i worked har on this so i think it should get some notes

[Book review]- Korean Grammar in Use (Advanced)

The “Korean Grammar in Use” series is one of the resources I recommend the most when people ask me which resources they should (or shouldn’t) use to study Korean. That is not to say that it’s flawless, but it’s solid for sure. If you want to start diving into advanced grammar or are looking for something to supplement your other advanced grammar resources, here are a few good and bad things about “Korean Grammar in Use (Advanced).”

NOTE: A lot of what I say here, especially in regards to the formatting of the book, will be applicable to “Korean Grammar in Use (Intermediate)” as well since the books follow the same format. I imagine that this also holds true for the beginner edition as well, but I can’t say for sure since I’ve never actually read a copy.


One of the good things about the KGIU series is that it is available not only in English but also in other languages like Mandarin and Japanese. If you’re a native speaker of one of those languages and would like a more comfortable read, or if you’re learning one of those languages and would like to tackle learning Korean through one of your second languages, this could be really beneficial! A lot of Korean grammar resources are printed in just one language, so having editions in multiple languages is a plus.

As for the content, I find that KGIU’s explanations are fairly clearly written and easy to understand in both Korean and English. The initial description of the main function(s) of each grammar point is succinctly introduced and is usually accompanied by a table showing you how to conjugate the grammar point properly. Any specific limitations, extra usages of the grammar, or just other important things to know or remember then appear in the “더 알아볼까요?” section. After all is read and done (har har har), you’ll have quite a bit of information to work with! Compared to other sources I have used, I would say that “Korean Grammar in Use (Advanced)” is usually the most detailed when describing the usage of each grammar point, but the way in which that information is introduced and formatted doesn’t leave the reader feeling like they’re being barraged with too much at the same time.

Within the “더 알아볼까요?” section is another sub-section that I think is worthy of its own special mention. In the “비교해 볼까요?” sub-section, KGIU shows and breaks down grammar points that either look similar to the target grammar or have similar meanings (or both) and explains how each is similar and different with the target grammar. While other sources that I’ve used will usually mention things like “This grammar form can be switched with X form” as necessary, they don’t tend to have comparisons like KGIU does. Another excellent feature and a reason why I recommend this series~

Wrapping up the positives for this book is the amount of practice questions. Each grammar form has at least two pages of practice questions accompanying it, which is more than other books I have used. The exercises are fairly simple but effective, usually involving choosing the appropriate word for a sentence from a word bank and using it with the target grammar to complete the sentence, or changing or combining sentences using the target grammar. At the end of each section—the book is divided into sections of grammar with similar meanings and/or usages—there are also some extra multiple choice questions to check if you have properly understood the differences between the forms.

Finally, on to some things that are specific to “KGIU (Advanced)” and not the series as a whole!

(Okay, this isn’t really specific to the advanced edition, but this is almost certainly a non-issue for intermediate and beginner learners, so…) A lot of advanced grammar resources are written purely in Korean, whereas “KGIU (Advanced)” uses first Korean and then English for its grammar explanations and example sentences. Depending on how you look at it, this could be a good thing or a bad thing. If you are working on removing English totally from your studies, and think having the English translations right there might be too distracting, this might not be the book for you. However, if you aren’t quite yet comfortable reading grammar explanations in Korean but want to give it a shot and be able to check yourself, this is excellent. Depends on what you’re looking for!

Another thing to be aware of—and this really applies to all advanced Korean grammar study materials—is that you will often find yourself questioning the usefulness of grammar you encounter. Once you get up to that level, the remaining grammar left to learn is largely grammar that crops up in mostly literature or more formal settings like news and business presentations, etc. More than once I have asked a friend or coworker to help clarify a grammar point only to be met by “Why are you learning that?? I don’t think I’ve ever personally used that in my life!” Of course, they still know what it means, so while you might not find yourself using some of these grammar forms much, you still might encounter them and need to know what they mean. This isn’t really a good thing or a bad thing; just how it is!

Overall, I’m a big fan of the KGIU series, and I would wholeheartedly recommend them to anyone looking for a strong source for learning Korean grammar :)

Happy studying, everyone~!

Mac Ruaidh - Part Five

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four


Jamie raised his head as Willie repeated the syllable in various volumes as Sabrina approached the field where Jamie had one of the work horses harnessed to the drum that spread manure.

For a moment his heart lurched as the sun dipped behind a cloud and Sabrina’s hair darkened. In another world he would be doing this at Lallybroch and it would be Claire coming to check on him with their bairn in her arms––though Claire would be sure to have a wee basket over her arm for her herbs as well.

He coaxed the horse to a stop and let the creature rest as he watched the wet nurse carry a squirming Willie closer. He pulled off the pair of gloves he wore while working and tucked them into the back waistband of his breeks; they could make it trickier to maneuver with the stiff fingers of his hand but it was easier to use them than worry about how filthy he was whenever he found a chance moment to see Willie during the day.

The little legs kicked and straightened as Willie’s arms reached for Jamie. The lad had mastered the art of pulling himself up to stand but any steps still required the assistance of adult hands or something solid to hold onto for balance. Jamie caught him under the arms and lifted him high, both father and son smiling and laughing in their customary greeting. Then Jamie settled Willie in his arms and kissed his forehead. Willie smacked his lips together and made a kissing sound to himself as he’d taken to doing in response.

Jamie turned to Sabrina as Willie started to pick at the sweaty collar of his worn shirt. The woman smiled but exhaustion and exasperation were written over her face.

“She was there again,” Sabrina said quietly.

Jamie bit his cheek as he reflexively clenched his teeth.

“He was just waking from his nap and I’d gone to get him some food. She was free with her opinions on your choosing to wean him so soon.”

Jamie rolled his eyes and rubbed Willie’s back. “Da?” the little voice asked until he looked down at him. Willie pointed at Sabrina who smiled. “Beena.”

“Aye, mo chiusle,” Jamie nodded and smiled. “I’ll be finished wi’ this field in another ten minutes. If ye dinna mind fetching me something to eat, I’ll meet ye down by the stables and we can see how Willie here likes it.”

Sabrina nodded and reached to take Willie from Jamie. Willie clung to Jamie and started to fuss. “Nononononono, Daaaaa.”

“It’ll be fine, lad,” Jamie coaxed. “Ye’ll want to watch me wi’ the horses later, aye? I need to finish here first. Can ye tell me what a horse says?”

“Neeeee,” Willie droned baring six little teeth––two on the top and four on the bottom––nestled in his gums.

“Tha’s right,” Jamie encouraged.

“And what about the cows?” Sabrina took over, drawing Willie’s attention away from Jamie and starting to walk back to the house.

“Ooooooo,” Jamie heard as he slipped his gloves back on and returned to his work.

He would need to find the right way to have a word with Dunsany about his wife and the way she was interfering with Willie; the other servants were starting to talk about her attachment to the lad and her mourning for Geneva was losing its effectiveness as a means of explaining it away. It had been over a year and they thought it a shame hadn’t found more comfort in her remaining daughter who was becoming a young woman in her own right and could do with more attention and guidance from her mother.

Sabrina was the one to suggest getting William out of the house more.

“Out of sight, out of mind,” Jamie agreed. So Sabrina had taken to bringing William outdoors for walks when the weather permitted and to observe Jamie at work with the horses. As the boy grew and became more active, the question of who should watch him during the day began to grow as well.

“Lady Dunsany will want to provide you with a proper nursemaid for the boy,” Sabrina noted one evening. She had been corresponding with her sister in London who was expecting her fourth child and was trying to find a delicate way to ask for help.

“I’ll find a way,” Jamie frowned. “I dinna want to give her more influence on him if I can help it––not that I’m no grateful to her and Lord Dunsany both,” he added hastily, “but it willna do for Willie to grow accustomed to such things.”

“You mean to have him with you?” Sabrina’s question came slowly, the skepticism leaking from the pauses.

“I’ll find a way,” Jamie repeated with greater determination.

And as he went about his work in the following days, Jamie had examined his tasks and tried to think of ways he could have William about while he accomplished them. Jenny managed to run Lallybroch with only a little help and a flock of bairns about her; there had to be solutions that would work for him as well.

Having finished the field and brought the work horse back to the stable to rest and eat, Jamie slipped up to the loft where he’d stashed the pieces of his solution. He had them secured in place on a shaded patch of grass a short distance from the paddock fence where he’d be working with some of the younger horses during the afternoon.

Willie’s squeals drew Jamie over to help Sabrina as she struggled to carry both the child and a small basket of food.

Jamie deposited Willie into the small penned in area and then helped Sabrina spread out a blanket and the basket to see how Willie reacted to the constraints of his own paddock.

He crawled over to the small fence wall and peered through the gaps in the slats to see Jamie and Sabrina. Finding them, he giggled triumphantly and stuck his hand through to try and reach them. His senseless babbling got louder as he realized he couldn’t get to them. Jamie bit his lip nervously as Willie pulled himself up using the fencing until he stood and could peer over the top edge. “Da! Da-da,” he called, slapping the smooth wood with the flat of his hand. He became fascinated by the grain of the wood and started poking it with his finger, tracing the lines and following it to the corner where that first piece of low fencing joined to another.

Jamie watched the wall sway a little under Willie’s weight as he held to it for balance but the structure held and so far, Willie appeared to be safely contained.

“It works,” he declared quietly to Sabrina.

“Don’t speak too fast; it’s only a matter of time before he tries to climb it,” she warned then laughed at the look of fear and exasperation that crossed Jamie’s face at the thought.

“Beena, Beena, neeee!” Willie cried pointing to one of the horses that had come to investigate at the paddock fence.

Jamie got up and plucked a fistful of grass to bring over and offer the inquisitive mare. When he turned to look back at Willie, he noticed that the lad had bits of grass stuck to his lips and was pushing something around his mouth with his tongue.

“What do ye think ye’re doing, Willie?” Jamie asked. Willie stuck his tongue out and started spitting to rid himself of the blades of grass he’d attempted to eat. Unsatisfied with how long it was taking, he tried to claw them out with his dirty fingers and nearly gagged. Jamie picked him up and wiped the lad’s mouth with the cuff of his shirt. “It’s not so bad when ye’ve got the proper teeth for it but you’re prone to wind enough wi’out tryin’ to digest grass––and ye can trust me on that as I’ve personal experience.”

He kissed Willie on the head before setting him back down in the enclosure, listening for the little smack of Willie’s lips in reciprocation.

“She’s not going to like it,” Sabrina reiterated. “But… I think we can work on getting Willie to adjust. You’ll need a way to carry him with you that will leave you with your hands free.”

“My sister used to carry a bairn strapped to her chest while she went about her kitchen but tha’ was when they were wee things. Willie willna keep still enough I dinna think,” Jamie frowned.

Sabrina’s brow furrowed. “Once he starts walking he’ll be able to help you with small tasks. As long as you’re mindful to his being there, the boy should do fine and not be too much underfoot. He’ll learn his place from you well enough, I imagine… You’re good with him and he responds to you.”

Jamie felt himself flush and ducked his head, fishing in the basket Sabrina brought for some bread and bringing it over for Willie to gnaw on instead of the wooden slats of his pen.

“Even if what ye say is true… I remember how much grief I gave my father wi’ gettin’ into trouble. Well-intentioned or no, I expect you––my wee man––to be the same.”

Aware he was being talked about, Willie grinned broadly holding tight to the crust of his bread.

Looking down into the face of his smiling son, Jamie’s heart clenched with that bittersweet mix of joy and sorrow. The child Claire had carried would be so much older than Willie by now, and yet, once… once he––or she––had been this small, had smiled at Claire this way and held the promise of so much mischief in his––or her––eyes. 

“What would Claire make of ye?” Jamie whispered as he reached out and brushed the brown locks from Willie’s forehead. As Willie held out the crust of bread for Jamie to share, he hoped that she would have loved the lad for his sake, for the comfort it gave Jamie every night to have the love of the lad close at hand.

“We’ll have it all figured out by the time ye’re needin’ to go to yer sister’s,” Jamie promised Sabrina. “And there’s naught Lady Dunsany can do to change my mind. I followed my da around to learn the business of a farm; Willie’s goin’ to do the same. What do ye say, mo chiusle? Do ye want to ken all there is to know about horses?”


His - Part 2 (C.H.)

Originally posted by dimplelashton

A/N: I’m so glad that a lot of you liked the first part and I was really happy to see so many of you requesting for a second part. So, here it is :)

Masterlist || Ask

Part 1 | Part 3


“Maybe I’m just hard to love.”

“Well, would you look at that?” Phoebe told me as I switched my textbooks at my locker.

“What?” I ask without looking at her.

“You have anatomy next.”

I shut my locker and turned to face her. “Yeah, and…?”

She gave me an exasperated sigh. “You see Calum next period.”

“I also saw him this morning, yesterday, and on Friday.” I raised an eyebrow at her as if to say, ‘Your point?

She groaned. “Nevermind. I’ll see you later.”

I gave her a weird look. “Yeah, okay.”

We headed our separate ways for our next class. I walked into my anatomy class and sat at my usual seat towards the back. I surveyed the room and noticed that Calum wasn’t here yet. I shook my head slightly and got my things ready for the class to start.

Get a grip on yourself, Y/N. I scolded myself.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

So I submitted a similar ask to projectava but thogught I should share it with you. What if, Ryou, having went AWOL into space and was found by team Voltron, hears about how Shiro pilots the Black Lion with godlike grace and hides the fact he feels betrayed becuase Black is not something he made yet Shiro flies it just fan-fucking-tastically without Ryou's help?

hey nonnie!  I’m sorry, I just saw this and I suspect its been in my inbox for a while.  also going to tag @theprojectava since they were mentioned and might be interested.  I think you’ve got a very interesting point but can we just -

can you imagine Ryou’s reaction if he hears about Voltron before he sees it?  His brother is flying a WHAT now?  A - giant cat?  That turns into a  - Big Person if you add four Other Cats?  That - punches things?  With It’s Cat Hand?!  Like, let’s take a moment to just - appreciate the aesthetical sheer horror and straight up laughter Ryou would be torn between.

And then he sees it. 

….oh… then he sees it…

And he’s gone.  Over the moon.  Head over heels, lost at sea, utterly, completely in LOVE!  LOOK at the way it moves!  Look at how beautiful everything fits together!  Look at how sleek the lines (lions! har har) are.  Can he breathe it, taste it - touch it?!  Because he’s seen some amazing things since coming into space but - just plop him down in a hanger somewhere and let him stare for an hour or two without bothering him, will ya?  Ryou with his love of all things speed and flight and mechanical and you’ve just given him the lions.  He’s so smitten he’d have stars in his eyes forever.  ‘Taka! Do you even realize how Amazing she is?!’ (and yeah, Taka kinda does but he loves seeing his brother this way).

I mean, I’m sure there would be a quiet struggle period for him.  Taka has, in a way, moved on without him and left him behind and while he realizes Black is an upgrade from Little Magpie (SUCH an understatement and he knows it) - they still got left behind.  There’s going to be a period where he’s running to catch up, to find out where he belongs in Taka’s new world.  But, man, nonnie, if you thought he was bad before about talking to Little Magpie all the time and singing it songs and calling it Wonderful and filling it in on all the latest Garrison gossip and pouring his heart out to it… imagine him with one of the lions.  Imagine him with Black.  Because Black is Takashi’s and Takashi is Black’s and he feels his brother’s happiness (and pain) like its personal to himself.  If he managed to earn Black’s approval - how in utter over the moon love would Ryou be?  Let’s talk about someone to give Pidge a run for her money when it came to upgrades.  But really - if Black would show him even a fraction of her workings and mechanics - can you imagine Ryou responding to that kind of faith and trust.  Ships have always hummed for him before, but this one purrs, nonnie.  He doesn’t need what Taka and Black have and he’d never dream of intruding but - maybe he and Black would have something too.  Not the same but that’s the point.  And how they both love and want to protect Taka too…

Let’s end this note on a little angst though. 

Picture Black the way we last saw her, sprawled out and dead light on the hanger floor on her side.

Now picture Ryou sitting between two of her claws, long legs tucked up, as squished in there as he can get, face in his knees.

And the silence.

That forever silence.

anonymous asked:

Tips on how to make levels architecturally simple, to give the feeling of "Yes, the in-universe people built this with the intent of comfortably living/working here", instead of a complex maze, *BUT* still making it challenging for the player? I mean, how to do proper barrier and enemy placement (and other possible factors I didn't mention)?

In my experience, the best way to handle situations like this is to keep the enemies and the civilians separated spatially so that there aren’t as many difficult gameplay edge cases where fighting gets too close to the civilians. Then you can place the civilian NPCs in nearby spaces to convince the player to associate the idea of the area being populated mentally. You can do this by putting an area without action but with bystanders immediately before or near the action/combat scene to provide a sense of continuity, or you can include bystanders in the scene but in a location that is visible but unreachable by the player. Then the player’s mental continuity won’t be broken. Enemy and barrier placement principles don’t really need to change for this. Changing the way the environment looks is enough to make it work. Here, let’s look at some examples.

In Uncharted 4 after exiting the clock tower in Madagascar, Nathan Drake briefly navigates through a crowded marketplace. There’s no combat, there’s no bad guys, it is just an establishing environment where you see a lot of NPCs standing and walking around to provide ambiance. There’s a small cinematic to push the player to move forward towards another part of the city, and Drake moves in that direction. After crossing a certain point, however, an event triggers and enemies with guns show up, causing all of the NPCs to run away and leaving the streets empty for all but Drake, his ally Sully, and the enemies.

There are no longer any NPCs in the area, but the mental continuity with the previous scene is there and the player’s mindset is primed to believe that this area is lived-in and real. This whole area doesn’t actually have to be an open air marketplace, it just has to look sort of like one and the player’s brain will make that connection. The level designers can build the maze and barriers out of large and small objects normally found in a marketplace. This doesn’t really differ mechanically from other gunfight encounters in the game, but it looks sufficiently different visually that it feels like a different place. The feelings that the player experienced while going through the previous area transfer to the gunfight area because of all the other aspects that maintain that continuity. The player’s brain will accept it subconsciously.

Another method of doing this is by having specific areas designated for action near areas with NPCs. Final Fantasy XV does a pretty good job of this, especially in the city of Altissia. While exploring Altissia, the player sees people sprinkled all over the place. Night or day, you can see that they’re all busy doing things. However, there’s also the occasional monster that appears during a monster hunt. These monsters appear around the corners in the deserted back alleys and empty nooks and crannies of the city.

If you can keep the monsters in those areas away from the NPCs (possibly by just leashing them to the battle area), you can maintain the sense that the overall place feels lived-in and populated with secret battles like this happening in the shadows. The fact that there is a reasonable proximity to the NPCs minding their business while the architecture and visual design remains similar is enough to build the mental continuity necessary to associate the fights with a lived-in space. This kind of design lends itself to short, brutal battles in enclosed spaces.

A third example is using a different kind of proximity to build the idea of a lived-in space. This actually uses principles from Brutalist architecture - instead of letting the player move through areas that are populated by NPCs who live in the world, the designer places NPCs in areas that are inaccessible but visible to the player. The player sees the people going about their everyday lives and feels reassured that this area is not empty or lifeless, even if they are not observable from up close.

This way you don’t have to worry about bad interactions during fights because the player can never reach those places. In cases like these, invisible walls and seemingly-wide open architecture are your friends. You can still build your level as a functional maze, but instead of narrow corridors with solid walls, you use bridges, cliffs, railings, and other invisible walls to keep the player from reaching those other areas. I used example screenshots from Quantum of Solace: The Game for this principle, but I’m sure you can think of other games where the principle applies as well.

These are just a few ways to go about it. If you strip off all of the textures and materials from the levels until they’re basically just grey boxes, they’re still maze-like battlegrounds for the player to engage in combat. There’s always practically zero interaction between the civilian NPCs and combatants in all of these examples. However, you should note that the mental associations here are all built up by a sense of proximity. By placing civilian NPCs near the combatants and maintaining the same art style used for the environment, you create a sense of place in the player’s mind that has the mental association of the civilian living in the place. Human brains are primed to accept things they expect to see, so a good designer will harness that and ride it for all it’s worth.

Got a burning question you want answered?

FIC: Flying, falling

Rating: T
Pairing: f!Ryder/Vetra Nyx, pre-relationship
Word Count: 2,333
Summary: The adrenaline from driving around H-047C gives Ryder an idea. Vetra could use a break for something fun.
Notes: Post-‘Means and Ends’ (Vetra’s loyalty mission), pre-‘Hunting the Archon.’ No major main plot spoilers.
Also on: AO3


Suit up? Got something I could use your help with.


Vetra didn’t exactly relish the idea of stepping out onto Elaaden’s surface—even with the vault running, the place was hot—but better here than Voeld. She set down her datapad and made for the door of the armory.

Ryder hadn’t arrived in the cargo bay yet. Probably in the process of persuading someone else to come with them. She went over her assault rifle, just to be safe, made sure the newest mod was set in there securely. By the time she’d double-checked the seals on her armor, someone gave a soft huff and dropped down to the cargo bay floor from above.

“You’re going to break a leg doing that,” she said, though she couldn’t keep the smile out of her voice.

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chrissy22787  asked:

Sooo..... in light of all the music video pictures, I think you should give us a sneak peak into what it would be like for Elena to be there with him. No pressure. But feel free to put a little pep in your step with this one. Love you 😘

It’s A Sign of the Times

Elena shivered and pulled her jacket closer around her shoulders.  After an hour of trying to tame her hair in the wind she finally gave up and pulled back into a tight ponytail.  She lifted her head to smile when she heard the first notes of Harry’s single “Sing of the Times” start to play over the loud speakers.  She loved this song, it was like the warm blanket she desperately needed while standing in this field, freezing her ass off while she watched him film the video.

“You cold, Love?”  She heard Lou Teasdale’s high pitched voice behind her.

Elena nodded,

“Yes.  Does the weather always suck like this?”

Lou laughed,


Elena gestured to the brush and bottle of gel in her hand,

“Is any of that actually working in this wind?”

“No.”  She started, “But I like to make myself useful.”

Elena looked up just as the helicopter lifted Harry hundreds of feet into the air.  She smiled, watching as he widened his arms out and bent one leg causing him to look quite like Peter Pan.  Lou shivered next to her,

“Don’t know how you can watch that.  Love of your life dangling from a string like that?  Makes me wanna vomit, if I’m bein’ honest.”

Elena smiled, shaking her head gently,

“I don’t mind it.  He loves it up there.”  She added as she watched his huge dimpled grin spread across his rosy cheeks.

Keep reading

Captain’s Vigilante (4/?)

Word Count: 4400ish

Warnings: a lot words. Some violence and guns(obviously) and mentions of a bomb. If that may trigger you, I advise you greatly to read with caution or stop reading entirely. But if you don’t, feel free to read. Some wrong grammar and spelling mistakes are there too. It’s kinda confusing to read. The italics are sometimes there for either what they’re thinking of, something they’re remembering remember just separate it from the flashbacks. I made the their texts bold to avoid confusion. i dunno guys everything’s wack i just hope you enjoy reading. thanks again xx

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader  

Summary: You are a genius vigilante, misunderstood, feared and on top of the Avengers watch list. They see you as a major threat and have to be stopped. They’ve no idea you only have the best of intention but just has no idea how to express it a better way. And you like the reputation they gave you. It’s what you’re used to so you play with it. After yet another visit to the Avengers tower and being caught and then being shot. Things take a turn for you both when Steve seemed to break those walls and get to know the real you.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8


You help me with anything I want you to. Steve punched the bag in front of him.  

When I ask, you answer. He hit it again and it swung from the impact.

You don’t get to ask questions about my own agendas. So don’t even try. Another punch and the seam on the bag opened a bit.

Whatever happens, don’t let me be caught. I don’t care if you have to lie or if you have to deceive your teammates. Compromise our little arrangement and our deal is off.

Betray me. And there’ll be consequences. A particular hard punch made the bag swung to almost a ninety degree angle.

In exchange, I’ll give you my services about everything I know about your missions. Just send me your whole file and I’ll send it back better. That’s my bargain, captain.

Isn’t that a little unfair on my part?

Of course it is. Do we have a deal? The bag swung bag, ready to hit whatever is in its way.

Deal. Steve readied himself, bracing for it.

Congrats, captain. You just made a deal with the devil. He caught the bag with his hands, not even moving a bit from the impact. He glared at the bag as he breathed heavily. He remembered their deal as if it was only yesterday. How he agreed to it with little thought in such little time was beyond him. And after a night’s rest, he realized what he did and came here to beat the frustrations out of him through something healthy like destroying yet another punching bag and enduring one of Tony’s talks about how these things doesn’t fall out of the sky.

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Susanna’s A Court of Wings and Ruin Review!!!

Buckle your seatbelts kids, because this is going to be a long and bumpy ride. Overall, I thoroughly enjoyed A Court of Wings and Ruin. I definitely think it had its shortcomings, which I’ll discuss, but … I don’t know, so many of the wonderful things spoke to me, and there was actually a lot in this book that made me examine myself in the best way possible (hello Ouroboros). I’m going to talk about the stuff I didn’t like so much first, and then talk about the stuff I did like. My opinions on ships, etc, etc. For me, the pros far outweigh the cons, though I know this is not the case for everybody. So yeah, this is going to be a long, long post. But overall, I give ACOWAR 4/5 stars!!




1.     Consistency/Pacing/Cohesiveness

a.     Ok, so, the first thing I thought could have done a little bit better was the consistency, the pacing, and the general cohesiveness of the narrative itself. I spent a little while thinking about all of it. I didn’t really get into the book—like can’t put it down have to keep reading I’m staying up until 4AM to finish into the book—until about halfway through. Or whenever it is that Tamlin said ‘When you f*ck her, do you notice that little noise she makes right before she climaxes?’ That was the first time I set down the book and covered my mouth and stared into the void because THAT WAS PETTY AND I AM HERE FOR THAT DRAMA. All that to say that the first part of the book felt very … rushed. It almost felt like a mediocre fanfiction, where SJM was trying her best to cram as many events in as she could so she could get to the parts she really wanted to write. As for who’s to blame … I think, for every poor choice that went into this book, there are multiple parties to blame. SJM, partially, but we also have to remember that she has an agent and editors and an entire team at Bloomsbury that signed off on this and should have pointed out the errors. But I digress. The middle was okay, the ending was great.

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When I was Seven, I Stole a Horse

Okay backtrack to before the horse stealing before we start this story.

Growing up, my best friend was a boy named Ben.  Benjamin, if he was being annoying, to which he’d retaliate with Keejamin, which is not and never has been my full name.

Ben lived next door to my grandparents, and we were born within a few weeks of each other and were best friends pretty much since the time he crawled under the fence into Nanny’s backyard and helped me make mudpies (not that either of us actually remember that, seeing as we were two, but no one was particularly happy with the unrecognizably muddy toddlers).

Anyway, Ben would catch our car coming down the road and have hopped the back fence and made it through Nanny’s house to open the front door for us before Nanny or Grandad had even noticed we’d pulled into the driveway.  We had fake weddings with my little sister as the flower girl / priest.  We threw water balloons at his older sisters and their friends.

And one time we stole a horse.

So Nanny’s and Ben’s backyards attached to a field.  There was a fence in between, and three or four horses that lived in the field.  They were nice horses and didn’t even bat an eye when a couple of small children would hop the fence and run around in their field, and they liked us because we’d feed them apples and carrots.

Since they liked us so much, we decided to steal one and keep it for ourselves.

Why would two seven year olds decide to steal a horse, you ask?  The answer was simple

We were bored.

(Also Ben’s sister and her friends wouldn’t let us into the treefort to play pirates so technically it’s their fault we stole a horse.)

Why did we think we were physically capable of stealing a horse and getting away with it?  There were a couple reasons behind that:

  1. I was reading a lot of detective and spy books and figured I knew enough to pull it off
  2. Ben just liked to steal stuff
  3. Ben was also a really good liar
  4. Nobody ever expected sweet little Kee with her pink dresses and pigtails to do anything bad
  5. If we did get caught, we could always blame it on a sister

So we started planning.  It was a pretty good plan for a couple of seven year olds.  We spent two or three months on it before we actually tried to steal it, and had a pretty solid heist going, including

  • Around the clock surveillance, courtesy of Ben and his night vision goggles he’d gotten for Christmas, through which we documented exactly when the horses were in the field and when their owners came out
  • Multiple tests to figure out which horse was the slowest, the easiest to lure with apples and carrots, and which was the easiest to put a Barbie jump rope harness on, among other tests, so we could pick the best horse for the heist
  • Finding the best path out of the field and cutting the wire fence open inconspicuously enough so no one would notice but we’d be able to get the horse out
  • Researching horse care and heist stuff at the elementary school library 
    • because it was 2004 and neither of us had internet
    • we did a project on spy work at the time too to provide an aliby for if the police somehow decided that the seven year olds should be the ones being questioned about the missing horse
      • the grade two teacher thought our project was really well researched and that we seemed really into the topic and we got a really good grade on it
  • Watching James Bond a lot
  • Avoiding talking about it in front of my sister because Sam was the ultimate tattle tale
  • Hiding all our plans (which were written in my glitter gel pens on pink paper) in the hollow book I got Ben for his birthday so no one could find them

(that’s all I can remember at the moment, but I know there were other parts of the plan)

So the time finally came for the heist.  We’d picked out victim and had everything ready to go and had to be back by noon cause Nanny was making grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch.

We would get the horse, get it out, and it would live in a secret clearing in the forest by the beach until the police stopped looking for it and then it would live in Ben’s treefort.

So we went out, dressed in black like all the good spies and armed with a bag of apples and carrots and a jump rope.

I fed the horse while Ben got the jump rope situated because he was taller, and then we lead it down to the back of the field and through the cut fence and into the forest.

We got about halfway to the secret clearing when my Cabbage Patch Kids digital watch alarm went off to tell us we had fifteen minutes until Nanny was expecting us for lunch.

Fifteen minutes was not long enough to get to the secret clearing and get the horse situated and get back for grilled cheese.  And Nanny would ask questions, because Ben was definitely the type to be late to things, but I was the kid who taught herself to read analog clocks in kindergarten and would point out to the teacher that the clock says it’s 10:06 and gym is supposed to start at 10:05 so why are we still in the classroom?

(as a side note, the times on the day’s schedule only lasted about a week into each school year before I’d annoyed the teacher so much she took them down)

So we hashed it out and decided we’d take the horse back and re-steal it after lunch.

We got it back it back into the field with no problems, closed the fence up, removed the jump rope, and were inside the house as the clock struck noon for our grilled cheese sandwiches.

(”What have you two been up to today?  I haven’t seen you all morning.” “Oh, we’re just playing spies.” “Sounds lovely.”)

Lunch ended and we ran back to the back door eager to restart our heist and–

–it was pouring.

The complete opposite of the weather needed for a good heist.  Rain meant mud and mud meant footprints and footprints meant the police could find out it was us who stole the horse.

So we postponed it to the next weekend and went and went out to have a mud fight instead.

My friend Sarah’s horse (Tiny rural town.  Most people had horses or sheep or other large animals and didn’t have to resort to stealing them) had had a baby over the weekend and she’d printed off pictures to show everybody.

“But Mommy says we’re gonna sell him cause horses cost a lot of money to feed and we’ve already got three.”

That brought my attention away from the pictures of the cute baby horse, because it didn’t make sense.  According to my research, horses ate hay and carrots and apples.  None of that was expensive, right?

“How much does it cost?” I asked, and Sarah shrugged.

“Mommy says each of them costs a couple hundred dollars every month.”

Now, this was a problem, so I had to go find my partner in crime.

Ben was with some of the other boys, doing whatever seven year old boys did.

“Ben, we have a problem.  Code red.”

(That was our super top secret spy code in case we needed to talk about the heist.  Nobody would be able to figure it out.)

So we went somewhere slightly private and I told him how much Sarah said it costs to feed a horse.

“I only have eight dollars and twelve cents,” I told him.  “And I don’t get an allowance, so I won’t get more money till my birthday.”

“I need my allowance to buy candy,” he said, and we stood there for a while, trying to figure out how we could make this work.

Eventually, it was decided that we wouldn’t be able to afford to own a horse unless we waited until after my birthday and Ben never ate candy again, and neither of us were good with that plan, so the Great Horse Heist of 2004 came to an end.

We burnt the plans that weekend in Ben’s backyard and managed to blame the pile of ashes on one of his sisters.

So yeah.  That is the story of the time I stole a horse for about twenty minutes.

Nobody besides me and Ben (and now all of you) know that this actually went down, because somehow we managed to hide this deranged plan from absolutely everybody and then we were too scared they’d send us to jail if we told anyone and then I kind of forgot about it until earlier today when my friends were talking about how I was probably the only one of us who’d get into heaven and had I ever quote unquote sinned before?  (Answer: yes, because I stole a horse, so I’m probably not getting into heaven either)

The moral of this story is that, had Ben not decided I had cooties the next year and that that meant we couldn’t be friends anymore, we would probably be criminal masterminds by now.

  • will literally forget everything and anything
  • speaks Chinese all the time when he comes in because hes tired and not thinking
  • and you’re like ????? I don’t speak Chinese
  • and he’s shook because he didn’t even realise he’d slipped into it

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Massage - Part Four

Disclaimer: Fiction.

Warnings: Drunkness, sex, threesome, home invasion.

Tagging: @hazeleyedleto @devorahlynn  @msroxyblog  @letojokerownsme @jayded-dreams

Notes: As always, I appreciate the feedback. :D  Love you all!

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Part Four

I was a little bit buzzed. Well, okay, I’ll admit, I had had a little more than I could take. But after the week I had, I sure as hell needed it. And besides, I had Jared and Shannon to watch my back, even if they were a bit shitfaced too.

I giggled, wrapping my arms around Shannon and swaying to the beat. I felt a chest come in contact with my back and I looked behind me to see Jared. He leaned down to whisper in my ear. “I got lonely.” He pouted.

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anonymous asked:

Hi! uhhhh idk if you're still accepting prompts but I'd figure I'd send one your way because I LOVE your writing and the way you write character interactions is spot on! Uhhh anyways! #23 or #25 for Gency!

Well since i already covered 25 in this ask I’ll do 23! Also thank you! I’m glad you like them!

23. Pining

Note: This one takes place Pre-Fall of Overwatch

“I don’t know what to tell you, Doc,” said Jack, folding his arms and looking out the window of his office, “With the completion of the Orochi assignment, Genji’s contract with Overwatch is completed. He’s free, so to speak.”

“Well yes, I understand that, but he wouldn’t just leave,” said Mercy, running a hand through her hair, “Security didn’t pick up anything unusual last night?”

“Nothing,” said Jack with a shrug.

“But there was the post-mission diagnostics–the follow-ups—Possible de-weaponization procedures to discuss—” Mercy was thumbing through an armful of files she was holding.

“Formalities mostly, more suggested than required,” said Jack, turning on his heel away from the window towards her, “You were never cleared for discussing those de-weaponization procedures.”

“Well–he wouldn’t be a part of Overwatch anyway….so would it really matter?” said Mercy.

“It’s best if he’s ready if Overwatch has need of his skills again.”

“But you don’t even know where he is!” snapped Mercy.

“Well yeah, but that’s mine and Gabe’s concern, not yours,” said Jack.

Her mouth tightened and she dropped her armful of manila folders onto Jack’s desk with an unusual amount of fury, “You let Torbjörn craft that–that awful rifle with my technology but you won’t even let me help him!?”

“All due respect Doc, but I think he’s the one not letting you help him,” said Jack, calmly gathering her files back up into a neat stack.

Mercy blanched and her brow crinkled and let out a short, sharp exhale. Jack looked up from the files as Mercy turned on her heel and walked briskly toward the door.

“Doc–your files–Doc?” Jack spoke after her but she shut the door behind her a bit harder than usual and he was left standing dumbly with a pile of her folders on the desk.

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Strive Pt. 12

{PART 1} {PART 2} {PART 3} {PART 4} {PART 5} {PART 6} {PART 7} {PART 8} {PART 9} {PART 10} {PART 11}

Pair: Tomarry

Rating: M-E(depends)

Tags: Mild Language, Homosexuality, Sexism, Obsessed Tom, Time-Travel/Dimension-Travel, Teacher/Student, Eventual Romance, Teacher-Harry, Grey!Harry, MoD(sort of), Death!being,

Watching as Lord Malfoy worked endlessly for all the Dark Artifacts in his family’s possession to be removed in time, had been interesting. Apparently there was a secret chalet out in France that they had for special purposes. Such as hiding any incriminating evidence.

The House Elves weren’t the only ones working this time. Lord Malfoy had to go from room to room inspecting every artifact he could find to make sure that everything had maintained its Grey aura. The Malfoys were know for Dark and Grey cores and in the current time, Grey was better than Dark.

Abraxas had been tasked with keeping Tom entertained while his parents moved double time to ‘lighten’ their manor.

“How did you find out, my lord?” Abraxas had asked him once they were esconced inside the Malfoy family’s second best drawing room.

Obviously Tom did not feel pressured to tell his follower the truth. He merely stated that a reliable source had forewarned him before the beginning of the holiday. Technically it was truth in a way. Professor Potter was the most trustworthy person that Tom currently knew. The man seemed to be the only one who treated him like a normal person and took everything he said with sincere interest.

Not even Slughorn, who adored Tom the most, did that. Half of then time, he would wave away Tom’s comments or observations as childish whimsy. It was annoying despite it being beneficial. Potter didn’t put on airs. He was simply honest about his thoughts and didn’t treat Tom like some juvenile schoolboy.

Some might think that to be foolish. Tom merely appreciated it after four months of getting a better understanding of the man.

Now they simply had to pass the holiday patiently, awaiting Dumbledore’s interference.

When Tom awoke on Christmas morning, he found a few gifts at the foot of his bed. Even though Pureblood wizards in Britain did not observe the holiday, it was still celebrated by about half of the magical society. Not gifting others would ruin a reputation and especially to blood purists, that was not a good thing.

Tom had already sent his gifts back in November, so he wouldn’t have to think more on it.

His followers had apparently remembered that they should tastefully, as the muggles said, kiss his arse, if they wanted to remain on his more pleasant side.

His gifts were are follows:

Malfoy- A new trunk, complete with dragon hide leather and his initials sewn in with golden thread. Tom’s favourite part was the expanding library it came equipped with.

Nott- A gift voucher for Flourish and Blotts, equal to one thousand Galleons.

Avery(the younger sister)- A vial of Felix Felicis. She would need a reward.

Greengrass- A third edition copy of a book about the known history of the Founders of Hogwarts, that was written in 1329. The copy was written in Latin.

Carrow- A Foci Necklace to harness his magic should he ever need an extra bit of power. The stone was pure crystal in teardrop form, encased in a silver framework that looked like a spider web.

Mulciber- A book on the known magical artefacts of British history.

Crabbe- Dragon hide gloves.

Goyle- Dragon hide boots.

Some gifts were much more preferable than others, though he was grateful. To purchase the gifts for his followers, he had to employ use of the Imperius Curse to get a most honest sale. Some gifts made it easier on him in the future. Haggling was such a plebian activity after all.

Aurors had come. Tom had only seen them in person once before, when Myrtle’s bloody had been taken away. They seemed much less of a threat to his existence now, and no matter how much they tried to appear threatening, he was in no way affected by their demands and harsh words.

Lord Malfoy, as expected, demanded a warrant. Once it was given, the Aurors were given free reign of the manor, but a House Elf was assigned to each to make certain nothing valuable went missing.

The Head Auror, whose name was revealed to be Timina Dodderage, had taken insult to that. Malfoy merely sneered something about the 'less than fortunate often being easily swayed by greed’, which shut the woman’s mouth quickly.

As expected, Tom’s new trunk, which had been shrunken to a more manageable size and looped onto the necklace he’d received that morning, was brought up for being 'suspicious’. Lord Malfoy, no doubt feeling indebted to Tom, spoke on his behalf. The Aurors had a warrant for the building but not the living beings residing within it. If they wanted to search the people like they did in their fruitless endeavour with the manor, they could go and get a warrant for that as well.

A threat about going to the Minister was made, which ended up sending the Aurors off in a foul mood. Nothing incriminating had been discovered and a failed raid of a building would look bad on the team’s records.

“Mr. Riddle, I believe that we owe you a debt.”

Tom made sure that his almost malicious glee was well hidden behind his kind and helpful Head Boy mask.

In the late evening some nights later, Tom found himself being hailed by an owl that he had never seen before. Said owl was not a common Barn Owl and had red eyes and black feathers. The noise it had made to capture his attention had startled him momentarily. No soul would ever learn of such information.

It bore a letter that was a bit thicker than usual, due to something being shoved inside it.

No spells or curses on the parchment. It was just a letter.

When he broke the wax seal and turned the letter upside down, something heavy fell into his palm, and the chain it was connected to, dangled heavily between his fingers. It was beautiful and certainly of older craftsmanship. An emerald face and with nicely cut facets.

The note it came with however…

Your mother had owned this. In an attempt to save your

lives, she sold it to Mr. Borgin, and was cheated out of what

could have been thousands of Galleons. Slytherin’s Locket

is no simple piece of jewelry. In desperation, she fled to

London in search of aid. I saw it in Borgin and Burke’s

and decided it should be returned to you once and for all.

Many happy returns, Tom Marvolo Riddle.

If Tom were of any less intelligence, he would have been terrified that someone had known his birthday when he had divulged it to no one. Yet, despite there being no name on the note or the face of the envelope, he would recognise that writing anywhere.

What concerned him most, was how Professor Potter knew anything about Tom’s mother.

I’ll Be Good - Part 5

Masterlist  -  Series Masterlist  -  Part 4  -  Part 6

Summary: Series - You’re an old colleague of Natasha’s who finds herself face to face with the Winter Soldier on the wrong end of an Avengers’ op. Chapter – While your initial intel is verified, which should lead to your freedom, you also can’t help getting into trouble, much to the frustration of those trying to help you.

Warnings: Swearing. Short mention of violence and deathy/murdery stuff. ANGST.

Word Count: 2148 – yah this one got away from me… but I don’t even care.

Author’s Note: I got more than a little carried away here… I LOVE writing the sneaky snake stuff!!! I promise this story is actually going somewhere. It is a sloooow burn ok, just enjoy it. A little fun mischief, a little angst at the end, a little where does everyone stand, who knows???

Originally posted by love-buckybarnes

The tense voices in the hall pulled you reluctantly from your sleep. You listened, hovering by the door. It hadn’t surprised you that the argument was about you. You slipped silently into the hall, watching, absorbing.

“I have a duty to this team, Buck. She came to us as a hostile, I couldn’t just let her have the run of the place unchecked!” Steve’s anger was rippling below the surface, he was trying to contain it, but his harsh glare and sharp gestures gave him away. Hovering close to Bucky, he continued, prodding Bucky in the chest with all four fingers in a stiff jab “And you shouldn’t have given it to her. You endangered everyone here.”

“No one’s in danger, I was with her the whole time.” He answered back firmly. From your quiet place against the shadowed wall you smiled, at Bucky’s half-truth. “She didn’t come to us at all, we took. her.” Bucky hissed, weighing into the last words.

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anonymous asked:

Lams prompt 1 or 36 maybe? I love your writing! Hope your writers block clears up!

(Lams 1) “I found you—giggling like a child without a trace of past sadness”
War was never meant to be beautiful.

War was never meant to be beautiful.

War was death, destruction, blood. It was knowing that tomorrow wasn’t promised and the ‘brothers’ once held arms with you were soon buried 6 feet under, unmarked and forgotten. Alexander loved it though. It was something he feared the moment he stepped on to the battlefield. He loved the idea of dying this way, in the heated glory of a blood bath. He loved the way war tasted and felt; it betrayed the scholar in mind. It played with the lion in his heart that ached to sink its teeth into something bigger than him.

Sadly opposed against him, Washington had jailed Hamilton to his station. He was with his quill like a ball and chain staring down countless inked excuses by Congress. Right outside his tent however men, his friends among them, were bleeding for this country, HIS country. He felt as low as one could without being a traitor. And yet, he worked through the night. Desperate to finish the work Washington lay before him to prove he was better than simply relying messages between George and Congressmen. Alexander lost count of the hours, he was lost in a sea of words, his fingers numb now by the hundreds upon thousands of cursive loops.

Time stood still in Alexander’s tent.

“Alexander” A deep and robust voice poked in. “Morning rations, come get a plate.” The great General George Washington stood there in all his patriarchal prowess. Alexander did not move. The disrespect would have not gone fair with anyone else…but Alex was different. Hamilton was among a selected few George held near and dear to his heart. His sons, his boys, as he called them, “At least partake with your fellow soldiers. You’ve written plenty…” His eyes settled on a growing mountain of sealed letters ready to be taken out and delivered back to Congress. Washington danced the line of wanting to keep Hamilton safe and wanting to push him to the best of his abilities.

“I’m fine, you have me a command and I’m following it through.” Alexander noted, it was morning. It had been at least working for two days straight. “Isn’t that what you want from me, General?”


“I’m not your son.” Alexander bit back venomously; he knew what being a ‘son’ meant. It meant he was cared for far too much to be put into battle. It meant Washington was pigeon holing his dreams to keep him alive. It meant he would never actually fight for the land he was ready to die for. George left the tent close and took all the light of the morning with him. Hamilton settled back into the dark hole, his fingers aggressively attacking the parchment with words. He’d build battalions in his letters; bleed blots of ink as it dripped from his quill like a bloodied blade. Nothing and no one could deter him from his work.

Time stood still a second time, and then the tent opened. The light was stronger. Alex’s hunched over body casted a shadow against the tent’s side. He noted, it was at least past noon. “George if you’re here to tell me to eat again my answer hasn’t changed. Unless yours has to …” the tent closed again and to his surprise it was not George that entered. “Laurens…” It was almost fearsome to Alexander himself how much his tone changed. How soft it sounded now that he was in the presence of someone who understood his strife.

“You didn’t come for breakfast or lunch rations, so I took it upon myself to make sure you’re alive.” John smiled, even without the suitable light those eyes glistened and smiled with him. “Annnd” He grabbed Alexander by the back of the chair and hauled him away from his desk. There was some growls of contempt but he was met by two, roughened fingertips against the side of his neck. John’s lips by his ears as he breathed, then whispered. “As I suspected, barely living.” He pulled away with a toying smirk.

“Har, Har, John I didn’t think you were such a damn child. I was working…some of us don’t have the glory of being able to hold a weapon.” Alex sneered as he yanked himself back into his spot.

Once again John’s hand yanked him back, “still? You would think being as close as you are to the General you’d see the bigger picture. Hammie, the war is not about you.”

“Fuck all like it’s not.” He hissed at Laurens, he hung his head as he stared down the pages of writing he still had left to do. “Its not fair, you all get to choose how you die. I’m here, sitting here, while you all go off and…”

“So mindful about control, Alex.” John stood behind Alexander and began rubbing his small, tense shoulders. “So the great Hamilton won’t die on the field, does that make you any less a solider or any less American?” He smirked. “If anything I find it charming how foul you are and yet so far from the fight. I’m sure George plans to unleash his lion if and when the time is right.”

Alex rolled his eyes; he felt the calm was over him. “And what if the time never comes, Jackie?” He tilted his head up and met the galaxy of freckles and the sun of a smile that made John Lauren’s face.

“Well….” He drew out his words looking for a good reason. “Then you live to tell our stories, my dearest Ham. You live and tell them how damn amazing I was out there.” He laughed, “you live and tell them about everything that happened here. You paint them a war like no war has ever been written about before. You live Alexander…”

John squeezed his shoulders a bit, Alex rolled back into his grip. He could argue, they both knew they could go back and forth for hours. “Everything?” Alexander smirked, “should I tell them about those nightly escapades to the pond at? Or that one time by the border of New Jersey when we shared the same horse?”

“And why on God’s good Earth would you out yourself as a sodomite to the entire nation, possibly disgracing the little name you have here?” Laurens arched his eyebrow, usually he didn’t follow Alex’s genius but this sounded downright stupid.

“Like you said, the war isn’t about me. Might as well write about something that was about me.” John slapped Alex upside the head; the pain shot up and elicited a giggle out of Hamilton.  Alex giggled like a child without a trace of past sadness. He laughed as though war was not happening outside their tent, as if their talks of death and untimely ends were children fairytales. He giggled like the young, spirited soul John had come to love so tenderly.

“Stop writing; make this tent about us now.” He tugged on Alex’s hair and brought his lips down to meet that sugar coated laugh.

Heyyyyy, I’m back! I needed a break for the holidays, but now everything’s cool and I’m doing some requests that’ve been in my ask box for a while. I’ll try to get them all out over the course of the next few days! 

 Also, they talk about pee a lot in this. Thought you should know. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Part 1


 It had been a month. 

 A full month of nothing. 

 The Junkers visited every day, only to be greeted by steady constant beeps and echoed footsteps. The air was an everlasting cold, laced with the tense feeling of regret and uncertainty. Junkrat couldn’t handle it for longer than a few minutes. 

Roadhog couldn’t handle the pity being passed around constantly. 

 The sleeping quarters was quiet. They duo refused to leave Gibraltar without S/o. It had the highest tech, in terms of medicine, out of all the other accessed bases, but didn’t provide individual rooms for the agents. 

 So, there they sat, in the near open, letting themselves think in attempt to cope.

 "Ay, Rodie.“ Jamison spoke from his curled position on the mattress. 

 Roadhog grunted. 

 "Do ya think my noodles are done?”

 "Go check, I’m not your timer.“ He responded, slightly irked that the silence was broken. 

 "Pfff, fine! Don’t take my spot!” He rolled over off the bed and marked the spot he was sitting with a big, “X,” claiming it as his before hobbling over the the kitchen to check on his noodles. 

 The cooking area was empty, much like the rest of the base; the faint scent of ramen hanging in the air. A good sign. 

 The microwave beeped twice as he approached, moving to take the cup-like container out and let it cool. 

 He heard heavy rushed footsteps as he stirred the contents around, and he turned to see his companion approaching. 

 "Come. Now.“ He demanded grabbing the smaller man by his bomb harness. 

"But, my noodles!”

 "Shut up, you idiot!“


 The beeping would not stop. It continued in a sort of rhythm. Over and over. 

 It was cold, uncomfortable. Your chest ached with each breath and your head pounded; yet, your eyelids remained closed, heavy as if the need for sleep was desperate. 

 Limbs refusing to cooperate, you decide to focus all of your energy into moving your fingers, and then to go on from there. 

 You felt you pointer finger twitch and a gasp sounded from the left, followed by the urgent clicking of heels. 

 A forceful feeling of energy surged through your body, causing a large involuntary intake of breath. The pain started to fade away, leaving you hyper aware of your body, but dulling your surroundings. 

 The room was bright, fuzzy and you collected that you were laying on a bed. You blinked, attempting to clear your vision. 

 Was that Angela? It looks like she’s talking, but the words are muffled. She’s fiddling with a machine, glancing between you and it. She looked so tired. 

 ”-bout now? Can you hear me?“ 

 You try to speak, coughing and hacking before letting out a weak, "yes." 

 She nearly squealed, "I-I did it! Are you okay, does anything hurt? Do you feel weird?”

 "I just feel a little tired.“

 "Okay, that is good!” She scurried around the room, pushing buttons, taking notes, checking screens. “If you think anything is even slightly wrong, tell me immediately!”


 "Athena,” she started, “tell the boys that she is awake! I think they are in the sleeping quarters." 

 "Can do." 

 You watched her as she worked around you. "What happened?” You questioned.

 She explained, thoroughly, and thoughtfully, what exactly happened as you lay and take it all in. This woman certainly was a miracle worker sometimes. 

 The door slid open, catching you off guard, and in barged your boys. 

 They nearly toppled over each other running to your bedside. They stood over you, unmoving until Junkrat reached out his shaky hands, almost afraid to touch you. 

 You met him half way, grabbing his hands in yours.

 "Hey there, James.“ You spoke, voice barely above a whisper.


 You glanced over to the hog and smiled, “Hi Roadie." 

 He glanced quickly at the doctor before she nodded, allowing him to lift up your upper body in a gentle hug. 

 "How?” He muttered against you. 

 "Long story short, I managed to gather the negative chemicals and expel them through urination.“ Explained Angela.

 It was then that you noticed that there was indeed a tube in you for urine. 

 "So they peed it out?” Junkrat asked giving her a confused look. 

 "Yes.“ She moved the two aside, snapping on gloves. "Which reminds me; I need to switch out the bag.” She unclips a bag from the side of the bed and screws on a lid. 

 "So, my pee’s in that bag?“ She nods at your question and takes the bag to the other side of the room to store it for further examination, and switches it out for another. 

 "Haha, gross.” You chuckle weakly and Roadhog sighs. 

 "You’re still an idiot.“ He quips. 

 "Awww, but you missed me.” He paused and lets out a muffled, “…so?” Before stretching out in the chair beside your bed. 

 "James? Where are you going?“ You look past the larger man to the retreating form making his way to the door. 

 "Oh, my noodles are gettin’ cold.” He stated plainly. 

 "Really?“ Mako glares over his shoulder at him. 

 "Man, I could really go for some ramen right now.” You drooled. 

 "Absolutely not, you need to be monitored for a bit longer before you can eat!“ Angela intervenes. 

 "C'mon, doc! They went and peed all their nutrients out!”

 "Ramen noodles have no nutrients!“ She answered in rebuttal. 

 "Did it feel weird?” Roadhog whispers to you. “Peeing it out like that?" 


Sa voix

jumpin back into fandom with a non-magical soulmate au where they can commicate telepathically from a young age

rating: g
pairing: adrienette
words:  2.5k


Marinette first heard his voice when she was five years old. It was the first time she tried to sew something by herself, and she pricked her finger. Bad. She sucked at the wound and wailed, the sound echoing in her head. 

Apparently, not just in hers.

‘It’s okay!’

Marinette abruptly stopped crying and looked around for the source of the strange voice. “Hello?” Her voice was quiet in the empty room.

‘It’s okay!’ the voice said again. ‘I don’t know who you are, but please stop crying. It’ll be okay.’ 

Marinette sniffed and poked her head up into her bed. “Teddy? Is that you?” 

The strange voice laughed. It twinkled in her mind, and she couldn’t help but smile. ‘No, I’m not a bear, I’m a boy!’ 

Marinette wrinkled her nose. “A boy? Why is there a boy talking in my head?”

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Ms. Powers Part 2

“I’m sorry,” Tony drew out, “a what?”

Before Fury could speak you jumped in, “A mutant. A person with a little known genetic phenomena that has given me…abilities.”

“Abilities like what,” Dr. Banner asked.

“Well, at first it was subtle. When I was younger I was always quicker and stronger than the other kids and my scrapes would heal quicker; but as I got older the DNA took root and I was able to run quicker than the fastest horse and lift things heavier than a full tree,” Tony squinted his eyes at your comparisons. “I’m super old remember Tony. We’re talking, early settlements in the New World, old.” He took that like a slap in the face. “As I was saying… the DNA took root on my 16 birthday. And after that I had control over the elements- manipulating earth, air, water, and fire- tougher skin and I stopped aging slowly.”

“You stopped aging when you were…what,” Tony said sarcastically, “12?”

“No, wise guy, around 21. But my main ability is a bit more complex.” You looked at the wondering eyes across the room- with the exception of Fury, Romanoff, and Barton who had all knew this- and continued. “There are other mutants in the world, some don’t even know they are what they are but most hide their abilities. My ability makes me able to almost copy and paste a person’s ability into my ‘database.’ So for example, I met a man with telekinesis. years ago. Upon meeting him I was able to harness his ability for myself and now I can do this,” the team watched as the table they were sitting at lifted into the air, hovering just above the ground.

“So you take the powers of others?”

“No,” you told Steve, “it’s like copy and pasting someone’s text,” you remembered who you were talking to, “- it’s like getting a note from someone and you rewriting it in your own notebook. That’s why some people call me Ms. Powers.” The crew nodded in understanding.

“No offense Y/N but if you have all these great powers why weren’t you in New York with us?”

“That’s why you are all here,” Fury said, “Y/N was unable to fight with you all in New York because she had her own mission. As you’ve all heard on base by now Y/N and her team were taking part in Mission Storm. This classified mission was a recall of a high tech weapon that was capable of incineration by targeting located in Northeastern Asia. Using a high compact laser the machine made it possible for the user to plug in their target and obliterate it from up to 10 miles away. Thank’s to Loki this machine ran on a laser made from the Tesseract’s energy.”

“Not only was this Tesseract laser able to completely destroy whatever the user saw fit but it was also able to act as another doorway to space if Loki’s plan didn’t go straight. We tracked it from the time the Loki came and took the spear and after we learned his plan for this machine could be even more dangerous than him with the spear my team and I had to act quick,” you stated.

“I’m sorry,” Tony began sassing you, “but don’t you think that the first priority should have been closing the portal that let thousands of aliens attack Earth!?”

“First off, Mr. Stark, I may be a head of this agency but I had a job that I had to do. This was high risk and sending any agent in there would have meant absolute harm or death to them. Secondly, I was on call for you all. If anything had gone wrong or if anything came up where I was the only answer I would have been called in and been in New York within two minutes.”

“No S.H.I.E.L.D jet could have gotten you to New York in two minutes.”

“That’s correct, Dr. Banner, but a person with the ability for superhuman fast flight would be able too.”

“Yes,” he hesitated, “I suppose they would be.”

“I was just about to call Y/N when it looked like Stark was stuck in the wormhole but, he did what he does best, and fell through so I figured we were good,” Fury announced to the group. “Now that you are together you’ll all be working together as the Avengers team. Please,” he looked right at Tony, “try and play nice together.” Fury ended the meeting and left quickly to go to his next order of business.

Quickly, before the group could leave, you asked, “In order for all of us to get to know each other I’d really like it if you’d all come over to my house tonight for dinner.” They all agreed, and one by one, left the conference room. Natasha stopped to talk to you, “Need any help with dinner tonight? An of help I of course mean would you like me to show up early and talk with you and you cook?” You both smiled at each other and laughed. “I’d love your help, Nat, come over at 6. I’ve got to go I have training with the new recruits.”

“Hey Y/N,” you and Nat turned to see Steve in the door, “would you mind if I came and saw how you train the new recruits?”

“I’ll come too; you know how I like to help scare the newbies into shape,” Nat commented.

“Only if you guys can keep up,” you coyly smiled. “Training starts in 20.”


Steve and Natasha walked together to the outdoor building that the new recruits were meeting Y/N at for training. Steve looked down at his watch. “Training was suppose to start 15 minutes ago, where is Y/N?”

Natasha smiled up at him, “Trust me Cap just wait and see.” Watching from the side Steve could see the groups forming. The big brawny guys that Steve knew all too well from his military days flocked together and stayed far away from the recruits that were lesser in size or were entering the I.T department. He could hear the rejections and the snickers that came from the group as they mocked some of their weaker peers. He shook his head knowing the feeling all too well. “Don’t worry Cap, Y/N doesn’t stand for that,” Nat said sensing his thoughts. Just as she said that, a recruit finished walking around trying to talk with the different groups. She walked up to the front of the room and stood up on the platform. “Excuse me,” she said at a normal level; only a small portion of the people turned to listen. “Hello,” she said a little louder. A couple more people turned to the front. “Ladies and Gentlemen,” the recruit on stage belted. With that, everyone turned and looked up at the new girl. The small stature and blonde ponytail shifted in front of all their eyes into you. The recruits looked up at you confused, “I am Director General Y/N Whitmore,” at the mention of your name they stood to attention. “Tell me Fuller,” the eyes shifter to one of the meatheads that stood mocking the others before, “why is it that you and so many others paid no attention to me when I came up here and started talking?”

Fuller looked around uncomfortable. “I’ll tell you why,” you continued, “because you and most of your lot looked at me as a nerd that wasn’t worth your time. Those of you who looked at me when I was in disguise and wrote me off- you failed miserably. Here at S.H.I.E.L.D it doesn’t matter if you are an agent in the field, in intelligence, or in tech. And here, at this base especially, you all have to work together as a team. This base is for the best and the brightest of the agents and the process you all had to go through to even gain clearance for this base should prove that you have to work hard, individually and together, to make it here.” Y/N’s words spread over the crowd. “Since it seems that you are unable to coexist right now I will be making your groups for training.” Steve watched as the tight knit group of jocks got separated.

Once they were in their new groups Y/N continued talking, “Now, I’d like to introduce you to Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff; you may have heard of them as Captain America and Black Widow.” Steve and Natasha got up from their seats and walked up to the front with you.


You turned to face Steve and Nat, “are you guys down for training with the newbies?”

Nat smirked, “it’ll be nice to put them in their place on the first day. I’m down.” Steve nodded in reply to your question. You looked back up to the crowd in front of you.

“Alright then. Recruits: grab your water. We are going for a run.” The trainees dispursed to get their water and strap it in their belts. As they did you turned to Steve and Nat. “Hope you can keep up.”