blurred lines of sight

a little birthday something for @microbino who asked for zimbits and moving in! happy (late) birthday, darlin’!

***


“Bitty, I didn’t say I was judging. I just said I didn’t quite get why one person needs so many shirts.”

Bitty rolled his eyes as his hands deftly moved his shirts from boxes to the stack of hangers lying on the blue bedspread. “Jack. Sweetheart. Darling. I love you, but you have twelve shirts. I should know. I’ve counted. Three Samwell. Two Falconers. And seven plain v-necks in different colors.”

Jack looked up from where he was crouched by the dresser, putting away Bitty’s socks. “Well, yeah. That way I have enough for the week, and then I do laundry.”

Bitty smiled to himself as he finished with the stack of shirts. This boy.

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One couldn’t understand what it was about him that made the nerves of my skin stand at its highest at the slightest caress of his hand. How in the night while I laid my head on his chest I could feel the synchronicity of his heartbeat mimic that of mine, as if he intentionally mimicked my murmurs and turned it into an intricate pattern made especially for us. How, when, he looked into my eyes,  his eyes smoldering like a fresh brew of coffee, I could sense the sincerity, I could hear the songs his soul sang for me, I could feel the love. I could feel it travel through my bloodstream and nestle itself on the nape of my neck.

He was my drug, and I willingly sat in the bathtub and looked in his eyes with a drunken smile as he shot me up once more.

‘I love you’ I would murmur as the objects around me blurred as he came into my line of sight.

'I know.’ he would say, and the tickling of his beard felt similar to black silk as our lips danced once more.

'I know.’

—  a. h. eun / dirty pleated skirts

anonymous asked:

Oh Pa—lease!!! THEY constantly blur the lines themselves!! Hiding in plain sight....

Exactly. Remember when Sam said this?

“I think it’s also remarkable just how much your personal life goes into these shows and how much is reflected. I cannot tell you whether it’s the show reflecting on my personal life or my personal life reflecting the show, I don’t know. Whatever it is, it’s great to be able to use that and it just feels like the relationships that we’re playing on screen are very much being fed into by working on this job and working in this situation. It’s a really interesting journey for an actor, sometimes really hard to separate, and sometimes very easy. Ultimately it feels like it is all really building to something really truthful and honest.“

Don't Look Back

When you called for an Uber cab to pick you up, this was not the car you expected to arrive. 

It’s an old black Bentley, carefully restored and gleaming in the sunlight. The long-muzzled low rider has a profile more like a pistol than a car; all angles and chrome, and the engine that rumbles beneath its lengthy hood sounds like the growl of a caged monster. 

The driver is not who you would expect behind the wheel of a car like this: It’s just a girl, maybe pushing 30, her hair tied back and her eyes regarding you seriously over the rims of black-framed glasses. 

“You called for a ride?” 

This wasn’t what you had in mind, but before you can find some way to put that into words, the driver leans over and opens the passenger door and you feel oddly compelled to climb inside. The cabin is oddly spacious, and you lean back against the leather bench seat and try to make sense of why you feel so uneasy. 

“She don’t look like much,” the driver says, glancing at you sidelong; a hint of an ironic smile touches the corner of her lips. “But she’s the fastest ride you’ll find in the city, that much I can guarantee. Buckle in. And whatever you do, don’t look back.” 

“Wait, what?” 

She pulls the car into reverse, executes a 3-point turn to get out of the parking lot. At the edge of the lot, prepared to enter the on-ramp to the highway, she turns and fixes you with a cold stare. 

“That part’s not a joke. Don’t look back. Keep your eyes on the road. We’ll be there soon.” 

The car rolls forward, and you do as you’re told, keeping your eyes focused ahead of you. You can’t help but notice that there are no mirrors. You wonder how that’s legal, and think of asking the driver, when you catch the first glimpse of something strange. 

It flickers, just at the corner of your perception - some little ripple, like a mirage rising over concrete. 

“Don’t,” the driver says, before you give in to the urge to turn and look, and you force your head back against the seat and close your eyes. 

It does not feel like the car is moving. Even as the driver eases her way up the on-ramp and out on the highway, you never feel the sensation of the wheels moving beneath you. Instead, you have the odd feeling that the world around you is rushing past while the car itself stands still - like a car in an old Hollywood picture, the landscape projected behind it. 

But the images seem to pick up speed. Ahead, the road approaches at the general speed you’d expect for the highway; but off to the sides, in your peripheral vision, things seem to be moving much faster. They meld into a blur and vanish outside your line of sight. In your peripheral vision, you catch glimpses of motion, of flickering, like flame. 

You could swear you see other things, too, dark shapes prowling the edges of your vision; you have the skin-crawling prickling sensation of being watched. 

The driver maneuvers left, passing a car, and despite the instructions to keep your eyes on the road ahead, you can’t help but sneak a glance at the other vehicle. 

Its driver is a large man, dressed in business attire - but as your car rolls past, the flesh seems to melt from his face, rolling like candle wax down his collar and forming a puddle on the driver’s seat. All that’s left are muscles - and then, not even that, simply bones. Bare teeth and empty eye sockets, bony fingers curled around the steering wheel. 

The skull grins at you from behind the wheel, and you ignore the plea of your driver. You turn and look back over your shoulder. 

Behind you, the road has fallen away into nothing. Just behind the car’s rear wheels, the asphalt crumbles; within seconds of your departure, the road you had been traveling falls away into a dark pit. Beyond, like a sun low on the horizon, you make out the glow of fire. 

“I warned you,” the driver says, with a tone like regret. 

Behind the car, in the crumbling world, a thousand souls rise over the flames like escaping wind. The ghosts gather in the sky like smoke, circling overhead like water around a drain. 

The car around you vanishes. The road beneath you vanishes. Everything is gone - and then, just as abruptly, you’re gone too, your awareness snuffed out entirely. 

When you come to your senses, you find yourself behind the wheel of an old black Bentley, parked at the curb. A woman approaches your car, arms full luggage. 

“Get in,” you say, pushing open the door for her. “Wherever you’re going, we’ll get you there the fastest. Just don’t look back, whatever you do.” 

Tremors

Pairing:  Jumin X MC/Reader

Summary: The RFA and MC experience complications with their pregnancy.

Genre:  General, Fluff

Rating: PG (because apparently, I write Jumin sensually)

Word Count:  Approx. 1500

Protip: Listen to “Love Songs for Robots” by Patrick Watson.

He had always been protective of you.

When you told him about your surprise in 9 months, his eyes had brightened with such joy and love.  He had been overjoyed!  His beloved wife would be the mother of his child!

But Jumin being Jumin, the more precious something was, to him, the more effort he put into protecting it.  And he never seemed to know when he was going overboard.

He had Jaehee book all your doctors’ appointments, an architect for the nursery, and within a week of getting the news, had already started screening for a nanny.

“Husband, I’ll be home to care for the baby anyway,” you had said when you found out, annoyed.

“Wife, even I know child-rearing is taxing,” he countered, a slight smile on his lips.

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shiro week: day 7: AU

day one   day two   day three   day four   day five   day six   day seven

Ryou bonus

“I need an in, Black.”

He says it low, under his breath and less than a tic later the data is streaming across his vision.  He watches it, crouched low and hidden behind the corroded air unit that’s wheezing and clunking along, trying to make something breathable out of the thick miasma that hangs low tonight.  Routes highlight, past the guards, the scan units, past the bio-readers.  His eyes narrow and, for just a second, he lets himself tune out his surroundings and only see the glowing purple lines of neon across his sight.  Searching, searching - there!

He’s moving in the next second.  Off the roof and falling.  The buildings are pillars and the spaces between them are canyons, the ground so far below that some people live their whole lives without seeing it.  The wind screams past him as his weight carries him down, countdown silently screaming in his head until the light in the corner of his vision goes from an increasingly fast blink to a steady flare.  His arm shoots out, wires from his fingertips that catch the edge of a towering neon advertisement and his momentum from the way the wire catches and swings him takes him to the side of the building.  His other hand shoots out, catches a slender lip where the building divides floors.  The tension screams down through the muscles of his shoulder and across his back but he’s done so much worse and a second later he’s hauling himself up, using the surface of the building that decades of pollution have pitted to climb his way back up the short distance to the service door he’d been directed to.  It’s raining, as much as the sludge that falls from the sky can be called rain, oily and viscous.  It coats everything, making the climb harder but its also an advantage tonight because it coats the bio-scanner and he can pull off his glove and hold up his palm in front of it and be mistaken for one of the returning security drones when it manages only a partial read through the sludge across its lens.  Scanning the metal reading of his palm that scans as ‘Galra Tech Inc’ and doesn’t manage the details that its a stolen piece of tech.

Shiro is a stolen piece of Galra tech.

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One ride (Tfp Knockout x reader)

You hated being a human, especially when you were surrounded by great alien beings of immense power. They were tall, strong and capable fighters. You also had the same abilities but they were never taken into account when compared to their absolute mite. Maybe that’s the reason you weren’t thinking straight and ran through the ground bridge when Optimus gave the order to roll out. You were older than the teens, over 20 and with the start of a military career under your belt so you should have had this under control. Boy were you wrong.

As soon as you exited the ground bridge you realised you had set foot in a war zone, not just a war zone, an alien war zone. You tried to stay close to the autobots, remaining a little ways behind them so that they couldn’t see you but gave you cover. The regular Vehicons were there, firing their weapons unsuccessfully at the autobot ranks while a red Decepticon stayed behind the barrage of them. You had seen clippings of him on the monitors so you knew that this was the Decepticon medic known as Knockout, Bee had told you stories of the narcissistic Mech who cared more about his paint job then the actual cause. To be honest, he looked like a good person to mess around with, and with that thought your target was chosen. You rushed away from your comrades to a nearby rocky hill, easily scaling the harsh stone until you came to the top of the boulder. Taking aim with the gun you had holstered, you fired a shot which headed straight for the Con medic which flew past his helm, not before scratching his paint job however. His optics turned to see you standing proudly, fiery red burning in to your skin like you imagined the pits of hell to shine. It might have been mesmerising, if he wasn’t so pissed.

“You imbecilic fleshie!” He screeched while advancing towards you. You couldn’t move though, still entranced by his optics. Now that he was getting closer you could fully see the shine of his frame and the way it was reflecting the environment around it. “I waxed just this morning!” He yelled again as he stood in front of you now, servo chaining to a saw. “Any last words?” His voice held a small amount of amusement despite his anger, it was at that moment that you had realised he had an accent. A very compromising accent.

“Damn,” You finally said after a few moments while looking Knockout up and down. “Aren’t you enchanting.” You weren’t supposed to say that, why the hell did you say that?! The inner turmoil that was consuming you quickly went away as Knockout retracted his saw, his servo coming to rest to the side of your standing form as he lowered to your face level. An optic ridge was raised as he too looked you up and down, noting how you too were also above the ‘normal’ standards of Fleshies. You were immaculate, the bone structure in your face were high and angled. The skin was soft and supple from what he could see and damn were those optics of yours, like you said, enchanting.

“Not too bad yourself,” Knockout smirked as he saw the shock come over your face at his compliment, he could see the small changes in your face colour starting as well. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you around here before, Sweetspark, who might you be?” He questioned, his helm leaning closer to you so that you could get the inner working of the contraption and feel his hot ex-vent all over your body.

“I’m-.” You started but before you could finish a blur of blue crossed your line of sight as Arcee kicked Knockout away from you and stopped in a defensive position.

“Y/N get to the Groundbridge now!” She shouted at you before turning to fight the now armed Knockout who ran at her. This was no time to be arguing, you should be thanking Arcee for breaking you out of your trance. Thanking would have to wait though, right now you needed to scramble down the rock face and get through the swirling vortex at the bottom. Which is exactly what you did.

-:-

Fowler had not been happy when you had returned to base, you tried to explain your actions but the Agent had none of it and sent you home not five minutes after your return. That was where you were now, flicking through TV channels in your underwear and eating a chocolate bar while feeling sorry for yourself. You would have stayed there all night if the sound of beeping hadn’t sounded from outside your house. Upon inspection, you were surprised to see a cherry red Aston Martin parked in your driveway. The idea to ignore it sounded in your mind until another beep sounded through to your house. With a sigh you pulled on your favourite hoodie and made your way to the car, bare legs growing colder in the evening air.

“You’re kidding right?” You asked in a cocky manner, you expected Knockout to just transform and kill you then but you didn’t expect his passenger door to open to you.

“Not at all. Fancy a ride?” He asked seductively, you could have sworn one of his headlight flashed on and off quickly but you tried to dismiss the thought.

“I try not to make a habit of going on rides with Decepticons.” You replied with a sickly sweet smile, your arms crossing over your chest as you stared at the interior of the car.

“But I’m not just any Con, I’m the enchanting Con,” You could hear him smirk just by the sound of his voice, cocky ass hole. “Now come on, I haven’t got all night.” He stated impatiently as you raised your eyebrow at him.

“Why should I?” You asked him, leaning against his car door while still looking into the car. You might have been trying to get a rise out of him but you would never actually admit that.

“Do you not want to walk on the wild side?” He purred, you could feel the rev of his engine through the metal door as he spoke. This was probably the most dangerous position you had ever been in but it was such a thrill to taunt the medic. “Come on, you must want to know what it’s like to ride with the bad guy. I bet the adrenaline is already running through your body at the thought.” Damn he wasn’t wrong, getting into that car would have been the most thrilling way to end the night, not to mention the most dangerous way. Right now you needed a little danger, you needed to rebel after the incident today with Fowler and you didn’t care about the consequences. With one final sigh you slid in to the leather seat of Knockouts passenger side, the door closing on its own and the belt wrapping around you securely.

“Just one ride.” You told him sternly while pulling down the end of your hoodie self consciously.

“That’s what they all say Sweetspark,” Knockout began as he reversed out of your parking space. “That’s what they all say.”

Blue

This is one of the four entries I’m writing for @buckysmetallicstump‘s Disney Challenge! My prompt for this entry was #19: “Ohana means family, and family means no one gets left behind or forgotten.” -Lilo & Stitch. Quote will be in bold.

Song Inspiration: “BLUE” cover by OXEANZ (originally by Troye Sivan - read the author’s note)

Summary: Sometimes the best lessons are learned from Disney.

Word Count: 2400-ish

Pairing: Castiel x Reader

Warnings: SPN level injuries, language, first time writing Castiel (I feel like that should be a warning)

A/N: I just want to point out that I love love LOVE Troye’s original version. However, I remembered coming across this cover a while back and felt that the tone fit the story better. Plus, it really is a beautiful cover and if you haven’t heard it it’s honestly worth checking out. Here is a link to both versions if you’re interested:

Troye Sivan (Original): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ozKWaCgQxeI

OXEANZ (Female Cover): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BuZ8k462Gg4

From the first moment you found yourself staring into those electric blue eyes you knew you were a goner, and when you learned that he was an angel it had surprisingly been, well… unsurprising. The commanding power within his eyes and the sheer depth of their color was to beautiful for any human to possess. Sure, his body was technically only a vessel, but you were convinced that everything about that vessel had begun to shine brighter from the moment it was touched by the angel. Besides, the vessel was empty now. Castiel was completely and utterly himself, and you were completely and utterly in love with him.

Of course, you would never tell him that. He was an angel. You were a human. Thinking you had any kind of chance with him was a disillusion you didn’t bother to burden yourself with. You had accepted that a long time ago, happy to call the angel your best friend instead.

And he really was. You might have known Sam and Dean the longest, having spent a large chunk of your childhood being babysat by Dean when your parents were off on hunts, but with Cass it felt like there had never been a day you spent not knowing him. You had been able to open up to him about things you thought you’d never share with anyone, and it was easy. He listened, without judgement, and when he could he offered advice. But more often that not he realized that all you really needed was a shoulder to lean on. You had never been more yourself with anyone, and there were moments when you met his gaze that you realized he truly saw you.

Currently, you were curled up next to him in your room at the bunker watching Lilo & Stitch. That was one of the many things you loved about Castiel. He was always happy to watch endless amounts of Disney movies with you. Whenever you were lucky enough to get Sam and Dean to watch one it wasn’t without a series of complaints. But Cass never complained. Not once. He even seemed to enjoy them most of the time, and you for sure as hell enjoyed the time you got to spend with him.

All to soon the end credits began to role and you snuggled further into Cass’ side, letting them play out. “So Cass, what’d ya think?”

“I think this one has been my favorite.”

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Pretty Things

Member: Jeonghan
Genre: Angst (and a lot of it)
Word Count: 856


You never wondered what was on the other side of the ocean. You lived on the shoreline, and all of your friends were intrigued by the beautiful water. You, on the other hand, feared its secrets and mysteries. Who could tell what was under that sparkling surface? Besides, Mama said to “be careful of pretty things,” and Mama was always right.

Your day had gone so poorly. From spilling coffee all over your new and pricey white top, to tripping down stone steps, you had enough. To calm your nerves and get some well-deserved peace, you decided to take a nice walk along the beach. It was time for the sun to set, so the view in front of you was absolutely sublime. It was, for lack of better words, pretty.

Finding a smooth rock, you sat down and closed your eyes, taking in the cool sea breeze. It was quiet and so very serene. A perfect evening in your opinion. The sweet melody in the background made it all the more peaceful.

Your eyes shot open and you frowned. Singing? Where was it coming from? You were alone on the beach, as far as you knew, and your phone was still in the house. Your concern began to dwindle somehow, feeling safe with the singing. Your mind focused on the voice as you closed your eyes again. It was smooth and soft, yet powerful. It made your heart swell and your mind cloud. Despite the song being in a language you couldn’t understand, you knew exactly what was being said.

“My eyes see only you.”

“I am your future.”

And so, you did. Against the backdrop of a blood red sky, you saw a rock out in the middle of the horizon. You never remembered seeing it there before, but you did not care anymore. Perched on the rock was a boy, his mouth turning into a smile aimed directly at you. You were not sure what you felt, but fear was not one of them.

“Take one step closer.”

“Reach out, so we can save one another.”

You got up from the rock and moved towards the shoreline. The boy’s words and his vocal range pulled you to the water, and you felt yourself move closer to him. You began to get deeper and deeper, and the boy was getting closer and closer. His voice, his beautiful music, was getting louder and clearer. Your mind was getting cloudier as you got closer.

Eventually, you reached the rock, and waded next to it. The boy smiled beautifully and held out a hand. You took it and climbed up the rock.

The boy was an angel, a pristine version of the heavens sent to Earth. His blonde hair was long and free, past his shoulders. His hands were soft and perfectly fit with yours. His eyes were as if the creator combined the moon, the sun, the stars, and all naturally beautiful things in one. He was absolutely perfect, almost ethereal and unnaturally so.

“Who are you?” You asked, not letting go of his hand. His voice was melodic and had a rhythm that no human should possess.

“I am Jeonghan. And you are my prey.” Confused, you tilted your head. You felt the cloud in your mind begin to fade away, and with it, Jeonghan’s unnatural perfection.

His pale skin began to shimmer, as if becoming covered in scales reflected by the moonlight. His hair began to turn a menacing black, a shade you had never seen before. Jeonghan’s smile turned into a smirk, filled with sharp teeth. His voice became ominous and dark, while you saw the ocean ripple and reveal a tail where his legs should have been. With a gasp, you looked around. The shore line was almost out of sight, just a blur of lights on the horizon. Even if you managed to escape Jeonghan, what promise could you make to yourself that you would be able to navigate this far out in such darkness?

“N-no. Your song. No,” you panted. His eyes shone a bright sea-green, full of angelic innocence. But now, you knew. Your heart began to race, and you felt your lungs tighten. Cold water began to slap at your ankles. You were sinking into the darkness, and fighting it was futile: you were paralyzed on the rock. You turned your head to face the once-beautiful Jeonghan, who was singing once more.

“You were my past.”

“There is no warmth at all.”

His song was right, there was no warmth left for you to hold on to. How could he continue to sing so beautifully while you struggled and suffocated? As the water rose to your chin, your nose, your eyes, Jeonghan smiled again. He became the beautiful creature that led you into the darkness. His form became watery as you were pulled completely below the surface. Ice began to run through your veins, your lungs filled with water. But you could still hear Jeonghan’s melodic voice as it sung you to eternal sleep.

“Didn’t Mother tell you to be careful around pretty things?”

-t

Caught in a Storm

Pairing: Demon!Dean x Reader

Word Count: 4216

Warnings: Smut, fingering, blood kink, very slight dub!con, sex with strangers, unprotected sex, slight angst but not really.  

Summary: You’re on your way to a new school and new life when a freak storm and some bad timing lead you into the arms of a dark stranger. 

A/N: This is for @roxy-davenport SPN Birthday Celebration, it was a few days late but I think I like how it turned out. My prompt was the movie Susperia(1977), blood!kink, demon!dean x reader, and the quote “Was that supposed to scare me?”   

Covering your head with the back of your jacket, watching as the rain poured down around you, you rushed towards the door. It was late, and part of you doubted that anyone would be here to let you in. Still, it was going to be hard to find a hotel in a strange city in the middle of the night, while trying to navigate through the horrible weather. Knocking as loud as possible, your fist banging against the wood and pounding out a dull thud you could hear echoing inside. Closing your eyes, letting out a silent prayer that it was going to be noisy enough to rouse someone.

Pressing your face against the seam you tried to hear any signs of life coming from inside, but it was silent.

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The Regulars

Historia Reiss. Ymir. 

Flower Shop AU

Ymir buys flowers every Wednesday and the girl working the shop has definitely noticed.

1102

(ao3.)


There’s a shop on Ymir’s commute with the words Zacharius Flowers painted onto the front window.

Last week, Ymir was visiting the shop to grab some forget-me-nots. The week before that, it was a small cactus. On the very first day, it was a few hydrangeas and a vase to keep them in.

This week it’s violets, a small bouquet that Ymir can easily sneak home without suspicion.

Evidently, Ymir’s home is starting to get filled with much more flowers than necessary. But there is a good reason as to why she’s been picking up flowers on every Wednesday afternoon. Although it’s not just because they have a habit of keeping the place lively.

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You’re My Everything

Thank you so much to the nonnie that requested this, my first ever 40s Bucky fic, I really hope I did your idea justice and that you like it. It’s super long, I’m sorry I got carried away but I really hope you like this as much as I liked writing it, please let me know x

The title comes from this Al Bowlly song. Al Bowlly is seriously one of my most treasured singers who just so happens to have been around in the 1930s so this was quite fitting. Also this song influences some of Bucky’s dialogue towards the end, again from the 1930s.

You have no idea how much feedback means to me, so please do not be shy my little lovelies. 

Request: i was wondering if you could write something about 1940s Bucky? maybe about him making a bet to date the reader, i mean we all know he was a ladies man, but eventually falling for her and since i always need a bit of angst i thought like she could find out about the bet and got mad a bit maybe? i don’t know if it’s even clear but honestly it’s all up to you, i won’t mind it being different from the request.

Warnings: Bucky is a bit of an asshole, partly because of another asshole named Thomas making a bet with him about reader. A lot of angst when reader finds out this.

Words: c 3,840

*gif not mine!*


“What you honestly don’t remember her?” Steve sighed and Bucky looked at him incredulously.

“Steve, do you honestly think I could forget a dame who looked like that?” he quipped.

“Well I’m tellin’ ya punk she was in our class at school. She didn’t look like that then but I know it was her.”

“Wait, she was the girl who used to sit by herself at lunch and read right?” Bucky suddenly remembered, Steve simply nodded in acknowledgement.

Bucky let his eyes linger on you sipping on a lemonade in your best dress, hair perfectly curled and lips red.

People dancing blurred his line of sight from time to time but he kept his eyes locked on you.

“I wouldn’t waste your time fella,” Thomas who was standing beside Bucky suddenly spoke and Bucky looked questiongly at him.

“She won’t dance with nobody, fellas have been asking for weeks and she turns ‘em all down. We’re reckoning she wants to be a spinster.”

“Well maybe the right guy hasn’t asked her to dance yet?” Bucky smirked wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Or she’s frigid,” Thomas replied and in spite of himself Bucky found himself not quite able to laugh along with him.

“Do you remember her from school?” he asked Thomas, who took a sip of his drink before speaking again.

“Do I? She moved in when we were in what 11th grade? She didn’t speak to anyone, nobody really liked her.”

“She actually seemed quite sweet to me,” Steve interrupted and Thomas cut him off with a mocking smile.

“Maybe you should ask her out then?”

“No,” Steve muttered softly.

“Why don’t you try?” Bucky suggested to Thomas trying to divert the attention from Steve.

“Please,” Thomas scoffed “I have a reputation to maintain.”

“She’s not that bad,” Bucky sighed.

“Five bucks says you won’t go over there and ask her out to dance. Five more says you won’t ask her out to dinner.” Thomas was so smug that Bucky wanted to wipe the smirk right off his face, and a huge part of him felt like he wasn’t being a gentleman by letting Thomas run his mouth about you.

He downed his drink and turned to Thomas with an outstretched hand “Ten bucks?”

“Ten bucks,” he confirmed, shaking his hand.

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awesomemaple  asked:

KA, apodyopis? :D

Apodyopis – the act of mentally undressing someone

Oh.” Anna’s head slewed around, the floppy brim of her sun hat smacking her sister in the face.

“Ow!” Elsa straightened her sunglasses. “What?”

“Mm?” Anna was leaning over the railing so far that she was standing on her toes, the hem of her summer dress fluttering around her thighs.

“What are you staring at?”

“Huh? Oh! Umm, nothing.” Anna dropped back down onto her heels and smoothed her palms over her skirt. “Nothing, I just think I could use some air, I’m going to go down and walk on pier a little ways. I’ll be back in a minute!”

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The Blondie and the Hot One

A/U 

Enjoy! :)

“Okay, so you fall in love with the person of your dreams,”  Magnus said, glancing up from his phone to examine Cat’s face, “but your country’s leader goes crazy and everyone goes into poverty and dies of… starvation? That’s a little extreme.”

“Press the button,” Cat said. Her fingers found her water glass and she raised it to her lips, without ever breaking eye contact.

“Are you kidding me?” Magnus laughed. “You’re going to send an entire country into chaos because you fall in love?”

Cat nodded, taking a sip.

“True love can overcome anything,” Cat said.

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In the Back of the Alley [Chanyeol Vampire!AU: Pt.2/3]

Originally posted by yeollovemebaek

1 || 2

It was then you decided to struggle, when you could see how your life would end. And it sure as hell wouldn’t be by your vampire boyfriend. 

You wriggled and shoved and pulled, but only succeeded in making a manic, animalistic gleam come to Chanyeol’s scarlet eyes. In one large hand he seized both of your wrists and pinned them above your head, eventually utilizing his mass to push you against the wall.

“The more you struggle, the worse this is going to be for the both of us, jagi,” he warned solemnly, yet the corners of his mouth quirked up ferally, contradicting his implications. This time the gravity of Chanyeol’s threat got through to you, as you squeezed your eyes shut and prepared for your demise by vampire bite, of all things. “There’s a good girl,” he murmured, ghosting his lips over your rapidly pulsing arteries. You heard a sharp intake of breath by Chanyeol before two pinpricks stabbed into the side of your neck and a soft pair of lips created a seal over them, making your heart rate go haywire, much to his pleasure, as evidenced by his moan. Your eyes flew open, and you saw your boyfriend bent over you, his face buried in the crook of your neck, making contented sucking sounds every few seconds.

As Chanyeol’s lips continued to suck at your neck, the seconds began to stretch into individual infinities, making you dizzy and vitalized all at once. But just as you felt that revelation, the dizziness began to outweigh the surge of pleasure along with the throbbing drum beat of the aching on your neck. Sensing the imminent dangers of blood loss on your feeble body, you focused your blurring line of sight on the figure of the monster-no, your boyfriend, your Chanyeol- in front of you, you drummed up what was left of your draining strength and pushed at his firm chest to get him off so you could survive the night and tear Chanyeol a new one. Upon contact with his cold body and your application of force, your boyfriend turned beast growled at you, the growl of a panther warning other predators from his kill. He crushed his body to your prone form on the wall further, prohibiting any more struggle as he drained the life from you.

In a few sluggish pulses of your heart, dizziness gave way to numbing exhaustion, causing black spots to dance in front of your vision and your body to slump. Had it not been for Chanyeol’s body forcing you to the side of the building, you was sure you’d have collapsed by now.

Chanyeol must have sensed this crumble of your strength, as he released the grip on your mouth and your wrists, replacing his hands on you hips to support you. Slowly, he peeled his body from yours, not breaking his connection with your neck. As your body slid down the wall, Chanyeol used his grip on you to ease you down until you were sprawled under him, propped up against the brick.

Just as your eyelids drooped to accommodate the ever-growing darkness, Chanyeol removed his face from your dully throbbing neck, giving a cooling lick to the aching wounds he had created. A cool, pale hand rose to stroke the side of your cheek, his thumb brushing in gentle circles. It might’ve been from the lack of blood, but you felt placid in his embrace, reassured by his soft touches.

At the same moment, two shadows detached themselves from the alley wall beyond the two of you and distributed themselves in a manner that clearly meant no room for you or the vampire hovering above you to slip past. Even through the haze of hemorrhagic shock, you could tell that they weren’t lost. There was a coordination to the way they spread themselves, and the way that they advanced upon the two of you crouched against the wall that signified a common goal. You gasped slightly, nothing more than a slight inhale in your condition, trying to alert Chanyeol to the dangers that lay ahead.

He placed a hand against your cheek, and pecked your lips chastely. “Doing great so far, jagiya, don’t worry, alright?” he reassured you, not picking up on your signal. By this point, your fear and anger directed at Chanyeol had dissipated, replaced by only a dazed sense of acknowledgement that compelled you to give a shaky nod, placing a hand on your still bleeding neck, and turned your attention to those who stalked down the alley towards you.

Stiffening as he inhaled, scenting the intruders and realizing the situation, Chanyeol rose, turning his back to you, and focused his gaze on the approachers, standing in front of your slouched form in a subtly defensive pose. “Gentlemen,” he greeted them coolly, with a razor sharp undertone that was undetectable to you.

The other men picked up on the undertone, and found it amusing, judging by their twin derisive chuckles. “Someone’s found themselves a mate, haven’t they?” one sneered.

“And a meal,” the other added, scenting your blood on the damp breeze. “Mind if we steal her for a quick bite?”

The two circled around the two of you, in what looked like an attempt to see your face, but Chanyeol made a seemingly casual shift that kept your body out of their line of sight, also keeping you from seeing them.

“Sorry,” Chanyeol refused easily, as if he were talking about passing on a trip to a bar instead of you and your life. “I’m afraid I’ve about tapped her.”

One leaned to the left of him and caught a glance of you, looking you up and down. “She looks like she’s got enough life left,” he noted with a sharp edge, the edge of hunger, you realized dimly.

“Maybe I didn’t make this clear,” Chanyeol corrected smoothly, his tone like honey over a bed of sharp rocks, only barely tampering the razor sharp bite behind his words, clear even to you. “She’s mine. And I’m not the sharing type,” he growled.

“You’re barely a month old,” the one on the right scoffed. “What’s to keep us from taking her from you? We’ve got over a millennium between the two of us.”

“Sheer willpower? Possessiveness?” Chanyeol offered in a tone that you knew meant he was smirking cockily, shifting into a fighting pose to back up his statement. “Take your pick. Either way, you’re not getting near her.” 


I love cliffhangers. Don’t you?

-Admin A 

pc-the-unicorn  asked:

73 Laserbladeshipping (Clemont x Korrina)

Korrina savors the days when she’s the only one in the Shalour Gym. For one thing, she can go as fast as she wants around the skating rink, and for another, she can say whatever she wants.

Dragon, Ghost, Ground, Flying / Poison, Bug, Water, Electric, Rock, Grass, Dark,” she sings, windows and lights passing back in her line of sight in a blur. “Ice, Normal, Fire, Fighting / Steel, Psychic, Fairy!”

A snicker catches her off-guard and she quickly comes to a halt before she slams into a grind bar. She whips her head around to see Clemont standing nearby, looking somewhat pleased.

You weren’t supposed to laugh!” Korrina shouts, her voice echoing. “I’m so embarrassed!

“You don’t need to be,” assures Clemont, stepping over to her. “It shows you’ve been keeping up with your studies.”

Korrina scowls. She had forgotten she had a tutoring session today. “I told Grandpa that I don’t need to do this! I’m a Gym Leader and a Mega Evolution Successor!”

“Gurkinn disagrees,” says Clemont evenly, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of her, his robotic Aipom Arm already removing books from his backpack. “Now, shall we get started?”

“Hmph…” Korrina huffs, not about to let him know that she was actually looking forward to this.

Relearning (Part One)

Title: Relearning (Part One)

Word Count: 2,755

Warnings: swearing, angst, slight violence 

Summary: Reader goes on a hunt with the Winchesters and gets hurt very badly in the head. She slips into a coma and Cas fixes her. Reader wakes up with no memory of the Winchesters whatsoever.  

Pairing: [Dean x Reader] [Sam x Reader Friendship]

 

              Dean rested the palms of his hands against the wooden tabletop, his eyes scanning the research laid out in front of him. His lips were pursed together in a tight formation, his eyebrows creasing in concentration. “What if we’re looking at this wrong?”

              Both you and Sam glanced up from your own research, looking over at the eldest Winchester. “How so?” You questioned, your elbow falling onto your knee and chin reposing on the palm of your hand.

              Dean stayed silent for a few beats before pushing his weight up from his previous position, peering over to you and his brother. “I don’t think it’s a demonic omen we’re looking at. I don’t think it’s a demon at all,” he informed, crossing his arms across his broad chest.

              Sam’s brows knitted together in confusion, leaning himself back into his chair, his limbs stretching out to an extent. “What is it then?”

              Dean returned back to his research, pulling a chair along with him, plopping himself down into the stiff furniture. “I think it’s a Draugr.”

              You flicked an eyebrow into a steep arch, standing from your seated post and stalking over to Dean, gazing down at the research spread out. “A Draugr?” you repeated, studying the papers sprawled along the beaten down furniture.

              Dean cleared his throat before opening his mouth to speak. “Uh yeah. It’s an Icelandic Ghoul basically. I’ve never dealt with one personally but dad did back when Sam and I were kids.” Dean flipped aimlessly through his father’s old, leather-bound journal, halting his search when he came upon the page he desired. You turned your attention onto the book, reciting the words scribbled along the crumbled pages in your mind. “It would make sense on how an entire section of that town back in Illinois was infected with a demonic disease. It would make sense how a damn cat killed its owner simply laying on it while the owner slept. Literally crushed to death. And it makes sense with all the livestock mutilations.”

              “How do all of those make sense to you? They have absolutely nothing in common,” you pointed out, crossing your arms and pressing them against your chest, shifting your weight onto your left foot and jutting your hip out. Dean shoved the journal into your hands, pointing to a section on the page silently, raising an eyebrow. “Icelandic Ghouls, also known as the Draugr. (Draugar for plural.) Superhuman strength, can increase/decrease size at will, shapeshift, see into future, control the weather. Very heavy. Can enter dreams of the living, curse a victim and bring disease to villages. Immune to weapons. Two ways to kill them: pushing it back into its grave or cut off its head, burn the body, and dump the ashes into the sea. Livestock, mostly sheep, are targets for the Draugr.” You read word for word what John Winchester had wrote along the paper. “Huh.”

              Dean pressed the rim of his beer bottle to his lips, taking a large sip of the alcoholic beverage. “They’re very rare. I’ve only come across about two other hunters that’s dealt with one of these suckers.”

              “It sure is a specific way to kill ‘em,” Sam piped in, looking up to face his brother. “I mean throw the ashes into the sea? There’s no body of water anywhere near us.”

              “We could flush ‘em,” you spoke, closing the book shut and setting it down onto the table. You reached over to grab your own drink, taking a long swig of it. The beer slid down your throat with a slight burning sensation, the drink satisfying to you. Your eyes darted back and forth from Dean to Sam, an eyebrow raised. “Either that or we drive 300 plus miles just so throw the damn things in the sea.”

              Dean shrugged in response. “Either way, I think I know where it is.” He pushed away a few books and papers away from a large map of Illinois. “All attacks are centered around this stretch of forest.” He his left pointer finger directed to a part of the map with a large, red circle drawn.

              Both you and Sam nodded in response to his words. You set your beer down onto the table before marching over to your duffel bag, checking to make sure you had all your supplies. Once satisfied, you pivoted around on your heel, arching an eyebrow. “Well? You guys ready to torch the sucker and send him on his merry way down into the sewers?”

 ***

              You crouched down, your machete and blow torch in both hands. You peered around the corner of the room, your eyes darting around the quarters. The boys and you had come across an abandoned house about five miles into the woods, only to find out that the ghoul had resided there. The stench of rotting corpses of mutilated livestock and probably human flesh brought an unpleasant feeling to you, causing your nose to cringe in disgust. Blood trickled along the walls; some streaks fresh and others dried up. The Winchesters decided that the best plan was to split up: Sam taking the back, Dean taking the front, leaving you to explore the old tornado shelter, other known as the basement. Sam had offered to come with you, but you quickly shoved his gesture off, saying how you could handle it by yourself.

              Your grip tightened against your weapons, inhaling deeply to try to calm yourself down. Hunting had always been an easy task for you, but for some reason you had an off feeling tonight. You fixed your posture to standing in an upright position, rounding the corner only to come in close contact with your target. The Draugr was a towering figure, almost resembling a man, though its skin was a pale blue hue that matched its glowing eyes. Its body was thin, its bones jutting out. Its breath was hot and sticky against your face. Before you were able to react, its hand clasped around your neck, staring at you coldly before flinging your body against the opposing wall. You yelped out in pain, your body falling limply onto the concrete flooring. Your head pounded and vision blurred, black dots dancing across your line of sight. An ear piercing ring sounded in your eardrums, your eyes growing heavy. Blood oozed down the back of your shirt from the new wound on the crown of your head. Blackness engulfed you, the last thing you hearing was your name being called and the sound of a fire burning.

***

              The white walls and bright lights were becoming far too familiar to the Winchesters. The cold, watered-down coffee and doctors and nurses patrolling the corridors were becoming far too familiar. Far too familiar. Dean stared at the tiled flooring in front of him, his hands falling limply into his lap. His eyes were fixated on nothing, though he gave the impression to be lost in thought. But in reality, his mind was empty. He felt numb. He wished he felt frightened and angry and sad. He wished he would feel something. But instead, the eldest Winchester felt absolutely nothing.

              Sam’s eyes were fixed on his brother, his facial expressions soft and eyes filled with fear. Sam felt frightened and angry and sad. He wished he couldn’t feel anything. He wished he felt numb. He wished he didn’t have the pang of guilt firing in his gut, his mind screaming at him. “You should have gone with her. It’s your fault why she’s here. You should have never left her alone. It’s your fault if she dies!” Sam winced at his own remarks, tearing his gaze away from Dean. His jaw was clenched tightly, angry tears filling to the brim of his hazel eyes.

              “Family for Maddie Weston?” a man called out, Dean and Sam darting their attention onto the man in white, recalling the name they used as an alias for you. The brothers stood from their chairs, Dean hurriedly rushing to the doctor’s side while Sam staggered slowly, his knees growing weaker and weaker with each step.

              “Is she alright?” Dean inquired, his evergreen eyes drowning in a pool of hope, something the hunter rarely had swimming in his irises. Sam stayed silent, staring at the doctor, his heart pumping faster and faster.

              The doctor peered down to his shoes then back up to the brothers. Not a good sign. The doctor paused a moment before opening his mouth to speak. “The swelling in her brain is quite severe. It’s a wonder why she even survived the injury. I fear that Miss Weston has fallen into a coma, and we’re not sure if she’ll awaken or not.”

              Sam’s knees buckled beneath his weight as he stumbled backward, his body falling into a chair. His head bowed, his hands raking through his long hair. Dean remained where he was, his stare hardening. “She might not wake up?”

              The doctor inhaled slowly, withdrawing a long string of air. “It’s unlikely that she will. You both are free to see her if you wish. My deepest condolences.” And with his final words, he turned on his heel and stalked out of the waiting room, leaving the brothers to their own thoughts.

              Dean glanced over at his brother, slowly licking his top lip and desperately trying to swallow the large lump forming in his throat. “Come on, Sammy,” he spoke, barely above a whisper, leisurely venturing down the hallway to your room. Sam shakily stood from his spot, lazily following his brother, his eyes glued to the floor.

              Dean placed a trembling hand on the door handle, twisting it and releasing, the door swinging open. Whatever image he had in his head of you in a hospital bed never would have been the scene he saw before him. Your skin was paler, a breathing tube shoved down your throat. Cuts coaxed your face and machines were connected all around you. An IV was stuck in your forearm. A heart monitor was to your left, the beeping of your heart echoing in the other than that silent room. If the heart monitor had not indicated you being alive, Dean would have pronounced you dead. Easily.  

              Sam walked up to your sleeping form, touching his large hand to your forearm, indicating to you that he and Dean were here, and they weren’t going anymore. “Hey, Y/N,” he greeted solemnly, surprising himself that he was able to speak clearly. Sam peered his eyes up quickly to face his brother, exchanging a soulful glance before returning to you. “Dean and I are here. And we’re not going anywhere…” Sam smiled sadly to you, though it immediately shifted into a tight line. “I promise.”

              Dean cleared his throat, drawing Sam’s attention onto him. “Hey, Sammy… can you give me a moment alone with her?”

              “Yeah, yeah of course. I’ll be outside if you need me.” He patted your arm with affection before walking out of the room, the door clicking behind him.

              Dean remained silent for the pressing moments, grabbing the chair against the wall and bringing it to the side of the bed, falling limply into it. He stared at you with caring eyes, though dots of fear indeed coaxed the evergreen shade. Once Dean laid eyes on you in your hospital bed, the numbness was replaced with a deep sadness and fear. Fear of losing you. He would never be able to forgive himself.

              “I think about our first hunt together a lot. Hell, I think about it all the time. It’s hard to believe that this was what… seven… eight years ago? It’s amazing how time goes by,” he babbled on. “God, you hated me when we first met. What did you call me? Right… a spineless horny douchebag. Can’t really disagree with you, can I?” He released a dry chuckle from his chapped lips, gliding his tongue along across his top lip in attempts of moistening it. “I watched you and Sam bond so… easily. I only played along to the hate charade to so I wouldn’t appear weak. Pathetic, I know.” He sniffled quietly, taking his hand into yours. “But it’s amazing what time can do for us, ya know? I realized how much I actually cared for you. I only went along with the games so you wouldn’t think I was weak. That I didn’t fall for someone easily. But man, if I’m being brutally honest here, I did. I did fall hard. Hard and fast. I hated myself for it.” Dean leaned forward in his chair, wiping away an escaped tear with his thumb. “I told myself that I couldn’t fall for you. I couldn’t let myself get close to anyone else. But I did. And I’m so glad I did.” He hoisted himself up from his position, leaning over your sleeping figure and planted a soft kiss on your forehead. His salty tears padded against your pale features, leaving a small track of tears streaming across your cheek.

              Dean fixed his posture, staring down at you before peering up to the ceiling. “Cas? God I hope you have your ears on,” he began, dragging his hand down his face to dry away his tears. Dean stepped away from your bed, pacing around your room. “I don’t know what to do, man. I can’t lose her. Man, she’s my girlfriend. My best friend. My girl. I can’t keep losing people, Cas. Please… I’m begging you, dude. Help her.” Dean’s eyes fell to the ground, his eyelids enclosing to create the illusion of darkness. But the sound of fluttering wings caused him to open his eyes once more, coming face to face with Cas.

              In silence, Cas slowly approached you, pressing his fingers gently to your forehead. Dean stared in awe, hope riving within his veins.

              “She will be alright.” Cas informed shortly afterwards, gazing over at the eldest Winchester. “She’ll awaken in a short while. Give her time to heal.”

              Dean stayed frozen to his place, his eyes darting from you to Cas. “Thank you, Cas. Thank you so much.”

              The corners of Cas’s lips twitched into an unsteady grin as he bobbed his head.

   Dean smiled widely, mostly to himself, as he walked over to his chair once more, plopping his weight down and grasping onto your hand. He did not need to speak words, for his actions spoke for him. Sparkle erupted in his evergreen hues. His smile was radiating. He was the happiest he could be.

 ***


                 A short while later, your eyes slowly fluttered open. You squinted at the blinding light, allowing your pupils to adjust before opening them fully. Your gaze darted around the unfamiliar environment, your mind growing weary. Where were you? What happened? You turned your head to the left to see a stranger sitting next to you with his head bowed, a soft snore sounding through his lips. Who was he? A hoarse cough vibrated through your chest, stirring the man beside you awake.

              The stranger’s eyes burst with life as he stared down at you. He leaned over, gripping down onto your hand with his, a large smile on his face. “Thank God you’re okay, Y/N,” he murmured, pressing his lips onto your pounding temple.

              You grew confused, your eyebrows furrowing with the contact of his lips. He parted, staring down at you with loving eyes before calling two boys in by the name of Sam and Cas. The men answered his call by stepping into the room shortly after, a proud gleam radiating from the taller man. But the man dressed in the trench coat’s head tilted to the right, his blue irises filling with concentration. “Something’s wrong,” he muttered, approaching you.

              You slowly sat up as if you were attempting to back away from him. You swallowed hard, your heart monitor slowly beginning to spike to a rapid beating. The man stopped his approach, his mouth hanging open slightly.

              “What’s wrong?” the man standing next to you asked the one in the trench coat, glancing back and forth from you to him. “Cas, what’s wrong?”

              “Sam, go tell Y/N’s doctor she’s awake,” the man in the trench coat—Cas—instructed to the taller man—Sam. Sam stared at you for a few extra beats before rushing out of the room.

              “Cas, what is it?” the unknown male inquired, stepping forward to Cas, his face stern and written with slight fear.

              But before Cas was able to reply, you opened your mouth to speak.

              “Who are you?”

***

So this is the first one shot that I wrote! I hope you liked it! Request things! Yay.

fic: i’m coming for you and your simple existence

septiplier // Part 1 of the Prequel to my Hitman/Soulmate AU // based on @earthbooty’s Criminal AU art

Author’s Note: This is a prequel to the other pieces I’ve written in this universe, and it details the story of how Mark and Jack first met. This is only part 1, but the second part will be forthcoming very, very soon. I hope you enjoy and I’d like to know if you have any other ideas you’d like to see me add to this universe! I really appreciate feedback!

If you prefer to read on AO3, here.

Part 2 of the prequel: here 

Other parts: 1st, 2nd

Summary: Most soulmates don’t meet in bed at gunpoint.


Jack peeks out the window of his cabin in the woods with trembling fingers, and braces himself for the stuff of nightmares.

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How Shall I Keep You?

Okaayyy so I am SUPER nervous to post this because this is hands down the darkest, most disturbing thing I have ever written. MAJOR WARNINGS on this it creeped me out even WRITING it. This was largely inspired by the MySpace AU (though it is not set in the MySpace AU) and there is vivisection, blood, gore, and Hux straight up KILLS Kylo, I’m not joking DO NOT READ THIS if you are squeamish this is NOT a “fun” piece it is a dark and disturbing bit of horror fiction PLEASE heed the warnings. Dedicated to @greedlingtrash for getting me down this damn rabbit hole :D

Setting: Star Wars Universe, Post Force Awakens
Rating: Excplicit
Pairing: Hux/Kylo Ren
Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, GORE, GURO, DEATH/MURDER
Summery: General Hux has turned against the First Order’s Supreme Leader, killing Snoke in a grand coup to seize power and control within the Order. Unfortunately Kylo Ren did not side with him, and he awakens after battle to find himself paralyzed and at the mercy of the very crazed and power hungry Hux….

His eyes fluttered open, reality a blur of colour for a brief moment before it was brought into focus. He could see Hux standing over him, and for one breath it was a comfort. The bright orange of the man’s hair contrasted with the jet black of his uniform the first thing he saw before the blurred lines sharpened to show his face. A familiar sight, welcome in the midst of the fog that clung to his mind like cotton. As his mind sharpened in tandem with his sight, however, he remembered with a rush that this was no longer a friendly face.

Memories came screaming to life in his mind like a tidal wave. He remembered the rush of the Force through his veins, the propulsion of power as he fought. Images sprang to him of the red flash of his lightsaber and the smell of burnt flesh. Kylo Ren was strong, powerful. He was more than a match for most of the First Order turncoats that he fought off like a swarm of angry insects. Death and blood had been all around him, the bitter sting of rage and betrayal still coursing through him. And he remembered the sight of the man who had orchestrated this coup, standing just a little ways distant. The treacherous General who had killed his Master.


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