny  and  soft.  Honestly,  his  hair  was  screaming  at  you  to  test  out  if  it  could  be  possible,  that  someone  who  looked  like  this  was  real.  His  entire  face  and  head  on  his  shoulders  didn’t  make  conceivable  sense.  Maybe  it’s  just  you,  but  a  person  this  perfect  couldn’t  exist  and  you  have  yet  to  venture  south  to  see  how  perfect  the  rest  of  him  could  possibly  be.    

 “Y/n?  Are- are  you  okay?”  

 You  vaguely  felt  or  heard  your  best  friend  at  your  side,  but  it  wasn’t  decipherable.  Everything  but  this  guy  in  front  of  you  was  fuzzy,  blurry  to  you.  All  the  energy  in  your  being  focused  on  this  human  in  front  of  you.  His  silky,  messily  parted  locks,  begging  for  you  to  test  if  it  was  as  soft  as  it  looked.  His  sharp  features.  His  lips  a  natural  coral-y  color  that  began  to  shine  and  glimmer  with  saliva  as  his  glossy  tongue  began  to  trail  along  those  chapped  lips.  You  shot  your  eyes  back  to  his,  reeling  you  back  in  like  the  prey  you  began  to  feel.  Oh,  sweet,  sweet  baby  Jesus,  is  this  really  happening?!

 “I-“  both  of  you  started  at  the  same  time.  Embarrassingly  enough,  it  seems  as  though  the  blurry  figures  of  everyone  else  in  the  corner  of  your  eyes  caught  on  to  something  the  two  of  you  were  oblivious  to.  Everyone  started  jumping  and  screaming,  whooping  chaotically,  and  taking  over  your  vision.  The  slow  world  disappeared  in  a  blink,  launching  you  right  back  to  its  now  rapid,  woozy  speed.  With  everyone  pushing  and  shoving  around  you  in  excitement  it  was  not  at  all  helping  with  your  wibbly-wobbly  state.  

Suddenly,  you  felt  many  different  arms  coming  at  you,  wrapping  around  you,  constricting  you,  and  jumping  around  with  you  in  their  arms  in  excitement.  There was  a  deafening  amount  of  rambunctious  hooting  and  hollering  it  was  almost  as  if  the  team  they  were  rooting  for  won  the  SuperBowl.  

 “And  here  I  thought  Y/n  was  Jamie’s  soulmate!”  Chris  guffawed  and  they  all  joined  in,  all  besides  you  and  this  guy- WAIT-  did  Chris  say-  say  ‘soulmate’??  No,  he  couldn’t  have!  

 “Soulmate?”  Equally,  as  soon  as  you  internally  questioned  the  word  choice,  you  heard  his  earth-shattering  voice  speak  again,  despite  the  fact  he  merely  whispered,  softly  wondering  aloud.  He  spoke  aloud  what  you  were  thinking,  right  when  you  thought  it!   

 You  couldn’t  get  enough  of  his  voice,  especially  now  when  you  can’t  see  him  in  the  crowd.  His  voice  was  light,  honey-colored,  dreamy,  just  the  perfect  amount  of  deep,  it  made  you  want  to  taste  his  lips  to  see  if  he’s  as  sweet  as  he  sounded.  You,  yourself,  were  still  in  the  locked-in-place  state,  still  too  shell  shocked  to  even  make  a  step  forward,  your  poor  brain  overworking  itself  to  make  sense  of  any  of  this.   

 “Really?”  In  elated  shock  you  chirped,  slowly  giving  in  to  the  hugs  and  excited  jumping  with  wide  and  confused  eyes.  Is  this  for  real?  This  is  really  happening?!  

“Holy  fuck,  Y/n!”  Jamie  managed  to  get  you,  pulling  you  a  bit  too  crushingly  in  a  hug.  “I  can’t  believe  it!  You  found  your  soulmate  in  this  shitty  basement  and  not  me!”  She  playfully  teased,  there  was  no  ill  will  behind  it.   

 By  now  the  situation  was  beginning  to  sink  in  a  teeny  bit  and  you  were  shocked,  to  say  the  least.  Frankly,  you  were  starting  to  think  that  this  day  would  never  come.  You  had  a  soulmate  and  your  soulmate  looked  like  that!  You  were  over  the  moon,  even  if  you  felt  a  bit  guilty  that  you  found  your  soulmate  at  this  party  instead  of  Jamie.  It  was  the  plan  of this  whole  night,  after  all.  Now  that  it  was  you,  you  didn’t  know  how  to  react.  You  were  completely  and  utterly  unprepared.  

  “I’m  so  sorry,  Jamie.”  You  pulled  her  back  in  closer,  crushing  her  back  into  you,  eyes  watering,  lip  trembling.  “Oh  my  god,  I  think  I  might-  I  think  I  might  cry.”  You  hiccupped  into  her  chic  mesh  turtleneck  and  dress  combo.  This  is  too  much.  Too  too  much.   

 “Heyy!~  Don’t  feel  bad  for  me!  It’s  okay!”  Jamie  simply  chortled,  patting  your  head  deeper  into  her  chest,  her  usual  protocol  if  you  were  about  to  seriously  cry.  

Humiliatingly  enough,  you  heard  a  few  guys  begin  to  chant  “don’t  cry!”  in  the  background.  Your  small  moment  of  sincerity  and  calm  was  soon  interrupted  by  Chris.   

 “Well  isn’t  this  fun!  You  know  what  this  means!”~   

“Minho’s  soulmate’s  a  lil’  bitch?”  You  heard  Jisung,  the  kid  whom  you  shared  your  major  and  many  classes  with,  taunt.  His  words  forcing  you  forward,  ready  to  fight  the  kid.  He’s  a  child,  literally   a  child!  Why  do  I  associate  myself  with  him?!  I  swear  to  god-

 “Hey,  hey,  hey!  It  was  a  joke!”  He  squeaked  away  from  you.  He  was  too  speedy,  no  chance  for  you  and  your  heavy  ass  boots  stomping  after  him.  Safely,  he  skidded  behind  the  couch,  behind  whom  you’re  assuming  is  “Minho”,  which  had  your  boots  screeching  to  a  halt.  

Though  you  were  scrambling  after  Jisung,  your  eyes  naturally  met  Minho’s  as  you  halted.  Once  again,  your  body  is  preparing  to  either  fight  or  flight.  His  face  was  glowing  like  he  was  some  sort  of  ethereal  being,  wracked  up  in  deep,  attractive  concentration.  In  contrast,  your  face  was  beginning  to  burn  up  an  embarrassing  amount,  your  body  already  turning  into  inoperable  mush.  You  couldn’t  say  anything  if  you  tried.  Any  sentence  structure  your  brain  tried  to  form  didn’t  make  any  grammatical  or  logical  sense,  your  mind  racing  like  a  hamster  on  a  wheel.  Your  neural  pathways  were  glowing,  steaming  with  this  sudden  overstimulation,  leading  you  to  the  same  frazzling  answer  each  and  every  time: 

This  person  right  in  front  of  you?  Yeah,  that’s  your  soulmate. 

 A  hush  was  spread  throughout  the  previously  hype  basement,  all  eyes  immersed  in  the  two  of  you  speechlessly  enraptured  in  each  other.  The  longer  you  stood  there, the  more  you  could  take  him  in  and  get  used  to  him  and  the  idea  of  him.  You  were  warming  up  to  him,  he  became  more  and  more  real  with  each  millisecond.  You've  studied  his  eyes  so  passionately  now  that  could  see  his  dark  chocolatey  pupils  when  you  closed  your  eyes.  You  were  no  longer  overwhelmed  but  now  enchanted  by  his  features  and  general  presence.  His  cheekbones  are  no  longer  an  unfamiliar  art  piece.  His  aura  was  still  intimidating  as  before,  but  now  it  appeared   to  the  cheeky  kind  of  way  like  you  wanted  to  see  what  amount  of  scary  he  was  capable  of.  It  was  a  long,  jittery,  drawn-out  pause  before  anything  happened,  not  that  you  noticed.  

 “Out  of  genuine  free  will,”  You  just  smiled,  staring  at  his  naturally  downturned  lips.  Only  by  reading  his  lips  did  you  pay  attention  to  what  he  was  saying-  Wait,  what?

“I,  Lee-”  Hold on a second.  

“Minho-”  No.  

“Exercise  the  divine  right  to”  This  isn’t  happening  to  me.  This  isn’t- 

“Reject  my  sacredly  designed-” happening.  No.  No.  It  can’t  be.  It’s  not  p-   

“Soulmate.”  -ossible.  

The  electric,  exciting,  high  energy  pause  between  us  fell  and  wilted.  Died  just  like  that.  The  connected  red  strings  that  tied  Minho  and  yourself  were  chopped  off  on  his  own  accord,  bringing  icy  cold  into  the  room  in  its  wake.  A  harsh  blizzard  overwhelming  the  space.  Gasps  of  shocked  air  were  being  taken  in  from  everyone  in  this  basement,  everyone,  including  Lee  Minho.  

 You  got  a  gasp  of  bitter  cold  in  through  your  lungs  before  you  were  struck  like  lightning.  Lightning  of  feverish  torture  took  over  your  body,  struck  you  directly  in  the  heart  and  brain  before  it  flashed  through  your  veins  carrying  the  harsh  poison  of  rejection.  

   You  heard  a  pathetic  squawk  tear  its  way  out  of  your  chapped  lips,  the  anguish  forcing  you  down  to  your  knees  as  if  you  were  directly  stabbed  in  the  heart.  The  electric,  immediate  painful  reaction  faded,  bringing  boiling  throbs  through  all  your  cells,  not  leaving  one  out.  It  was  unlike  anything  you  could  describe,  no,  imagine.  It  was  as  if  the  blood  in  your  veins  was  replaced  with  boiling  water  and  your  heart  was  simultaneously  squeezed  and  electrocuted  in  the  grasps  of  electric  hands.  Maybe  it  was  the  hands  of  Satan  dragging  you  down  with  him.

Blurrily,  through  fresh,  hot  tears,  you  swear  you  could  see  Minho  physically  flinch  in  response,  immediately,  sprinting  out  of  the  room  as  if  he  was  escaping  from  a  house  on  fire. 

 That  was  the  last  you  saw  before  it  all  faded  to  black. 

[fahadstechblog]

MSI GF65- The MacBook Decimator

The sub $1000 MSI GF65 definitely packs a punch and absolutely demolishes the competitors in this price range

INTRODUCTION

So this is the MSI GF 65 thin which is a very thin and light 15-inch gaming laptop that comes with a brand new Intel Core i7 10 750H CPU. Now the CPU is pretty much like the previous generation CPUs but with significantly higher clock speeds. The MSI GF65 thin series have always aimed at the affordable end of the market. This particular model comes with the Intel Core i7 10750H CPU, the Nvidia GeForce RTX 2060 GPU with 16 gigs of ram(upgradable to 64 gigs), a lightning quick 512 gigabyte NVMe SSD and a great 120 hertz IPS panel for a buttery smooth FPS experience. I have personally used this laptop as my daily driver for about 60 days now and this laptop just feels FANTASTIC. From gaming to productivity, this laptop ticks all the things one looks in a laptop. This laptop will cost you $1000 so that’s pretty much the same as the AMD version, the MSI Bravo 17 and places in the same price range as the Asus G15.

DESIGN

The outer design of the GF 65 thin isn’t that different from the MSI Bravo series. It is fairly compact for a 15-inch laptop as it’s only about 2 centimeters high and it weighs a bit less than 2 kilos so it’s pretty much a bit lighter and more compact than the Asus TUF A15. I bought this laptop mainly to use it for University work and to be very honest, it is extremely easy to carry in your backpack and is the best option for students(please don’t buy a MacBook instead, you’ll definitely be shooting yourself in the foot). It has a brushed aluminum on top which very premium but does show fingerprints occasionally. The Build Quality is great. It’s definitely not typical for this price range but there is a bit of flex here and there. The overall look is a bit old school as MSI decided to stick to Reds details(catered to the hardcore gamers) The hinge feels pretty good and it is very easy to open with one hand, the display feels fairly sturdy. The inside has a metal layer as well and has a glossy yet matte finish. So overall quality and finish is quite impressive for this price range.

Keyboard and Trackpad

The keyboard of the MSI GF 65 is fairly typical at this price point. The actuation feels great and the key travel is a bit shorter, making it an extremely easy and swift typing experience. The backlighting of the keyboard is only red(a bit of a bummer for all the RGB fans), and the brightness can be adjusted through the macros provided by MSI on the left-side of the keyboard. The Trackpad on this thing is quite unique. It is equipped with windows precision drivers which is great for quick gestures, and the surface that MSI used is actually quite great. It is really smooth, the palm rejection is good and its overall nice to use for you. I mean it’s a touchpad you cannot really love a touchpad but unfortunately it does have a bit of a wobble so both tapping and pressing the corners to click does feel a bit awkward. A great addition would be to see added dedicated buttons.

Connectivity

Connectivity is pretty alright, on the left we have an HDMI port and the charging port, while on the right side there are two USB 3.0 gen1 type-c ports and two USB 3.0 gen one type-a ports. There is an Ethernet connection and a combined audio jack although there is no Thunderbolt support or USB3.2 gen 2 connections but considering the price of this laptop I think it’s really fair to assume that the buyers won’t really spend big cash on the fastest external storage and are pretty much more concerned with having enough USB ports instead.

Performance

Now off to the main part you all have been waiting for- the performance. Considering the fact how well the AMD Ryzen CPUs did, it is interesting to see that Intel is neck-to-neck, on its way to reclaim their crown in this mobile segment. In the single core Cinebench 15 benchmark, the 10750 H manages to stay ahead of the Ryzen CPUs by a mile, but in all other CPU benchmarks including the much newer single core Cinebench 20, the i7 10750H CPUs are just ahead and the jump from the 9th generation to the 10th generation of Intel CPUs looks quite promising for productivity. So now the question is what does the new CPU mean for gamers? And the answer to that is actually not that much.

Looking at raw gaming performance-The Division, Far Cry 5 and Assassin’s Creed Odyssey which are all fairly CPU heavy games and turned up to the highest settings, the MSI GF65 consistently demonstrated its prowess by maintaining an 80 FPS average at 1080p. If you’re more into FPS and multiplayer gaming, you can certainly take advantage of that 120 Hertz screen. The MSI GF65 pulls a 140FPS average on Call of Duty: Warzone on the highest settings. Tweak those settings and hitting 240 FPS wont be an issue but be prepared to invest in a 240 Hertz monitor!

Battery Life

Now lets take a look at the battery life of this thing. The GF 65 thing does a great job considering it’s a gaming laptop, with about six and a half hours in the heavy PC Mark 8 and just over nine hours of Netflix watching is not bad at all. It is considerably better than its counterparts, the MSI Bravo 17 which had a smaller battery so it could keep the 2.5 inch drive but at the same time it is a little worse than the Asus G15. Gaming on battery is not advisable as you will most certainly only get 3–4 hours of gaming out of this thing.thermals and noise

Thermals

If you’re into overclocking and undervolting, thermals are going to be very important to you and this is where the MSI GF65 proves to be impressive again! The MSI’s flagship cooler booster 5 does a fantastic job keeping this thing cool. After 9 hours of intense gaming, the peak temperature this machine hits is a 65 degrees Celsius and a 60 degrees Celsius for the CPU and GPU respectively. Now that’s a BARGAIN! The laptop the fans do have to work hard when running a CPU heavy game, it is coming in at around 50 decibels in extreme performance mode.

What’s Inside?

The bottom panel of the GF 65 is really easy to open and after removing the panel you can see a lot of copper heat pipes and you have access to all key components. You can easily clean the fans, replace the battery, upgrade the memory or change out the network card, however since this already has a Wi-Fi 6 chip there is no reason to do so. Most importantly you can add a second SSD as well with the second slot taking both nvme and SATA drives.

Display

The MSI GF65 comes equipped with a120 Hertz IPS panel. Now it is a cheaper gaming panel that we’ve seen in other laptops as well and it is better than having a 60 Hertz refresh rate panel but still the color gamut is barely mediocre and the other results are also averaged. But none of this matters unless you’re looking to do some color correction work. Now I’m into that sort of thing so I’ve simple connected this to my LG 24-inch display monitor via HDMI. Now the gamut percentage sounds worse than it actually looks in reality and it’s not something you have to worry about when watching Netflix or gaming, especially considering the other results like contrast are actually quite good.

Conclusion

Overall, the MSI GF65 Thin is a fantastic machine, capable of running modern AAA titles comfortably at high framerates. It is more than equipped for doing your daily tasks, and is a wonderful machine for productivity tasks such as video editing, programing, development and what not. A perfect MacBook alternative, crushing the Apple’s overrated laptop in all aspects. I highly recommend this laptop to you all, especially students like me who need all the power in a compact and light machine. Don’t forget to share this article if it helped you. Cheers!

[destielomegaversebigbang]

Rapscallions

by the_scrubjay | art by Solstheimart

Castiel was expected to be the Omega heir to his father’s kingdom. Upon presentation as an Alpha, he was stripped of his title and privileges, now a pawn to be used as his father saw fit.

Dean, as his father’s eldest son, was expected to present as an Alpha and eventually assume the throne. When he presented as an Omega, he became just another bargaining chip at his father’s disposal.

When the Kings strike a deal for an alliance, Dean and Castiel are expected to mate to join the two nations together. On the night, the two find themselves unable to follow through and instead agree to play along to avoid the wrath of their fathers.

Once settled in the joint territory they’re intended to oversee, they find that the world is much different than it is at home.

And maybe back home wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings & Tags: Castiel/Dean Winchester, background Jody/Donna, background Gabriel/Kali, background Sam/Eileen, Alpha Castiel, Omega Dean, Alpha Jody, Beta Donna, Omega Gabriel, Alpha Kali, Alpha Sam, Omega Eileen, Alpha Jo, Alpha Hannah, Beta Ellen, Royal AU, historical AU, prince Cas, prince Dean, prince Sam, prince Gabriel, mutual pining, arranged marriage, fake relationship, language barrier, top Cas, bottom Dean, first time, A/B/O sexism, jealousy, fluff, angst, mating cycles/in heat, masturbation, pov alternating, slow burn, mentions of past abuse, references to mpreg, alcohol, knotting

POSTING SEPTEMBER 15, 2022

Check under the cut for an excerpt

Excerpt:

The scent in the room soured a little. “Something is bothering you.”

“No, Cas, I’m fine,” Dean snapped, finally tearing his gaze from the book to glare at Castiel.

Castiel drew back a little, startled. “What?”

“I said, I’m fine.”

“No,” Castiel said, shaking his head. “Cas?”

Dean’s expression turned exasperated. “Yes. Cas. Short for Castiel?”

“It is…” Castiel searched for the word Meg had used earlier. “Nickname?”

Dean’s face softened. Castiel thought he could watch Dean’s expression change all day and it would still be fascinating. “Yeah, a nickname.”

Before he could stop himself, Castiel grinned. Meg had said that people used nicknames when they liked someone. Castiel liked that Dean liked him, even if Dean was still a little wary around him.

“What’s with the face?” Dean asked. He was smiling too now, the sour scent from a moment ago dissipating on the air.

Castiel realized he had two choices. The first would be to tell Dean how happy he was to have a nickname; no one had called him anything other than his given name before. Except Gabriel, but that was usually when Gabriel called him any number of things that weren’t even names to start with. The second choice was to tell Dean that he was glad that Dean liked him enough to give him a nickname.

“Are you okay?” Dean teased.

That was when Castiel realized that he hadn’t actually answered. “I am well,” he said. He decided on choice number one and said, “I’ve never had a nickname before.”

[whyimmathere]

CLASSIC FICS

The incestuous courtship of the antichrist's bride (Sam/Dean, nc-17, crack-horror): Sam is trying to become the Antichrist in order to save the world. {dowload ✿}

The firefly that loved Metallica (Sam/Dean, R, set post-AHBL): In which Sam has a bottle full of soul. 

Moths on the Mirror (Dean/OMC + Dean/Sam, nc-17): There's something wrong in Red Haven Hospital for the Criminally Insane, but no one's going to listen to a psychopath like Dean Winchester. {dowload ✿}

Flying Weight (Sam/Dean + Dean/OMC, nc-17): Sam wakes after being soulless for three years to discover that Dean and his relationship with him have undergone some serious changes. {dowload ✿}

Dark Side of the Moon (Sam/Dean, nc-17) {dowload ✿}

Couples' Counseling (Sam/Dean, nc-17): in which they get just that.

Fumbling in the Dark: Love Advice For the Romantically Impaired (Sam/Dean, nc-17): true love is really blind. {dowload ✿} 

Sing Your Hymns Like Angels In Defeat (Sam/Dean, nc-17): And Lucifer fell for a second time with the burning brilliance of a star. The Flare shone in his wake, and darkness fell upon the land. {dowload ✿}

The Little Spoon (Sam/Dean, nc-17): To his horror, Sam discovers that he's a stealth!snuggler. {dowload ✿}

Top This (Sam/Dean, nc-17): Dean's sure he's a top. Only problem is, Sam's pretty sure that's his job. {dowload ✿}

Hush (Sam/Dean, nc-17): Motel walls are thin... {dowload ✿}

Fairytale Life (Sam/Dean + Dean/OFC, R ): There are no happily ever afters... {dowload ✿}

Camdon Inn (Sam/Dean, nc-17): In the backwoods of Northern Michigan, Sam and Dean are on the trail of what they think might be the area's fabled 'Dog Man.' What they find instead in the small town of Silver Lake is a suspicious sheriff, a shady innkeeper, a closed mouth town and a lot more than they bargained for when the supposed overly large wolf that they were hunting starts hunting them back. And, much to Dean's horror, he can no longer seem to keep his hands off of Sam. {dowload ✿}

The Bright Lights of Disturbia (Sam/Dean, nc-17): Not all of our scars are worn on the outside...

God Made Boston on a Wet Sunday (Sam/Dean, nc-17): Sam and Dean live in an apartment in Boston while John is away on a hunt. Money is scarce, so Dean picks up a particularly slutty part-time job. Sam finds out.

Sleepwalking Back Again (Sam/Dean, nc-17): “Wish ‘Verse. Spoilers for 2x20, and very vaguely for season 3. Warnings for established incest, adultery, angst, smoking, dramatic irony, and the complete absence of a happy ending.”

Soul-Eater, Death-Dealer Sam/Dean, nc-17): “A grieving Dean is pulled into an alternate universe where a much more hardened, cold Sam is working to get his Dean out of hell. Though Dean doesn’t want to go back to his lonely world, he aids Sam in his dark quest, a Sam torn between the brother he’s fighting to save and the one right in front of him.”

Not Time’s Fool (Sam/Dean, nc-17): “A story in 21 parts, featuring an Ancient Greek curse, an unexpected metamorphosis, adventures in pool sharking, numerous shots of tequila, a nun outfit, zombies, angels, demons, kidnappings, startling discoveries about old acquaintances, massage, a game of strip poker, girl-on-girl action, girl-on-boy action, and boy-on-boy action.”

How many floors to realize (Sam/Dean, nc-17): “AU from the end of It’s A Terrible Life, in which Zachariah decides to keep stringing them along a little while longer, because damn if they aren’t somewhat entertaining, right?”

Supercross (Sam/Dean, nc-17): “Set in a world where competitive team stunt biking shows – explosive entertainment performances full of tricks, talent, fireworks and music – dominate the world of freestyle motocross biking, this story follows Sam and Dean Winchester as they deal with their lives, bikes, flips, tricks – and love.”

Your Fields So Green Can Whisper Tales of Gore (Sam/Dean, nc-17): Dean is 100% everything Sam’s been unintentionally searching for.Sam is 100% everything Dean’s been secretly hoping would find him.

ANTIBODY (Sam/Dean nc17):  AU where the boys run the town morgue - Dean is the pathologist and Sam is his assistant.

Do Roses Know Their Thorns Can Hurt? (Sam/Dean, nc17): Dean needs a new body part and Sam doesn't cope well with any of it.(A very AU!AU borrowing the lovely idea from Time Is on My Side - somewhat Burton inspired and super unserious.)

Almost at Home (Sam/Dean, nc17):  Sam graduates from high school in early June in rural Tennessee. He and Dean start the summer with an all-nighter of celebration; the day after, while both fight hangovers, John calls to assign them their first hunt by themselves. They go to northern Virginia to investigate the homicidal ghost of a dangerous escapee of a high-security prison and mental institution whose MO is beheading people with an axe while wearing a filthy, grotesque bunny suit. Then throughout the long, happy summer, as they move around tackling a series of minor hunts together, John's absences grow longer. Sam and Dean explore their relationship as it burgeons into something they've both been craving and which neither of them regrets.

Suite!Verse (Sam/Dean, nc17): “ To save Dean from going to Hell, Sam has voluntarily embraced the role of the Anti-Christ and triggered Armageddon. As the world burns around them and demons enslave the human population, an increasingly demonic Sam begins to chip away at Dean’s will through alternating acts of of sex and violence. Caught between lust and fear, Dean struggles with the hope that his brother can be redeemed and slips further and further into the Stockholm Syndrome. As the series progresses, Dean loses more and more of his agency and personality, leaving the reader to wonder what, if anything, of Dean will remain at the end.” [WIP, very dark content]

We were Twenty (Sam/Dean, nc17):  It's sunny the day he buries his brother .

Fine Wonderful Things (Sam/Dean, nc17):  Sam doesn't want to deal with what happened in Cold Oak, but he can't ignore it anymore when he and Dean investigate a murderous spirit in New Mexico.

Rip us out at the seams  (Sam/Dean, nc17):  Hookerfic that leads to first-time wincest, set through season 3 and into season 4. Title from Heather Nova. 

[cityandking]

for the super detailed oc ask! 1, 2, 16, and 49 for bran and eniko?

bless u // super detailed questions about your ocs 

1. What’s their full name? Why was that chosen? Does it mean anything? 

BRAN –– Branwen ar Calagri. branwen is a welsh name meaning beautiful raven and is largely in reference to her hair. her mother used to call her my little raven girl when she was young. she was always going to fly away and never come back again. (there’s something biblical about being set free after a period cooped up in order to find land and instead sweeping off into the great unknown) (ar calagri doesn’t mean anything, it just sounds nice. ar functions like a ‘von’ or a ‘de’ in that it denotes a place/profession of origin, but that’s about as much as I’ve got)

ENIKO –– is just Enikö. Or Enikö Csonka, in a modern au. (he’s got a potential alternate name but that’s Redacted.) enikö is after the legendary mother of the Hungarian people, enéh. mostly I picked it because he had to have a hungarian name and it sounded right(TM). csonka is also hungarian, a surname meaning maimed or mutilated which is... significant for likewise redacted reasons. love that fucked-up bastard.

2. Do they have any titles? How did they get them? 

BRAN –– captain of course. she’ll spin any manner of story about how she got the luckrunner but the truth of it is that she paid off the old captain––a man who worked for the ar calagri family, in fact––a hefty enough sum to retire in peace and bought the ship fully and fairly. it took her years, but the luckrunner is hers sure as anything, legal and binding. not sure she has any other titles. she’s a member of ex animo but that doesn’t mean a whole lot. for now.

ENIKO –– has no titles as far as I know but honestly I’d love if he had a moniker from his days working pre-dawn company

16. Do they collect anything? What do they do with it? Where do they keep it? 

BRAN –– collects memorabilia from particularly interesting jobs. she keeps them in her cabin, on a shelf reserved for knickknacks with good stories attached. she also collects maps, some of which are her own. she’s got a niggling idea in the back of her mind that one day she’ll sail off and map the whole of the unknown seas. or, well, a hefty portion of it anyhow.

ENIKO –– would tell you he collects scars, if asked. he’s not much for sentiment. he collects years he’s still alive? that’s gotta count for something.

49. What is their most valued object? Are they sentimental? Is there something they have to take everywhere with them?

BRAN –– she has a family signet ring she keeps on her person. it’s... sort of for sentiment, sort of a reminder, sort of the one thing she can’t bear to sell. (I, in my heart, would love to see her give it to her little brother if/when they meet again. I’m not sure where either of them will be emotionally/mentally at that hypothetical point in time or if it will be the right sort of gesture to make, but I’ve definitely thought about it a lot.)

ENIKO –– currently it’s the griffin egg he’s keeping, because it’s perhaps the last one and griffins are incredibly important symbols in this world and it’s perhaps the best, most impressive bargaining chip he has and he will not let it slip out of his grasp if he can help it. (I, personally, would love if it hatched and we ended up with eniko parenting a large murderbird. it would mean a lot to me, personally. but either way. it’s very valuable, and enikö is all about holding on to valuable things.)

[eirianerisdar]

Five Choices

Summary: Loki’s thoughts on infinity wars and mild inconveniences - and love, responsibility, and choices. Alternately titled Word-Vomiting That Infinity War Was Amazing Through Fic. Gen. Oneshot. Edit: reformatted the summary because it was showing up enlarged on mobile.

Cross-posted to FFN

Fanfic masterlist

Fic under the cut.

The first thought that went through Loki Odinson’s mind as he died - and he was keeping that name now that he took it for himself, thank you very much - was that dying was such an inconvenience, really.

Enough of one that he didn’t put mild in front of it; mild inconveniences included the time he thought he was dying on the black sand of Svartalfheim, and poured out his heart like a maudlin, weepy, rapidly-expiring thing held by his equally weepy brother - and then he had woken up, because apparently there was stronger side to his magic he hadn’t known about, before.

So he had decided to pay a little trip to his dear old adopted father and immortalise those last, very poetic words in art.

And then this happened.

And this...wasn’t that.

This was about as inconvenient as anything could get.

And painful. Thor’s scream, muffled by the metal gag around his lips, was worse.

Loki had known in a way, from the moment he slipped his last dagger out of a pocket of dark energy he always kept in his sleeve; that it had come down to him, trickster, survivor, twice prince and twice king, the words of a liesmith and the dance of Loki lightfoot. He had also known that he would most likely die.

But that would not mean he would fail, because in that moment, he was not thinking of his own survival, as he had always done from the moment Thor’s friends began shunning him for his magic.

He was thinking of Thor’s survival. At any and all cost.

Perhaps he would see his mother again in Valhalla, at least.

He wished he could tell Thor-

Loki became aware that he was aware, slowly.

And then he kicked himself for it (mentally, not physically, because in that moment he also became aware that he barely existed, if at all) and decided to wait until his thoughts rearranged themselves to fully comprehend I think, therefore I am before going further.

Once he was reasonably sure that he was a disembodied thought, nothing more, he tried magicking himself a pair of eyes, because there was nothing he could feel, see, hear, taste, or really sense at all.

His magic fluttered somewhere in his consciousness, and fell still again.

So. No body, then.

Judging by his magic, he was probably best described as an identity without a house; no tools with which to wield the energy of magic at all, because he was energy.

A soul.

Hmm. This wasn’t quite just inconvenient, then.

This was downright annoying.

All the more so because he was quite sure that there was a way out of this, and there it was niggling in the back of his mind - a lesson Mimir taught him when Loki was a child sitting attentively at lessons while Thor drew doodles of bloody battles on the edge of his parchment.

Hel take it, he was sure it was something about personality, the nine realms, and the essence of character; how each person born under Odin’s reign had an element that tethered them to the world tree - how Thor’s was lightning, and Loki’s was-

Fire.

Loki imagined himself as a solitary flame.

Nothing.

Not that way, then.

Perhaps...perhaps fire was simply the path, not himself.

And with that, the world popped back into existence. Or Loki did, from another point of view.

He became aware he was on fire.

No, no. Not quite that way. His soul rested on a splinter of burning fuel jutting out of the side of a - what was this, a giant metal hoop?

A startlingly familiar red-gold figure flew past, buffeting him until his host flame almost went out. Mentally growling, Loki barely reoriented himself to glimpse Stark reaching a smaller blue-red figure halfway up the curve of the circle, with more desperation in his flight than Loki had ever seen before, even in the worst of the battle of New York.

He flickered to a flame closer to them, and it became apparent that the smaller figure was in fact little more than a child.

Curious. He did not know Stark had children.

And then the world shivered, and Loki realised that the entire structure was rapidly entering hard vacuum and that his host fire was about to extinguish from lack of oxygen.

Grumbling slightly, he casted out a trail of thought for another fire in Yggdrasil’s branches, and snapped himself towards it - through even less than nothing, because dimensions did not matter, now.

He found himself clinging to the wreckage of a midgardian train, flickering fire all across its frame. It was night, in this part of midgard.

Someone screamed.

Loki noted that yes, it was the voice of that young woman, and that it was very impressive, what she was doing with her magic - but more importantly, the figure beside her had a gold-flamed stone in his forehead - one that flooded his soul with ice, and the memory of a clammy, white-fingered hand stabbing agony into his temples.

The mind stone.

How had he not known what it was, even with it in his hand?

And then, of course, the good captain and his friends arrived. If Loki had a mouth, lungs, and vocal cords, he would have commented loudly on the futility of speaking to your enemies when killing them would certainly prevent future problems - but see, now, that was the problem with the captain. He tended to attempt to preserve life, even when the likelihood of success was close to nonexistent.

Loki was still stewing over this when the backwash from the landing quinjet abruptly extinguished his flame.

Oh for goodness’ sa-

The world tree shivered, and Loki flitted across the flames in its branches until he reached the source.

Vormir.

There was hardly anything there to burn at all; bare stone and lonely wind, and a tiny cluster of embers at the base of a tall double-spire. The stone-keeper’s meagre watch-fire, it seemed.

Loki settled there, a tiny ember huddling in a harsh, fate-borne wind - and watched.

Thanos, with the reality stone already in his gauntlet - that was the end of the collector, then - and a woman next to him, obviously a prisoner of some sort. Her hands looked like they were itching for any weapon.

But then they spoke, and Loki understood.

Thanos was to this woman what Loki once thought Odin was to him - an adoptive father who had no use for his child but as a weapon or bargaining chip, who held no love for him but only fed him lies.

Loki had been mistaken, regarding his own father.

Thanos was everything that Odin was not, because the stone-keeper proclaimed the soul stone’s price - one that Thanos loved.

For a moment, Loki was tempted to laugh in his mind along with the woman; what love could Thanos, destroyer of worlds, slaughterer of children, have for any soul but his own?

And then a chill entered Loki’s thoughts, because he remembered.

He remembered that Odin was once Hela’s father.

Odin, conqueror of the nine realms, slaughterer of Jotunar, Asgard’s iron-fisted king - before there was Thor, Loki, peace.

But had Odin not loved his daughter in a way, despite it all?

Thanos was everything Odin was not, yes.

But part of what Odin once was - Thanos is.

The worldkiller was crying as he reached out.

His adopted daughter was backing away, now, slow horror on her features.

Something akin to disgust coiled in the ember Loki rested in, spitting sparks. This was not love. Not even close to it. Love favoured the loved one above the self. It was what pushed him to lie through his bloodied teeth and guided his fingers to palm a dagger in order to save Thor, despite knowing that his own life would be most likely forfeit. It was what led his mother to take the dagger for Jane Foster. It was what allowed his father to overcome his pride and say the words I love you, my sons.

The woman screamed and beat her fist against Thanos’s chest as he dragged her to the cliff edge.

Loki wished for a dagger, wished so hard he felt like he should have hands, breath, a heart that coursed anger and rage. Not because he wished to save the woman, in particular - he wanted, instead, to take this disgusting creature, this plum-coloured sack of flesh and rip his head from his body for his mutilation of love, and parenthood.

Loki knew what good parenthood was, now. Now, when he had no parents. No friends. Possibly no brother, too.

This was...not love. This was the giving up of a possession.

Thanos threw her over the edge.

Loki, for all his stomach for chaos, could not bear to watch - he slipped away from the ember, and felt, even as he left, the wind snuff it out completely, leaving cold ashes where a fire once burned.

It seemed the fourth dimension, time, was also different - Loki was startlingly sure that a half-day or so at least had passed when he settled on a flame again.

This one was small, enclosed - a glow-lamp on the wall of a small spacecraft, it seemed.

And then if Loki had lungs, he would have forgotten to breathe, because Thor was there.

His brother sat by the side of a viewport, purple-hued stars lighting the still-fresh cuts on his face with darker bruising. A strange animal sat before him - a Midgardian Racoon, if memory served - and they seemed to be in the middle of conversation.

Loki’s mind caught up to Thor’s words just as the first and only tear slipped out of Thor’s eye.

In the next moment, Thor brusquely brushed it away and smiled; but it was enough that Loki wished for hands.

He refused to hug Thor.

Though he wouldn’t mind if Thor were to hug him.

Thor would cheer up immensely if Loki were to throw a handful of mud at his head. It always did, when they were children.

Knowing Loki wasn’t quite dead would be a major part of it.

But bound as he was to flame, Loki had no voice to say I’m here, as he so carelessly did when he still had hands to catch the trinket Thor threw at him to confirm he wasn’t an illusion.

He also had no voice to sarcastically wonder what in their forefathers’ name Thor thought he was doing when it became apparent that the ship was heading to Nidavellir - really, he should have expected Thor to solve the problem of the guy with a weapon of ultimate destruction by forging another, equally powerful weapon.

Loki made the mistake of soul-flitting - that was an excellent phrase, he was so going to use that phrase now - to the flame of the neutron star when Thor activated it again.

He felt - he was the starflame that seared into Thor’s skin, and wished he had eyes to close.

Idiot.

Stupid, heroic, bull-headed idiot of a brother.

Well, congratulations. An axe, of all things. No, Thor would never go for a spear. Or a bow. Or a knife. No elegance or wit.

But then a far-off branch of Yggdrasil burst into new flame, and Loki was snatched away almost before he could do anything about it.

He flickered to existence on a pile of burning shrapnel.

The scene before him was so delicately balanced and a masterpiece of control that for a moment, Loki dared to hope.

Thanos, incapacitated - a woman with both hands latched firmly to his temples, every other limb bound by magic or brute force.

And Stark-

Stark and the boy in the spider-etched suit were removing the gauntlet.

Hope was such a sweet, unfamiliar thing that Loki almost felt an ache where his heart should have been.

And then a man, Quill, whose energy signature read half midgardian and half something else, something extremely powerful - stepped forward, and growled a question.

Gamora?

Was that the name of the-

Oh. Oh no.

Stark apparently had the presence of mind to warn Quill off letting his anger get the better of him - but Loki could tell, even as his hope turned to horror, that it would not do.

Thanos woke, and the moon shattered.

Loki soul-flitted to the burning ropes the midgardian sorcerer cast at Thanos, and strove to lend what little magic he could to strengthen them; he shouted a wordless scream as Thanos snapped the seidr of the strings as an axe to vines. There was pain in his soul now, something Loki had felt in dreams, eons ago, but such a physical pain that he nearly forgot to reach for the nearest fire, which were sparks on a piece of flying metal that even as Loki awoke in, felt Thanos catch the shard and and reverse him and plunge him into-

-Stark’s stomach.

Loki rebounded into a spluttering flame in a hollow a few paces away, and wondered how he could feel so ill, with no body to do so.

Stark staggered.

And the sorcerer Strange opened his mouth, and spoke.

Loki knew then that everything was lost.

Strange should have let Stark die, instead of giving up the time stone.

But had Loki let Thor die for the space stone, the Tesseract he hid for himself? Had he not met Thor’s eyes, and saw the silent agreement in them, and yet found his hands and lips moved of their own accord to save one above all else?

They were all fools. He most of all.

But there was a new fire blooming between Yggdrasil’s eaves, and Loki’s soul flitted away, to the ice-breathed flame of a new bifrost.

It ended where it began. On midgard.

There was ample flame to flit between, on a battlefield such as this. Loki had no knives, nor hands to use them, and so he simply watched, and calculated, and waited.

In the end, it came down to the young woman. The young woman they called Wanda.

She was strong beyond all meaning of the word, Loki could see. Brave was insufficient to describe her; she could be a Valkyrie of legend, leading the soul of a nearly-dead man off the battlefield.

And the man she was killing loved her so, so much.

She succeeded, and Loki felt the fire he inhabited settle from a wind-blasted blaze to a flickering, almost-still flame.

Here there was finally someone who did what was necessary - beyond Quill, who did not kill Gamora despite her knowledge of the soul stone; beyond Gamora herself, who had revealed the stone for Nebula’s sake, leaving her sister to tell others of it; beyond Strange, who did not withhold the time stone for Stark, bleeding out on the ground of a desolated planet; beyond Loki, who had lied and watched his brother’s pain for all of two seconds before giving up the gateway to the nine realms for him.

Here there was the girl who had understood that she was the last - the last one, upon whom all those people before, older and with seemingly more authority than her, had deferred that choice.

The man she killed had been right.

It should not have been her. Not personally, nor physically.

Thanos’s gauntlet glowed green.

And Loki knew it was over, even before it began. Time could not stop it.

Half the leaves on the world tree withered and disintegrated into dust, a movement of death that originated on midgard and spread like an unstoppable plague through branch and bough.

Yggdrasil was forcefully, violently pruned.

Loki was selfish, and he knew it - but it did not stop him from flickering to the softly burning edge of his brother’s cloak, just so that should Thor dissolve, Loki would lose his grasp on the world, too.

Thor did not.

When Loki was sure, he soul-flitted back to Stark’s group. Because some part of him wished to see whom fate had chosen, and whom fate had not.

He arrived just in time to see the boy - not Stark’s son, it would seem, but as close to it as could possibly be - collapse into Stark’s arms, body already flaking into dust and ashes.

“I don’t wanna go I-”

The expression on Stark’s face was one of numb horror - one Loki recognised with a stab of agony. It was the same expression Odin wore when Loki fell off the end of the bifrost, all those years ago.

“I’m sorry.”

Last words from a child who should not have been there, in the arms of one that was not his father, but almost was.

Even as Yggdrasil’s pruning left it crippled, threadbare, where once-vibrant leaves thrived on its branches - new flames burst from every corner of the nine realms, as chaos-

No.

This was not chaos, that Loki loved so much. It was not even order in the manner he used to roll his eyes at.

This was order in its worst form; order without justice.

But as Loki’s soul flickered from world to world, on flame and fire and spark and ember, something occurred to him.

The Avengers were still there.

All six of the warriors who fought him in New York six years ago were still, impossibly, alive.

He had gone into battle with them when they were inexperienced as a team; a fledgling alliance, something he had exploited at the time.

But now they are different.

It was never in Loki’s nature to hope. Hope was reserved for uncalculated moments, and Loki had made it his business when he was still alive to never not calculate.

But he hopes here, in this moment, that although the battle might be lost, that the war would not be.

He settles, eventually, on a candle on a porch of a cabin by a Midgardian sea; an old man is sitting there calmly reading a book by candlelight, and judging by the lack of radio aerial and the darkness in the cabin behind him, a hermit. Perhaps news of the pruning of Yggdrasil has not reached this place yet.

Loki waits in the small flame, and watches the stars.

I wrote this in an effort to express my writer’s soul geeking out over the gorgeous themes in the story that was Infinity War. I’ll probably continue this after Infinity War 2. Whenever that is.

I’ve cross-posted this to FFN!

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