#MANIFESTING 7 WANDERERS IN A TEN PULL

[eishxn]

Yuh wanderer is mine soon 🫶🛐🛐

[faerunscursed]

Normally summonings were dangerous and painful. Whatever you summoned, usually was not that keen on getting dragged into the mortal plane. Double so if you tried summoning a powerful Cambion. While she was not on the same level as an archdevil or fiend, Mizora was still more than willing to make the mortal, who was stupid enough to bargain with her, regret his choices ten times over. Partly because the winged beast did not appreciate the rude and uncomfortable pull of a summon. However, this was not a normal summoning. For one, it barely hurt. As Mizora manifested in the summoning circle, the most she felt, was a tickle as if she had put her feet into the warm, shallow end of a pool. For another, there was an almost playful melody, going through her head. It was a bit like metal rings of a decorative chain bouncing against each other. Oooohhh, puppy jingled the keys. How droll. Mizora rolled her shoulders and curled her wings on her back before her goldish yellow and red-tinted eyes locked onto the black man, standing before the summoning circle. Even now with two large horns, curving from Wyll's forehead, he chose to dress himself in almost bland and inconspicuous clothing. His red and grey striped shirt, the padded leather details, it looked far too modest for a warlock in Mizora's eyes. Though maybe that was what made Wyll so fun. That in a manner of speaking, the Blade of Frontiers was one big joke. "My, my", Mizora purred with a chuckle, vibrating at the back of her throat. She placed her hands against her hips. "It has been quite a while since you last did something like this for me, Wyll. You must be really desperate to seek an audience with me." Her gaze wandered over the bleeding gash in his arm where Wyll had run the ritual blade across. Mizora was tempted to make another mocking commentary, however, she then noticed how pale and shaken Wyll looked. He smelled worried, if not afraid. Any cockish behaviour vanished from Mizora as she stepped closer. Staying in the summoning circle, she reached forward with a wing to touch Wyll's shoulder. Her voice was almost motherly as she asked: "What ails you, pup?" @shimmerbeasts

After everything that had happened leading up this point, Wyll should have wanted nothing with that of whom bestowed his gifts. Mizora had lied to him, made him believe he was hunting devils. If Karlach was anything to go by, whose to say those she had him kill were innocent? If Mizora was just playing on his hero complex. Lord knows he was furious with her for the deceit in any case. But what else did you expect from a devil?

Regardless there was something that bound them completely to each other. A contract signed in blood by a desperate teen who would do anything for his home. A contract that ensured that he would never be rid of her. It was a consequence of his own actions, be at the sacrifice of his own freedom. Forever chained to her like a gods damned pet. However, despite all of her deceitful lies, she had been there for him during his time of need when his father had long shunned him out of Baldurs Gate.

He hadn't had friends then, his family had all but made sure he wasn't welcome in any circle of society. Friends, family, acquaintances. All of them had turned on him, treated him as if he were a devil himself. The loss of everything and everyone had shattered him and as a result he had fallen into a deep, dark depression. Only Mizora had been there to pull him out of him, had given him a cause, albeit not so noble as he'd originally believed. So, even with the friendships he had formed now, it was still a habit to call upon her in times of desperation like now.

Rumors that Duke Ravenguard's capture had been going around the lands, and despite not having spoke for 7 years, Wyll found himself desperate to rid his thoughts of his father... a distraction. So, Wyll took the time to sneak away from the camp, far from the eyes of those who could stop him, such as karlach, and raised a sharp blade to his arm. Blood dripped onto the dirty grass as he cut deep, with the blade, letting out a grunt of pain as he did so. The wound would heal.

There was slight hesitance, however he did not falter as he ran a bloodied hand to the ground, creating a summoning circle. He wiped a stray tear away as he backed away, speaking the words that would bring Mizora to the mortal plane. Of course, he did not admit to the relief he felt as she made her arrival. "My friends don't know I summoned you, Mizora, and I intend on keeping it that way...but I, needed you."

"I'm worried about my father, about what is happening to him now." Wyll spoke softly, a stone eye glancing directly up at the cambion. "My friends know not of who I truly am, and wouldn't dare come them for help. But you... maybe you can help me." He clenched his fist, knowing his father would sooner die than accept any help from his disowned son. "I still haven't forgiven you for you lies, but I'm willing to move past it, if you help..."

[capricornus-rex]

A Shadow of What You Used to Be (10)

Chapter 10: A Home Away | Cal Kestis x Irele Skywalker

Cal Kestis x Fem! OC

Requested by Anon

Summary: There is another! Years after young Anakin Skywalker departed Tatooine, his mother Shmi delivers a second child—this time, a daughter. Whilst the circumstance of the girl’s birth remains unexplained, Irele Skywalker has yet to choose the true path between those laid out for her.

Tags: Fem! OC, Irele Skywalker, Force-sensitive! OC, Anakin’s Younger Sister, Skywalker! OC, Darth Vader’s Secret Apprentice, Long-lost Sibling

Requesting to be tagged: @heavenly1927​

Also in AO3

Chapters: Prelude – 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7 – 8 | Previous: Part 9 | Next: Part 11 | Masterlist

11 of ?

The maintenance droids only needed an hour to prepare a dorm for Irele within the command ship. Not that she would need a personal room in every ship she boards, but it would help if she did in the near future. The human guards did not need to wait for Irele to come to, they barged into the cell, pulled the poor girl by the arm to stand her up and then drag her out of the prison block while she could barely use her own two feet.

Irele’s eyes have not adjusted to the changing tones and gradients of lights of each part of the ship she passes through. She thought she said the question “Where are we going?” when the guards only heard an incoherent groaning at the throat.

The way from the prison block to her new chambers was a ten-minute walk, if one marched faster it would have been lesser. Upon reaching their destination, only one escorted her into her room and sat her down on the bed—to which she immediately fell limp and ended up lying down instead. While she was out cold, a nanny droid entered her bedroom to tend to whatever it can in the quarters; it took its time, in fact, until the girl came to. The droid’s sensors picked up the spike from Irele’s heart rate from slow to normal, it briskly turned around.

“It is fortunate that you’ve come to, milady. The serum from the probe has completely worn off. Should you feel slight nausea, do not be alarmed for it is normal as well. I can administer some painkillers to you with your choice of pill or syrup.”

The droid is programmed to speak in Basic and had a rather lulling, female voice—perhaps the most appropriate if you are to manufacture and program a droid for nursing.

“Milady? What are you talking about? Who are you? What are you?”

“You are here as a ward under the strict order of Master Vader. I am HY-L33, Nanny Droid,” it brought its head into a bow, “At your service, Milady Irele.”

“Why call me Milady when I’m kept hostage here?” she sits up and examines the room.

“Oh, you are mistaken, Milady. You are Lord Vader’s ward,” HY-L33 corrects. “And I have been tasked to take care of your basic needs and whims, if need be.”

“What I need is to go home! I don’t like being holed up in anywhere!”

The nurse droid lowered its head slowly, it stayed like so for a moment; with a rather sympathetic voice, HY-L33 responds, “I’m sorry, but I am incapable of fulfilling that whim, milady. I would suggest that you make yourself comfortable in this new one.”

Irele sighed, knowing that she’s talking to a wall here. She gave herself time to calm down and breathe. She passed her hands across her face and sighed.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be lashing out to you…” Irele inhaled. “What are you called again?”

“HY-L33, madam.”

Irele quietly parroted the name, “That’s a mouthful. How about I call you Haylee, is that alright?”

“If it proves to be more convenient for you, milady. Although personally, I do adore the name you’ve given me.”

Irele hummed as she managed a small smile, she hinted the chirp from the droid’s voice, relieved that she found some company out of the droid in this inorganic, cold room, she walked around to get a better feel of it now that the serum from the interrogation droid has worn off.

“Say, Haylee, do you know where we are?”

“We are aboard the command ship Anathema, the ship is within the Ulgoro system, and we are passing by the orbit of the planet Yelen.”

“How far are we from Tatooine?”

Haylee ran a quick scan from her processors, “We are approximately twenty-five parsecs away from the said Outer Rim planet.”

Irele breathed deeply, her heart sank, “That’s so far away…”

The droid’s photoreceptors picked up Irele’s increased heart rate and temperature. The girl was manifesting signs of anxiety: shivering hands, failing voice, and cold sweat.

“You are suffering from homesickness. Unfortunately, I do not have the appropriate medication for that, milady. Neither can I administer any medication for you. This is absolutely natural as you have been extracted from your real home to your current location.”

Irele took the deepest sigh and made a mantra.

Don’t lash out on the droid, you just screamed at it ten minutes ago.

She told this to herself mentally until she’s calmed herself down.

“Yeah, I am homesick. I left my family behind and…” she trailed off, realizing that the last people she was with were her friends. “My friends. They must be all worried sick about me.”

“You will be well taken care of here, Lady Irele.”

“Heh,” the girl huffed. “No need to be so formal. Just call me Irele.”

“As you wish… Mistress Irele.”

“Droids, gotta love ‘em…” she mumbled very quietly, knowing how acute droids’ hearing could be—depending on the model, that is.

–

Fortunately enough, Irele is indeed being taken care of.

Ever since she was moved to her own chambers in the Star Destroyer Anathema, she was thoroughly pampered—more or less—than anyone else in the ship, aside from Darth Vader. Never has she ever been well-fed in sixteen years! The serving portions were generous and they were quite tasty, but she had her moments where the food somewhat reminded her of home.

A uniformed officer enters Vader’s quarters to report of Irele’s adjustment to the new environment. Most of the officers feared that they’re speaking like a broken record, reporting the same thing to Vader every week—they had probably imagined it vexed him to be hearing the same thing over and over; it did them little comfort when adding their own personal observations of her such as asking for seconds with her food and interacting with the nanny droid, since she’s still shy and cautious from everyone else on board.Additionally, she was not yet allowed to wander off alone beyond her room. So, by all means, she is pretty much a hostage still—a rather pampered one, at the very least.

“Has she stopped her erratic behavior?”

“Fortunately so, Lord Vader, she has. Perhaps about a week and a half since her extraction, she had become somewhat… docile.”

Vader paused. He had presumed it was the effects of the interrogator droid’s syringe, but surely during the time the nanny droid was tending to the girl, the substance has flushed out since. Realizing that he truly knows nothing of what kind of person Irele is—compared from his earliest reference of her—he sighs with a quiet frustration under his mask.

“Very well. We are right on schedule. Carry on, captain.”

“Yes sir,” the captain bowed and dismissed himself militarily. His true posture showed when he rejoined his companion who had been waiting for him by the door. He hissed, “I didn’t conscript myself to the Imperial Fleet to be a babysitter!”

“Be more frustrated when Lord Vader does appoint you the official babysitter of the girl.”

“She’s quite a handful, don’t you think so?”

“Temperamental, to say the least,”

Only Vader and the droid, HY-L33, know what’s in store for Irele. Very soon, the plans for her life under the Empire’s wing—unknowingly under her brother’s care, or the walking shell of him perhaps—will be put into play.

For many weeks, HY-L33 patiently watched over Irele—especially in the medical aspect—and a mandate was programmed into her that once a diagnosis of the teenager would show optimum by the end of three weeks since her extraction from Tatooine, Irele would be considered physically eligible and be subjected to training. Eventually, HY-L33 was the only companion she has ever had in this ship since day one; so in exchange for medical knowledge and advice from HY-L33, Irele repays it with stories from her homeworld of Tatooine, but knowing that the droid is under Imperial property, she was cautious of what she ought to say, and rather told her adventures she had done on her own or with a friend instead of her family life.

“It seems as though your rigorous lifestyle has contributed to your increased stamina throughout your developmental stage.” HYL-33 commented once while listening to Irele recall one job she did where she would deliver goods door-to-door across the town of Mos Espa.

“Yeah well, I had to work. Because if I didn’t work, that just meant, I’ll be sleeping hungry—or if I’m lucky, with a half-full stomach.”

HY-L33, being the medical nanny droid that she is, went on to lecture Irele that it was ill-advised to sleep on an empty stomach for it will cause ulcers. The girl politely listened and heeded the advice, until she calmed down the droid that she had been fine for the rest of the time she was growing up.

She had only been staying for a week and a half. HY-L33’s sensors indicate a lesser trace of homesickness and anxiety within Irele, her body mass index has not changed drastically at all since her food intake was increased rather than imposing an eating strike—a few of HY-L33’s references cite that most human teenagers are more rebellious, especially when it comes to being fed after being thrown into a stressful situation. However, this was not the case with Irele, which made the nurse droid’s circuits cooler.

Eventually, the three weeks were over. Irele noticed HY-L33 seeming to be in full preparation. She did not mind this, but kept a close eye, until she could find the right timing to ask. After lunch, Irele went to the bath by rote, and quickly dressed herself in a dark gray shirt, black pants, and low boots.

Irele could truly sense something different in their routine.

“Haylee?”

“Yes, Miss Irele?”

“Is there something new added into the routine?”

“Yes, Miss Irele, we are about to perform a full health assessment on you. Please follow me and I will escort you to the medical ward.”

This was the first time Irele had been outside of her bedroom. For three weeks, she had been holed up in that metal room with no one and nothing else but HY-L33—to which she had grown fond of anyway—and then she finally comes out for a medical check-up.

Along the way, she could not look into the eyes of the crew, although she perfectly blended in with her gray and black clothes. She was nervous and afraid of what they’re thinking of her—because she felt like she knows what they’re saying about her, it’s a feeling that she can’t explain but it still manifests in her. Eager to avoid the stares and attention, Irele walked directly behind HY-L33 until they got to the said medical ward.

When they got there, the interior of the medical ward was a little bit brighter than most of the rooms in the ship. The walls were still metal, of course, but it was a cooler shade of gray which somewhat eased the people who are admitted and confined here—instead of the intimidating dark grays and blacks on other parts of the ship. At the center of operations was a 2-1B surgical droid stationed by a medical bed; it was approached by HY-L33 and Irele, when the droid’s photoreceptors saw the girl’s face, a deep male tone started speaking in a monotonous, continuous fashion.

“Irele Skywalker, human female, age is sixteen standard years, height stands at five feet and three inches…”

“Okay, okay, I think we got enough of my vitals already!” Irele interrupted.

“Were you briefed of your purpose here?”

Irele made a side-eyed glance at HY-L33, who didn’t move at all, “I was only told I was getting a check-up.”

“Correct.”

The surgical droid cleared out what HY-L33 failed to when they were still in the bedroom. It started with the physical examination—taking down her age, height, and weight, until it pored into analyzing the fluid levels and vitals of her organs to see if they were normal. It was all strange for little Irele, but she held up and did as she was told. She wasn’t getting hurt by the droids anyway, save the one pinprick that they had to do in order to conduct a blood test.

From Vader’s chamber, he was receiving real-time transmissions of the medical ward’s database. Whatever diagnosis the droids encode into the database under Irele’s profile, Vader saw it all firsthand—every revision, every new entry, every number.

Midichlorian count: 20,598.

Seeing this number and then recalling his impression on Irele baffled Darth Vader.

This child has lived sixteen years in a backwater planet, with a high midichlorian count… and yet her sensitivity is dormant.

[rainbowshawn]

Tarot Reading #2

So as you guys requested I did another tarot reading on Shawn and Camila!  DISCLAIMER: This is by no means meant to spread any hate or negativity and any rude asks will be deleted. We can all have our opinions and sharing constructive criticism or concern is okay, but lets try not to bully or belittle either of them! Thats not what this is about and my blog will never be the space for that. I’m not one to gossip and I don’t plan on ever using my blog for that. There was an interest expressed by my followers about my readings but like I said, any hate will not be tolerated. Tarot is purely an intuition tool and you must take it with a grain of salt. The cards are up for interpretation. Let me know if you have any questions!

So, in my first reading, my intentions were about the relationship in general so I did not draw cards on each of their feelings individually. I did not specify the cards I pulled in my first post and I figured it may be beneficial to note them moving forward since the cards are up for interpretation. I’d love to hear from fellow tarot readers and hear your feelings! This reading was a little more in depth and I pulled cards on them separately with a few different questions set as my intentions. It is interesting to note that most cards I pull for them end up being in reverse. Reversed cards are most of the time a signal of negative energy but not always. It could just be gaps in energy where it is not developed to its fullest extent.

I first started off with Camila:

What are her intentions in the relationship? 

7 of cups, upright

This card implies that the relationship may have started off as infatuation. She may be intrigued by him but it’s most likely lust and the relationship may not be all it’s cracked up to be on her end of it. She rushed into it because of her infatuation and is ignoring her instincts.

What kind of lover is she?

Queen of pentacles, reversed 

This card when in reverse implies that she may be insecure or jealous in relationships. She may fall into a habit of projecting her insecurities onto her parter in order to receive some sort of validation. There is a degree of possession and this may manifest into isolating her partner from others. She may view her partner as an object to claim status rather than having a stronger, deeper connection with them. This may be part of her intentions with the relationship as well. She should avoid getting into relationships for the status or money. 

Is the relationship beneficial? Will it last?

8 of cups, reversed

Unlikely. In my interpretation based on other cards I pulled for them, this card can be a signal of a wandering eye. Her infatuation makes her eager to latch onto the next big thing. She tends to jump into things based on lust and overlooks the important things. It’s likely that it’s a surface level attraction or it started that way and the rose colored glasses may be coming off. She may be realizing that something is missing and she is in search of something else to satisfy her. This card is another signal of sneakiness, like the next card I pulled in her reading. She may be trying to avoid confrontation with him, so she might be being deceptive in the process.

Should Shawn trust her?

Seven of swords, upright

Probably not. Once again, this is another card signaling there might be some unfaithfulness in the future. I drew a lot of cards that talk about infidelity in their reading which only emphasizes this point. There is some degree of deception and sneakiness on her side. She may be hiding something. This is a card of escapism and it’s possible that she wants out? 

Where are her current feelings?

Six of wands, reversed

This card further insinuates feelings of insecurity. She may be feeling unloved and overlooked by him and she may be comparing herself to rivals. This may be turning into internal resentment. She could be projecting these insecurities onto their relationship resulting in clinginess or jealousy. 

Next I pulled cards for Shawn. Many of the ideas insinuated by her reading are only emphasized in his.

What kind of a lover is he?

The high priestess, reversed. major arcana

He is a pleaser and he tends to ignore his own desires to be accommodating to his partner. He may be ignore his own intuition about the situations he puts himself in with love. He’s feeling very confused and lost in his life and he’s making decisions he knows may not be good for him.

Where are his current feelings?

Two of swords reversed

I pull this card almost every time I read for Shawn which only emphasizes its meaning. This card is a signal that there is a choice that he’s being faced with in the relationship and he’s ignoring his own intuition. This card insinuates that he could be having a hard time prioritizing his relationship vs work, family, and friends and he feels like he cannot balance it all. This card deals with painful decisions and it’s up to him to use his intuition as a guide and stop doubting himself. 

Ten of wands, upright

Work and love have been weighing on him heavily lately as this card symbolizes, and he may be finding it hard to be as romantic as he once was. He may feel somewhat burdened or suffocated by the added stress of being in love and he may be feeling a desire of being alone to focus on himself. 

Is the relationship beneficial? Will it last?

3 of swords, upright

This card deals with heartbreak, grief, and trauma. This is interesting because I have gotten this card with every reading i’ve done based on their relationship. But specifically when i’m reading for Shawn. This is likely to be a time of heartbreak for him since this card points to break ups and conflict. The symbol of 3 is also another sign of infidelity/a third party which further emphasizes the cards I drew on Camila. The grey clouds in the background of this card serve as a reminder that he needs to find his silver lining in pain and reassure himself that hope and light is just on the horizon.

Ten of wands, upright

Work and love have been weighing on him heavily lately as this card symbolizes, and he may be finding it hard to be as romantic as he once was. He may feel somewhat burdened or suffocated by the added stress of being in love and he may be feeling a desire of being alone to focus on himself. 

What are his intentions with this relationship?

Ace of wands, upright

It seems that his intentions with love are pure for the most part but it may initially have been led by lust. This is interesting because I pulled a similar card for her reading. This card is intensely sensual and passionate and it’s possible for real feelings to develop, so like I said, his intentions most likely are good.

[kpop-zone]

Thinkin bout you | Doyeon

Warnings: 1 curse word

Genre: slight angst, fluff

Wordcount: 2,489

Request: Can u do a Doyeon scenario based on Ciara's song Thinking Bout You?

Loving Doyeon was strange. In the beginning, your relationship had clear boundaries. You were nothing more than acquaintances that spend the night together sometimes. There were no goodbyes the next morning. One of you would just leave, no pain of parting. But over time that changed. You would start having breakfast together. When one had to leave for work, they returned in the evening and sometimes you even spend three nights in a row together.

And of course, you broke your agreement.

You started to develop feelings for Doyeon. You started to miss her as soon as she left and caught yourself thinking about her several times a day. When you had stress at work, you thought about her schedule that day. When you came home in the evening, you wondered whether she thought about you, too, when she came into an empty apartment. But you didn’t tell her all of this. What if it was just one of your wild fantasies? What if you would scare her away when you told her that you wanted more from this relationship? So you kept your mouth shut and let your habits go on.

“You know that you’re burning the food, right?”

You heard Doyeon’s laugh from the side, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Oh shit.”

You cursed when you saw all the smoke rising from the pan. Thinking about the past totally made you forget about the present and now Doyeon and you probably had to eat some burnt fried rice.

Grumpily you turned off the stove, when arms suddenly wrapped around your waist.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure it will taste amazing anyways. After all, you have made it.”

Doyeon said with her head resting on your shoulder before giving you a cheeky wink and opting to set the table.

And there it was again. Your heart started to flutter, and you scolded yourself internally, wanting to spend just one evening without you imagining your future with Doyeon as your girlfriend by your side.

Hastily you pulled the pan off the stove to stop your thoughts from going crazy and walked to the table where Doyeon was already waiting for you with a smile.

“Are you staying tonight?”

You asked once you sat down at the table, the hope in your voice betraying the casualness of the question that you had intended.

“No, I’m going out with some friends.”

Doyeon answered, making no big deal of it, not knowing that your heart sank.

Your thoughts tumbled again. Who would she be going with? Were they really just friends? Would she go home with somebody else tonight?

“Are you ok? You’ve been zoning out a lot lately.”

Doyeon asked you with concern in her eyes, catching you twice in one day being deep in your thoughts.

“What? Oh yeah. Just a lot of stress at work lately.”

You tried to lie as convincingly as possible and Doyeon eyed you suspiciously but decided to let it go.

Although there was a little bit of tension surrounding the two of you now, you tried to drag out dinner as long as possible. You didn’t want Doyeon to leave. You wanted her to spend the whole evening with you. But there was no reason, she had to. You were not dating, you reminded yourself. She could go out with whoever she wanted to, without asking if you wanted to join. Because it was her life that she didn’t share with you.

Therefore, after both of you had cleaned the kitchen together, Doyeon left without telling you when you would see her again. Frustrated you decided to watch videos on your phone in your bed, because it was much too early to sleep, yet, but you also didn’t feel like doing anything else. As much as you tried to focus on the content of the videos, your mind started wandering off again.

You hoped that no one in this world could actually read the mind of others, because if someone read yours, it would be quite embarrassing. Yours were basically 24/7 occupied by one gorgeous, long-legged girl. Annoyed by yourself you laid your phone on your nightstand, giving up on the videos, drifting off to sleep with Doyeon being your last thought of the day.

The next two days brought you back to reality again. Doyeon didn’t reach out at all and you tried to distract yourself as best as possible from the twinging in your heart. Although you couldn’t help but notice how pathetic you seemed. Every time your phone rang, you looked at the notification with lightning speed, hoping it was her. Until your suffering came to an end finally and it was indeed her name popping up on your screen. You let the phone ring a few times with the intention of not seeming desperate, although you truly were.

“Hey.”

You tried to sound as casual as possible, although you were sure that you sounded way too excited for that.

“Hey, Y/N. What are you doing tonight?”

Doyeon asked and a wide smile played on your lips at the sound of her voice.

“Nothing too important.”

You answered, making it seem like you had some kind of plans, although you actually didn’t.

“Great. Do you want to go out with my friends and me?”

You were taken aback. Go out? Meet her friends? That was definitely new. You had never met outside the protection of your own four walls before. Doyeon cleared her throat nervously because you had been quiet for a while.

“Or is that too much?”

She asked insecurely, but you were quick to answer.

“No! Not at all! When and where should I meet you guys?”

Excitement but also nervousness was evident in your voice, but you hoped that Doyeon didn’t notice. You wrote down the time and place that she gave you and hung up the phone afterwards.

Once the line was cut, you let out a squeal. You would be meeting Doyeon outside of your apartment. This could be a step into the right direction.

Two hours before you had to leave, you started to get ready. You just wanted to make sure that you looked presentable, which was harder than you thought. Your first ten outfits didn’t make the cut and so you still weren’t any closer to being ready after one hour and actually needed to hurry to get ready in time.

You arrived 5 minutes late at the restaurant and when you looked through the window, you could already see Doyeon and all her friends sitting at a table. Seeing them made you almost turn around and leave before anyone of them could notice you. They were all drop-dead gorgeous. With a big gulp you dragged your feet into the restaurant, forcing a smile on your lips once Doyeon had noticed you, waving you over to the table.

“You made it!”

She exclaimed excitedly, standing up to greet you with a hug.

“Everyone, this is Y/N.”

She introduced you and all of them bowed their head politely, mustering you from head to toe. You should have opted for a flashier outfit, you thought. You looked completely dull next to them. Doyeon pulled you beside her into the booth, where the girl next to her, immediately extended her hand to you.

“Hi! I’m Chungha, nice to meet you.”

She smiled at you brightly with her eyes turning into little crescents and you were absolutely mesmerized. Why had Doyeon put up with you all this time if she had friends like that?

After Chungha had shook your hand, she leaned back again, sneaking an arm around Doyeon’s shoulder though, making Doyeon rest a hand on her thigh. They seemed very comfortable with each other and you couldn’t help the jealousy bubbling inside of you. Telling yourself that you didn’t have a right to be jealous, because Doyeon had never been yours, you tried to push those thoughts as far into the back of your mind as possible.

The rest of the night, you tried to keep up with the conversation as best as possible. The girl sitting across from you, Yoojung, especially tried to keep you involved, but that didn’t mean that you weren’t distracted by what was going on next to you. Chungha and Doyeon were closely intertwined the rest of the evening, most times somehow indulged in their own conversation.

Your heart felt heavy. This evening was a disappointment. What you thought would bring your relationship into the right direction, was actually a step back. It seemed like Doyeon truly just wanted you to be a part of her circle of friends, nothing more.

You were glad when one of the guys, Dongmin, said goodbye early, giving you the opportunity to leave as well.

“Thank you so much for this evening. It was a pleasure to meet you all.”

You said while bowling politely, when you suddenly felt Doyeon’s hand grabbing your wrist.

“You’re already leaving?”

She said surprised and you wondered whether it was disappointment in her eyes.

“Yeah, I’m feeling quite tired today.”

You lied, accompanied by a hopefully convincing smile.

“Then I’m leaving, too.”

Doyeon said quickly, making a move to slide out of the booth, but you pressed her back softly.

“No, you don’t have to. You should stay, I can see that you’re having fun.”

The words left your mouth reluctantly, because you would love nothing more than Doyeon coming home with you. But you needed to step back from her a little. Seeing her that often wasn’t good for you. Fantasies started to rise in your brain and you forgot your real place in Doyeon’s life. You were just one name out of many.

A little taken aback, Doyeon stared at you, but let you leave.

Taking a deep breath once you were outside the restaurant, you decided to walk home. You needed the fresh air to blow out all the thoughts that had falsely manifested themselves in your mind. Doyeon was just a friend that would sooner or later stop all the activities between the two of you that went beyond a friendship. It hurt to admit that, but you had to get used to the fact.

Trying to push through your sadness, you almost ran to your apartment where you immediately changed into some more comfortable clothes. You weren’t even five minutes back in your apartment, when you could hear someone knocking on the door, so you rushed to open it.

“Doyeon?”

You said surprised when you were met with her beautiful face after you had opened the door.

“Can I come in?”

She asked right away, and an inner conflict started inside of you. Didn’t you want to put a little more space between the two of you?

“I’m sorry. But I’m really tired today.”

You decided that you should stay strong. You had made a decision and you couldn’t wait around anymore, letting Doyeon control your life like that.

“I’m not here, because of that. I want to talk.”

Doyeon explained coldly, brushing past you, not waiting for your answer.

She stood in the middle of your living room with her arms crossed.

“Why did you leave so early tonight?”

Doyeon asked sternly and you gulped nervously.

“I told you...”

But Doyeon didn’t buy into your lie, interrupting you instantly.

“Don’t lie to me. I know how you look when you tired. And you definitely aren’t today. So why are you avoiding me?”

You knew that you should probably be intimidated by her cold tone right now, but you somehow felt your heart flutter at her comment. If she could tell how you were feeling just by looking at you, she must be paying attention to you, meaning that you were important to her. Feeling Doyeon’s impatient glare on you, you remembered the tricky situation. You owed her an explanation.

“Um... it’s because...”

You stuttered, not knowing what to say, making Doyeon raise an eyebrow expectantly.

“I just didn’t feel like going out tonight.”

You tried to dodge the question, but Doyeon huffed angrily.

“Y/N I thought we had been moving past that point. Lying to me? I thought you knew me better than to think that I would accept lies.”

Her voice sounded disappointed and she made her way to the door with big steps. Panic started to rise inside of you. Of course, you did know better. You knew everything about Doyeon because she was constantly on your mind.

“It’s because I can’t stop thinking about you.”

You blurted out and Doyeon froze in her movement, slowly turning around to you.

“What?”

She asked confused and you sighted loudly. Now that you had already started, you could also just reveal the whole truth.

“I-I developed feelings for you.”

You said right in the beginning, wanting to get rid of that weight on your chest.

“It started harmless, but after a while you were all I could think about all day long. And seeing you today just reminded me of my actual place in your life again. And it hurts. I’m not special to you. But I promise that I will work on it. I can overcome my feelings.”

You sounded desperate, but you didn’t care. You didn’t want to lose Doyeon.

“But you are.”

Doyeon said while taking a few steps closer to you until she was standing right in front of you.

“You are special. And also so oblivious, Y/N. Did you really think, I would spend my days with you and introduce you to my friends, if I didn’t have feelings for you?”

She chuckled lightly, shaking her head in disbelief because of your blindness.

“You were just always so distant, never involving me into your life. So I didn’t want to overwhelm you and took it slow.”

She took your hand in hers and you stared at her, dumfounded by her words. She took it slow because of you?

“You are the only one in my life. Because for a long time now, I have already assumed that we are kind of in a relationship.”

Doyeon looked sheepishly to the floor, seemingly embarrassed by her words. You were finally shook out of your trance. You lightly squeezed her hand, making her look into your eyes again.

“I don’t want to take it slow.”

You stated confidently, making Doyeon chuckle.

“I’m serious, Doyeon. I’m all in if you are.”

A wide smile played on Doyeon’s lips and she pulled you into her arms, instantly making you wrap yours around her body.

“I’m in.”

She whispered into your ear and you squeezed her lightly.

Suddenly you didn’t mind thinking about Doyeon 24/7 anymore, because after all you had been stuck in her head, too.

“Does this mean I can stay tonight?”

She asked with a smirk and you chuckled.

“You can stay as long as you want to.”

You answered, pulling her face closer to seal your offer with a kiss.

[anhed-nia]

I LOVE RAVENOUS MORE THAN YOU DO

RAVENOUS is one of my favorite movies of all time. It may not be the prettiest, or the deepest, or the most refined movie or all time, but it is a true original, and one that insinuated itself into my mental DNA from the moment I saw it. It arrived on home video around the time that I was about to leave for college, so it makes a certain amount of sense that it would have such a lasting impact on the rest of my adult life. I was initially attracted to the its excessive violence, its salt-in-the-wound humor, and its style of rustic perversion to which I was well-disposed since THE TEXAS CHAIN SAW MASSACRE first ruined my life as a teenager. But, there is more to RAVENOUS than these broad strokes descriptors, and looking back, it is easy to see how this unusual film catalyzed my ability to read films, and at the risk of being dramatic, my ability to understand myself.

(why does this movie only have awful posters?)

RAVENOUS is the only horror movie I can think of that takes place during the Mexican-American war, an unconventional setting that is the first sign of how truly odd this movie will be. Guy Pearce plays John Boyd, a soldier who is being celebrated for turning the tide of a major battle. The reality is that he survived the fray by hiding under a pile of his countrymen's corpses, bathing in their blood and viscera, until an unexplainable burst of rage drove him to capture the Mexican commanders, garnering him the undeserved mantle of hero. General Slauson (John Spencer) has Boyd's number, though, and ships the coward off to the impossibly remote mountain outpost of Fort Spencer, a sort of depot for undesirables like himself. No sooner has Boyd resigned himself to his fate, than the group's stasis is destroyed by the arrival of a wandering frontiersman (the incomparable Robert Carlyle) who claims to have escaped from a Donner Party-like tragedy. Naturally, their ingratiating guest turns out to be the villain at the heart of his own story, and worse yet, a carrier of the supernatural wendigo virus that rewards cannibalism with virtual immortality. The whole situation quickly devolves into a Darwian competition to sort out the predators from the provisions, seasoned liberally with analogies to Manifest Destiny and American consumerism.

Writer Ted Griffin's prismatic metaphors could be pretty clunky on their own, with cheeky comparisons between cannibalism and communion, and handy food-related quotations from founding father Benjamin Franklin. Happily, Antonia Bird's distinctive directorial style prevents RAVENOUS from degenerating into a broad-side-of-the-barn satire of American history. Griffin's overly familiar arguments act as stabilizing road signs, as the viewer navigates the otherwise hostile and alien territory explored by Bird. In the broadest sense, RAVENOUS is a movie about bodies out of control: cravings and terrors that annihilate one's self-control, that erode one's dignity, that blend repulsion and eroticism into a noxious but irresistible brew. The body wages war on the personality, the morals, the institutional rank and decoration; it wages war on other bodies, and ultimately on itself. Griffin the cultural critic has his place here, but it is Antonia Bird's unique understanding of frailty and hysteria that makes this movie so affecting.

RAVENOUS begins with a gloriously shocking opener that joins pornographic closeups of the celebratory steak served at Boyd's promotional dinner, with Boyd vomiting violently outside of the dining hall. The body is turned inside out right away in this movie, and this stunt is immediately followed by a similarly disorienting trick turned by the film's main theme. The experimental score, a collaboration between the great Michael Nyman and Damon Albarn from Blur, establishes its power with a composition that is written in 6/7 time, creating a rhythm that is very difficult to follow for the average ear. Thus the viewer is first nauseated by the imagery, then disoriented by the sound, and it is in this unsettled state that one remains for the rest of the film.

There are a number of such bizarre formal techniques to discuss, and they are well matched by Bird's management of her cast. Even for a horror film, RAVENOUS is an extremely physical movie. The terminally guilty Boyd seems to be on the verge of literal implosion; the squirrelly and barely verbal religious fanatic Toffler (Jeremy Davies) scrambles around breathlessly at a pace that puts him in danger of killing himself (which he finally nearly does); the only "real" soldier in the bunch, the nightmarishly aryan Private Reich (Neal McDonough), is first seen screaming half-submerged in a frigid mountain stream, suggesting that even the the conventional trappings of heroism are purely pathological here. Other characters are chronically drunk or high, struggling just to stay awake or walk a straight line. The radical loss of identity in which the organism transforms from a sentient being, into stew in a cauldron, almost seems like a natural eventuality of the abjection and loss of control suffered by everyone at Fort Spencer.

This moral and physical degeneracy, that is the status quo with Boyd and his cohorts, eventually contaminates the mind as well. When I first saw RAVENOUS, I was entirely ignorant of real artistry in film, and whether I knew it or not, my malnourished brain was in dire need of deviance from Hollywood norms of beauty and power. At that time, I was mainly accustomed to two approaches to human behavior in films: First, the James Bond model, in which characters only behave as if they have perfect foresight and complete control of their emotions and deliberation even in the face of catastrophe. I use "James Bond" as the most recognizable face of this hyperrationalism, but this approach pervades most mainstream films involving any kind of peril. How many times have you, the reader, had to sit through a screening in which some know-it-all picks apart the decisions and reactions of every character, as if it were reasonable to expect any person on either side of the screen to behave with robotic pragmatism regardless of their circumstances? But people do expect this from fictional protagonists on the whole. The second approach that I want to identify is mainly relegated to slasher movies; According to this model, characters are permitted to make the stupidest possible choices at every juncture, because the audience has a preexisting assumption that these victims will be sacrificed on the altar of our prudish morals, or simply for the vicarious enjoyment of the power wielded by a Jason Voorhees or Michael Myers. What we rarely see in the mainstream, outside of the comedy genre, is shock, mania, hysteria, the loss of one's faculties that comes when one experiences a violent divorce from accepted reality.

Other than the aforementioned TEXAS CHAIN SAW, RAVENOUS was the first movie I had ever seen that addressed the neurological reality of trauma. Boyd's uncontrollable vomiting at the very beginning of the film is just a taste of Antonia Bird's mastery of this subject. She has ample opportunity to address this with her cast when the interloping cannibal "survivor" Colqhoun, first leads the unsuspecting Fort Spencer crew to the cave where he says the "real" cannibal is hiding out. Upon their arrival, Colqhoun throws himself into an alarming fugue state, apparently reliving the trauma of the nightmare from which he fled. He pants and gasps, smirks and grimaces, claws at the air and at the earth, as if to bury himself, effectively scaring the shit out of everybody. After he reveals his true intentions and massacres most of the crew before chasing Boyd and Reich off the edge of a cliff, another interesting neurological event transpires. At the bottom of the hole into which they have plummeted, with Reich's last spasm of life, he clamps his fingers around Boyd's throat  until his maniacal laughter turns into a death rattle. An even finer example comes after Boyd has returned to camp, having shamefully mended his wounds by dining on Reich's corpse as per the wendigo myth. Still recuperating, Boyd greets the arriving officers who are escorting the Fort's replacement commander--who turns out to be Colqhoun, now dressed neatly as the "Colonel Ives" on whom he blamed the cannibalistic murders of his fellow frontiersman. At the sight of this shocking enemy, Boyd pivots wildly and slams face first into the nearest wall, crumbling like a swatted insect on the floor and shaking uncontrollably.

These are some of the principle moments that won RAVENOUS my heart, and that really let me know what I was searching for in films. In fact, this movie was so formative for me that it led to a sort of impromptu ritual of breaking with my childhood. As with all cultists, my desperation to rope in everybody I knew intensified along with my obsession. I couldn't imagine that anybody would reject this beautiful and fabulously unusual work of art. I pulled a lot of wins, but I was in for a rude awakening where it should have counted. I refer to my "best friend" and "high school sweetheart" of about ten years, a guy who dominated my cultural life for almost as long as we were pals, since he was slightly smarter and had slightly better taste than our high school peers, but very little interest in having his mind expanded, as I eventually realized. When I showed him my new favorite movie of all time, I was brutally disappointed by his scoffing at every scene that I considered to be the movie's crowning accomplishments. He scrunched up his face and rejected Reich's murderous dying breath as "stupid" and "fucked up" and "making no sense". Today I'm not sure how hard I tried to explain that, look, we're talking about a character who is on the brink of death, whose final moments were in especially ugly combat, and who is really extremely brain damaged; more to the point, he really hates Boyd, the coward, and may have tried to kill him at some point even if he were fully possessed of his faculties. I mean, we're finally seeing something psychiatrically real here...aren't we? I got the same snotty dismissal from my viewing companion when Boyd went into shock at the sight of Ives--shock, a real acknowledged medical condition--and really during any scene that he considered too awkward and bizarre to be "cool" and heroic. It was at that very moment that I knew we wouldn't be friends for much longer, and we actually fell out of touch a few years later.

With that personal digression out of the way, though, I'd like to return to the cave (don't I always?) to discuss how Antonia Bird, her DP Anthony B. Richmond, and her editorial team work together to keep the audience in more or less the same state of discomfort and disorientation as the characters. RAVENOUS was also the first movie that taught me how to interpret the visual grammar of film, since I watched it so often that, eventually, I couldn't miss what was going on. Bird and co. have a way of distorting and compressing space that prevents the viewer from ever really knowing where you are. When the crew arrives at the low, carbon black mouth of the cave, there is a sense that it couldn't possibly be as deep as Colqhoun's story suggests (and in practical reality, it isn't). When Boyd and Reich creep inside, the tunnel plunges promptly into a weird homey sublevel where Colqhoun had been subsisting on his fellow travelers. This is sort of weird, but not as weird as what happens outside. When Colqhoun plunges into his fugue state, we see in it a sweaty, spittle-flecked closeup. His behavior spooks Toffler, who in his own closeup cowers against his commanding officer Colonel Hart (Jeffrey Jones, playing essentially the same character as in Deadwood). Colqhoun appears to stalk closer and closer to the camera, but how close is he to Toffler and Hart? We have no idea, until he circles back to the pit he just dug and then lunges through the air to plant a knife in Hart's abdomen, gutting him. Then, when Boyd and Reich give chase, there is a moment where Reich stares into the camera, giving Boyd an order. Boyd looks shyly into the camera before glancing off, suggesting that he flinches away from Reich's hateful gaze--but in the next shot, we see that Boyd is actually behind Reich, looking in a completely different direction. Part of me suspects that Bird and her crew were making the most of the small and somewhat sparse-looking patch of woods that they had for this scene, but it gets more interesting later on. As Colquhoun-now-Ives surreptitiously prepares a human stew back at camp, the permanently drunk Major Knox (Stephen Spinella, who seems determined to turn RAVENOUS into a balls-out comedy) shouts down the hysterical Boyd--all in closeup, so where are they? As it turns out, Ives is in one building, Knox stands in a passageway outside the door, and Boyd sits shackled in a separate building in the distant background. Finally, in Boyd's epic showdown with Ives, there is a fascinating moment in which Boyd saunters into the room, gazing staunchly ahead, ready to kill. Cut to Ives standing in front of a roaring fire, spinning neatly to face his adversary--but when we cut back to Boyd, we see that he is completely alone in the space. Shortly, Ives plunges through the ceiling behind him; they were never even on the same floor. RAVENOUS consistently leaves the viewer as disoriented and untethered as its characters are emotionally.

This battle itself harkens back to the movie's crucial focus on the often degrading and humiliating experience of piloting a human body. In both the James Bond and slasher movie models of movie behavior that I previously discussed, a climactic showdown should be fast-paced, furious, with impressive feats of athleticism by the combatants. Not so in RAVENOUS. The final scene is accompanied by an eight-and-a-half minute minimalist trudge through hell by Nyman and Albarn that never threatens to raise your blood pressure with stings or arias. The music perfectly matches this sluggish fight between two men whose bodies have been repeatedly destroyed and recreated. Their weapons are a letter opener, a meat cleaver, a pretty substantial log, and finally, a massive bear trap. The conflict is no clash of the titans, no beautiful realization of the full potential of male aggression. It is gruesome, tragic, and in some way, romantic.

I would be remiss if I failed to dig in to the eroticism of this movie. Like all vampire movies, there is a virgin and a seducer, a victim who calls their lack of worldliness dignity, and a predator who sees chastity as a shameful waste of life. RAVENOUS is one of at least three movies that Antonia Bird made about the unique relationships between men in traditionally male situations. Her heist movie FACE has been compared to HEAT, though I am really thinking of the incendiary drama PRIEST. In this, her impressive directorial debut, a young man of the cloth struggles with the disturbing intrusion of sex into his chaste life, be it in the lives of deviant clergyman, or abused child parishioners, or in his own struggle with homosexuality. Robert Carlyle plays the unhappy lover left out in the cold, drifting down the street on a skateboard like a hovering ghost, trying to convince the eponymous character that love is greater than its stingy biblical proscription. While there are no literal love scenes in RAVENOUS, it takes place in a similar world, made up almost only of men--men who are brothers in arms, who look after each other's souls and bodies, and who even consume each other's bodies, who gain strength from one another by breaking the ultimate taboo. The closing image, of Boyd and Ives pinned chest to chest by the bear trap, bleeding to death in each other's arms, remains for me one of the tenderest images in all of horror cinema.

I would like to close by asserting that Bird's deft exploration of male sensitivity is nowhere more powerful than in her direction of David Arquette, the unlikely shining star of RAVENOUS. The often intolerably wacky comedic actor plays Private Cleaves, an absolute reject from society who (barely) functions as the help around Fort Spencer. He and George (Joseph Runningfox), one of two Native American appendages to the crew, are consistently high out of their minds, which may make them look like fools, but it also designates them as being the most wisely in touch with the genuinely hopelessness of their situation. When George is slaughtered by Colqhoun, Cleaves is left all alone tending the Fort, and he has a few scenes of powerful vulnerability before his inevitable demise. In between two key plot beats, we find Cleaves and George's sister Martha (the quietly wonderful Sheila Tousey) standing together in the snowy yard, observing the new commanding officer's arrival. What should be a forgettably dry piece of exposition concludes with Cleaves instinctively turning to Martha and stroking her hair, which causes both of them to dissolve in tears. In an adjacent scene, Boyd watches through the window as the agonizingly bereaved Cleaves chops wood in the yard, alone. Cleaves, certainly intoxicated, weaves and sweats, giggling in an unnervingly forced manner to try to resurrect the perpetual good time that he once enjoyed with his murdered best friend. The scene dissolves into a fantasy in which Boyd gives in to his mounting cannibalistic urges and eviscerates Cleaves--throughout which Cleaves laughs and laughs with escalating insanity. It is difficult to convey the raw force of the sequence in words, so I will just say this: Early this year, I dared to point out that among the many strange virtues of STARSHIP TROOPERS is the fact that terminal screwball Jake Busey is so warm, so funny, and so emotionally available in that movie that it almost throws off the deliberately boneheaded artificiality of the entire rest of the cast. So, I would just like to conclude that, if your movie involves somebody from EIGHT LEGGED FREAKS or Shasta McNasty, and you get that person to provide you with one of the most sensitive performances in the whole show, you're probably doing something right.

[stusbunker]

Less Than Well Received

A Supernatural Fan-ficiton

Featuring: Sam Winchester (x?) Female Reader, Cas, Jack, and Dean

A/N: This is for @bamby0304‘s Triple Threat Challenge. My prompts will be in bold. Angst? Angst. Fluff? A smidge in the middle. Crack? Yep, because I can. Then some more flangst to round it out. xoxo Stu

Masterlist

A6: “Of course, I remembered!”

B4: “Get that thing away from me!”

C9: “What did you just say?” 

Y/N awoke to an eerie quiet, the walls of the Bunker echoing the silence like a forgotten tomb. She shoved her feet into her fleece lined slippers and shuffled down the hall. The hallway lights were on, but the farther she wandered the darkened rooms seemed to increase. Glancing down at her watch she barely registered the five o’clock hour when--

“Mornin’!” A pointed whisper came up from behind. She jolted, shaking free from the clench of fear along her spine.

“Sam! Goddamnit! What the hell?!” She shoved his meaty upper arm in frustration, registering the hurt in his ever-shifting eyes before remembering to lower her voice. “Sorry, it’s just,” she shrugged.

“It’s super creepy when everyone is sleeping or out on a case?” Sam gave a knowing nod, absently rubbing the spot she had hit him. “Yeah, well, this is what we’re used to. I kind of like it.”

“Well, that’s because you were forged in the fire, man. Most mere mortals couldn’t stand this place like this 24/7.”

His lips twitched into a half smile, “Coffee?”

She couldn’t help but return the gesture, it was so rare these days. “Look at you, Mr. Smooth, skirting the topic and going straight for my weakness.”

Sam stood back and let Y/N step down into the kitchen first, “Yeah, well, us former-Hell-dwellers tend to know how to read minds.”

“Oh, Sam, no! I didn’t mean it like tha-”

“I know,” Sam’s head lolled into a slightly reassuring tilt as dragged his hand through his long hair. “How about we leave the playful banter for when we’re both more awake?”

She nodded, tugging the sleeves of her hoodie down over her hands as Sam bee-lined for the coffee maker.

It always seemed to happen, she would be alone with their leader and everything would get awkward, or frustrating or Jack would ask too many questions and she would make an ass out of herself by not giving good enough responses. She just wanted to clear the air, but with Michael out there, with Dean; there was never a good time to do so. She didn’t want to be another helping of shit sandwich on Sam’s plate.

She just wanted to feel like part of the team.

Sam didn’t know why he was so snippy, no, he had plenty of reasons why. But he didn’t know why it was manifesting with uncalled for snapping at Y/N or Jack. He should be focusing on finding  Dean Michael. Not reliving the hurt in Y/N’s eyes when he raised his voice over their modest dinner of energy bars and a six pack. He slammed his eyes closed, trying to hide from the memory. The bed was lumpy, so he shifted, jostling Jack, who was asleep curled away from him. Sam let out a rattled breath.

Another motel, another town, another dead end.

It had been two weeks without Dean and the tension between Sam and Y/N had intensified to the point of Castiel stepping in to mediate. It seemed like even the angel’s good intentions were failing them as he walked into the library to find Sam slamming the laptop closed just to fold his hands in his lap.

“Go ahead, Y/N. Let’s hear what possibly can’t wait,” Sam’s brow pinched between annoyance and confusion.

“What the hell is the matter with you? You shoot down my ideas, you bark orders, you won’t even let me pair off with Jack anymore. What did I do wrong, Sam? Huh? What do you want from me? Do you want me to start saluting, to start calling you Chief?” Y/N was getting louder, the other hunters had noticed and while some quickly left the surrounding areas, a few lingered, watching the drama unfold.

Sam cleared his throat, noting the bystanders in his periphery. “Give us a minute?” He didn’t yell, but the tone made his point. Everyone left. Everyone but Y/N and Cas.

“You have been particularly pointed with Y/N, since Dean--”

“Cas? Look, you can stay, but Y/N just unloaded on me and I need to answer her, before you get to lay into me too. Alright?”

Cas looked to Y/N, she refused to meet his gaze, “I suppose.”

“You’re right,” Sam swallowed.

“What did you just say?” Y/N’s headed whipped up like a jack-in-the-box.

Sam inhaled through his nose, “And I’m sorry. I have been taking out all of my frustration on you.”

“Damn right you have. But that’s not all.” Y/N countered, plopping into the chair in front of Sam, lowering herself to his level. Cas watched quietly, noting the way Sam clenched his jaw against the flow of emotion. “There’s got to be a reason it’s me. Cas has known you the longest and Jack is your family. Is it because I am expendable? That I don’t matter in the grand scheme of your fucking gospels so I get all the bitterness and none of the respect? Newsflash! Still a person.”

Y/N splayed her hands in the air mimicking a camera’s flash before falling back in the wooden chair, one leg draped over the armrest as she waited for Sam to stop chewing his words. He watched her through clouding eyes, his guilt eating him from the inside out. She cut right to the quick and it stung too much to assemble another apology, much less an explanation.

His eyes stayed locked on his hands. “I don’t know what else to say. But, uh, I should go--,” he stood glancing at Cas before walking away. “Need some air,” was left hovering in the stunned space.

Jack strolled into the make-shift gym an hour after the fall out in the library. He didn’t know why everyone was whispering about Y/N and Sam, so he wanted to check on her. He found her beating the crap out of the punching bag.

“You’re angry?”

Y/N tried to ignore the Nephil, but his youthful persistence slowly beat her dwindling adrenaline rush.

“Why are you angry with Sam?” Jack squared his feet behind the bag to hold it steady for her next assault.

“Why aren’t you?” She replied, grunting against the slap of gloves against the bag. Jack’s face contorted in thought, she rolled her eyes. He was still so pure.

“He treats me like shit and isn’t very patient with you these days.” Y/N’s chest heaved, the sweat pooling down her back and between her breasts. She shifted against the sports bra.

“But, with Dean-”

“Dean’s been gone before. More than once, Jack. You know that right?” He nodded, pursing his lips as he remembered all that he had learned about his many dads.

“Sam is trying his damndest, Y/N.” Jack replied.

“That’s a weird thing to hear from you.” Y/N huffed out a single note of laughter, stepping back to grab a drink from her water bottle.

“That’s what Dean said. He said Sam was trying his damndest to court you.”

“He what now?”

“Because of the sex.”

“Sex? Sam wants to have sex with me?”

“That’s what Dean said.”

“Oh crap.”

Jack cocked his head and looked even more confused than ever.

New Year’s Eve in the Bunker was a forced affair. Though drinking hadn’t really wavered in Dean’s absence; the atmosphere had dulled to a lament instead of a celebration. Twenty eighteen was crap, even on the Winchester scale and everyone was ready to start anew.

A few couples had found corners to make insufferable heart eyes at each other, or worse, making out despite the remaining hunters within earshot, watching television or playing cards. Sam had resigned himself to a night in, letting the threat of Michael’s armies linger on all fronts. He was just too tired. And if he were to admit it to himself, lonely. Sam Winchester was usually a giggly drunk, but on that night, the last night of 2018, he indulged.

Sam was getting philosophical as he downed yet another shot, which he chased with a plastic flute of discount aisle champagne. “I mean, in the grand scheme of things. What’s one kiss?”

“Sam?” Cas eyed the large man.

“It’s only what? Five seconds? Nothing to spend a whole year building up in your mind. Five seconds, ten seconds, seconds are seconds. Time is vast.”

“Time is a construct, Sam. If you’re thinking about kissing someone, I think it would be best to get Y/N’s permission first.”

“Y/N? Is she here? I haven’t seen her lately.” Sam missed the angel’s point as he scanned the room from his perch against the war room map platform.

“She’s in her room. She said she just wanted to fall asleep to movies and forget the last year ever happened.” Jack replied, carefully pulling the bottle away from Sam’s reach and handing it to Cas.

“But that’s ridiculous. It happened. You can’t forget it, otherwise you won’t learn from it. I should tell her, right?”

“Tell Y/N what?”

“That.” Sam stood up, unevenly righting his shoulders before glancing at both sets of confused blue eyes. “And I’m going to.” Sam nodded to himself before he strutted determinedly and with a slight lean to Y/N’s room. Jack went to follow Sam, but Cas grabbed his arm.

“I think we’ve intervened enough with those two.”

“But what if she hurts him?”

“We can’t save each other from all pain, but we can be there to help tend the wounds,” Cas explained.

“Y/N?!” Sam half groaned/ half yelled through the locked door, before knocking insistently. “Y/N, Jack told me you’re in there. Don’t forget. Okay? It would be bad if you forget.”

Y/N’s attention was piqued with the sluggish delivery in her general direction. She hesitated for a few seconds before throwing back her covers and shuffling to the door in oversized flannel pants and a ratty tee, her killer NYE ensemble.

“Y/N! Talk to me! Please? Pretty please? Pretty please, pretty girl?” She opened the door before he could make more of a fool of himself. “Hey!” He smiled blindly, dimples sparkling along side his pearly whites.

“What am I forgetting?”

“You’re not! And that’s what’s important.” Sam stumbled passed her and into her dimly lit room, before turning and grasping at her hands. “Look, I know it’s not midnight, but it will be and time is a construct and I just really want to kiss you already.” Sam closed his eyes and leaned in and kissed Y/N hairline.

Once he recovered, Sam pulled back to assess her reaction. She wasn’t angry, but she wasn’t kissing him back. She was, amused? Concerned?

“What?”

“What? Where did me forgetting or not forgetting turn into you kissing me?!”

“So you don’t want to. Cas said to ask and I--” Sam scrunched his eyes closed and internally kicked himself.

“Stop Sam. Let’s just, sit? Yeah?” Y/N dragged him on her bed where he promptly fell back and stared at her ceiling.

“I’m going to die alone. Again.” He mirthlessly laughed.

“How do you go from sappy flirty Sam to morose? It’s got to be some kind of record.” Y/N asked, brushing the hair from his face, he leaned into her palm, relishing in the chill of her smooth skin.

“It’s why Dean never let me get too drunk, because I get chatty and pouty.” Sam sighed, throwing his arms back behind his head.

“Dean didn’t let you? Or you didn’t let yourself?”

“Both. Probably. I’m not sure anymore.”

Y/N took him in, his large arms like wings framing his broad shoulders, tanned firm skin over layers of muscle. He was a beautiful man, but he was also her boss. And had done nothing but treat her like crap lately. If it were another time and place, she could see herself enjoying his kiss. But tonight, she just felt like his minder and not in a sexy way.

“Do you want to kiss me because it’s New Years or do you want to kiss me for me?”

“Both, probably.” Sam muttered, his eyes staying closed as he lay perpendicularly on her bed, his large feet still on the floor.

“Probably doesn’t score you any points tonight, slugger.”

“ ‘Sokay. Shoulda asked, like Cas says.” He scrunched his overly straight nose and began to snore quietly. Y/N sighed, knowing she wouldn’t be able to move him on her own.

“Happy New Year, Chief.”

The next morning at breakfast, which was much more timely a lunch, Sam and Y/N found themselves sitting together in quiet, awkward silence. Castiel had made pancakes with extra bacon, because he remembered Dean always craved grease when he was hungover. The few hunters that lingered near the coffee pot made small talk and plans for their coming cases. Groups ready to get back out there with a hopeful glint that only January first could bring.

Y/N didn’t want to bring up the previous night, but it came glaringly back into focus when a fake sprig of mistletoe suddenly appeared above her head.

She shrieked and batted it away, “Get that thing away from me!”

Jack giggled behind their seats, “I thought you wished for a New Year’s kiss, Y/N?”

“Not now...” Y/N gave the young man a glare that could clear a vamp’s nest, but of course Sam had heard it all.

“Just not from me?” Sam asked in a croaking voice.

When Y/N finally looked back at Sam it was with a pained expression. He gave her a tight lipped nod, tortured but respectful.

364 days later

Dean ordered another round of drinks. “To all those we lost this year!”

The meager group took the shots before them as the bartender poured the next round with both hands.

“To the best damn friend a guy could ask for.” Dean drank again, biting back his grief.

“To Cas!” Y/N replied, finishing the toast.

Sam and Jack shared a sorrowful glance before taking their shots.

The bar filled with shouts as the ball dropped in New York City marking an hour out for the Kansas crowd.

“What a year,” Y/N leaned against the back of Jack’s stool.

“Are New Year’s celebrations always so bittersweet? Or is it just me?” Jack asked as he peeled the label from his beer bottle.

“It’s just the life, Jack.”

“Here’s to more sweet than bitter in 2020,” Y/N raised her glass to clink against Jack’s empty beer and Sam’s untouched one. Sam still looked at her like she hung the moon, Jack thought. But he knew that the moon fell into orbit long before Y/N’s birth. It was just another one of those expressions he found and clung to. The poetry of life, things that Cas would appreciate if he were here to share them with.

Dean sauntered back from flirting with a waitress and wished his small band of misfits goodnight, “Sorry, folks, but this smooth talker doesn’t have to hang around until midnight.”

“Be safe,” Y/N chided, leaning in for a quick kiss on his cheek. Jack joined in on the group hug and Sam chuckled as Dean dragged him in by the collar of his coat.

“Happy New Year, guys,” Dean gave a wink and a salute before he turned to follow his “date” to the door.

An hour and a half later, Sam heard a slight knock on his own door. He threw his shirt back on before opening it to find Y/N. He tried to put his hair back in place when she sighed and then brought her hand above her head. Her eyes closed and she stood silently, the nervous energy radiating from beneath the bundle of greenery.

“I thought you didn’t want my New Year’s kiss.” Sam whispered as his face hovered over hers.

“Well, maybe I don’t want another year like last year. What do you say?” She peeked with one eye, like a child cheating at hide-and-seek.

“Pretty please, pretty girl?” Sam crooned before she jumped into his arms at long last.

Five, ten, twenty; seconds were seconds and it was worth the wait.

They were both grinning idiots when they broke apart, gasping for air, but still trying to close the invisible distance between them. “You remembered your drunken ramblings from last year.”

“It was technically from the year before last, Y/N,” Sam corrected as she rolled her eyes. “Of course I remembered!”

“Happy New Year, Chief.”

His dimples greeted her like old friends.

“Happy New Year, Y/N.”

@dontshootmespence @veroinnumera @reid-fiction @mrswhozeewhatsis @madlu45  @because-imma-lady-assface @remember-me-forever-silent-angel @rmmalta​

[marshmallow-phd]

Fighting Instinct

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Supernatural, Wolf Au

Pairing: Jongdae x Reader

Summary: He went out of his way to ignore you. You saw his kindness towards everyone else, but he showed you only irritation. And you couldn’t blame him, considering your first meeting. However, little do you know that he’s hiding a dark world, one that you’re pulled into against your will....

Warning: none

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I 14 I 15 I Final

**

“From the Navajo to the Ancient Greeks, shapeshifters have been a staple in folklore from all over the world for several thousand years.”

Professor Kim pressed a button on his handy little stick, switching the picture shining out of the projector onto the whiteboard behind him from a regular wolf in high definition to a strange hybrid drawing on animal skin. The man in the drawing was hunched over, his back covered in fur and his fingers coming to sharp, clawed points. A few seats down from you, a girl sighed, leaning in deeper with her chin in her palm, as the teacher pushed up on his rolled up sleeve for the millionth time this period. You could have sworn you even saw her eyelashes flutter.

Professor Kim was not bad on the eyes. He had a pointed chin coupled with a strong jawline, deep brown eyes, and was in very good shape that was shown off by the tight-fitting button down he was wearing tucked into tailored slacks. But it was also hard for you to call him “professor” as he was only a few years older than you. Considering his credentials were over-the-top impressive, you still respected him. The word “professor” to you was just ingrained with middle-aged guys with thick glasses and receding hairlines in tweed jackets. However, you weren’t sure if the female-majority classmates around you felt the same way.

The World Folklore class wasn’t actually considered a credit-worthy elective for most of the majors at the college, but the class was always full anyway. Girls (and boys who swung that way) clamored to get a spot in the hundred-seat lecture hall to be able to stare at Professor Kim for an uninterrupted hour and a half. You were lucky that, as a world history student who needed this class to get full credit, you were able to get priority over someone else who was just going to throw away the money. You couldn’t entirely blame the student population for being enthusiastic for the class. The subject matter was fascinating. Starting off with mermaids and sirens, the lessons only grew in excitement, especially the three weeks spent on dragons.

Legends like that always fascinated you; the things frightened minds can come up with to explain the random bump in the night. But what captivated you more was how universal the legends could be. Different cultures that never met or crossed paths could have similar stories about creatures that could shift into humans or vise versa.

“The one thing that the legends can never agree on however,” Professor Kim rounded his desk so he was now standing in front of it, leaning back on the edge, “is if these types of creatures are just a strange natural occurrence or if there’s magic involved.”

A few students snickered at the mention of magic, the current generation used to Harry Potter and flying brooms.

“(y/n).”

Your pencil froze in the middle of your notes. Without even looking up, you could already feel all heads turning to stare at you, wondering what you did to gain the professor’s attention all of a sudden.

“Yes, sir?” you asked, clearing your throat and sitting up straighter.

Professor Kim gave you a kind smile. “Your papers are always fascinating. Please, tell us what your take is on why so many cultures have made up stories about people turning into animals.”

Great. You were not the kind of person who participated in class discussions. The fear and anxiety of being completely wrong or made fun of for your opinion was overwhelming and it kept you quiet. That’s why you sat in the middle level, just off to the right side. It was an inconspicuous spot; not too far up front where eye contact could be made, but not in the back either, where avoidance was obvious. You liked writing papers, however. It gave you time to think, to go over your words carefully as you constructed your argument. In that medium, you could be intelligent and fearless. This was horrifying.

“Um, well–” you cringed internally. Way to be articulate. You took a moment to collect your thoughts, stealing from the research paper you had already started that wasn’t due until the end of the semester. “Most people would argue that something man is most afraid of is the monster within themselves. Something that is uncontrollable. And these legends are a manifestation of that fear. That while there are scary things out in the world, the most frightening is the one hidden inside.

“However, another argument could be made if you focus on the animal itself. While humans consider ourselves the top of the food chain, that’s based mostly on our level of intelligence rather than our physical traits. How we hold ourselves doesn't stop a starved tiger from mauling you. So, you could say that the fear that created these stories might have actually come from a worry that maybe someday our only true weapon we have against the animals – our brains – could be lurking within them. So, instead of it being about the beast inside the man, it could be about the man inside the beast.”

During your little speech, Professor Kim had crossed his arms, still leaning against his desk, and stared at you with furrowed eyebrows.

“That,” he smiled, “is the kind of thinking I’ve been waiting for in this classroom.” He pushed off the wooden edge, walking around the open area near the front row. “The thing about worldwide folklore is you have to think outside the box. You can’t just create one argument for all these different civilizations who have their own stories to tell.”

To your relief, all the attention was back to the front. Sinking down in your seat, you tried to focus on your breathing, getting your system back down to calm mode. As you did that, your eyes wandered around, perhaps searching for anyone who might still be staring at you. And there was one.

A student several rows down and to your right was staring at you openly, his face blank of any emotion. When your eyes met, he slowly turned back to the front, not ashamed that he was caught, as if it was nothing out of the ordinary.

You shook off the strange encounter, trying to not dwell on it.

Professor Kim dismissed the class ten minutes later, ending it early. Some girls pouted while others shrugged it off. Ending class early was nothing new. Slowly and neatly, you placed your notebook and other papers into your messenger bag, careful to not jam them into your laptop.

“(y/n)! Can I talk to you for a second?”

You groaned quietly enough so no one could hear you. You’d had side conversations with the professor before. Outside of the classroom, occasionally bumping into him on your way to another class or just roaming around, killing time. He was always nice to you, interested in whatever conversation he decided to start up with you. This, however, was different.

Instead of up the steps and out the doors to the nice cool autumn day with the rest of the students, you fought the tide to get to the bottom where Professor Kim was waiting for you. He’d put on a pair of round, wire-rimmed glasses, adding to his charm.

“Yes, Professor?”

He looked down at you sympathetically. “I know I put you on the spot today, but I wanted to let you know that it’s because I know how smart you are and you need to not be afraid to contribute to the discussion.”

Pulling on your bag strap, you shifted uncomfortably. “I appreciate that, Professor, but I live my life in the shadows. It’s where I prefer to be.”

That made him frown. It was almost angry. “The shadows is not a wonderful place to preside.” He turned off the projector, sighing. “(y/n), what exactly is it you plan on doing with your degree once you graduate?”

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you hesitated, looking away. You hated that question. You hated it because you didn’t really know. You didn’t want to be a teacher like everyone assumed. Too much attention. A thought that had been brewing in your mind since you started taking this class was researching different legends around the world and compiling them into an academic book. It was a bit of a fantasy you played in your head, locked away in a cabin far from the city, in the middle of the woods near the mountains, where you could breathe fresh air and feel the open space. But that wasn’t exactly a career that could pay the bills.

In the end, you simply shrugged, keeping that information to yourself. “I don’t really know, to be honest. History was just the only thing I was really interested in during high school so it seemed logical to further my studies there.”

Great. You sounded like a cover page for a resume.

“Well, why don’t I recommend you for a teaching assistant that’ll be open with me next semester?” Professor Kim suggested. Your jaw nearly dropped. “It’ll be a paid position – minimum wage, of course – you’ll earn credit towards your degree, and you might even gain some insight to what it is you want to do.”

“Oh, um, well….” It wasn’t exactly an offer you could say no to. Teaching assistant positions were rare and fought over like the Hunger Games. You scratched behind your ear near your hairline, a nervous tick of yours.

“You won’t be teaching any classes,” he promised. “Research assistant might be a more appropriate title for the position. And the occasional test grading.”

Now that sounded much more intriguing. But you still needed to mull it over. “Can I think about it?”

“Of course. Just let me know of your decision when you turn in your term paper.”

You nodded, nearly incoherent now. He was giving you nearly two months to make a decision. What the heck?

“Have a good day, (y/n).” He dismissed you and you took the opportunity to get out, perplexed about what just happened.

Eun Na was waiting for you in the student center at your usual table. She already had her laptop out and was bobbing her head along to whatever weird psychedelic music was pouring out from her headphones.

While you had a few other friends at the university, Eun Na was stuck to you like glue. Your freshman year had been a total nightmare. Evenings and weekends were spent alone as your dorm mates were never in and you couldn’t bring yourself to ask if you could tag along. Making friends was hard to do with mild social anxiety and your friends from high school had gone off to different colleges leaving you on your own.

It was harder to make friends here. In high school, you saw the same people day in and day out so you naturally gravitated towards certain people. But in college, you had to put more effort into it. You had to actually approach people and start conversations. Group projects were your worst nightmares.

But the first semester of your sophomore year was considerably brighter. In your European History 201 class, Eun Na had sat down next to you and introduced herself. And it didn’t stop there. She constantly asked you questions about the homework and the material. Soon, the questions turned personal and you didn’t even realize you were giving her answers that you’d normally withhold. Before you knew it, the two of you were hanging out outside of class and have since became inseparable. She helped introduce you to other people who made college life seem not so lonely anymore.

When you sat down across from her, sliding into the booth while trying to not let your exposed skin from your shorts stick to the vinyl, she pulled out her earbuds and frowned.

“About time you showed up,” she pouted.

You just chuckled. “Sorry. Professor Kim held me back to offer me a teaching assistant position for next semester.”

Eun Na pursed her lips, obviously bothered by your news. “Well, that’s…. random.”

You shrugged. “Not entirely. I mean, sure I don’t really talk during class, but he likes my papers.”

Professor Kim really liked your papers.

You nearly had a panic attack when you got the first one back. There were red marks and little notes all over every single page. You were to the point of tears until you actually read what they said. There was nothing but praise in them. And it happened with each of your papers. With today’s events, you began to suspect that you were possibly his favorite.

“I’m not sure if you should do it,” Eun Na said suddenly.

You knit your eyebrows together, confused. “Really? Teaching Assistant positions aren’t exactly just handed out like that.”

“Exactly,” she countered. “You don’t think it’s a little odd that he just randomly offered it to you? No strings attached?”

You nearly gagged at her implication. “Seriously, Eun Na? He’s not a perve. Besides, if he really wanted to, there’s plenty of female students who would gladly be in that position.”

Eun Na rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” She closed her laptop with an ear-stinging slam and threw it in her bag, making you flinch. “I’m just looking out for you.”

“He’s giving me plenty of time to think about it.”

She gave you one more pointed look. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. I’ll see you in psych.”

You shook your head, unable to believe what had just transpired. Eun Na was usually the most supportive person you knew. She’d never shut you down like this before.

Tapping a pencil against the table, you gave up. You decided that you would think over the offer another time, by yourself, weighing the pros and cons. Until then, it would be on the back burner. After checking the time, you decided it was time to pack up as well. Just before you could zip up your bag, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

Turning to look, you found a very handsome guy leaning towards you from one table over. His tan skin glowed under the harsh lighting and his sharp jaw rivaled Professor Kim’s. Odd, as you usually went ignored by his type.

“You really should pick new friends,” he said in a tone that was completely serious. You didn’t know this guy at all and he had not a flicker of amusement or teasing in his eyes. Who was he to be telling you how to live your life?

“Excuse me?” you said with a scoff.

His face didn’t falter for a second. “You should hang out with other people. You’re going to get hurt.”

Rolling your eyes your stood up and started to walk away. Eun Na came running back up, clearly out of breath. After swiping up her headphones that you never noticed had fallen to the floor, she tilted her head at you.

“What’s up?” she asked, studying your irritated expression. “Are you mad at me?”

“No,” you replied, looking over your shoulder to the nosy stranger. He’d gotten up and was walking past the two of you, not even glancing in your direction as your eyes followed him. “Some people just need to learn to mind their own business.”

Eun Na followed your gaze and a fire lit in her eyes. Her jaw clenched with a sharp noise as her teeth clashed together and she grabbed your arm, pulling you towards the exit. “Come on. We should get you to class.”

[mostfacinorous]

FIRST LINES MEME

Tagged by @veliseraptor to share the first lines from my ten most recent fics!

(I am going by most recently updated.)  1. Little Talks co-written with @portraitoftheoddity​      The rush of stepping between worlds never got old, and the adrenaline that came along with it powered Loki through any nerves that might otherwise have manifested on his way into the lower branches of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s headquarters. He wasn’t entirely sure where he was going, the place only ever glimpsed through the eyes of others and accessible to him only through memories of memories. But it seemed to him that the more secret, the deeper these mortals were likely to bury it. And so he made his way, as silently and innocuously as possibly, further down the spiraling labyrinth of heavy doors and sidestepped scanners. Until he got stuck.

2. Let’s Talk Shop      “Ever since the merger, the guy’s been grating on my last nerve. But I can’t fire him; he’s one of our strongest performers, and we inherited his five year contract.” Nick sounded resigned, but still angry. “What does he do that’s so grating?” Steve asked. He’d interacted with Loki, and found him… polite, if cold. And maybe a little full of himself. But none of that seemed to be worth the level of complaints Steve had been getting about him. “He’s disdainful, he’s proud, he tries to take control of any project I put him on, he doesn’t know how to work with anyone-- hell, I put him on his own brother’s team, hoping that Thor would help dislodge the stick up his ass--” Steve lifted an eyebrow and glared, and Nick had the good grace to look a little embarrassed. “Sorry. Figure of speech.” “Or the start of a workplace harassment suit, if he feels like his job might be at risk.”

3. Give Up the Ghost      He wasn’t lonely. He didn’t get lonely. He’d developed an immunity to that a long time ago. He was alone, certainly, but that was fine. It meant he could be left to his own devices, left to his notes and trials of various new uses for old magics, new ways of bending his power, new shapes to bend it into. He may not have been a fighter, but he more than made up for it with his abilities. It was just a matter of honing them. And that was what he was doing, the first time he created it. Called it. Summoned it.

4. Second Chances; New Beginnings      “Things get bad for a while. Then you folks start popping up, we figure out who you are, toss you together, and things get good again. Until you die.” Fury was looking out at them over his steepled fingers. “Seems like a pretty raw deal for us, though, doesn’t it? I mean-- my life’s kind of on a track right now.” The guy who spoke, Tony, was slouching low in his chair, arms crossed, sunglasses perched on top of his fashionably dishevelled hair. “Problem with that is, you talk like you think you have a choice. You think I’m offering this to you? Hell, if I got to choose, I wouldn’t pick a bunch of kids for starters. Wouldn’t decide to bestow powers on those three-- they look like they each wish they could claim a corner to stand in. And I sure as hell wouldn’t choose some entitled little shit to protect Earth, but here we are. You’re Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. Congratulations.” Fury stood, looking around at what he had to work with. He didn’t seem overly impressed.

5. There’s a Spark      Loki'd been on Earth for a couple of years, now. Or at least, he'd been regularly causing havoc on Earth-- usually in New York-- for that long. That wasn't the same thing, necessarily, Steve realized. Not when even Asgard couldn't lock him up or shut down his abilities to travel. It'd been odd though, the way things had sort of tapered off on his end. He hadn't killed anyone in over a year. Hadn't made any grand demonstrations of power, forced people to kneel or sing his praises-- less ego mania, less appearances overall. Heck, the last time they'd seen him, he'd shown up in the Avengers' living room with a box of kittens. Mind you, those had all been high level mob bosses before they were kittens, but the point remained. The guy wasn't exactly pulling big schemes these days.

6. Thin White Lines      “What is this, Thor?” Steve's voice broke through the hubbub from his other teammates when Thor appeared, his brother in tow. He was on a lead-- and the image didn't sit particularly well with Steve, but neither did the one of Loki running amok and potentially destroying New York. Again. “Asgard's laws of recompense.” Thor spoke with an almost hesitant gravity. “Which are what?” Natasha asked, words somewhere between sharp and drawled. Steve shot her a grateful look; she, unlike Tony and Clint and Bruce, seemed to be in the game and not just reacting. Not that he could blame them, but it was nice to have a solid voice of reason standing next to him. “Loki's crimes against Midgard are great enough to warrant his death. The laws of recompense allow him to do what he can to reverse his damage and lighten his sentence accordingly. He will, of course, be punished for the lives he took, the damage which is irreversible, but for the rest--” Thor broke off, looking hopeful. “If you will allow it, we may save my brother. My friends, I would not ask this of you if I had another choice.”

7. I Know No I      It wasn't as though he was innocent in all of this. It wasn't as though the damages done to his body, mind, and powers made him somehow magically absolved of his guilts and wrong doings. All it did was make at least one of his brother's friends less likely to pulverize him at the first glimpse. When he'd woken in the vibrant light and starch whiteness of the S.H.I.E.L.D. Hospital room, he thought he was in some new level of hell. There were tubes in his arms, wrapped to his fingers, and so much of him was encased in such heavy material that he thought, for a moment, that his captors put too much faith in old wives' tales about the powers of iron to bind magic. Until he realized that they were cloth, and even being so slight a substance, they were too heavy for him to lift. Only then did the panic fully settle into his chest, and the monitors at his side began shrieking their shrill mechanical chimes. He knew where such technology resided, and immediately knew where he was and why he was there. He was on Midgard. And he was weak and broken, devoid of his immortal strength, and so filled with a distant dull pain and so dull of wit that he knew he must be under some sort of sedation. He was mortal, and most likely abandoned here by Odin's decree. After all, mortals do not belong in Asgard. They have people here to tend for their sick, their invalids. Everyone knew Odin’s stance on his son’s intended. He assumed as much was true for his false son, as well.

8. What a Lovely Day      Humans were incredible things. They always had been. Exposed to pain constantly for long enough, they could become used to it, accepting of it, to the point where they forgot what it was like to not be in pain. The same could be said of the hum and the vibrations of the bike beneath him. He knew that once, back when he’d first stumbled across this old Indian, it had seemed too loud, too rough. Now, though, he forgot about it, forgot that he’d known no noise other than it and the occasional crunch of his own footsteps over the crust of the dirt. Forgot that, once, he had been able to get from one place to the next within a single afternoon, on real roads, even gravel roads, that didn’t kick up dust and coat his throat. He deserved the discomfort though, because of what he couldn’t forget. Because he knew that he was responsible for this. Humans were incredible things. But even with as modified as he was, as strong as the good doctor and Stark could make him, there were a few pains that he could never quite come to terms with. Not the physical ones. But the Misery. The guilt. He was meant to save people, to inspire hope. Once, he had tried to let himself be that. Tried to give himself that, to make it his mission… now he stayed as far from people as possible. The hope in their eyes felt like knives, and not seeing it there felt like failure.So he was left with himself, his thoughts, his guilt, and the rattle of his bike. And this wretched heat that made his back stick to the back of his own shirt. He wasn’t driving aimlessly, though. There had to be one person who didn’t see him as the statue without a pedestal. He had to have survived. That was what Bucky did, was survive. He’d lived through ice, and years, electricity being poured into his brain. Lived through abuse and assignments and assassinations... surely he lived through some sand, some heat. He was out there, somewhere, wandering the great waste, and every gleaming light on the horizon made Steve’s mouth firm a bit. He hunkered down against the bike, tucking his face behind his shield, which he’d mounted at the front-- no longer bright colors, now just a dust collector, stripped of all its grandeur. Like the Earth. Like him.

9. Wish Upon A Star      “It is heavy and uncomfortable.” He wasn’t complaining. He was just… stating the obvious. Even as he pushed a finger between the strap on his neck and his skin, trying to adjust the helmet so that it did not drag so. He had to raise his voice to be heard, had to lean forward and angle his head so that his mouth was close enough to the man before him to be audible over the drone of the engine and the roaring of the wind around them. “You trying to tell me that two feet of metal horns is lighter than a faceless motorcycle helmet?” There was no mistaking the amusement in his companion’s voice, and Loki scowled and crossed his arms, tightening the grip he had on the other man with his knees and thighs. Horses, he’d been told, were out of style on Midgard.He wasn’t certain that he liked this better. In fact, he was fairly certain that he didn’t like this very much at all.

10. What Would  I Give      At Bucky's funeral, Steve stood stock still, certain that if he moved, if he turned, if he so much as reached a hand up to brush away the tears that were still falling, he would shake apart. He'd always known Bucky would die being a hero, but he'd always figured they'd go together-- it would be because of something he did. The lack of guilt when that turned out not to be the case didn't make anything easier, though.There was no casket, because there was nothing to bury. Bucky had been lost at sea. He'd tried begging him to enlist in the reserves, or the army, or the air force. Steve had spent his entire life afraid of the sea, and if he hadn't already been weak and sickly and unable to enlist because of it, he still wouldn't have been able to follow his friend. At the time, he'd wondered if maybe that wasn't the point. But on his leaves, it became obvious that Bucky legitimately loved the ocean, loved being out on it and all the workings of the ships he served on. Steve felt happy for him, glad that his friend was doing what he loved. But he missed him, too. He'd only been out for eight months when the letter came in. There had been a man overboard, and Bucky went after him. Neither of them were recovered, and at the time of the writing, the other man had not been identified. Maybe a stowaway or the survivor of some other ship's misfortune, but not one of their own. How like Bucky, didn't matter who it was, if he was around, he felt like it was his job to save them.

[thunderheadfred]

Grace/Mordin, Number 7 :3

Kiss Prompt #7 - routine kisses where the other person presents their cheek/forehead for the hello/goodbye kiss without even looking up from what they’re doing

Shepard wakes up all at once with a jolt and a strangled yelp, choking in the black. Out of that startling darkness, a blinding light, as if a Collector beam has been aimed at her retinas. She thrashes until the glare disappears, then feels the too-soft embrace of her mattress.

A few things are immediately obvious: her hands are shaking, she’s covered in sweat, and someone is sitting on the edge of her bed. The room drifts slowly into focus, a single puddle of dim orange light cast by an omni-tool. After a moment, Mordin manifests as the blurry silhouette the omni-tool is attached to.

“Like clockwork,” he whispers, scanning the space around Shepard’s temples. His voice is slower than usual, soft as the dark. “Right on schedule.”

He’s facing the head of the bed and dressed all in black, a liquid-tight sleep suit that is indistinguishable from the surrounding darkness. As he breaks his scan to smooth the hair from her face with strand-by-strand attention, she feels nurtured by a shadow.

She’s too disoriented to ask what he’s doing, but he’s never been one to require prompting.

“Nightmare. Nightly. O-three-thirty, give or take… ten, twenty minutes. Adding to log. Tonight’s subject: Collectors or Reapers?” Quieter, with a meaningful look into her face, he asks, “Destruction of SR-1?”

She blinks, coughing low in her throat to clear the night’s dryness, unsure whether she considers this compassionate or creepy.

“None of the above.” She finally moans, wiping her forehead. “There was this bug-eyed alien standing over my bed, shining a bright light into my eyes, saying he needed to probe me for science.”

A peek in his direction assures her that he’s smirking in his mad-scientist way, lopsided and disorienting, like some kind of funhouse mirror.

“Hmm. Troubling implications.”

She adds: “He was singing Gilbert and Sullivan the whole time. It was terrifying.”

Mordin’s weight has sunk a small gravity well into the mattress, and Shepard’s body has drifted toward him on pure physical impulse. Her stomach is mashed against his long thigh so tightly that his knee nudges her breastbone. She brings one arm across his lap and pulls him closer.

“Does this mean I’m crazy, doc?”

He resumes his quiet omni-tool scan near her temples, pitching his other arm like a tentpole on the far side of her waist. He leans over, shielding her in his not-quite embrace.

“Certainly,” he whispers. His voice is right next to her ear, tiny and intentional, raising all the trigger hairs on her neck. “Stark raving. No cure.”

She wraps sleepy arms around his waist and traps him in place. Enjoys the easy slide of his  night-suit in her palms, the smooth curves of his ribs and spine revealed as her hands wander, lazy and greedy for his attention.

He continues scanning, but tips his head this way and that, offering his cheek, his neck, his forehead. She kisses him lightly at each designated point of attack, tightening her arms with every press of lips to skin. When she can endure his absence no longer, she drags him under the sheets to join her for the night, forcing him to disengage the scan. He tut-tuts, but returns her embrace all the same.

He gathers her into the hollow of his chest. Surrounds her with his cool, willowy limbs. Whispers against the top of her head. The words run together; vague, unimportant, absolute nonsense. A rote patter of proteins and amino acids, anything to get Shepard’s mind to clear. After weeks sharing her bed, Mordin has an entire arsenal of meaningless lullabies. He deploys them with ever-increasing efficiency.

It only takes a few moments of his voice in her ear. Along her back, one hand traces the outlines of nerves, his fingers long and light. His other hand follows gentle, well-travelled paths through her hair. She drifts, drifts…  disappearing into his arms.

In the morning, he activates the omni-tool once more before she wakes. Recording a rare moment for posterity.

Shepard smiles in her sleep.

AO3 | FFN

[thechasefiles]

The Chase Files Daily Newscap 7/15/2019

Good Morning #realdreamchasers. Here is your daily news cap for Monday, July 15th, 2019. There is a lot to read and digest so take your time. Remember you can read full articles via Barbados Today (BT), or by purchasing a Daily Nation Newspaper (DN).

CASWELL: WORKERS SUFFERING ON JOB – Some Barbadians are suffering so much on the job they have been forced to receive professional counselling. General secretary of the Unity Workers’ Union, Senator Caswell Franklyn, made the revelation while speaking yesterday on VOB’s Sunday Brasstacks radio programme which dealt with labour relations.Franklyn said Barbadians, even though members of trade unions, still tend to keep things private while suffering on the job, adding it was now manifesting itself as illness. “Last year I sent ten people to see a psychiatrist. These people were suffering because of things happening at work. The work for their [pay] rate was low, overtime wasn’t paid in some instances. But Barbadians hold it in and, as a result, we get illness and death. The problems they were having were not ones which a trade union could have dealt with. Some of our workers are dying very young,” the outspoken senator said.(DN)

SUGAR PAIN –While the results of the 2019 sugar harvest have yet to be disclosed by officials, private farmers are predicting bitter returns. And they fear drought-like conditions may affect the maturation of canes to be harvested in 2020 as well.Immediate past chairman of the Barbados Sugar Industry Limited (BSIL) and veteran farmer Patrick Bethell painted a dismal picture of the private planters’ results.“Most of the private farmers’ output dropped significantly including the top farms,” he said. “Mine dropped by 40 per cent. Compared to last year, the quality of this year’s cane was better. It was dry so you got more sugar per tonne of cane but we ain’t get no tonnes of cane; and it is going to be worse next year.” (DN)

ENGLAND WIN FIRST MEN’S CRICKET WORLD CUP IN DRAMATIC FINALE AGAINST NEW ZEALAND –England won the men's World Cup for the first time as they beat New Zealand following a dramatic sudden-death super over in one of the most thrilling matches in cricket history. Both sides scored 241 from their 50 overs, meaning they had to bat again for six balls each. England scored 15 in their super over. With two runs needed from their final ball to win, New Zealand batsman Martin Guptill scored one before being run out. That meant the super over scores were tied, and England won on virtue of having scored more boundaries in the match. The barely believable final at Lord's was tied twice and was decided on boundaries, ensuring England's four-year journey ended with them being crowned world champions. That it even got to that stage was astonishing in itself and came as a result of the first tied World Cup final played in front of an electric and ecstatic home of cricket. England required 15 from the last over of the regular match. Ben Stokes hit a six and benefited when a throw from the deep hit him and went for four overthrows. He could not get the two needed from the last ball – Mark Wood was run out coming back for the second – but ended 84 not out and joined Jos Buttler at the crease for the super over. They plundered 15, roared on by an febrile crowd that belted out Sweet Caroline in the change of innings. In the New Zealand reply, Jimmy Neesham hit Jofra Archer's third ball for six, then scrambled to leave Guptill with two to get. As Jason Roy's throw came in from deep mid-wicket, a diving Guptill was short as Buttler removed the bails, sending England and the whole of Lord's into delirious celebrations.(DN)

JOFRA DELIVERS –The familiar saying “you’ll find a Bajan anywhere in the world” hit home in the historic ICC Cricket World Cup final when England won a most thrilling match to stun New Zealand at Lord’s. With a Super Over left to decide which team would win cricket’s most prestigious trophy, Barbadian-born Jofra Archer produced the most important six balls of his life to ensure that England won their first title.The Black Caps needed two runs to win from the final ball in Archer’s over, but a superb throw from Jason Roy in the deep saw Martin Guptill agonisingly run out, as Kane Williamson’s side finished runners-up for the second successive men’s World Cup.Jimmy Neesham had struck a magnificent six to leave New Zealand with seven to win from four balls but Archer’s resolve shone through, with England prevailing due to scoring more boundaries in the match and Super Over combined. It was the first time that a One-Day International was decided by this method.(DN)

WANDERERS, EMPIRE TRIUMPH – Wanderers and Empire completed victories on a rain-affected last day of the first-round matches in the Barbados Cricket Association’s Elite Division yesterday. While the two matches in St Michael were badly affected, the weather was brighter in St Philip, where Wanderers defeated Crane Resort St Catherine at Bayfield and Empire won from Gladiola at Rices.AT BAYFIELD: Wanderers completed a resounding 178-run victory over St Catherine.St Catherine resumed at 27 for three in pursuit of 282 and never looked the part while losing wickets often. It took only two overs after the tea interval to polish off the innings when wicketkeeper Tre Mason was bowled by off-spinner Ian Boyce for nine after a lengthy stay at the wicket. (DN)

JONES RUNS RACE, DOESN’T HEAR FALSE START – Barbadian quarter-miler Jonathan Jones endured the disappointment of running an entire 400 metres without realising that a false start had been called at the Monaco Diamond League on Friday. While most of the runners in the race heard the call and pulled up within the first 30 metres, the three athletes in lanes 6, 7 and 8 appeared not to have picked it up and continued running down the backstretch. Two of those runners eventually stopped but Jones completed the entire lap before throwing up his hands in disgust when he found out after crossing the line that it was a false start. FloTrack reported that Jones was hand-timed at 44.6 seconds which is on par with his personal best time of 44.64 seconds. The 20-year-old opted not to face the starter when the race was re-run. It was won by Steven Gardiner of The Bahamas in 44.51.(DN)

BARBADOS LOSE TO MALAWI – After both suffering losses to New Zealand, the Barbados Gems and Malawi locked horns today and it was the southeastern African nation that emerged 65-41 winners in the 2019 Vitality Netball World Cup in Liverpool, England. Both teams had previously beaten Singapore so today’s match-up gave them the chance to rebound from their Kiwi thrashing and register a second win in the tournament. Malawi got off to a shaky start from a delayed centre pass, and consequently Joyce Mvula failed to convert their first shooting opportunity into a goal. Barbados were quick to react and within seconds Shonica Wharton scored the first goal of the match. However Malawi soon regained possession and directed the ball back to their own shooting-circle where Mvula got Malawi off the mark. The first five minutes continued in an even pattern, before Malawi stepped up their centre-court intensity and began to dominate. Takondwa Lwazi controlled Malawi’s shooting circle, receiving and feeding balls into Mvula and Jane Chimaliro, who scored nine goals with no response, contributing to a Malawian lead of 17-9 at the end of the first quarter. Their first quarter performance ensured a confident start to the second by the Queens, and Mvula and Chimaliro continued to build their advantage. Barbados’ duo Sheniqua Thomas and Shonica Wharton were on form in front of the net, but quick movement between Lawzi and Thandie Galletta in particular allowed Malawi to extend their lead to 35-20 at the break. Barbados saw possession overturned early in the third quarter, when a superb Lawzi interception triggered a Malawian attack which would end in a superbly-executed Mvula goal. The Gems’ shooters continued to be a force to be reckoned with, however, Malawi were taking full advantage of the amount of penalties awarded in the attacking third, extending their lead further and again winning the quarter 17-11. Chimaliro was substituted early in the final quarter, and Malawi looked to tire slightly as Thomas and Blackman continued to shoot well to ensure that the last 15 minutes would be the closest quarter of the match. Despite the late Barbadian rally though, Malawi had enough in the locker to get over the line comfortably, by a scoreline of 65-41. Wharton had 15 goals from 18 attempts, Thomas scored 12 from 16 and Blackman had 11 goals from 13 attempts. For Malawi, Mvula scored 31 goals from 33 attempts, Chimarliro had 23 goals from 25 attempts and Alinafe Kamwala chipped in with eight goals from eleven attempts. (BT)

ALLEYNE ALUMNI CHAMPS – Alleyne School ran away with the fifth Barbados Inter-Alumni Championships title at the National Stadium on Saturday. They amassed 230 points, 69 points more than the Challenor School, with 161, while St Leonard’s Boys’ were a distant third with 84 points. Alleyne took the overall title as well as the women’s segment with 170 points, while Challenor School claimed the boys’ competition with 121 points.It was the female posse from Alleyne, represented by athletes such as renowned sports administrator Kathy Harper-Hall, athletics coach Nikkisha Maynard and Sandra Murray, who played a major part in the victory after accounting for most of the points.Harper-Hall, 81, brought her best shape to the track following last month’s National Senior Games. She won the 80-plus 50 metres dash in 13.53 seconds, 100 in 27.80, 200 in 59.84, and standing broad jump with a leap of 1.32 metres.  (DN)

TONGUE LASHING LYRICS AT SUPER GLADIATORS TENT JUDGES– Super Gladiators Calypso Tent was the second tent to be judged by the National Cultural Foundation (NCF) to select the finalist to face defending monarch Mr Blood at the Pic-O-De-Crop competition on August 2, 2019. The show had a packed house of Kaiso lovers such as Wife of the Former Governor of the Central Bank Monica Drayton-Worrell, Tony Grazette and his wife Andrea Grazette, Smokey Burke as well as representatives  of the House of Soca Calypso Tent, First Citizens De Big Show and Cave Shepherd All Stars Calypso Tent. The first contestant to be judged was a new entrant to the Pic-O-De-Crop Big J who sang Sparrow’s Tribute which pays homage to veteran calypsonian The Mighty Sparrow. Sweet D gave a commendable rendition of Respect Due. She was in fine voice as she sang about how respect is due in every facet of society. Gregory G was also in fine voice as he sang the Beggars Plight, in which he spoke about the plight that ‘beggers’ have on the island. He repeated the refrain “Begger man, begger man, change up your plan”, where he encouraged the ‘beggers’ to aspire to achieve greatness. Blank gave a creditable rendition of Wanted Blood which speaks about the last election where the Barbados Labour Party won 30-0. He emphasized the line “Bajans wanted blood, blood was all that I am hearing…” Veteran entertainer Chairman explained why kaiso cannot be one song as it stemmed from persons singing for Massa. Despite forgetting a line at the beginning of his song he recovered to complete his song. He sang the line “Crop Over was never a one song,” he said. Receiving the first encore of the night was Longfellow who delivered biting lyrics in his song Not A Fact. The song which covers many social issues of the day became sweeter in the encore as he sang a verse about embattled former Member of Parliament Donville Inniss who is facing money laundering charges. Should he receive the nod from the judges he will be one to watch in the finals. Back from an over two-decade hiatus Ranking Moss was before the judges singing Hope. The nation-building song spoke about his hope for Barbados as it seeks to develop. Papa Cloud tackled the current spate of gun violence on the island with his song De Gunz. He emphasized what is happening on the island with a recorded  32 murders thus far,  with the majority of them being gun related  when he sang, “Move the guns, run the guns, fear the guns, bullets can done.” Colleen received an encore for her nation-building song Renew Your Vows. A member of the audience stood while other members blew a horn and waved their Barbadian flags as she sang her song in fine voice. Colleen was dressed in her national ensemble added to her patriotic message. If the judges were looking for creativity, then Mike Thompson would have received a nod. His Spouge-influenced song  Tell Jackie Opel was catchy and the most melodic song of the night. No stranger to the stage having travelled the world with Troubadours International he entertained the audience as he did a full split almost at the end of his performance. Apollo received two encores from members of the audience who could not get enough of his performance of De Gospel Truth. The song which speaks about the social ills in the country repeats the refrain, “ It is the gospel truth, I ain’t telling lies, no lies!”. In his first encore, he sang a stanza about the fact the Minister of Creative Economy, Culture and Sports John King has neglected the restoration of the National Stadium but is supportive of sports. He also spoke about the establishment of Joseph Atherley’s party and that he may be following money instead of God. Rocky gave a passionate performance of Beat Dem Daddy. In the song, he shared with the audience the advice his daughter gave him when he entered the competition as she is counting on him to be victorious. Newcomer does not describe Frank White although it is his first year in competition. He was pure class as he performed his song Nothing Ain’t Change.  Armed with props such as his stack of bills and his pay package, he addressed the issue of nothing in Barbados changing despite the country having a new administration. He received two encores and each time the audience called him back up he had more biting lyrics to render to the audience, one of which was how David Commisong has not been arguing about Hyatt since he received his Ambassador position. He also sang despite the NCF making a change to the competition which has seen the return of veteran calypsonians still some calypsonians complain. Should he receive a nod from the judges he will be one to watch. De Hammer performed his self-penned song Take It out of We culture. The song which was well written by the calypsonian who had formerly received an award for his songwriting skills. The song speaks about topical issues such as wandering and the rape culture and he said, “ Take it out of we culture!”. The final calypsonian to be judged was veteran calypsonian Prince Yellow who performed his up-tempo song Sophie. He was full of energy as he pranced around the stage dancing to the beat of his song. Veteran entertainer PJ who has a cleverly written song entitled Transparen C did not go before the judges this year but delivered his song to the audiences listening pleasure.(BT)

That’s all for today folks there are 168 days left in the year Shalom! #thechasefiles #dailynewscaps Follow us on Twitter, Facebook & Instagram for your daily news. #bajannewscaps #newsca psbystephaniefchase

[thailandblogger-blog]

Is Thai Massage Really Good for Your Health?

One of the gigantic advantages of living in Thailand is the extremely moderate cost of getting a superb Thai back rub. I am obviously discussing the conventional kind, not the more saucy sort, you might be disillusioned to peruse.

For a simple 200-400 Baht, contingent upon the zone and stylistic layout of the business, you can soften away the anxiety and strain in your body with a one-hour Thai back rub for a small amount of the 50-100 Pounds/Dollars/Euros it would cost you back home.

As an energetic fan, and somebody who trusts it does me the lot of good, I as of late thought – in the wake of having a masseuse who played out a few wanders aimlessly on my body that I needed to address as conceivably perilous – is Thai back rub in reality bravo. That is to say, what are the implied benefits and is there any logical proof to back them up.

There are, obviously, specific issues while examining a procedure as experiential as accepting a back rub, especially when one wishes to apply some measure of logical confirmation to the theme. Twofold visually impaired reviews are inconceivable, and this is an issue when endeavoring to set up clear advantages to any of the inside procedures we people have created to enhance our prosperity.

This issue has influenced many controls that have been with us for longer than generally religions. Professionals of Yoga, Tai Chi and contemplation will all laud the excellencies of their craft, yet we can't check much equitably. The same can be said in regards to Thai back rub; we realize that it feels great for the time being, yet genuine check of what the specialists guarantee – benefits like abating the maturing procedure, averting ailment by boosting the insusceptible framework, lessening the manifestations of asthma and lightening degenerative sicknesses – is thin on the ground.

Where conceivable in this post I have given contextual investigations to bolster the cases, however a few advantages of Thai back rub are difficult to evaluate. I have additionally connected medicinal reviews that arrangement with games or Swedish back rub where proper. I ask your absolution that I have not given unquestionable confirmation at times; it just does not exist at the season of composing.

Thai Massage: A Brief History

As per the Buddhist group Shivago Komarpaj, the doctor to the Buddha, is credited as the innovator of Thai back rub more than over two thousand years prior. While this is a sufficiently decent legend, the genuine history of Thai Traditional Massage (TTM) is more unpredictable.

Like most social practices that have such long heredity, TTM is probably going to be an advancing amalgamation of various expressions. After some time, TTM has been adjusted from its unique structures with impact from India, China, and other South East Asian districts. The pilgrim time of the nineteenth century quickened this procedure with the impact of western exchange courses.

In the current, proficient TTM professionals are controlled by the Ministries of Education and Public Health in Thailand, however there is a restricted oversight in different nations. This is mostly because of the strenuously physical requests on accepting a Thai back rub.

It should likewise be said that there are a lot of inherited techniques that have been rehearsed in rustic ranges by family ancestries that extend back hundreds of years and stay unregulated. In western nations like the UK a hour on the table expenses around ten times that of the going rate in Thailand, which is around the £6 stamp.

With costs so low for a perceived masseuse to take a shot at you, I can't in great still, small voice encourage guests to Thailand to search out the close unbelievable capacities of the genetic bosses. Wherever you go on the planet, being a visitor means you're pickings for con artists, and keeping in mind that obviously I am not blaming each unlicensed masseuse in Thailand for being one, you should consider that when you visit a Thai back rub shop, you are going out on a limb in not knowing exactly how qualified the individual applying weight to valuable territories of your body is.

You can, in any case, more often than not tell the qualified, experienced masseuse/masseur from the "simply doing it for some money" flyby specialist in light of the fact that the last tends to avoid any complex extends and bends that can bring about harm if performed mistakenly. So, the majority of us who've been here for some time have encountered some faulty neck-breaking took after by some gullible snickering, not at all like that of a youngster discovering something works interestingly – you leave saying thanks to buddha that you aren't in a neck prop!

Hypothesis aside, It's important that numerous Westerners pick up their TM encounter from schools in Thailand, so confirmation must be truly tenable, correct?

8 Provable Benefits of Thai Massage

1. Incredible Stretching

TTM has been connected with Muay Thai for whatever length of time that the craftsmanship has been around. Why? All things considered, the vigorous back rub is phenomenal for limbering up appendages for athletic execution and alleviating profound muscle pressure a short time later Useful for both military specialists and worried regular people.

2. Enhanced Mental Well-Being

It might appear glaringly evident however having a physically unwinding background is useful for the brain. A recent report discovered noteworthy change in the mental prosperity of patients experiencing musculoskeletal agony when treated with back rub contrasted with treatment with unwinding tapes. Like Tai Chi and Yoga, TTM is as much a moving contemplation as it is a back rub.

3. Diminished Cortisol Levels

In all likelihood a contributing variable to the post-knead feeling of prosperity is the lift to serotonin and diminishment in cortisol found in individuals who have gotten rubs. Cortisol being an anxiety hormone, serotonin being the glad hormone. An unmistakable positive outcome.

4. Enhanced Circulation

In spite of the fact that not restoratively looked into, it has for quite some time been held that TTM benefits the flow of blood in our bodies. This is said to help in the lessening of headaches using pressure point massage. While the imperceptible vitality lines that should travel through our bodies are fervently by restorative research, there is critical episodic and exploratory proof to bolster the claim.

5. Behavioral Treatment for Autistic Children

I discovered this review lighting up. Extremely introverted kids by and large experience considerably larger amounts of nervousness and stress. Customary Thai back rub has been appeared to give some level of change to cliché practices in extremely introverted youngsters.

6. Torment Relief

Patients experiencing scapula costal disorder (SCS) demonstrated a lessening in the torment endured and general patient fulfillment when contrasted with ultrasound therapies.[i]

7. The Human Touch is Language

We intuitively react to human touch from birth, and are pulled in to it (or repulsed from it, contingent upon situation) our whole lives. The touch of another human in an unwinding situation without the weights of this present reality is precious. "touch reinforces connections and is a marker of closeness," he says. "It expands participation but on the other hand is a marker of how solid bonds are between individuals," – Michael Kraus, University of Illinois

8. Reconstructing the Mind

Knead builds delta wave recurrence in our brains. This specific cerebrum wave is nearly connected with profound rest and rest I'm certain with less strenuous types of back rub you have encountered the impression of falling asleep on the table, as I have.

In spite of the fact that there has not been an EEG examine directed on Thai back rub, I would guess that brainwave movement changes through various phases of Thai back rub and without a doubt diverse styles. The all the more unwinding the more theta and delta waves would be discharged, and the more dynamic the more alpha and beta waves would be discharged.

— -

We see then that from the most profound piece of our brains to the tips of our toes, customary Thai back rub can mitigate agony, stretch and enhance the working of the main body we have. In fact, the restorative confirmation for quite a bit of what has been asserted is inadequate, however basically there are not very many drawbacks and numerous potential advantages. What do you need to lose?