#brain cells rotating over their outfit

[caramel-maveeato]

ᴅᴏᴋɪ ᴅᴏᴋɪ ♡˚₊。。。

❧❤ SYNOPSIS: Eonni’s Gang’s unofficial couturier getting spellbound by the legendarily toe-curling rizzler So Mun (ft. real footage of Ga Motak being a professional matchmaker for 1k words straight)… ♡ Pairings/Love interest: So Mun x Fem!reader ♡ Genre: fluff, assumed relationship, reader is a simp in denial. ♡ TW: slightly suggestive, slight cursing, slight implication of bi-panic (it doesn’t indicate the reader is bi tho it’s just common sense to get skfjlsiglg when both Hana and Motak are in the room), might have been inserted a few TUC inside jokes and genZ slangs cus i was going insane over midterms i apologize ♡ word count: 3.7k

(request is here) Note: All characters originated from “The Uncanny Counter/Amazing Rumor” except for Y/n.

English is not my first language!!! Sorry in advance if I make any grammar and vocabulary mistakes.

Who would’ve guessed there was legitimately a place for the dead to arrive after life? Not exclusively for the completely-dead, though, it was created for close-to-dead people as well, like in your case right now. 

You remembered girl-bossing a little too close to the sun and falling into a coma over… whatever. But instead of sinking into everlasting gloom where you could no longer feel or think like how those Hollywood movies portrayed, you were embraced by a bleached-clothed person who flung you back and forth between a fonded place of your memory and a blank white setting just as bleached, informing you about the world full of “evil spirits” and lecturing you into becoming a “counter” if you wished to continue living. 

Since you were too young and beautiful, you refused to gaf about the possible risks of getting unalived for the second time, closed-eyedly concluding the verbal contract for a (hopefully) glorious future. 

“Um…”

Six pairs of eyes leaped over at you. Ms. Chu swallowed her noodles before responding: “What’s the matter?”

“Well, I…” 

You scratched the back of your neck out of instinct, briefly making eye contact with the rest of the table: “I’ve told you that I used to work in the fashion field, right?”

The chairman nodded his head: “Yeah, you did mention that the first day you came here."

There is no way you could back out now, not after you have entirely mustered the attention. Rotating unsaid words in your mouth while you observed their expressions one last time, hoping no one would find your sudden proposal weird: “If you don’t mind, is it alright if I… take your measurements and make some outfits? I just think it would be nice to at least do something in return for all the help I’ve been getting from you. I know it’s not a lot but…”

And that was how you ended up here, pacing around with a tailor’s ruler and a notepad. 

Your suggestion wasn’t really approved at first as the team reassured you that it wasn’t just their responsibility to be your advisor but, at the same time, they were happy to be there for you, and that you shouldn’t be bothered to “return” the favor. But who are you to stop? All the remaining brain cells of yours congregated to list down every possible reason why this was what you deeply desired to do, including your “burning passion for fashion” and “essentiality for experience and modeling purposes.” 

Thankfully, they all accepted your offer after ten minutes of hesitation. 

Scribbling Jeokbong’s results down on the piece of paper, you scanned around, looking for the last person your notepad was still missing: “Where’s So Mun?”

Hana zipped up her hoodie that had been removed earlier for you to record her sizes, nonchalantly answering: “In his room, I suppose. His phone died so he said he’s going to charge it real quick.”

You thanked her before grabbing the equipment and making your way to the place mentioned. The hallway submerged itself in peaceful tranquility, conversations feebly reverberated back from the dinner table where your teammates gathered.

You knocked on So Mun's door to announce your presence, which was unnecessary since he was quick to notice you through the circular window: “Hey, do you mind if I…?”

“My turn already?” So Mun watched you nod with his signature amiable smile: “Sure. Do you need me to step outside?”

Sneaking a peek through the furniture and simple decorations, you stopped at his figure and moved closer. For some reason, the floor felt strangely unfamiliar as if you were a fawn testing its first step: “Nah, right here should also be fine, this won’t take long.” 

The soothing atmosphere was filled with the subtle rustling of the measuring tape. Each touch of the tape was deliberate, like a delicate caress, ensuring precision in every little detail. You made a mental note of the circumference of his wrist and the length of his arm. So Mun was also very cooperative, staying still with a straight posture while you interchanged small talk: “So, what kind of outfits do you plan on making?”

You hummed, letting out a chuckle when he cracked up from the ticklishness of the stroke: “I’m not sure yet, maybe I can hear what your preference is after this? That way I can get a plus point for customer service too, a win-win for us.”

He lightheartedly went along with your playfulness: “Oh, I can’t wait!”

“Um-hm, now don’t squirm around or I’m gonna put you in a Chucky fit.”

“So we also do cosplay? Interesting,”

Soft laughter resonated. You were so diverted by the bubbly ambiance flowing from So Mun that you didn’t notice you had leaned over to slide the tape behind his neck, encircling it attentively to avoid any signs of discomfort. It was a calming afternoon, causing the source of light to be perceptibly minimized. As much as you tried to pin your focus on the assessment, your unamenable mind kept on targeting his lower-half face that popped into your view. 

So Mun was adorned with a kiss from the dim sunlight glow, and for this one time you were given a chance to admire him this close, you were dazed to see how ideally shaped his jawline was, sharp enough to cut grass while the plumpness of his lips tamed the roughness down, two aspects blending perfectly like yin and yang.

Now you knew why the ground felt strange and your stomach flipped. 

In front of you stood a young man who seemed to have stepped out of a webtoon where its protagonist was an underrated visual until the later season. Charismatic and fascinating, his gentle yet chiseled features must’ve been carved out under the skilled hands of the most proficient sculptor, embellished by an air of youthfulness. 

From the very first glance, you were absolutely convinced that So Mun was, indeed, a local heartthrob. 

His effortless charm easily attracted gazes and turned heads among those who crossed his path. Dark, tousled curls framed a face that was abundantly favored by the eyes, easy to remember but not easy to forget. His thick brows added the final touch to the astounding side profile and praised a pair of expressive gemstones that accommodated secrets untold. His pupils illustriously mirrored a pellucid surface of the water, holding both innocence and wisdom within those splendid irises that had been dyed in a ravishing deep brown color. 

And the scariest part was that every time you laid your eyes on him, he seemed to become prettier. 

Now that you have stumbled across his vicinity, you secretly prayed to every known religion (or just your own sanity in general) that you would commit nothing out-of-character to give away how bad you’ve already grown to fancy this man. Or else… there will be no “or else.”

Still, something had been peculiarly off. 

It must’ve occurred to be some kind of hormonal chemical imbalance going wild right now. Because hell, the last time you found yourself feeling so jumpy around another person was when Hana nearly knocked you out after twenty minutes of physical abuse training (trust me, she did go 10x easier on you compared to how she went on So Mun and Jeokbong). But this specific man right here was not your mentor, nor was he about to beat you to a pulp. All he did was exist and let you take his measurements, periodt. 

Maybe he was just remarkably snatched? It couldn’t be since your adrenaline level didn’t act (this) weird around Hana and Motak. Sure, your heart rate did climb notably when situated in close proximity with them, but with So Mun in particular? 

It skyrocketed.  

A long, deep breath silently expanded your lungs, working extra hard to untie the obstructive tensity. You stared at the tiny numbers on the tape measure and mentally repeated it two hundred times in an effort to inscribe the result in memory. However, it was suddenly an impossible task because of how disconnected your mind was at the moment.

So Mun was too close to you right now. Not dangerously close, yet the distance was limited enough for your head to spin and your heart to pound. 

You have no clue if you should embrace this internal madness or not, but you certainly acknowledged that your lucidity and dignity were shrinking after each passing second. It’s going to be bad if you don’t get out of here soon. 

“Y/n, why’s your face so red?” 

Shit.

“What? No.” You denied without missing a beat, which laid bare your disobliging trepidation almost right away from how fast you responded.

So Mun marginally narrowed his eyes with plain disagreement: “Yes, it is. You’re not feeling unwell anywhere, are you?” 

An invisible sigh of relief dropped when you realized he wasn’t aware of the tangible distraction you felt around him but rather centered the strange enhancement of color on your cheeks. You assured yourself that it was only you manifesting the accusation against yourself, so you tried gaslighting him into thinking he was the drama instead: “I’m fine, really. Are you sure it’s not you who is seeing things?”

“Huh? But your face wasn’t red like this earlier, I swear I’m not mistaken.”

Unfortunately for you, So Mun’s intelligence ran in his family. So you must’ve been in your sweet dream to expect a detectives’ son would be fooled by such a half-assed reason.

Each motion of yours was helplessly cornered like a prey waiting to be demolished under his unceasing focus, especially when two of you were the only ones in the room right now, all alone and suspicious: “Hold up, if you’re not sick… why are you blushing?”

Your mouth was clenched shut. Even the tiniest sound pealed loudly in the current confined space, reflecting your nervous gulp as clear as day. 

So Mun called your name again after the short pause, sounding even gentler than how he usually spoke in that… ludicrously charming voice of his: “Y/n.”

“What?”

“Don’t tell me…” The way he drew the last syllable out slightly longer hurled a thud into your chest, sparking your diffidence. You heaved your eyes to meet his own only to regret your decision immediately as you were welcomed by a cunning smile he tried hard to suppress: “...you’re getting shy?”

You squinted and looked down, knowing damn well you, in fact, were shy as fuck: “No. Why would I be?”

“Yes, you are, you can’t see yourself right now but I can, you’re blushing all over the place. You were fine just now, were you not? Why suddenly get shy?” He closely beheld your reaction, allowing a grin to plaster as the traitorous shade of pink on your cheeks evidently declared how you truly felt: “Is it because of me?” 

“Because of you?” Knowing he had successfully caught you red-handed, you tried the hardest to play it off cool with a sassy eye roll while hanging the tape just a couple of millimeters away from the width of his shoulders: “Where did you even get that from? 

“From the way you act?”

“Dear customer, you’re delusional.”

“Am I?” 

“Yes, you are.” 

Instinctively holding your breath, you enclosed the measuring tape around So Mun’s chest with great caution, arduously ignoring how you could already tell his physique was too attractively in shape under that black compression shirt. Every time he inhaled and exhaled, the tape stretched ever so slightly then loosened after the relief— Fuck, okay, stop. 

“Am I really delusional or are your hands shaking right there?”

This little shi– did not just call you out like that. 

His voice vibrated down from the top of your head, bordering between intentional cockiness and unintentional flirtatiousness. You never discerned that your fingers had grown to tremor abstractedly due to how faint the movement was, yet he could easily detect your restlessness just from a few playful glimpses. Never in your life you felt this terribly exposed in front of someone. It was like he could see right through you like a piece of glass.  

“You…” Shamefulness followed you like your own shadow. The immense heat on your cheeks was no longer pleasant to say the least: “Stop talking. Just let me get this done.” 

On the other hand, So Mun, whether or not had progressed to be fond of your painfully flustered self, mindlessly dropped the ultimate bomb on you: “Do you like me?”

You swore you saw your heart fly out and wheel around the ceiling in horror. 

If the tape measure wasn’t made of plastic, it would’ve been torn in half between your violent grip. You bit the inside of your cheek timidly and landed a weak punch on his shoulder. Agitation and embarrassment blanketed your half-whisper: “Just… be quiet, Mun.”

“Fine, fine, I was just joking. I’ve never seen you get this red before and…” So Mun laughed softly, though the laughter quickly dissolved into quietude as he caught a menacing glare from you: “Guess I got carried away, my bad.” 

Speaking of the truth, he didn’t mean any harm rather than just breezy teasing. It was you and your hormonal, backstabbing blush that created the whole awkward situation. You shifted your ruler down and laced it around his waistline, half of the frustration in your tone replaced with sheepishness: “You sure did have a lot of fun, didn’t you?”

“But you’re so cute like this… ” His chuckle brightened the air. Even though you weren't in the mood to appreciate the random compliment, just the word “cute” itself was enough to awaken those dormant flowers in your stomach and rush them into vigorously blossoming like it was a sunny spring day. 

You fought back a pout from arising, not sure if you should continue putting up an annoyed act. But before you could respond, your entire body froze as his voice suddenly appeared to be alarmingly close to your ear, tender like a passing cloud except it could facilely have you where he wanted if he ever wanted to. 

“C’mon, don’t lower your head, I’ll stop pointing your blush out.” 

Despite your concentration still being attached to his waist as you read the measured number, his toned abdominal muscles that somewhat divulged themselves under the thin compression shirt were nowhere near your zone of attention. Your nail dug into the tape, feeling your composure slowly fracture like a dainty little eggshell ready to be crushed. Timidity dispersed as uncontrollably as a broken dam when So Mun’s warm breath fanned your skin. 

It didn’t seem like he had a single clue as to how his gesture—purely coming from curiosity—tremendously affected you. The more he dipped his head and leaned closer to yours, the louder you heard your own heartbeat roaring.  

You turned away to hide how vulnerability had completely enveloped your face. A tiny crack echoed in your voice as you stuttered, trying to break free from his oblivious stare: “So– So Mun…”

“Hm?” The fire under your skin rapidly magnified within just a blink of an eye, to the point you were afraid it would explode, yet he still didn’t catch on to the silent plea in the way you called his name, instead taking it as a warning that you were getting exasperated: “Don’t be mad at me, I promise I’ll be quiet.” 

Even the sketches and doodles hung on the wall avowedly held their breath as if acknowledging the hide-and-seek negotiation unfolding before them. You clutched your eyelids closed and your body stiffened, dodging his gaze like dodging bullets. 

One sense had shut down, offering a chance for other senses to intensify. As So Mun leaned down searching for your face, the minty and earthy note of his shampoo washed over your nostrils, delightfully freshened from the vague men's cologne you smelled first stepping into the room. 

His breath ignited on your awfully reddened ear, goosebumps traveling up your spine while his scent created an intoxicating merge into your source of oxygen: “Let me see your face, will you?”

Suddenly, pressing under your chin were warm fingers that had calloused up from life journeys, determined yet tender and careful enough not to startle you as he tried to lift your chin up: 

“Come on, I don’t bite.”

“What takes you kiddos so lon— Oh my, are you two kissing?” 

From the inside of So Mun’s room, you could already hear noises of flabbergastation ringing like afterschool bells due to the exclamation. 

You and So Mun jumped away from each other like getting struck by electricity as soon as you saw Motak’s face appear behind the door’s window, amusement wafting in the way he looked at you two. You almost choked to death in your own panic, words collapsing when they reached your mouth: “It’s not what it looks like!! We’re just— We— I’m just taking his measurements!”

“Then why are your faces so close together?” Motak moved aside for you to storm out of the tension-filling room, raising his brows with great gaiety when So Mun followed your way out like a puppy. The tape measure was grasped brutally in your palm, hoping to be counted as evidence. But catching the wide grin that had seemingly been engraved on the older man’s lips, you doubted he’d buy your excuses.  

“Wait, so you were about to kiss and I interrupted? Damn, sorry lovebirds.” 

“No! It’s— we really did not…” Footsteps clouded the hallway, the whole team was quick to be summoned for the delicious tea. Out of the blue you lost all nerves to face them, your explanation slowly dissipated into a nonverbal ‘yes’ to the accusation with how much speechlessness you assembled. 

Hana tilted her focus at your skin’s crimson tint, her hidden protectiveness loomed out of armor and she threateningly gave the origin of your blush a good nudge: “Yah So Mun-ah, why is Y/n’s face so red? What did you do to her?!”

Gazes launched over the man of the moment with suspicion, making him hold his hands up in defense: “What do you mean, noona? I swear I didn’t do anything!”

He turned to you for confirmation, but your exchange of looks was impeded when Ms. Chu walked over to wrap her motherly hands around you, cooing with adoration and happiness as if she'd just listened to your wedding vows: “Oh dear, I knew it from the start you two would make such a cute couple. I’m so happy for you my babies.”

You swallowed heavily: “But we’re not—” 

“I can’t believe these two have made it this far, even faster than us…” The chairman ignored So Mun’s refuting head shake (as well as Ms. Chu’s side eye), giving both of you a thumbs up: “Right, Chu-yeosa?” 

“Don’t bring me into this.”

From the other side, Jeokbong engulfed So Mun in a side hug and patted his back pridefully: “I’m proud of you, very proud, So Mun-ah. We raised you so well, even getting a girlfriend before your hyung.”

“Hyung, listen to me—”

“Our So Munie, I never knew you had that in you, hm? Now you punk got the team’s stylist all to yourself.” Your beloved found-fam didn’t give you any opportunities to prove yourself innocent. Motak elbowed So Mun playfully with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. The more he talked, the more gasoline was poured into the flame of your embarrassment: “Anyone surely gets bolder near a pretty girl, right?”

Hana took a sip of her Milkis: “Isn’t it supposed to be the opposite?” 

“Everyone, hold on a second.” You spoke up, almost sounding desperate: “ So Mun and I have nothing to do with each other, this is just a misunderstanding.” 

Pausing shortly after your clarification, you looked over at him in search of a helping hand:  “Right?”

“Huh– yeah, right. We… Y/n is right. Plus, we’ve only met not long ago, how can anything develop between us this quickly?” So Mun hastily nodded his head. Both of you took turns clearing up the affair:

“Exactly, he’s right.” 

The hallway seemed to hold time in place, slowly absorbing your explanation as amused stares remained affixed to you and him.

The chairman quirked his eyebrows up: “So nothing, huh? More like nothing yet.”

“Let’s see how long you can keep denying.” You inwardly facepalmed yourself, your ears burning ferociously pink as Motak shot you a knowing smile. Levity once again suffused the air when you caught him leaning into Ms. Chu’s ear and whispering; both of them then snickered loud enough for you to hear: “I bet a month.”

“I’m serious, we’re not gonna—” 

“Oh, did I say something?”

Hana casually waved her hand in dissent, not even attempting to stop a half-smile from permeating her gorgeous face: “I bet longer. Look at how much they already lost their cognition just from being in the same room, they’re hopeless.”

Jeokbong briskly chimed in: “Like how Ms. Chu and the chairman are?”

“What did you say?!” 

Rambunctious laughter followed the sight of Ms. Chu smacking Jeokbong on the back. It was pure chaos, but not in a bad way. 

A chuckle managed to slip through your lips. The awkwardness was no longer bothersome but rather narrowed down into a silly feeling in your chest. You cast a glance at your assumed partner, coincidentally locking eyes with one another as his attention had also rested on you since forever. 

You spotted a trace of rosiness sprinted across So Mun’s cheeks, perhaps it had unwittingly blossomed when you were still committed to clearing up the dating scandal. And he smiled—one that was sheepish but sweet nonetheless, one that sent you into a hall of chaotically winging butterflies. Unspoken words lingered in the air, but you didn't mind them. 

If luck would have it, this could be the start of something incredible. But that’s only the matter of the upcoming future, right now?

You just figured out you’ve deadass forgotten all of the measurements you took of So Mun…

[Tag List]✿⌦ @slytherinshua (feel free to notify me if you want to be on the tag list)

Lol i tried making it as spicy as “kiss and makeup” since the request asked for suggestive but us and Mun've only met for a short period of time i didnt know if we should kiss (yet). Hope this is okay @acupnoodle thank you for the cute idea ily ♡

[shawnbarai]

Low Blood Oxygen Levels: Symptoms, Causes & What to Do

Cases with low blood oxygen situations will generally have symptoms like briefness of breath, a racing heart, blue lips or fingertips and dizziness. Some people may indeed notice perversity, sweating and confusion. These signs generally indicate that there's shy oxygen reaching towel and organs throughout the body.

Low oxygen situations, or hypoxia, is a serious condition that can beget cellular damage and can be life- hanging . It can be due to changes in blood composition, lung complaint or rotation problems.

The brain is the organ that's utmost at threat, as brain cells can die within 5 twinkles of lack of oxygen. thus, if you notice signs of low oxygen, you should do incontinently to the exigency room.

Symptoms of low blood oxygen situations The main symptoms of low achromatism situations are

briefness of breath Fast breathing pulsations perversity Dizziness inordinate sweating Mental confusion Doziness Fainting Cyanosis( when cutlet tips or lips start to turn blue or grandiloquent) Coma To identify a lack of oxygen, the croaker will perform a physical test and order texting, like palpitation oximetry or blood feasts testing. This will help determine the current attention of oxygen circulating in the blood. Read about how you can increase your blood oxygen position.

How to measure blood oxygen situations The fastest way to measure achromatism situations is through a palpitation oximeter, which is a small piece of outfit that's attached to a fingertip. It contains a light detector that detects the quantum of oxygen cylinder motes circulating in the blood.

Generally, healthy people will have oxygen achromatism situations over 95. This value can dip to around 93 with a cold or flu, which is an anticipated finding and not of concern. still, when oxygen situations are noted to be lower than 90, it can be a sign of a serious illness. Learn further about how to measure your blood oxygen situations using palpitation oximetry.

To know if your blood oxygen position is within range, enter your results below

Another way to measure your blood oxygen position is through blood feasts testing. This is done through a blood sample, which is anatomized in the lab. This test checks for oxygen situations as well as carbon dioxide and bicarbonate situations in the blood.

Main causes A low oxygen achromatism can do due to factors similar as 1. Altitude Places with an altitude over 3000 m( or1.8 mi) can increase your threat for dropped oxygen situations. The further down from ocean position, the lower the oxygen content in the air, making the air delicate to breathe.

This is also appertained to as hypobaric hypoxia. It can beget several complications like acute pulmonary edema unconnected to the heart, cerebral edema, dehumidification and hypothermia.

2. Lung complaint Changes in the lungs caused by ails like asthma, emphysema, pneumonia or acute pulmonary edema can make it delicate for oxygen to enter the lungs and enter its membranes. This can reduce overall oxygen situations in the body.

There are other types of situations that can also intrude with breathing, like neurologic complaint or a coma. These conditions can impact how the lungs work.

3. Changes in blood composition Anemia caused by a lack of iron or vitamins, bleeding or inheritable complaint can beget low oxygen situations in the body, indeed if your lungs are performing duly.

This occurs because anemia is associated with a lower attention of hemoglobin on the blood cells. Hemoglobin in responsible for the transport of oxygen to the rest of the body. thus, with lower hemoglobin situations, there's lower oxygen transported. Learn further about hemoglobin and how high or low results can impact the way your body functions. 4. Poor rotation This occurs when there's enough oxygen in the blood, still it's unfit to reach apkins or organs in the body due to an inhibition( like a heart attack). It can also be when blood inflow is weak, like with heart failure.

5. Intoxication Situation likes carbon monoxide, drug overdoses, alcohol and psychoactive substances can intrude with the adhesion of oxygen onto hemoglobin or impact the immersion of oxygen into the apkins. These can each lead to low blood oxygen situations.

6. Neonatal hypoxia Neonatal hypoxia occurs due to a insufficiency of oxygen immersion by the baby through the placenta, leading to fetal torture.

This can do ahead, during or after the delivery and happens due to motherly, placental or fetal factors. It can lead to complications like cerebral paralysis or intellectual disabilities.

7. Cerebral factors People with cerebral diseases, like anxiety or habitual stress, use a advanced quantum of oxygen in times of torture. This can lead to the emergence of symptoms like briefness of breath, pulsations or confusion.

8. Climate Some environmental conditions, like extreme heat or cold wave, will bear advanced quantities of oxygen to maintain metabolism and other normal fleshly functions. This can increase your threat for hypoxia.

What to do Treatment for low oxygen generally involves the use of an oxygen mask to stabilize oxygen situations. still, the situation will really only ever be treated once the underpinning cause is addressed.

Depending on the cause, some treatments may involve the use of antibiotics( to treat pneumonia, for illustration), inhalers( for asthma), specifics to ameliorate lung and heart functioning, treatment for anemia or curatives for poisoning.

In serious cases, where there's brain damage or if immediate treatment of the cause isn't possible, artificial respiration and anodynes may be necessary in an ferocious care unit. These interventions are needed until the croaker is suitable to restore breathing capacity.

[one-piece-aus]

Can I request Vivi,Nami,Tashigi,Jewelry Bonney

For the apartment au? (Also make sure to take care of yourself. Just don't overwork yourself on finishing your writings. Take a break once in a while. Sorry that I gave you more work to do. You can ignore this request if you would like.)

Hell yeah anon! I love this combination! (And thank you for your concern, I appreciate it uwu)

Vivi, Nami, Tashigi, and Jewelry Bonney as Roomates (Headcanons)

Vivi is the voice of reason and helps keeps everyone civilized

You might think those skills won't be needed her but you'd be wrong

These ladies have had their fair share of arguments

Most of the time they end when Vivi steps in to be the adult in the room

Tashigi does try sometimes to step in but she can get caught up in the bickering

Yes, Nami steps in to be a voice of reason in the straw hats, but that's usually because the others have no brain cells

These girls have brain cells so it's not the same

Most of the time it starts with Nami complaining that Bonney has an appetite like Luffy and ate most of their food

Bonnie counters it with how cheap Nami was when it comes buying stuff and keeping a tight budget

Or Tashigi makes a comment on Nami and/or Bonney being immoral

Aside from that they get along, living civilized in their own rooms, at least Tashigi is

She's in her room studying or reading, she also secretly works out, mainly to stay in shape for her job as a cop

Tashigi has a traditional Japanese style room

Bonney is out most of the time hanging out with her buddies but when she is home she says hi, acknowledging the others there and seeing what they're doing

If it's interesting she stays, if not she goes to her room

Her room has a few posters and merch of stuff she's into, you can find a bag of chips or other snacks lying around

Vivi & Nami on the other hand usually hang out together the majority of the time, mainly because they're friends and are in the same friend group

But when they're chilling on their own

Vivi is in her room reading or studying like Tashigi, or watching something on her computer with a plushie in her arms

Vivi has fancy decor in her bedroom and the bed itself is something that is out of a palace

Nami does research and accounting in her room but in her spare alone time she listens to music and tries on different outfits

Her room is full of pop culture and she has the biggest wardrobe collection

The apartment is incredibly clean, except Bonney's room but we don't talk about that

Chores are evenly rotated every week, all kept track on the calendar

As for cooking dinner, Bonney skips out and eats at some fast food because she "eats too much" so there's not enough at the apartment to satisfy her

Vivi often cooks meals from family recipes, a nice reminder of home

Nami cooks basic foods

Tashigi makes meals that are filling but nothing too special, mainly just what she learned from being in the field

Nami & Bonney have started their own little dance party in their apartment, Vivi soon joins in on the fun, but normally they have to drag Tashigi

Sometimes they'll take the party to the club after getting dressed up, Nami & Bonney will have a bet to see who can flirt their way to having the most free drinks

Vivi knows Tashigi would rather read so she lends her books and vice versa, they bond over being nerds, and they help each other whenever they need it

Nami tries to give Tashigi more confidence to put herself out there, she'll lend her clothes and makeup (not for free, of course) but in return she gives Nami some pointers on how to defend herself

Bonney has given Tashigi tips on information in the streets, she doesn't give away locations or names directly, but just enough to help her out on the investigation

Nami made it mandatory that every Sunday they have a girl's day out

They go shopping, to the spa, a cafe, or just walking around chatting

Sometimes Robin and Rebecca join in on the fun

Since both Nami and Vivi live in the apartment, the straw hats have come by a few times, mainly to pick the two up

They're not allowed to enter, at least not as the whole gang, it happened one time and never again

One or two is fine though

Bonney finds them amusing

Tashigi has conflicted feelings (especially for Zoro, Bonney likes tease her for it)

There was one time Smoker came by for semi-business/personal reasons

Bonney hid in her room, Nami tried to be nosey but Vivi prevented her from doing so while also being hospital

In short, these ladies might not have everything in common and have disagreements, but they support and help each other out

I missed doing these Apartment AU headcanons, I love them so much, please send in more

[mrs-daddyissues]

considerably

~ C H A P T E R  5 ~

~ Masterlist ~

Pairing: Alfred Pennyworth x OFC

Series Summary: Sarabi Nichols is Bruce Wayne’s life long friend that aids in creating weaponry and making outfits. When she was younger she had a thing for Bruce but now her taste has aged. Considerably. Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce’s guardian and butler is more her style now. Despite this knew found liking, Sarabi feels trapped. She can’t talk to Bruce about it and clearly can’t mention it to Alfred. The only person she has is her best friend, Claudia. Sarabi has to fight the things she feels for the older man because he could never feel the same way back, right?

{Normal} Playlist

{Slowed+Reverb} Playlist

Warnings: Discussion about sex, smutty thoughts, swearing

Word Count: 2444

Author’s Note:

I have nothing to say right now, so just enjoy!

After cleaning her sheets and placing them in the washing machine, Sarabi made her way to the cave. Her previous encounter with Alfred had left something buzzing around in her body. She didn’t know if it was lust, fear, excitement or something entirely different. Sarabi’s thoughts of Alfred were clouding her judgement and she had to tell herself that it wasn’t a good idea to chase after him. He was a loyal and faithful man but he wasn’t the right person for Sarabi, right?

Sarabi pushed all thoughts of Alfred in any other way but her coworker and friend out of her brain and trapped them in a cell. They pushed against the bars of her psyche but she didn’t let them pass. Those thoughts would only get in the way and make things worse. She didn’t have time for feelings.

Unfortunately and unsurprisingly, as soon as Sarabi stepped foot in the cave and saw Alfred, she couldn’t help but picture how utterly delectable he looked in real life and her dream. All those naughty images from her dream came flooding back as Alfred looked on with kind eyes.

“Miss Nichols, how are you feeling?” Alfred asked politely while he made himself a cup of tea.

‘Turned on,’ was the truest thing Sarabi could say to address the elephant in the room, or rather the elephant in her mind, but she knew that would be a bit blunt. She breathed out a shaky breath to ease the tension and desire coursing through her veins.

“Not too bad, Alfred,” Sarabi answered, trying desperately to push all those sensual thoughts and pictures swirling in her mind away. 

As soon as she spoke, Alfred snapped his head up and his eyes burned into her. Sarabi’s body also burned even hotter as his gaze lightly dusted her body. His eyes were not invasive but rather just curious about her current attire. She usually wore simple clothing like shorts and a shirt, considering what her job entailed. ‘Maybe Italy has just changed her,’ Alfred thought to himself as he peeled his eyes from Sarabi.

Sarabi noticed the way he seemed reluctant to look away but chalked it up to shock at what she was wearing. She rarely wore dresses to anything but formal events like galas and balls.

Sarabi secretly hoped it was something more than shock but knew she was just tugging at the fantasies still dancing around in her mind. Alfred saw her as a coworker and friend, that was it.

The whole workday felt longer than usual. Sarabi had to continually remind herself that she was working and doing something to help Bruce. But as soon as Alfred’s mesmerising voice rang out, she involuntarily turned to look at him. She imagined what that voice would feel like whispering dirty things into her ear. Or what he would sound like whimpering under her. She was enthralled and fascinated by him or maybe just thankful to have a friend like Alfred. 

‘It’s the latter option,’ Sarabi tried telling herself but deep down she knew it was most probably the former.

Sarabi groaned loudly and Alfred stopped what he was doing. He turned his head to the right to look at Sarabi. He rotated his full body around and gave Sarabi his full attention to her.

“Miss Nichols, do you need something? Or do you want to go get some rest?” Alfred questioned kindly and sympathetically. Alfred had never seen Sarabi so tense and it confused him greatly. Sarabi was tough, one of the toughest women he knew without superpowers, so something was clearly tormenting her.

“Um, it’s alright I’ll go get a heat pack,” Sarabi replied as she went to stand up.

Alfred stopped her with a gentle hand on her forearm. The contact made Sarabi’s cheeks burn deep crimson. His hand was calloused but soft against her skin. The contact sent all of the images from her dream back to her. She pictured him grabbing her forearm, wrapping it around her back and bending her over the work table. The contact was innocent and simple but it sent Sarabi into oblivion. 

“No, Miss Nichols, I’ll go get one for. You sit down and relax,” Alfred removed his hand and stood up. He noticed her cheeks and how flushed she seemed but Alfred just ignored everything his instincts told him. ‘She was maybe just nervous to ask about the heat pack,’ was what he decided no matter how ridiculous it sounded to him.

“Thank you, Alfred,” Sarabi laid her head against the cool metal of the desk, hoping to freeze all the thoughts rattling through her brain. The visions of Alfred thrusting on top of her and the feeling of his lips against hers were still so vivid. She could picture it so easily without any inconvenience. She shoved all the snapshots back into their jail cell and locked it as tightly as she could.

No matter how tightly she tried to lock those thoughts away, they came crawling back. They escaped their confinement and snuck back into her mind. Just a look from Alfred triggered those erotic visions and they got even more heated through the day. She started imagining how his head would look between her thighs and how he would choke her. The images got more explicit as the day went on. She grasped those images and chucked them into the cell. She secured it tautly and attempted to keep it that way.

“Here you are, Miss Nichols,” Alfred called out with a heat pack in hand. Sarabi brought herself out of her thoughts and took the heat pack. 

“Thanks, Alfred,” Sarabi placed it on her stomach hoping to ease her tension but it clearly made her even hotter. ‘Great! Just what I needed!’ was all she could think.

As the heat pack grew cold, the workday came to an end. Alfred offered to heat it up again throughout the day but Sarabi refused politely. Though the heat pack was no longer warm against her stomach, her body still felt hot all over. The dream and Alfred’s presence seemed to strike a matchstick inside of Sarabi and burn her insides with desire. Sarabi had never even had sex but her sex drive was so high and absolutely outrageous. She was a virgin to any form of sexual activity. No one had ever touched her intimately save for herself on the very odd occasion. Even with having no experience, she wanted and needed it. She wanted and needed her desires to be met but she was going to deny herself of it. She hoped that refusing her sexual needs would make them disappear but that most certainly did not work. 

After working in the cave for about 5 hours, Bruce came down and said that Claudia was there to see Sarabi. She was grateful to get out of the cave because if she stayed there a second longer her ovaries might just explode. A simple glance from Alfred was enough to send Sarabi into a bout of hysteria. She stood up quickly and wandered off with Bruce. She frowned softly at Alfred and he frowned back. As soon as she stepped foot in the elevator and the doors closed, she breathed out a sigh of relief.

“That bad?” Bruce asked as they rode the elevator back up to Wayne Manor. 

“Huh?” Sarabi turned her head with a perplexed look appearing on her face.

“Your period,” Bruce expanded and Sarabi let a small smile come to her lips.

“Yeah, just a little. Wait, how do you know?” Sarabi interrogated with the utmost confusion. She didn’t actually have her period, she was just pretending, so she had no idea how Bruce would know. 

“Just a wild guess. You’re only this moody during that time of the month,” Bruce ruffled up her hair and Sarabi huffed.

“Fuck you,” Sarabi stated as Bruce let her out of the elevator first into Wayne Manor. 

“Fuck you too,” Bruce replied as he led her to her bedroom where Claudia stood admiring the collection of dresses she had. Claudia had a pink strapless one draped over her body, sizing it up.

“Sarabi, what do you think about this dress?” Claudia spun around and presented herself.

“I think it would look drop-dead gorgeous but put it back, that’s one of my favourites,” Sarabi nearly laughed as Claudia pouted and placed her dress back.

“I’ll be in my study,” Bruce announced before walking off, leaving the two girls alone.

“How’s work been?” Sarabi asked as she sat down on her newly cleaned bed.

“Pretty good, I’ve now hooked up with practically everybody I can,” Claudia declared with a smug smile. 

“That’s what you’re proud of? And also who can’t you fuck?” Sarabi breathed out heavily as Claudia grabbed out another dress to size up.

“The straight girls, gays and the one asexual dude,” Claudia answered nonchalantly. Claudia had always been open about her sexuality and sex life with Sarabi. She held nothing back. She told her who she slept with, how good they were and who she wanted to sleep with next.

“Have you had the ‘sexy time’ with anyone yet?” Claudia shimmied her shoulders to enhance her point and Sarabi rolled her eyes.

“No,” was the only answer Sarabi gave and this perked Claudia’s interest.

Whenever Claudia asked about Sarabi’s sex life, she always gave a massive spiel about how she would only have sex when the right guy came along and all that jazz. But this time she only said no.

“No? Is that the only answer I get?” Claudia sat down next to Sarabi and Sarabi realised her mistake. She wasn’t going to tell Claudia about the dream but she figured it wasn’t the worst thing she could do.

“Claudia, I’m gonna tell you something that you can’t repeat to anyone, okay?” Sarabi warned Claudia and she nodded.

“Swear on my mother’s grave,’ Claudia swore oath like a girl scout and Sarabi scoffed with an eye roll.

“Okay, I had a sex dream last night,” Sarabi informed and watched Claudia’s mouth gape.

“About whom?” Claudia teased with a wicked smile.

“Well, see that’s the thing, the person I had the dream about I’ve never been attracted to before. He’s not my usual go-to but-”

“Just tell me, I don’t give a fuck. I once spanked a 90-year-old in a pink thong for a free ticket to a 5 Seconds of Summer concert,” Claudia enlightened and Sarabi’s eyes bugged out.

“Just kidding but seriously, who is it?” Claudia shuffled closer to Sarabi knowing she would probably whisper it. 

“Alfred,” Sarabi’s confession was barely beyond a hushed whisper and Claudia swore she was hearing things. 

“Wait, what? Alfred...Pennyworth?” Claudia questioned with squinted eyes. Sarabi could see the scepticism and confusion surging through her eyes.

“Yes,” Sarabi answered slowly with a slightly shaky breath. She hadn’t admitted this to anyone and it was relieving to not keep her thoughts in the dark, hidden away.

“Oh, I see,” Claudia kept an indifferent look on her face and Sarabi suddenly felt stupid. She had just admitted that she had a sex dream about Alfred Pennyworth. She admitted that she dreamed about a British butler in his late 60s fucking her. ‘What is wrong with me?’ was all she could think.

“Oh, girl I get it! He is such a DILF like I don’t blame you for having the hots for him. His voice just screams ‘Now every woman I come into contact with has daddy issues’,” Claudia explained with a bright smile on her face. She also tried to replicate Alfred’s deep, British voice but ended up sounding nothing like him. Sarabi felt a weight lifted off her shoulders as Claudia agreed with her. 

“You do? Thank the Holy Lord Jesus Christ!” Sarabi laughed along with Claudia like two schoolgirls discussing their crushes.

“I see Europe has changed your taste in men considerably,” Claudia commented as she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. 

“Now give me the deets, please,” Claudia begged with her hands in a praying motion. Sarabi contemplated it. She felt a bit embarrassed but Claudia would never judge her for anything. Claudia would rob a bank and hide a body for her.

“Well, Alfred knocked on my bedroom door and he came wandering in. He sat down on the edge of the bed and started kissing me,” Sarabi explained as Claudia smirked mischievously. 

“Go on,” Claudia urged with a quick hand motion.

“I straddled his lap and we kissed some more. I pushed him back on the bed but he flipped us over,” Sarabi reminisced on the pleasurable dream.

“And well, the rest you can imagine,” Sarabi blushed scarlet as she disclosed the intimate details of her dream.

“I sure can,” Claudia chaffed with a playful smirk.

“I must’ve been moaning out loud because Alfred, like in real life, came running in and shook me awake. He could hear me calling his name,” Sarabi slapped a palm against her forehead. That was the most humiliating part.

“Aw! Did he think you were in trouble?” Claudia teased as she pouted her lips.

“Yes, and he also made me breakfast in bed while he got Bruce to check my temperature. He was worried I was sick,” Sarabi contently simpered and Claudia watched her eyes light up brightly.

“You like him, don’t you?” Claudia gasped while her eyes lit up happily.

“What? No! I think it’s just hormones,” Sarabi tried to rationalise what she was feeling.

“Duh! Your hormones are going loco because Daddy Pennyworth’s makin’ ‘em go that way!” Claudia spelled out and didn’t even hesitate when calling him ‘daddy’. That was Claudia, flamboyant, eccentric and carefree. She gave zero fucks about what other people would or did think.

“Oh, seriously, Claudia? Don’t call him that,” Sarabi cringed at the nickname.

“Okay fine but you need to stop hiding from yourself. You have to admit your emotions to the rest of your body. Don’t lie to yourself it hurts even more,” Claudia spoke from experience, having always covered up how she truly felt.

“I’m not hiding,” Sarabi defended herself. Sarabi wasn’t catching the hots for Alfred. Was she?

“Yes, you are. I suggest you go down to him right now and say, ‘Hey Alfred I like you and I wanna fuck you’. Okay, maybe don’t do that but you get the point. Admit it to yourself when you like someone,” Claudia spoke truthfully not wanting Sarabi to deny herself her emotions.

Sarabi shook her head and giggled at Claudia’s outspoken opinion on the situation. 

Sarabi just wished she could be that open with everybody in her life.

<<CHAPTER 4<<  ~ ~ ~  >>CHAPTER 6>>

[creator-zee]

130

       I stopped in my tracks. Footsteps. Footsteps were approaching. Dammit I knew I should’ve just run, but I had decided to stop and bandage myself first. Ironically, that choice may now cost me my life. Bandages may have slowed the bleeding in some places, but I was still  bleeding. I could use that. I closed my eyes and focused moving my mouth to the incantation, but only a hint of sound left my lips. Enough for it to work. One of my bandages suddenly turned white again as the blood was used up for the spell. I was invisible. I rounded the corner. I stopped again. Those horns, that hair, those eyes. Could it be? She was older, obviously, but maybe. Sarina?

        My hand went to my neck instinctively and the string that was usually there, right, they had stolen it. That and the ring. Would she remember me without it? Was it worth the risk? Would she care? She was coming closer I was running out of time.

       Ten steps.

       Five.

       I made my decision. I dropped the spell.

       She gasped. I watched, judging.

       She dashed forward quickly closing the last few feet and engulfed me in a devastating hug.

        “Ta’ari. You’re alive.” She gasped.

        I returned the hug, holding her tight. “Sarina. You remember me.” Tears began flowing down my cheeks, much at odds with the grin now spreading across my face. 

         “Oh course. I could never forget you.” She squeezed me again, before stepping back. “Wait, but if you’re here-“

        “I’m sorry.” I cut her off. “I didn’t want to join them. I didn’t have a choice.”

        She grabbed my shoulders. “Calm down. Relax. I know. You still have the ring right?”

         I shook my head, tears coming faster now. “No, they took it. They didn’t believe me. They said I stole it.”

         “Wait...” Understanding flashed across her features. “You’re the prisoner they tortured.”

        I nodded, after a slight hesitation. “Yes.” I took in her outfit for the first time, noting the red stripes on her shoulder plate. “Wait, you’re the commander.”

       “Uh, yes.” She admitted, then shook her head as if clearing her thoughts. “But wait, why would they torture you? You have the scars that signify you practice blood magic. Torturing you just gives you more power.”

        I shrugged. “How do you think I managed to escape?”

        She shrugged. “My brain hadn’t really gotten there yet.”

        I slowly met her eyes, looking up. “What are you going to do? I’m the enemy.”

        “No, you’re not silly.” She said. “You said you didn’t want to fight for them, so fight for us. I can tell them that I gave you the ring when we were children.”

        I pulled her into another hug. “Will they really let me?”

        She nodded. “We need all the help we can get, and they trust me, they should trust my judgment.”

        “Are you sure the council will approve?” I pushed, uncertain.

         “They’ll have to keep if they want to keep one of their top commanders.” She said, a hint of malice in her tone, but not for me, for those who would stand against us. “Now come on, I have some idiotic soldiers to berate. If you had been any other blood mage they would probably all be dead.”

       I let out a small chuckle. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

130.1

       “You haven’t seen me in almost a decade and yet you still trust me to be in your room... with you... alone? For all you know I’m a demon spy, fully loyal to the cause.” I asked as I followed her into her chambers.

       She turned and raised an eyebrow at me. “Are you?”

       I shook my head.

       “And I do know you.” She added. “Besides I am still a skilled soldier and you are heavily injured and unarmed-“

        “How do you know that?” I cut her off.

       “I suppose I don’t. But you are in rags and bandages. I wasn’t about to let you sleep in a cell or risk the other soldiers attacking you in your sleep.” She paused, closing the door. “Also It looks like you bandaged those in a hurry. You could probably use a hand patching yourself up better, and I don’t trust the doctors to treat you fairly.”

        “I was kinda busy with escaping.” I muttered as a defense to my poor bandages.

        “Just come over here and sit down on the stool. I’ll get you some new clothes once we’re done.” She told me, pointing to the wooden stool.

       I nodded.

       She began unwrapping a bandage from around my shoulder, and then paused. I opened my mouth to ask why, before realizing that it was my left shoulder, the one that had my Night Blood tattoo on it.

       “You’re a Night Blood?” She asked, quietly, in disbelief.

       “Didn’t they tell you?” I could feel her hand shaking against my shoulder.

       “No.” Her voice grew slightly louder and slightly angrier. “How could you? I thought you said you didn’t want to fight? And you join their most elite group of assassins?”

        “I didn’t want to. I don’t want to. But I didn’t have a choice. They wouldn’t just let me be a blacksmith. They made me learn how to fight, and I was good, so they recruited me. You can’t just say no.” I explained, desperate for her to understand.

         “You have killed people I used to work with. You killed the person who’s position I took over. I might have been next.” She sounded so betrayed it hurt me.

        “I - I didn’t -” I scrambled to think of what to say. “You knew I was an assassin. You knew I was fighting on the other side of the war. I was going to kill people either way.”

         “How was I supposed to know you were an assassin?” She demanded.

        “I- you were called here for some reason I assumed that it was because we were captured.”

       “Yeah I was told they captured a small raiding party and needed help getting information out of them, not that they were a small raiding party if Night Bloods. That seems like an important detail, how did they miss your tattoo?” She asked, still angry, whether at me or the soldiers I wasn’t sure. 

       “I don’t know. They only bothered to take my armor off and then they started, so they probably just weren’t paying attention. I thought they knew and that’s why they didn’t believe me. I thought you knew and you still let me into your room.” Couldn't decide if I wanted to turn and face her or not. .“And, it wasn’t a group of Night Bloods. I am, Uh, was the only Night Blood. I was assigned to help them which they thought was completely unnecessary. That’s why I stood out from the group and why they thought I was a weak link, they didn’t like that I was sent with them.”

         Sarina sighed softly, but didn’t say anything.

        “I’m sorry.” I repeated. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to join. I kept the ring. I didn’t have a choice.”

         “I know.” She repeated softly. “I just wasn’t expecting that.” Her hands started moving again. “But, as long as you fight for us now then I suppose it doesn’t matter.”

         “Thank you.” I breathed out.

         “Damn.” She cursed. “They really did a number on you.”

        I let out a weak chuckle. “Yeah for being the “good guys” you elves really know how to torture a person.”

        “We only torture the enemy not enslave our own kind.” She defended.

        “I know.” I sighed. “I know. Trust me, I know.”

         Silence lapsed, but I broke it after a few minutes. “Is there any chance I could get my ring back?”

         “Huh? Oh yeah.” She paused and I heard her rummaging in a pocket. “Here.” She held out the ring. “I got it from them when I was lecturing them on how stupid they are.”

         I grabbed it closing my hand around the silver metal. “Thank you.”

         I squeezed it for reassurance, letting out a deep sigh. It has always served as a reminder to me of who the good guys were. A reminder of Sarina and her family who had taken me in when I was eight, despite being a demon. It was  also a hope, a hope that I would get back to the right side. And now I was there it felt surreal, like maybe I would wake up back in the cell-like room with four soldiers crammed into one room. Two bunk beds, with maybe a foot to spare between them.

      I opened up my hand and held the ring between my fingers and looked at it. Intricate runes were carved into the silver band. Specks of green paint still clung to the runes in spots, but most had been worn away by years of rubbing against my skin. 

      I grit my teeth as Sarina accidentally pulled off a scab. The pain reminded me that I was here. It wasn’t a dream.

       I looked at the ring. It had always held my hope for when I could go home, wherever that may be, and stop fighting. But now, even though I had escaped the demon army draft, they still wanted me to fight. I didn’t want to. I closed my hand, tight around the ring.

       “You said that it didn’t matter as long as I fought for you now.” I hesitated, but continued. “What if I don’t want to fight?”

       She paused in her work. “What?”

       I sighed. “I’m tired of fighting.”

       “But, you’re fighting on the right side now. How can you not want to end this war? You can help us do that.” She pushed.

       “One person can’t end this war. And if they could they would have to kill hundreds of thousands. I don’t want that. I’m tired of killing, I’m tired of watching people die.” I fell silent. She went back to her work.

        “I finished unbandaging you. Some of these are pretty deep. You’ll probably need stitches.” She told me, but didn’t move.

       “I can do it. You don’t have to.” I told her. “I do know how to patch myself up, I was just in a rush.”

        “No, I’ll do it. I just - I don’t understand.” She told me. “Do you need something to bite down on?”

        “Huh? Oh no, hold on. Can you give me the needle?”

         She handed it to me. I chanted softly, and some blood from my wounds disappeared.

         I handed it back. “There it will numb my skin as it goes in.”

         “Neat trick.” She commented.

        “You said you were confused... about why I don’t want to fight.”

          “Yeah.” She confirmed. 

         “Well, let me explain.” I started. “You know that I’ve never wanted to fight. I liked building weapons, not using them. When you’re a demon in their kingdoms that’s just not an option, at least not for commoners. At fifteen everyone is recruited to learn how to fight. At eighteen they go to war. There are no farmers, no craftsmen. You rotate through hunting shifts for food. People with enough money to bribe the recruiters are allowed to craft weapons and armor instead. The took me from your village when I was thirteen. A blood mage was given custody of me, since I had the marks. I was only with them for two years before I was sent to an academy to train.”

        “At that academy I learned to fight. I didn’t like it, but I didn’t like what happened to those who were bad even more, so I got better. I wasn’t top of my class, but I was close. I was trained as a stealth fighter since I could use magic to aid me. I was a scout and an assassin, whatever they needed me to be. At first I dared to make friends, to get close, but I would come back and they would be dead, killed by an elf. I killed too. I hated it. But I got used to it, numb. Most demons don’t want to fight the elves, at least at the start, but when they kill your friends and your family it’s hard not to want justice. You elves aren’t so righteous after all. The ends justify the means right.” I scoffed. “Even if the means is killing a bunch of kids.” 

        She gasped, but let me continue.

       “One time they needed me to be a guard, night shift, for a training academy. I was chosen because I could cast a spell to give me better night vision. I did my job. I saw the raiding party come. But, it didn’t matter. It was an academy full of kids. We didn’t stand a chance against 50 skilled elven warriors. There were ten guards, ten instructors, and a hundred kids. They were barely three weeks into training. Most could barely hold a sword right, much less kill anyone. They had explosives. The bombs blasted the small defense the guards tried to mount. I managed to survive with some quick spell-casting. I got to the main training ground where the recruits had been gathered to do what they could, and it was a massacre. Maybe two or three elves lay dead and twenty or thirty of the students.”

       “I jumped into the fray. I was surrounded, but I managed to kill a fair deal. It was the first time I felt justified. They were killing kids after all. But I was the only guard who survived, and barely half the instructors were still fighting. All the elves had to do was keep us busy while their friends killed off the kids. I don’t know how many I killed, but by the time I stopped fighting I was covered in blood and surrounded by corpses. Three other instructors were still standing on a field of bodies. 100 kids, all dead. It was that tragedy that got the Night Bloods interested in me.”

        “There’s no end to this war Sarina. We keep just killing each other. Eventually we’ll all be dead. I don’t want to be a part of that anymore. There is no right side. Maybe you have better goals, but everyone’s still killing each other. I’m tired of fighting.”

        She didn’t respond right away. “You have so many scars.”

        “Only the straight neat ones are from blood magic. The others have all been because of elves, because of the war.” I sighed. 

        “I’ve fought since I was eighteen too and don’t have nearly that many.” She said in horrified wonder.

         “You’re a commander. When was the last time you fought on the frontlines?” I asked.

         “A few weeks ago. I’m a floating commander. I’m not in charge of one regiment, but the council sends me where I’m needed.” She explained. “You’re a Night Blood, when was the last time you fought on the frontlines.”

         “Three years ago.” I admitted. “I’ve only fought behind them since I was recruited. Often the emphasis is getting in and killing the person though, high command doesn’t care about who makes it out after. They often don’t give us the time our resources to make smooth exits. We have to fight our way out half the time.”

         “I know how the Night Bloods operate.” She hissed, but her tone immediately softened, almost regretful. “Although many questioned how they got in so flawlessly but killed their way out. Most thought it was a strategy to kill as many as possible. You guys do manage to disappear even in the heat of battle.”

         “Because we’re all blood mages, thus the name. Blood mages who work primarily at night.”

        “Ohhhhh. That makes a lot of sense.” She set the needle and suture aside. “There, all done sewing, now I just need to bandage you up.”

        I nodded. “Thanks again.”

        “Of course.” Her hand brushed my shoulder. “You don’t have to fight if you don’t want to. I’ll do some looking, but I don’t know where it’s safe for a demon.”

        I sighed. “ I know.”

        “Selfishly though... I do wish you’d stay.” She admitted. “I missed you.”

        “I missed you too.”

[theswiftarmy]

#13 – The Porter Pyramid Sonic Sound Trip

“Do you guys feel anything?”  Ariana asked.

“No.  I don’t think so.” The Biebs sat on the edge of the goliath beanbag chair mesmerized by the extra large one-hundred-inch displays showing the waveform of the pure Porter Pyramid egg sound.

Scott shook his head.  “You shouldn’t feel anything yet.  The first time takes a little while; at least it did for Taylor and I.  Boy, that was a long time ago—My how time flies.  The first time we tried egg we didn’t feel anything, it wasn’t until the second time we did Porter Pyramid that it really kicked in—But wow, THAT Porter Pyramid sonic sound trip was out of this world.”

“I think I feel something, Scotty boy.”  Ariana responded. “Yeah, I definitely feel something.”  She breathed in filling her lungs to capacity inhaling deeper and deeper and exhaled, full Ujjayi breath.  “Everything Zen.” She said in a slow, almost monotone voice.  Her eyes opened wide.

“Whoa, she’s right, I definitely feel it too.  It’s like… I just want to shout out to the world ‘YOU ARE AWESOME’ for no reason.  Like, I can feel, joy, right here in my chest.”  He pointed to the middle of his chest and made a little heart symbol with his fingers.

“Yeaaaaaaah, Justin is right.  It’s just a funny feeling inside, spreading all over, like, I love it—Oh my god, I LOVE it soooooooo much.  I don’t even know what IT is, but I just want more.  MORE!”

“Faaaaar out.”  Scotty B added, finally feeling the egg hatching inside him, “This is kicking in so much faster than I’ve ever experienced any of the times before—Oak, you’ve got one heck of a sound system there buddy! OH man… OH man!“

Oak smiled.  “It’s a peculiar sort of sensation, yes.  I don’t think I yet have words to describe it.”

“Fizzy Lifting drinks maaaaaan, just let the floating happen.”  Scott began leaning to one side letting himself fall into the comfortable couch, he shifted onto his back, “Just don’t let the fan get ya!”  He pointed up at the ceiling.

They all looked up at the spinning ceiling fan.

“Whoa.  What if we get sucked into that fan—” Ariana asked.  “We become a fan of the fan?  Does that even make sense?  Whoaaa…”

They all stared at the spinning ceiling fan.  Watching its blades rotate above them.

“That would suck.”  Oak said.  Then smiled.  “Get it?  Because we would get sucked into the fan…”

Scooter began to laugh.

“What are you laughing at?”  Scott said, kicking Scooter with his foot.  Then he too began to laugh.

Eventually the whole group joined the laughter.  A small giggle here, a chuckle there then Justin fell to the floor bursting out loud in a full roll back and forth on the floor.  He curled to one side.  “GUYS STOP!  My side hurts!  I got a cramp from laughing so hard, guys, I can’t breathe!”  Everyone pointed at Justin on the floor and laughed even harder.

“I can’t… I can’t!  I’m laughing so hard I’m crying now!  Oh my gosh you guys…” Ariana pulled her feet up into Sukhasana, the seated yoga pose, legs crossed in front of her, hands on her knees with her index fingers touching her thumbs, she was careful not to knock her phone as it sat beside her secretly recording the egg sound.  “I need to Zen out… Oooohhhhhmmmm…” She suddenly sang out in full yogi style.

Everyone locked on her voice.  They stopped laughing immediately.  “Whoaaaaaaaaaa.  That was the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.” Justin said.

“I still hear it echoing, a reverb chamber brain—Like it’s bouncing off the walls inside of my mind, a cathedral of pristine sonic singularity.”  Oak said poking at it with all his knowledge trying to pin down the exact nature of this egg sound.

Ariana Grande sat up taller,  “My mind is on FIRE!  My desire, I’m feeling a Pranayama breath of fire singing out in full choir.  My inner Mockingjay is here to stay!”  Ariana proclaimed.

Justin let his entire body relax into the floor savasana yoga pose, hypnotized by the sound, the Ohhhmmm reverberating through his entire body.  It was like amplifying the end of a Vinyasa yoga practice by a thousand, no, a million times—no, infinity.  “Ariana, you rhymed fire with fire in that sentence… But it still sounded absolutely freakin’ amazing.”

“OAK! PLAY THE SONG!!!!  I NEED TO HEAR THE SONG!!!”  Ariana commanded.

The rest of them joined in, “YEAAAAAH!!!!!  OAK!  PLAY IT!!!!  WE NEED TO HEAR MUSIC, NOW!  OH MY GOD, WE NEED MUSIC RIGHT NOW!!!”

Oak reached around to the custom keyboard and pushed play on the track they had just created.

Everyone’s eyes rolled back in their head, they closed their eyelids and let the sound travel from its source—the high fidelity speakers—and out into the intimately illuminated studio space, it poured from the woofers and tweeters then raced across the room.  The sound waves flowed through the air molecules, moving each tiny molecule in a domino effect—One molecule bouncing into another, the waves undulated and warping the air in the room.  As the low bass frequencies and high highs hit their eardrums, it was like fireworks exploding in one’s mind.  A full rainbow spectrum of musical notes exploded inside their brains— Synesthesia times infinity across every cell of their entire body.

“Oh my god.  OH MY GOD.  TURN IT UP!!!!!  OAK, I NEED MORE!!!!!!” Ariana yelled out.  “OHHHHHHHHH WOOOOOOOOOOOW.”

“Uhhhhhhh yeah… oh damn.  That’s some good stuff.”  Justin rolled back and forth on the floor.

“FAR… OUT… MAN….  THIS IS SOOOOO GROOVY.” Scott held is own head between his hands to keep it from shooting off his body.  Obviously his head was firmly attached, it just felt as though it would pop off any minute.

Scooter sat at first unable to speak, then, he uttered out, “This is quality stuff.  This is the good stuff, bro.  Guys… This Bill porter guy is… he’s the… The Eggman!”

“Whoa.  Like, I am the walrus, I am the Eggman…Eggman?”  Justin asked.

Ariana began making motions as though she were swimming through water, “If Bill Porter is the Eggman, then who is the Walrus?”

“I am.” Justin replied.

“Nooooooooooo.  No you’re not Juuuuuustin!”  Ariana argued back.   “I AM!”

“Nooooooooooo.  Because you’re The Mockingjay!”  He said back, his eyes closed, feeling the pure joy of the Eggman sound.

“DAMN RIGHT I AM!”  Ariana yelled out, standing up on the beanbag chair holding her hand in the air and waving it like she did care then jumping up and landing back on the chair.

“I am he, as you are he, as you are me, and we are all together…” Scott recited the lyrics to I Am The Walrus by The Beatles in an even slow tone.

The room fell silent.

“I am he-ungry.”  Ariana said.  “Oak!  Call your friend Alessia back and tell her to bring those deviled eggs.  I want deviled eggs SO bad right now.”

“I just thought that same thing!”  Justin boomed, yelling up to the ceiling, his back on the floor—his words hit the fan and were chopped apart into bits and pieces.

“Maybe this sound makes our minds all connected.  I am he… As you are he… As you are me… And we are all together.”

They fell silent, pondering The Beatles lyrics.

“Oak?”

“Yes, Ariana.” He replied, his voice containing just a hint of Siri mixed with Alexa.

“Can we pretend like we’re in a yellow submarine?”

“I am happy to grant your wish.”  He replied in the same transfixed tone.

Oak pressed a button and the room lighting changed to a yellow hue with blue spotlights creating circles on the walls.  Projected fish swam in and out of the blue circles making it appear as though they were under water traveling in a yellow submarine.

“Yaaaaaaaaaaaassssssssss.”  Ariana began to dance to the beat. “This is FREAKIN’ awesome!!!  I want to live in a submarine for real.  Or maybe a chocolate factory.”

“Me too.  Like Charlie, how Wonka gives him the factory at the end of the movie!”  Justin said back up at her from the floor.  He shifted to make eye contact with her.

The lawyer chimed in, “I’d just like to point out that Charlie doesn’t actually own the factory, he’s a minor, so he can’t legally own the factory as he can’t legally sign a contract, minor’s brains aren’t developed enough to know what they are actually signing so, he would need an adult to sign the papers after they read them and decided that what he was signing was indeed in his best interest, but continue on with your day dream.“

“So who owns it then?”

“Well, logically his parents would sign, But Grandpa Joe technically sign could assuming he got legal guardianship of Charlie from Charlie’s parents.  What he really should do is create a trust and then—”

“Maaaaaan… You’re making my brain hurt.”  Scott interjected.

“Sorry, I just, I love this stuff.  I am a lawyer you know.”

“Oh, we know, brooooooooooo.” Scooter said pointing his finger at the lawyer and then winking one of his eyes at him over and over while holding out his finger and then making circles with the finger around the lawyer’s head.

“It’s like Taylor landed on a chocolate factory when she found this sound.”  Ariana looked down at her phone, remembering that it was still recording.  She felt a rush of excitement, the kind you feel when you find a great pair of new shoes that go absolutely perfect with an outfit you already had, or vice versa.  “She’s Charlie!”  I want to be Charlie, she thought.

“That kind of make sense… Because she’s with Joe and all.”  Bieber commented.

“Wait, but that would mean she’s dating her grandpa.”  Ariana replied.

“Ewwwww.”  Everyone uttered.

They burst out laughing.  After another minute they calmed down again into Zen.

“If Taylor is Charlie and Big Machine is her Chocolate Factory… Who’s Slugworth?”  Justin asked.

Scott pointed to the Carlyle Lawyer.

“Oohhhhhh… Yeah that kind of make sense too.”  Everyone nodded simultaneously in agreement.

“Whoaaaaa, you just said what I said at the same time what I was going to say what I said…”  Justin trailed off, not quite understanding what he was trying to say.

“What is your name anyway?”  Ariana asked.

“Carl.  Carl Lawyer.  Carl Lyle Lawyer.”  He spoke as though he were stating his name to take the witness stand.  “But I prefer The Carlyle Lawyer.”

“Woooooow.”  Ariana sat staring at her frilly pen. “It’s like, there in front of your face, but you don’t even know it—Like fine print in a contract that you can’t see because you’re too busy being distracted by the frilly pen you are signing it with.”

The lawyer nodded.  “That’s why I bring my own everywhere I go.”

“That’s smart.”  Ariana said softly to herself.

They sat there zonked out on the Wonka feeling, feeling the fizzy lifting twisting around inside them, they listened to the song playing, and became one with the music.

The meditative moment was broken by Justin’s phone ringing.

“What is that?”  Ariana asked sleepily from the chair.

Justin picked up his phone.  He looked at it and sported a confused look, “Wait… Taylor’s calling…” Justin fumbled with the mobile device barely able maneuver his fingers in order to tap the buttons.

“No she’s not!  You’re funnnnnnny Justin BiEEEbeeeer.”  She threw her frilly pen at him.

“It’s okay.  I just hit NOOOOOOO on the phone anyway.”  He put the phone down beside him.  “I was like… No phone home!”  He laughed at his own joke.

“YOU TELL HER HOW IT IS!  JUUUUUSTINNNNN!”  Ariana said in a grand voice.

Scooter Braun pulled his baseball cap over his head to cover his face and kicked back relaxing himself.  He let the fizzy feeling wash over him.  It felt good to momentarily step back from all of this, even if it was only temporary.  As long as they stuck together as a team he was sure they would be fine.  Scooter dozed off with his baseball cap covering his face.

Justin peeked at the phone again seeing a missed call notification from Taylor Swift.  A text message soon followed with a photo attached.  Justin brought the phone close to his face and after several tries opened the message to a photo of both his cats staring back at him, Taylor’s face between the two.  Taylor smiled smugly in the picture.  The text message read…

How about a trade?  We’ve both got something we each want back.

His heart jumped as he gazed at the photo of Sushi and Tuna.  In his sonically hypnotically high state he replied…

Okaaaay, but nooooo tricks, Taaay.

He replied after much effort.

Swiftie Scout’s honor.

She replied and then sent two cat emojis with a heart between them.  She could tell by his texting that he was on a sonic sound trip—Soon, she would have it back in her hands, her plans were coming together perfectly.

Justin placed the phone down, locking the screen.  He looked around the room to see if anyone noticed.  Everyone now subdued, drowsy, taking sips of water from fancy glasses that a hydration Defender was handing out from a tray as he made his way around the room.  Justin took a glass and drank it all, quenching his unbelievable thirst.

The lawyer sat with a pair of noise canceling ear buds in his ears that he had in the whole time.  His arms folded across his chest.  Ariana looked over at the lawyer, noticing that he wasn’t under the egg sound spell.  It was only now that she could see the ear buds protruding from his ears ever so slightly.

“Buuuuuuuuut don’t you want to join us?”  She asked.

“I don’t generally partake.  But thanks for the offer.”  The Carlyle Lawyer replied, his face stoic.  “I decided to sit this one out.”

“Join us… Join us…” Ariana said, sleepily melting into the beanbag chair, it was the most comfortable chair in the world right now, she pressed her body against its softness, “I LOVE this chair…  I LOOOOOOVE you chair.”  Her eyelids grew heavy and she fought to keep them open.  After losing the battle, she drifted off to sleep.

When she awoke, she noticed Justin was gone.  She pushed herself up, dizzy, looking around the room at the other occupants snoozing.  The Lawyer too had drifted off to sleep.  The silver egg case containing Taylor Swift’s masters was no longer in the place it was before—it too missing along with Justin.  It was now officially a case of the missing egg case.

@taylorswift

[neirawrites]

WIP Questions Tag Game

ok, full disclosure i’m taking a bit of a tumblr break, but I wanted to do this one for a while now, so a big thanks to @katekyo-bitch-reborn for giving me the chance. 

WIP: A Better World. 

1. Describe the plot in one sentence?

Parallel universe humans visit Earth and hijinks ensue. 

2. Pick one sight, smell, sound, feel and taste to describe the aesthetic for your novel.

Sight: the night sky and sibrian tundra 

Smell: books, disinfectants, paint and blood

Sound: friendly laughter, gunshot and a desperate scream. 

Feel: scales, books and cold metal of a gun. 

Taste: burgers, hot chocolate and your own blood in your mouth. 

3. Which 3+ songs would make up a playlist for the novel?

I’m not that much of a music person, so the only real songs referenced in ABW are “Starman” by David Bowie and “Sing” by Ed Sheeran, not named by name, but both are jokes.

Instead, let me to this for Phantom Limb, my prodigal child of a novel, so you may learn some nice ex yu music (and some trash)

Hungarian Rapsody, no 2. by Listz (not bosnian, as you can tell)

A što ćemo ljubav kriti? (Why should be hide love?):This is the unofficial LGBT anthem around here, and Danica sings it to Alma and it’s romantic and fluffy and so self indulgent it hurts. 

Par Godina za nas (Few years for us), by Ekatarina Velika, the best ex yu band and I will fight you on this

Računajte na nas, (Count on us) by Đorđe Bašašević, the only millennial anthem released in the 70′s

Ibro Dirka, by Zabranjeo Pušenje, a song about an accordion player refusing to sell his ideals. That whole album (while you wait for the dawn with the devil) is referenced too.

Ti lutaš bebo (you’re wandering baby), by maya berović. this is the lowest tier of ex yu music, but since this novel takes place in 2018 and it deals with sarajevo gayz, it would be impossible not to reference it because that is all they played for months.

Burek by Dino Merlin (look, i hate this song and I hate this guy, but this is so quintessentially Bosnian it had to be in here). also, the singer is a huge part of the novel. 

Vedran Smailović, the Cellist of Sarajevo, has a cameo, because I’m apparently a 57 year old american journalist who spent 2 weeks in Sarajevo in like 2005 and has to reference the war in their novel that takes place 20 years later.

Just put me down for a few anime soundtracks. and make it Yuri. 

4. What’s the time period and location in which the novel takes place?

Back to ABW: it takes place in the mid to late 2020, in Siberia. The sequel takes place a year later, on Jord, in what is basically Cape Town, South Africa. I have never been at either of these places. 

5. Are there any former titles you’ve considered but discarded?

The original title for this, years and years ago, was A Fallen Angel. I don’t understand it either, it was a sci fi story even back then. 

6. What’s the first line of your novel?

Being the first line of communication with an alien race wasn’t an easy job, but Dafne Everson was more than happy to do it. TBH, I’m not that happy with my first chapter. it’s a bit... info dump-y.

7. What’s a line of dialogue you’re particularly proud of? 

“-I don’t think that much has changed. You can’t change your past. That’s kind of the problem.- -But you can change the way it shapes your present-”

-Get up, fuckface, I want you off my planet.- 

-Choke on your Gucci cufflinks you twat.- 

 “In the immortal words of Martina Fernandez “Go fuck yourself”“ by Martina Fernandez. (the last 3 are all by martina) 

8. Which line from the novel most represents it as a whole?

“-I don’t want to change the world.- Onisha admitted –I just want to understand it.- -You can’t understand it completely and not change it in the process.- she said. The passion was back in her eyes. That glow of manic comprehension of the world and its components reminded Onisha why she came here in the first place. Science was more than a bunch of people in lab coats doing boring equations or repeating the same experiments hundreds of times. If the initial spark didn’t exist, no one would bother. In that moment Nova was that passion personified; the drive that made Chien-Shiung Wu cancel her vacation plans to experiment with cobalt and wreck the conservation of parity; Vera Rubin’s love for stars that buried her under a mountain of data to measure galactic rotation curves and confirm the existence of Dark Matter. She was Emmy Noether, and Marrie Currie and Lise Meitner and a million other brilliant people and their passion for knowledge. She could change the world. And Onisha would help her do it. " Look, i just love my science lesbians and their passion to make a better world. 

9. Who are your character(s) faceclaims?

I don’t have a many of these, just a few I came across randomly:

Domhnall Gleeson as the young ginger man. I would like to thank Forggy for this idea. I was blinded by my basic bitch love for Tom Hiddleston.

Dwayne The Rock Johnson as the emir (president) of Jord, Kalti Forgisto. this character shows up in one scene, and has like 3 lines and i will not compromise on this. 

Lee Pace and Darren Criss were my Etah Asimov and Elazar Leos, but I recently figured out neither of these characters are fully white, even tho they are pretty pale, soooo this casting has to change pretty soon. 

10. Sort your character(s) into Hogwarts houses.

Gryffindor: MARTINA (she probably walked into the great hall and the hat yelled “you there, with the naurto shirt under the robes, go sit with the lions”), Zeta, Dafne, Dalian.  

Slytherin: Nova (she would fight for ravenclaw tho), Steve, Errien, Liang

Ravenclaw: Onisha, Mila, Elazar, John, 

Hufflepuff: Etah, Ginger Man, Sasha, Nika, Rohan,

11. Which character’s name do you like the most?

I’m kinda self conscious about all of my names :S

12. Describe each character’s daily outfit.

Since I have like 579 ocs, let me help myself with an explanation: Jords in general dress like the entire planet pointed a gigantic middle finger to the concept of color coordination. So, 3 categories for everyone. 

Fashion disaster: Nova, Onisha, Errien, Nika, Rohan, Dalian(first date outfit: a simple polka dotted purple tunic and striped yellow pants, Cecil Palmer school of fashion bejbi)

Neutral: Etah, John, Zeta, 

Fashion deity: Martina, Mila, Sasha, Steve, Elazar

13. Do any characters have distinctive birthmarks/scars?

Nova has a small birthmark under her eye.

Etah has a lot of self harm scars, and a big one on his wrist. 

14. Which character most fits a character trope?

Probably Etah because of what happens to him and I haaaate myself for it. 

15. Which character is the best writer? Worst?

Dafne and the ginger man. She’s a journalists, he’s a part time writer and they are pretty successful. I also love the idea and the great Artist Steve writes like an edgy 12 year old writing their first grimdark fanfic. 

16. Which character is the best liar? Worst?

Best is probably a bit spoilery. The worst is Onisha (imagine Mob, from MP100, but female, black and instead of psychic powers, she has an imminence knowledge of physics) 

17. What character swears the most? Least?

Martina will cuss you in six different languages. 

Onisha is a walking G rated film (tho, one time she cusses was so satisfying to write)

18. Which character has the best handwriting? Worst?

Steve and Etah have the best. Zeta and Liang are doctors. 

19. Which character is most like you? Least like you?

They all have something of mine, something i want and something i don’t.The most like me is probably Onisha. The least probably Zeta or Sasha.  If you want my real self inserts, look at Phantom Limb, where Danica and Alma are just the last two of my brain cells personified. 

20. Which character would you most like to be?

Interesting question. Probably put me down for Dafne Everson. She has a loving dad and sister (and a shitty mom, but who doesn’t?), a career she loves. she travels all over the world, people read her writing and love it, she has a few close friends she really loves and the weight of all the world’s secrets on her shoulders. 

Anyone who wants to do this is more than welcome to. Please tag me, I would like to see more once I make my triumphant comeback (or come crawling back with my tail between my legs). 

[scotdeniel789140-blog]

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[scifigeneration]

Scientists use magnetic fields to remotely stimulate brain -- and control body movements

The minimally invasive technique could lead to advances in mapping the brain and treating neurological disease

Scientists have used magnetism to activate tiny groups of cells in the brain, inducing bodily movements that include running, rotating and losing control of the extremities -- an achievement that could lead to advances in studying and treating neurological disease.

The technique researchers developed is called magneto-thermal stimulation. It gives neuroscientists a powerful new tool: a remote, minimally invasive way to trigger activity deep inside the brain, turning specific cells on and off to study how these changes affect physiology.

"There is a lot of work being done now to map the neuronal circuits that control behavior and emotions," says lead researcher Arnd Pralle, PhD, a professor of physics in the University at Buffalo College of Arts and Sciences. "How is the computer of our mind working? The technique we have developed could aid this effort greatly."

Understanding how the brain works -- how different parts of the organ communicate with one another and control behavior -- is key to developing therapies for diseases that involve the injury or malfunction of specific sets of neurons. Traumatic brain injuries, Parkinson's disease, dystonia and peripheral paralysis all fall into this category.

The advances reported by Pralle's team could also aid scientists seeking to treat ailments such as depression and epilepsy directly through brain stimulation.

The study, which was done on mice, was published Aug. 15 in eLife, an open-source, peer-review journal. Pralle's team included first authors Rahul Munshi, a UB PhD candidate in physics, and Shahnaz Qadri, PhD, a UB postdoctoral researcher, along with researchers from UB, Philipps University of Marburg in Germany and the Universidad de Santiago de Compostela in Spain.

Magneto-thermal stimulation involves using magnetic nanoparticles to stimulate neurons outfitted with temperature-sensitive ion channels. The brain cells fire when the nanoparticles are heated by an external magnetic field, causing the channels to open.

Targeting highly specific brain regions

In mice, Pralle's team succeeded in activating three distinct regions of the brain to induce specific motor functions.

Stimulating cells in the motor cortex caused the animals to run, while stimulating cells in the striatum caused the animals to turn around. When the scientists activated a deeper region of the brain, the mice froze, unable to move their extremities.

"Using our method, we can target a very small group of cells, an area about 100 micrometers across, which is about the width of a human hair," Pralle says.

How magneto-thermal stimulation works

Magneto-thermal stimulation enables researchers to use heated, magnetic nanoparticles to activate individual neurons inside the brain.

Here's how it works: First, scientists use genetic engineering to introduce a special strand of DNA into targeted neurons, causing these cells to produce a heat-activated ion channel. Then, researchers inject specially crafted magnetic nanoparticles into the same area of the brain. These nanoparticles latch onto the surface of the targeted neurons, forming a thin covering like the skin of an onion.

When an alternating magnetic field is applied to the brain, it causes the nanoparticles' magnetization to flip rapidly, generating heat that warms the targeted cells. This forces the temperature-sensitive ion channels to open, spurring the neurons to fire.

The particles the researchers used in the new eLife study consisted of a cobalt-ferrite core surrounded by a manganese-ferrite shell.

An advance over other methods, like optogenetics

Pralle has been working to advance magneto-thermal stimulation for about a decade. He previously demonstrated the technique's utility in activating neurons in a petri dish, and then in controlling the behavior of C. elegans, a tiny nematode.

Pralle says magneto-thermal stimulation has some benefits over other methods of deep-brain stimulation.

One of the best-known techniques, optogenetics, uses light instead of magnetism and heat to activate cells. But optogenetics typically requires implantation of tiny fiber optic cables in the brain, whereas magneto-thermal stimulation is done remotely, which is less invasive, Pralle says. He adds that even after the brains of mice were stimulated several times, targeted neurons showed no signs of damage.

The next step in the research is to use magneto-thermal stimulation to activate -- and silence -- multiple regions of the brain at the same time in mice. Pralle is working on this project with Massachusetts Institute of Technology researcher Polina Anikeeva, PhD, and Harvard Medical School. The team has $3.5 million in funding from the National Institutes of Health to conduct continuing studies.

The research published in eLife was funded by the National Institute of Mental Health and the Human Frontier Science Program.

[sleepykittypaws]

Holiday in the Wild

Original Airdate: November 1, 2019 (Netflix) Where to Watch?: It��s a Netflix original, so it should be available on the service forever

The first thing that, as a Hallmark/Lifetime movie vet, hits you in the face about Holiday in the Wild is the budget. I’d be willing to bet that the cost of this one film could have paid for about half of Hallmark’s 40 titles, and it’s one of the streamer’s lower-budget films.

Kristin Davis and Rob Lowe, even in his ridiculous Indiana Jones cos-play, are both more than competent actors, but their predictable, and almost-as-chaste-as-Hallmark, love story is really beside the point. The stars are the scenery—this was really filmed in Zambia and South Africa—and the realistic baby elephant puppets. 

Not that there isn't plenty of ridiculousness. When rich NYC housewife Kristin Davis’ husband leaves her, he does so immediately after their son (played by Rob Lowe’s real-life son, John) leaves for college, saying he waited till he left so as not upset him. But the door was literally barely closed. As bad husband gathers his already-packed suitcases (how did Davis not notice those in her immaculate apartment?), he must have met up with his son in the elevator, so quickly was their 20-year marriage dispatched.

And then, two days later, after giving away all of her husband’s bespoke suits to the homeless (which is never mentioned again), she’s off to Africa alone on their "second-honeymoon" safari where she totes roughly $20,000 worth of Louis Vuitton luggage, but we see they had coach seat assignments (“22A and 22B”). Umm, yeah, no way the hedge fund guy with the $20 million dollar Manhattan apartment was sitting in the cheap seats on his way to the luxury safari. C’mon movie!

Also, it’s August, y’all, as they take pains to point out. It’s gonna take a while to get to the holiday part of this movie. (My family didn’t even suss out it was a Christmas movie, despite the title, till about an hour in.)

After a meet-cute that isn’t, Davis quickly ditches her luxury lodge for a tent at an elephant sanctuary, which they conveniently had waiting for her even though she wasn’t supposed to be there, when they find an orphaned baby elephant on the plane ride. (Yes, Rob Lowe is not only a pilot, but also a rescuer of baby elephants.)

Oh and, she’s a vet, non-practicing. Which is mentioned early on, but she never acts like it. I mean, they have no animals. Have you ever met a vet without pets? Also, she quickly says she knows "almost nothing" about elephants. Huh? I mean, I changed my major from pre-vet in undergrad, but even I know that zoology, and the study of large animals, is a rotation you’d have had to complete to get your degree. So, even if you hadn’t worked with them since, you’d still know more than 95% of people.

And then she stays at this elephant sanctuary indefinitely, but they never once ask the rich white lady with luggage that costs more than most people in Zambia would see in a lifetime for a donation to the facility. Nope. Wouldn’t think of it, even though their funding is precarious. 

Eventually, we reach the part where her son (Rob Lowe’s son in real life) comes for Christmas, and it’s very confusing with Lowe talking about "her son," but you know it’s really his, and the audience is left kind of creepily wondering if she’s falling in love with Rob Lowe because of his elephant wrangling and leather hat, or because he looks astonishingly like her own kid.

By the way, if you’ve never seen how John roasts his dad on Instagram, it’s well worth a look, especially as many of the pics he and his brother have ribbed their dad over are from this movie.

Anyway, after Christmas she packs up her LV bags and heads to Manhattan where her 6,000 sq. ft. apartment has just been sitting vacant this whole time, which her completely docile and un-angry (ex) husband had no problems with that all. Though she’s sad when the divorce papers come, there’s no discussion of property division, or money issues—heck she never even hires a lawyer that we see—so I guess Davis was married to the only hedge fund guy in history who didn’t screw over (or try to) his first wife in the divorce. 

And then, in the least surprising turn of events ever, she finally learns, via a FaceTime call, that the sanctuary is in trouble. Hilariously, it’s implied that this happened because Rob Lowe stopped sleeping with the 25-year-old blonde who kept showing up in his tent. Yeah, because  what incredibly gorgeous, yet also conniving, 20-something doesn’t want to kill a bunch of elephants just because she can no longer get any from a guy 30 years her senior? 

By the way, we never even see anyone in this movie do anything but kiss lightly—and then only twice. This evil blonde we see only three times in the year-plus this movie spans, never even brushes Lowe’s hand. As far as we know, their entire relationship is basically her giving dirty looks to Davis when she finds the brunette (fully clothed) in Lowe’s tent, and Lowe then telling Blondie, “whatever this is, isn’t working,” before she dastardly declares if they can’t keep having these 30-second conversations every six months, she’ll murder all the elephants by cutting the foundation’s funding.

Yet, even then, Lowe still doesn’t ask the obviously wealthy lady who loves the sanctuary and lived there for six months for any money. Because his pride, like his penis to the blonde lady, is worth way more than those elephant's lives, apparently. Who works for a charity organization, but is above asking for money? That’s like…the whole point.

So, anyway, as anyone with two brain cells could predict, Davis’ wealthy NYC friends save the sanctuary in a matter of minutes just by writing a couple of checks. Something they likely do on a daily basis without a second thought, before rushing off to buy their fifth Birkin bag, or pick up their toddlers from $75k/year private preschools. I’m kidding…They have their $150k/year nannies do that. What I’m saying is…The stakes here are super low, folks, and the elephants were never in even the slightest danger.

Anyway, after Davis hilariously snail mails the checks to Zambia in a giant envelope with no notice at all (thanks goodness the sanctuary didn’t close while she was waiting for her surprise to arrive), she finally talks to Bargain Basement Indy on the phone and tells him she sold her apartment and is moving to Zambia. We know he loves her because we see he named his plane after her—one of the few nice beats the movie doesn’t really oversell. Anyway, knowing that, he should be more excited about, since that apartment was easily worth $20 million, so she’s basically saying they’re set for life, and then some. 

They get married and live happily ever after, and in case the lingering shots of their wedding in Africa didn’t convince you they made it legal, they actually add in her sending an email to her son—who she earlier saved from dropping out of college with the radical suggestion that he get a music degree—literally spelling out the fact they’re married, lest you think they’re sharing a tent in sin, I guess.

And that’s it, the end, Rob Lowe and the elephants live happily ever after on Davis' massive divorce settlement.

It’s weird that Netflix held this film for a full year—it was filmed in the summer of 2018—when Christmas was so little a part of its plot. Though it was important in that the park rangers who live full time with the elephants seem to only get to see their wives and children at the holidays, so I guess all those kids were conceived during that one week a year they’re all together? I mean, I don’t think it was goat stew that was the aphrodisiac if that’s the only time they’re together…if you know what I mean. (Boom Chicka Wah Wah)

And why was it safe and cool for Kristin Davis to just move right into the camp, but dangerous for the ranger’s families to be there anytime other than Christmas week? 

Still, despite the relative lack of holiday flare—if not for the name and Netflix’s insistence, I’d say this was actually a stealth Christmas movie, not an overt one—I enjoyed my time watching this. I’m an animal lover, and a holiday movie lover and the scenery really was as stunning as Rob Lowe’s outfits were ridiculous.

Final Judgement: 3 Paws Up (Or, 2 paws and a cat costume trunk, for veracity)

[cloudscope]

The Life and Creativity of A Great Bethesda Artist

This article has been copied to this blog for backup purpose.

Date of Access: 04-May-2019

Author: Jonah Lobe

Orijinal Link: https://kotaku.com/the-life-and-creativity-of-a-great-bethesda-artist-1740993491

I couldn’t stop smiling one day in late 2005 as I was led through the darkened basement of Bethesda Softworks toward the little corner unit that was to be my cube. My geek barometer was pinging off the charts. I could scarcely believe that I was there.

The place looked like a laser-tag facility; the ceilings were high and black, the walls gray with accents of Zenimax Red. We strode past the programmers, the fishbowl meeting rooms, the designers and world artists, until we reached the final row: Character Art. There, in the far reaches of the office, was a cubicle bearing the name “Jonah Lobe.” I sat down, giddy and a bit stunned, and began day one of what would become a seven-year career at Bethesda.

But this story isn’t about that career. It’s about the man in the cube behind me, a man named Adam Adamowicz.

Although he worked in the farthest, darkest corner of Bethesda Softworks, Adam’s influence stretched across the length and breadth of the studio. What Adam taught me and so many others at Bethesda - about creativity and work ethic - has stayed with us ever since.

I’ve wanted to share my memories of Adam with you, the developers and players in the gaming world alike, for many years. With Fallout 4 around the corner, I think now is the time.

Adam Adamowicz was a concept artist. When I first started, he was the only concept artist at Bethesda, a company that builds landscapes and nations alike. His cube was small, and it felt even smaller because of the relatively large man who worked within it. The walls were tacked with ever-growing layers of sketches and illustrations.

In this temple to computer art, I couldn’t believe that Adam worked in traditional media. He used pencils, pens, markers, colored pencils and paint. What impressed me more than anything was the abundance of creativity on those walls.

Adam’s ideas, wrought fast and bold, practically burst off the paper. He was a living treasure trove of inspiration. He conjured people, beasts, landscapes, outfits and weapons. His creations were often complemented by fascinating and funny margin notes, like “apocalypse sandals,” or “vomits entrails for external digestion” or “’It’s just a space helmet, Jimmy!’”

Adam Adamowicz was a strange and colorful man. Physically, he was unexceptional—tall and strong-looking, handsome, with broad shoulders, pale blue eyes and a receding blond hairline. He stuck to faded T-shirts and jeans, eschewing branding or fashion statements of any kind. And yet, despite this mild appearance, he was crazy. Not really crazy, of course, but his eyes sparkled with demented humor, and the things that came out of his mouth were an unpredictable, mad-lib mix-up of the colorful and morbid. “That Mole-Rat wants to hollow out your body and use it for a toboggan,” he’d say, or “He’s like a voodoo mix of Boris Karloff and disco crabmonculus.” How do you respond to that?

In 2006, while the rest of us were finishing up with the 2007 Oblivion expansion Shivering Isles, Adam began work on Fallout 3, and what followed was one of the most expansive and incredible brain-dumps of concept art I’ve ever seen. I was a character artist. My job was to extrapolate 2D drawings into 3D video game characters. I specialized in monsters. For any given monster, Adam supplied me with between three and 30 drawings, ranging from gestural pen work to detailed, full-color illustrations. From this wealth of material, I created monsters like the Deathclaws, Feral Ghouls, Radscorpions, and Mirelurks that were more novel and inspired than I could have possibly conceived on my own.

As I worked to translate Adam’s concepts into three-dimensional models, I showed him my works-in-progress. I wanted his artistic feedback, of course, but mostly, I wanted his approval. His responses surprised me. He was always positive and brimming with nice things to say, and yet I wasn’t always certain he loved what I had done. That bothered me at first, but as the years went by, I came to understand that it was not so much the faithful reproduction of his work that moved Adam, but my riffing on his idea. If he could see that his work inspired me, Adam was happy.

To Adam, concept art was not so much about aesthetics, but ideas. He treated his art like a series of drills. He put as much source material into his brain as he could, and then output as many concepts as possible. His goal was never to create a body of polished art. His products were always rough-hewn and raw. He mixed-and-matched ideas at an astonishing rate and never concerned himself with what might be considered acceptable. Who else would think to strap a model Enola Gay airplane to the top of a mini-nuke, or slap a cheese-grater to a Supermutant’s helmet? Adam didn’t care. Adam was fearless. Over the years, he created 10 times the number of concepts that we could ever use. He worked and he worked and he worked. And for what?

Oh, nothing much. Just that little thing called Fallout 3.

And then, a few years later, Skyrim.

Because my job at Bethesda was my first in the industry, it took me a while to understand that Adam was one of the best. His work provided us with the visual backbone for these unstoppable blockbusters. But if their critical and commercial success affected him at all, he never let it show. Adam was grateful for his job at the “monster factory.” He doodled through team meetings and yelled out “beer tickets!” on paycheck days. He was humble and he was gracious. He never complained, he never acted entitled, and he never took rejection personally.

And the most important lesson? Adam considered himself a student, through and through; always learning, always improving. His cube was filled with books: huge tomes of anatomy, ‘50s technology, architecture, and style. His appetite was voracious. He absorbed everything, and what he absorbed filtered through the quirky labyrinth of his mind to spill out—garbled and rearranged—onto the page.

How did he do it?

I asked Adam once about his routine, and he described to me a surprisingly regular and disciplined way of life. In the mornings, on the bus to work, he sketched his fellow passengers, sights he passed, and any number of crazy ideas that came into his head. Once at work, he’d refill his coffee mug (his relationship to coffee bordered on religious), sit at his desk and get straight into it. Despite being one of the most popular guys at Bethesda, he ate lunch at his desk on most days, eager to get back to work. He worked all day, powered by banter and coffee, and then, on the bus ride home, he’d draw some more. Afterwards, he’d visit the gym (exercise was important to him), make himself dinner, pop open a bottle of wine and absorb himself in more personal art projects, painting and sculpting.

“Have no fear of perfection,” said Dali, “You’ll never reach it.” Adam took that lesson to heart. He had no fear of the blank page; he did not fear failure. He wanted to learn. He wanted to grow. Unbelievably, over the course of his time at Bethesda, he got better and better.

And then, one day in the fall of 2011, a few years after the development team had moved up to the sun-drenched upper levels of the building, I passed Adam in the hall outside of the art pit. We stopped to chat, as we often did, and when I asked how things were going, he complained that his shoulder hurt. Negativity was unusual for him, but as I watched him grimace and rotate his arm, it never occurred to me that I should be worried. Adam was a big guy, after all, forty-three years old and active. What was a sore shoulder to a guy like that?

A few weeks later, however, Adam left work for health reasons. Weeks went by, then months. I kept popping in to the art pit, anxious to see him again, to welcome him back. But the lights around his desk stayed off, his chair remained empty, and the little rubber-toy nun on his wall—”Squeeze nun for service”—stared back at me, silent and unsqueezed. The word I kept hearing around the office was “cancer.”

A few months later, he was dead.

We didn’t touch his desk. I’m not sure if there was even a discussion about it (though I suspect our head of game development, Todd Howard, had something to do with it). We just left it alone, like a holy place, somewhere to worship at the feet of creativity.

Time stretched by, and his room remained wallpapered with his art; incredible as always, bursting with color and inspiration—except now, nothing was changed or added. The lights stayed off. The only difference was that his fish tank of plant-growth had become a choked mess, one which no one bothered to clean up, since it was agreed that this was probably what he would have wanted anyway.

I left Bethesda in the fall of 2012

By then, Skyrim had shot to the top of the charts, and Fallout 4 was on its way. Professionally, I felt like the boy at the fair who’d just won the giant stuffed panda, and I wanted to leave on a high note. My soon-to-be-wife was in her third year of law school in New York City. I wanted to be with her, and I had dreams of becoming an author. I wanted to grow in ways I’d never known before, to immerse myself in the act of creation, and to build a world, by myself, from scratch.

So what does that mean, exactly, to be creative?

It’s been three years now since I left Bethesda, and I’ve had a lot of time to reflect on that question. Creativity is such an elusive trait, one difficult to foster. How does one reach into one’s mind – limited, as it is, by finite experience and memory—and bring forth anything original? Adam did that all the time. What was it that made him different?

Steve Jobs once said that “Creativity is just connecting things.” While I doubt Adam was a fan of Apple—I’m not even certain he owned a cell-phone— I can’t help but think that this is an apt description of what Adam did. Flipping through his work, I was always struck by the bubbling confluence of subjects, a fearless fusion of influences. He developed his artwork using a range of tools: pens, markers, colored pastels. His creations were a collection of distinct and disparate ideas. When designing an original gun, for instance, Adam didn’t focus his research on the study of other guns, but on tesla coils, industrial power tools, or lab equipment. When designing outfits, Adam employed chew toys and oven mitts, radios and asbestos padding. The results were messy, ridiculous, and utterly original.

Adam’s creative process went beyond mere design. It was Adam who taught me that characters were more affecting with unexpected nuance: the horrifying is more horrible when infused with comedy; the disgusting all the more stomach-churning when mixed with beauty. The Draugr were not simple mummies, but noble warriors rendered in beef jerky. The feral ghouls were both repellant and pitiful. The Deathclaws were cheetahs, long and lean and starving. And Fallout 4’s Supermutants are not lantern-jawed hulks, but long-bodied infant-men with muscles that sag like taffy. Understanding this confluence of appearance and emotion helped me realize designs more original than anything I could have otherwise produced on my own. I have learned that it’s because of these unexpected details that we remember these creatures.

Fallout 4 is around the corner.

The last Bethesda game I played on which I hadn’t already worked long months was Morrowind. I’ve got monsters in this game—the Supermutants, for instance, and, of course, the Deathclaw—but the product will in every other way be new to me. My former teammates who have been working themselves to the bone for years on this game are very, very excited. Fallout 4 is a labor of love. And even after death, Adam’s fingerprints are all over it. He authored hundreds of original concepts for this newest game. He labored, as relentlessly as ever—for the game, for the team, and for you. He worked on it from his hospital bed. He worked until the end.

I have a painting of Adam’s in my office, one his mother sent me after he passed. A woman’s face; her skin like ivory, her hair raven-black. She carries a staff of gold, one that bears an eerie resemblance to the Dragon Priest staffs, and she is draped in a cloak of crimson flowers. Adam painted her on a sheet of cardboard, which a friend and I transported to the loading dock and sprayed with so much sealant that it’s become some sort of toxic polymer alloy. I look at it often.

When someone dies, they leave pieces of themselves behind. What we choose to do with those pieces becomes, in part, their legacy. I intend to honor Adam’s legacy.

So I exercise. I write for four hours every day. Afterwards, I draw, or paint, or model, or maybe I write some more. We eat dinner late in our house. I sleep, and tomorrow, I’ll do it again. I try not to fear the blank page. I try to endure the failures. I will learn, and I will grow, because I am a student, and I will always be a student.

My book is almost done. I’ll be searching for publishers soon, and I’m steeling myself for the inevitable rejections. It’s a grind, by turns demoralizing and exhilarating. When I’m tired, I take a break. I stand, and I stretch, and I stare at the painting of the ivory-faced woman. Her hair hangs in loose black tendrils, and her pale blue eyes are focused just above me and to the right, at some point I cannot see. If I turn and follow her gaze, I would see a digital print of my own work tacked to the wall just behind. I look for a moment, then scan the others beside it. They look drab. And yet, I can see that they’re better than I could have done a few years ago.

So I eat lunch at my desk, and then I get back to work.

Jonah Lobe is a writer and illustrator living in Brooklyn, NY. You can find him on Twitter at@jonahlobe, or down at your local coffee shop, furiously editing his novel, or on TwitchTV, where he hosts an illustration/gamedev stream weekdays at 4PM EST.

[nathyfaith]

Snacks

{isnp}  

A big thanks to my lovely beta @sleepymr 

This wasn’t the first time it happened, of that he was certain. Ichabod had observed this same behavior a handful of times. Usually, he would watch her, mesmerized by her beauty and fluid motion while preparing this particular snack.

She had downed half a bottle of wine already yet somehow still maintained her balance while she threw two pieces of bread on a plate and covered it with an enormous amount of cheese. That couldn't be healthy but he stopped trying to understand what comfort food means to certain people a while ago.

The last time it happened he promised himself he would try to film her in the act and put it on the Internet. With her permission of course. The Captain in him knew people would fall in love with her in an instant.

That's how he found himself in his current predicament. He could hear her in the kitchen, mumbling about stupid bosses and their big egoist asses, wanting to tell her how best to do her job when she has done undercover work more times than she can count.

He smiled and spoke softly into the cell phone mic as he moved along the hallway capturing her melodious even if a bit drunk voice. “The Lieutenant has just arrived home from work and she is currently in the kitchen making what she calls 'grilled cheeses’ and I’m about to investigate.”

“Good evening  Miss Mills,” he called out as he entered the kitchen.

“Crane, hiya,” she greeted, extending the last word in a sing-song voice, her full lips twisting into a smile.

“Are you making grilled cheeses, is that it?”

“Yah, see, I wanted to make grilled cheeses sandwiches but we don’t have enough bread left, so I’m making goldfish cheeses,” she explained, as she put more goldfishes on a plate.

Ichabod tried not to laugh as he filmed her, but his laughter escaped anyway as he asked trying to maintain a modicum of  seriousness, even though this was bordering on crazy talk, “So you are making goldfish--”

“Have some wine?” Abbie offered as she grabbed the bottle of Pinot Noir.

“No, thank you --” Ichabod shook his head. She was adorable. In bare feet, sleepy eyes and looking so damn sexy in her work outfit.

“I just had some..” she affirmed, and he retorted, “I can tell.”

Abbie simply smiled and poured a bit more for herself.

“Miss Mills are you sure you want to have more wine? Maybe some water or some other beverage?”

Abbie set the wine glass on the granite counter and lost her balance for a second before reaching for it again forcing Crane to murmur, “Oh dear lord,” as she also gathered a fair amount of cheese from the container. She was about to start shredding it over the goldfishes but seemed to change her mind.

“It’s so hot today--” she complained as she took off her white long sleeved blouse, leaving only her colorful skirt and red slip.

Ichabod watched her, not really surprised since this wasn’t something he hadn’t seen before.  Abbie threw her blouse on the floor and continued to prepare the snack. She suddenly started to laugh at the amount of cheese, and he laughed along with her. “Abbie, what in the world? Are you laughing at the cheese? Stop it, you minx.”

“Oh, gosh Crane I forgot to put the garbage out.” The way she said this made it seem as if the world was ending. He answered her, “It’s okay, treasure, I already did.”

“You did? Oh, you’re like the perfect husband, without being a husband at all,” she mumbled, as she put the plate, now full of cheeses and goldfish, inside the microwave.

“Well, thank you. And you, dear Abbie, are a goddess, beautiful beyond any words I could summon,” Ichabod asserted.

“Oh, really, Crane? Well, if that’s your truth, why haven’t you tried to kiss me before? I might be a “goddess” but I am also a flesh and blood woman,” Abbie whined, pouting her lush lips.

Ichabod’s brain immediately short-circuited. At a loss for words, he also stopped recording and put his cellphone back in his coat pocket as he watched Abbie take her skirt off and toss on the floor on top of her previously discarded blouse.

“Is Captain Crane, History  Professor, Linguist extraordinaire and First Witness, suddenly tongue-tied?” Abbie asked, teasing him.

She turned as the microwave beeped, her body rotating perfectly towards it. Ichabod swallowed hard because honestly, she was being completely unfair. The red slip clung to every curve, her hair fell  in gentle waves of curls around her lovely face. And now his petite goddess was slowly consuming the damned ‘goldfish cheeses’ with her delicate hands and lord if he didn’t suddenly have a raging desire to be one of those goldfish.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he murmured without thinking, “Bewitching.”

“Am I?” Abbie teased, licking her fingers one by one, reaching for the wine again. This time Ichabod was faster and before her fingers touched the glass he took her hand and pulled her gently towards his body.

“I never kissed you before because I feared to cross our unspoken boundaries might injure our bond. But it seems that, as guarded as you can be, my dearest Abigail,” Ichabod murmured, his free hand coming up to first run a long finger along her cheek and then twist a curl lovingly behind her ear, “you’ve hidden the same desire I’ve had for far too long.”   

Abbie moistened her lips and sighed as Ichabod grew bold and rested his forehead on hers, giving her a gentle Eskimo kiss as he rubbed her nose softly with his.

“Will you tease me or kiss--” Abbie’s words were cut off by the feeling of Ichabod’s soft lips pressing against hers. It took her a moment to register what was happening and that she wasn’t having some sort of wine induced dream but actually feeling Ichabod’s lips. He tasted of something sweet mixed with earl grey tea and like herself, it seemed he had eaten a snack as well.

“Crane...did you make grilled cheeses, too?” She asked smiling as he claimed her lips again.

“You are the only ‘snack’ I could ever desire, treasure.”

[thedeadshotnetwork]

'Justice League' has 2 end-credit scenes — here's what they mean for future DC movies Warner Bros. Warning: There are major spoilers ahead for "Justice League." If you head out this weekend to go see " Justice League, " make sure you stay through the entirety of the film's 119-minute runtime. There are two extra scenes after the credits start rolling. The first is a fun extra for comic fans with no real bearing on the future of the DC Extended Universe. It's the second one at the film's very end that you won't want to miss that teases where the future of the franchise is heading. In case you missed one or both scenes, we have you covered. The first end-credit scene What happens Warner Bros. The Flash and Superman are seen outdoors and are getting ready to race to see who the faster superhero is once and for all. As they prepare to take off, they share an exchange over a bet. Flash: "I can't tell you how much I appreciate you doing this." Superman: "If I win, you're off the team ... Bruce said something about you taking us all to brunch." Earlier in the film, Flash told Batman he wasn't a big brunch person when the two first met. Superman asks the Flash which coast they're running toward. He says he's never been to the Pacific coast. They get ready to take off, but the Flash mixes up his directions again and, abashed, asks Supes which direction that may be. The scene ends as the two take off. What it means DC Comics This is just a fun nod to one of the great comic debates of the ages: Who's faster, the Flash or Superman? Most argue this should be a no-brainer. Agility and speed is The Flash's main power while Superman has super strength, can fly, has ice breath, and can shoot lasers out his eyes in addition to outracing a speeding bullet. If you're really curious, there's a good breakdown of different times the two have raced here . Essentially, the Son of Krypton and Scarlet Speedster tied in two different races in the '60s. The Flash later outraced Superman in three races, though only one of them was a true foot race. Of course, we don't learn in the scene as we see the two race off toward the Pacific coast. Maybe we'll get the answer in the next superhero movie over a team brunch. The second end-credit scene What happens Warner Bros. A buzzer sounds in Arkham Asylum. A guard by the name of Nelson yells out to a prisoner still in his cell, "Come on Luthor, let's go." When no one comes out of the cell, Nelson walks over to get Lex Luthor. When he turns the man around, he's surprised to find Luthor has been swapped out with a look-alike. The scene then cuts to a man in a boat after dark. He boards a yacht and it's clear we're looking at Deathstroke. He takes off his mask to unveil a grizzly and gray Joe Manganiello. The real Luthor is sitting pretty awaiting his arrival and welcomes Deathstroke. "I was celebrating the return of God," Luthor tells him of Superman's return. He notes how Batman and Wonder Woman have put together a little group of their own and asks Deathstroke, "Shouldn't we have a league of our own?" What it means Somehow, someway, Lex Luthor has broken out of Arkham Asylum after being placed there at the end of "Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice." Just as Bruce Wayne and Diana Prince brought together a group of superheroes, Luthor is beginning to rally together his own group of supervillains. He looks a bit more sane than the last time we saw him. In the comics, they're known as the Legion of Doom. Membership has included a rotating cast of villains since the group's inception in "Super Friends." As seen in the end-credits scene, it looks like Luthor's gang is going to start with Deathstroke. Before we get to Deathstroke, here's a quick primer on the super-villain group being assembled. What is The Legion of Doom? YouTube The doom and gloom brigade is the villains' answer to the Justice League. Introduced in 1978 , the group is filled with various superhero nemeses plucked from Batman's giant Rogues Gallery (think the Joker and Bane) to Superman's foes like Bizarro and the difficult-to-pronounce Mr. Myxlplyx. Instead of the Hall of Justice, where Batman and friends reside, the villains hang in the aptly titled Hall of Doom which is located in the murky swamp waters Slaughter Swamp, which many attribute to be in New Jersey . (Sorry, Jersey.) In total, over 50 different versions of DC villains have been members of the group at some point in the comics, live-action shows, animated series, and video games. The first go-around introduced in "Super Friends" consisted of 13 villains: Bizarro, Black Manta, Brainiac, Captain Cold, Cheetah, Giganta, Gorilla Grodd, Solomon Grundy, Lex Luthor, The Riddler, The Scarecrow, Sinestro, and Toyman. Luthor or Flash villain Gorilla Grodd are usually two of the main leaders of the group. Deathstroke isn't usually a main player in the Legion of Doom so it's a little surprising to see him teaming up with Luthor. So who's Deathstroke? Mike Windle, Getty Images/DC If you thought he looked a lot like Will Smith's Deadshot from "Suicide Squad" or Ryan Reynold's Deadpool, you're not wrong. Deadpool is actually a giant parody of Deathstroke . Deathstroke himself is just a guy by the name of Slade Wilson who was in the army but who got caught up in an experiment to create super soldiers. The experiment bestowed him with speed and enhanced strength. Wilson is also incredibly smart and he's able to heal himself to an extent. Since then, he's been a mercenary and assassin. If you're a fan of the CW's "Arrow," you're probably familiar with the character. In 2016, "True Blood" star Joe Manganiello was cast as the character for Warner Bros. standalone "Batman" movie . DC/Warner Bros. In the comics, Deathstroke has also been a main member of the "Suicide Squad," but because his outfit bears some resemblance to Deadshot, it may have been too confusing to have the two side by side in that Warner Bros. movie. His appearance at the end of "Justice League" actually teases another group that he's usually fighting against. Could we be setting up the Teen Titans? Cartoon Network Deathstroke was first introduced in the Teen Titans comics in 1980 so it wouldn't be outlandish to consider they may come into play at some point. The Titans have a rotating cast, but usually consist of Batman sidekick Robin, Beast Boy, Starfire, and Cyborg. Of course, "Justice League" just introduced us to Cyborg so the idea of meeting the rest of his team isn't too far-fetched. However, the Slade we meet at the end of "Justice League" is older and definitely looks like he has more in common with the Caped Crusader than some younger heroes. Warner Bros. doesn't have any current plans for a "Teen Titans" movie. There is a planned live-action TV show in the works for 2018 though. NOW WATCH: What happens to your brain and body if you use Adderall recreationally November 17, 2017 at 02:04PM

[tortuga-aak]

'Justice League' has 2 end-credit scenes — here's what they mean for future DC movies

Warner Bros.

Warning: There are major spoilers ahead for "Justice League."

If you head out this weekend to go see "Justice League," make sure you stay through the entirety of the film's 119-minute runtime.

There are two extra scenes after the credits start rolling. The first is a fun extra for comic fans with no real bearing on the future of the DC Extended Universe. 

It's the second one at the film's very end that you won't want to miss that teases where the future of the franchise is heading.

In case you missed one or both scenes, we have you covered. 

The first end-credit scene

What happens

Warner Bros.

The Flash and Superman are seen outdoors and are getting ready to race to see who the faster superhero is once and for all. As they prepare to take off, they share an exchange over a bet.

Flash: "I can't tell you how much I appreciate you doing this." Superman: "If I win, you're off the team ... Bruce said something about you taking us all to brunch."

Earlier in the film, Flash told Batman he wasn't a big brunch person when the two first met.

Superman asks the Flash which coast they're running toward. He says he's never been to the Pacific coast. They get ready to take off, but the Flash mixes up his directions again and, abashed, asks Supes which direction that may be. The scene ends as the two take off. 

What it means

DC Comics

This is just a fun nod to one of the great comic debates of the ages: Who's faster, the Flash or Superman?

Most argue this should be a no-brainer. Agility and speed is The Flash's main power while Superman has super strength, can fly, has ice breath, and can shoot lasers out his eyes in addition to outracing a speeding bullet.

If you're really curious, there's a good breakdown of different times the two have raced here. Essentially, the Son of Krypton and Scarlet Speedster tied in two different races in the '60s. The Flash later outraced Superman in three races, though only one of them was a true foot race.

Of course, we don't learn in the scene as we see the two race off toward the Pacific coast. Maybe we'll get the answer in the next superhero movie over a team brunch.

The second end-credit scene

What happens

Warner Bros.

A buzzer sounds in Arkham Asylum. A guard by the name of Nelson yells out to a prisoner still in his cell, "Come on Luthor, let's go."

When no one comes out of the cell, Nelson walks over to get Lex Luthor. When he turns the man around, he's surprised to find Luthor has been swapped out with a look-alike. 

The scene then cuts to a man in a boat after dark. He boards a yacht and it's clear we're looking at Deathstroke. He takes off his mask to unveil a grizzly and gray Joe Manganiello. 

The real Luthor is sitting pretty awaiting his arrival and welcomes Deathstroke. 

"I was celebrating the return of God," Luthor tells him of Superman's return. 

He notes how Batman and Wonder Woman have put together a little group of their own and asks Deathstroke, "Shouldn't we have a league of our own?"

What it means

Somehow, someway, Lex Luthor has broken out of Arkham Asylum after being placed there at the end of "Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice." Just as Bruce Wayne and Diana Prince brought together a group of superheroes, Luthor is beginning to rally together his own group of supervillains. He looks a bit more sane than the last time we saw him.

In the comics, they're known as the Legion of Doom. Membership has included a rotating cast of villains since the group's inception in "Super Friends." As seen in the end-credits scene, it looks like Luthor's gang is going to start with Deathstroke. 

Before we get to Deathstroke, here's a quick primer on the super-villain group being assembled.

What is The Legion of Doom?

YouTube

The doom and gloom brigade is the villains' answer to the Justice League. Introduced in 1978, the group is filled with various superhero nemeses plucked from Batman's giant Rogues Gallery (think the Joker and Bane) to Superman's foes like Bizarro and the difficult-to-pronounce Mr. Myxlplyx.

Instead of the Hall of Justice, where Batman and friends reside, the villains hang in the aptly titled Hall of Doom which is located in the murky swamp waters Slaughter Swamp, which many attribute to be in New Jersey. (Sorry, Jersey.)

In total, over 50 different versions of DC villains have been members of the group at some point in the comics, live-action shows, animated series, and video games. 

The first go-around introduced in "Super Friends" consisted of 13 villains: Bizarro, Black Manta, Brainiac, Captain Cold, Cheetah, Giganta, Gorilla Grodd, Solomon Grundy, Lex Luthor, The Riddler, The Scarecrow, Sinestro, and Toyman.

Luthor or Flash villain Gorilla Grodd are usually two of the main leaders of the group. Deathstroke isn't usually a main player in the Legion of Doom so it's a little surprising to see him teaming up with Luthor.

So who's Deathstroke? 

Mike Windle, Getty Images/DC

If you thought he looked a lot like Will Smith's Deadshot from "Suicide Squad" or Ryan Reynold's Deadpool, you're not wrong. Deadpool is actually a giant parody of Deathstroke.

Deathstroke himself is just a guy by the name of Slade Wilson who was in the army but who got caught up in an experiment to create super soldiers. The experiment bestowed him with speed and enhanced strength. Wilson is also incredibly smart and he's able to heal himself to an extent. Since then, he's been a mercenary and assassin. If you're a fan of the CW's "Arrow," you're probably familiar with the character.

In 2016, "True Blood" star Joe Manganiello was cast as the character for Warner Bros. standalone "Batman" movie.

DC/Warner Bros.

In the comics, Deathstroke has also been a main member of the "Suicide Squad," but because his outfit bears some resemblance to Deadshot, it may have been too confusing to have the two side by side in that Warner Bros. movie.

His appearance at the end of "Justice League" actually teases another group that he's usually fighting against. 

Could we be setting up the Teen Titans?

Cartoon Network

Deathstroke was first introduced in the Teen Titans comics in 1980 so it wouldn't be outlandish to consider they may come into play at some point. The Titans have a rotating cast, but usually consist of Batman sidekick Robin, Beast Boy, Starfire, and Cyborg. 

Of course, "Justice League" just introduced us to Cyborg so the idea of meeting the rest of his team isn't too far-fetched. However, the Slade we meet at the end of "Justice League" is older and definitely looks like he has more in common with the Caped Crusader than some younger heroes.

Warner Bros. doesn't have any current plans for a "Teen Titans" movie. There is a planned live-action TV show in the works for 2018 though. 

NOW WATCH: What happens to your brain and body if you use Adderall recreationally

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[bsides-of-roygbiv]

the conductor man and his strings:

i think that the levels of my consciousness are being connected with silver strings controlled by a medium sized man in a white room. he’s got on a train conductor outfit and his feet seem a little too small for his body. when he was a baby, his parents promised to make him a priest, but it’s kinda like sitting in grey pools waiting for yellow, waiting for greens and blues but we’re here and we’re only feeling light drizzles and the continuance has yet to continue (thank you, very much). they told of his undecided start sides and his inability to grandly evade hilltops and mountain sides, falling all over the place and yelling all the while his mouth yelling straight to heaven. so in the white room he sits, a string tied to each finger, the conductor has stepped into the conductors room and is ready to conduct today (please, sit down). so the following ballet (routine) occurs and you must pay very close attention with your eyes fixed and your lips sealed tight and understand that the seriousness of these moving (movement) parts hold gravity in your palms and bend your knees (remember to lift from your core). understand (the under of standing). begin:

left pinky 3 inches towards the sky. inhale sharply and feel the ability ten thousand feet in the air, soaring you through the streets and carrying you deep into the ocean. I think that i was born here, i think i was small here, i think i was, i think i was, i think i. the illumination of your cells will cause stretching in places previously unstretchable. the carefully coordinated sublimation leaves you asleep in the sunset and awake just in time for the weird dead-day, dead-light, dead—sun lightening kind of thing that occurs.

right middle finger towards the underworld and this kind of light is so filling, i’m so full, i am. bathing and drenching, pouring through the window, by the way it’s the window, just as i, with my inability to hum, reach the peaks of my self sustained valleys (ohhhhhh). it’s incredible to watch the past destructions from the front row; didn’t you know my dad paid lots of money for this spot? the repetition of habitual evils now lands me here, and so hear i sit, unable to construct the necessary construction (wednesday, 6:45).

right thumb 3 inches to the left, three times, tris tris tris, the ending lies in the threes and my i’s aren’t lining up so good, all out of place, all filled with clutter, all filled (how did i get here?), i’m filled, i’m full. don’t ever step on the crack of the side walk because you’ll find your bike chain in twenty pieces all spread out over the sidewalk 15 feet in front of you (that’s right).

left index finger taps middle finger four times (sideways movement). the silence is boring holes in me and i have no room left for air expanding in dualities (two directions) and i’m feeling more and more useless as the days continue hurtling me towards the inevitable/i forgot how to breathe so long in this darkness.

right ring finger touches right thumb firmly but light enough to know the difference. i thought that i was light enough for it, i’m engulfed in your skin and i can’t tell whose limbs are whose. this unfortunate silence has got me imagining the insides of your thighs and your sighs, all the while what is swirling above me has got the shallow breaths and is covered in pink and white and i couldn’t tell the difference if i/you tried but all i know is it burns, it burns, it burns and i’ve gotta fucking go (you’ve gotta fuck me).

left middle finger finger up to the sky eight times, my superstitions are three double backs times a few unsuccessful back flips equalling some begging in a bungalow, the wrong kind though, fat tears all running down my face. so my face feels really strange having been touched by all ten fingers (digits) leaving behind dna (the traces of) wiped across my own galaxies, we fell there and we’ll never get up.

right pinky finger circles once counter clockwise but the hands are ticking so slowly and it’s the most beautiful thing i’ve got, all webbed up in the new day/ it’s sunday, it’s the special day, the sun is out today and it makes the plants breathe, did you know. 24 steps across tile (straight, left, sharp right) advancements have been reached today and the sun told me so, i swear, we talked in the night and nobody else can ever know.

left ring finger taps palm twice I sold some things and so continues the contemplation of continuation, dancing through my skull sitting in traffic maybe i’m longing for the trees and all the emptiness and all the nothingness forcing the filling of my vacuum with 800 rotations a minute (ow, my legs can’t handle any more), please don’t bend my legs back like that cuz i keep seeing our scene from the hidden camera in the corner and i’m seeing it again in mexican restaurants and i’m whispering this/our tragedy into different ears, but still the secrets all ours all locked up tight, more inside of me than inside of you—your ability for pouring (the pouring out, of you) has me jealous and wondrous at the same time and so now I’ll miss the marveling at your excellence, I forgot how to play hopscotch and how to double dutch but i’d bet a hundred bucks you’d relearn me and reteach me re-forgive me but there’s too much too forgive, there’s too much god here + i can’t do this anymore

left thumb curls (hurls) downwards, i’ve dried up on the beach showing in my hands on my feet but keeping moisture on the rest, zigzag lines on blacktop and perceptions of alterations with 5”3 men i’m so ashamed i barely even know my own name spinning into different dimensions, the realities i’m finding past three are skating me to just after 5 illuminated and destroyed by yellow skies, but did you ever notice that it gets light right before the sun goes down. these moments are defined by strict and few coincidences mesmerizing evening time and the left corners of my mind/brain/consciousness//i thought there was one more avocado left, but i thought and maybe i didn’t my brain matter keeps trailing behind me.

right index finger points straight out ahead but i feel sick, gripping like a vice, the vice gripped me, i tried to grip but reality wasn’t in the spaces between chalk and skin so no grip was to occur on tuesday 7ish at night and the sky’s pink but i can’t find any water proof watches. so time is moving in seven thousand directions but all hurling me towards my gripping, all the while tripping over all the traffic cones, i forgot what it was like to feel four years passed and uncontrollable watering is occurring but the gardens are still dead, they’re still dead but the blooming is occurring straight out of my hips pouring the sunshine downwards towards the sideways white but only on the upside, right in time for a little down play. it’s 4pm and i’ve got some downtime to shrivel in the backyard with all of my imaginary misgivings, she said my brain is beautiful but i can’t cry any more and the uselessness of my queries won’t end stopping up all of my pores, the fibers and threads refuse to align in straight checkerboards always missing one or the other

the conductor man has finished his conducting and you may return with your two feet planted firmly in the earth and your 33 vertebrae stacked lugubriously on top of on another (there, they will return. the admittance of this weight (this seriousness) is going to leave you with your arms stretched tight behind you and you eyes astounding wide open wide stretched straight to the lord himself. the conductor man has finished his conducting and you can go home, now. (please).

[scotdeniel789140-blog]

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Best Traffic Cat Bot DecTR

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