#jc inked asks
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hihihi! i was just randomly searching for mob wandanat fics today and as i scrolled i came across an old post of urs about a potential medieval wandanat au.
https://www.tumblr.com/inkblot-inc/701842353300832256/can-you-tell-us-bout-any-aus-youve-been-working (sorry idk how to link properly 😭)
but it just had me wondering… would u plan on continuing that idea? if not, would u write wandanat x reader in general? maybe i could shoot u a few ideas if interested! you’re an amazing writer and would love to see you write the duo!
hope you’re doing well! :)
Oh, I still have the medieval wandanat x reader au in my pocket! I'll have to dust it off since I haven't looked into it for a bit. I'd totally be down to get into that tho 👌🏾
I'd love to write wandanat x reader in general there's no question about that. I'm sure I could come up with something, and ideas are totally appreciated!
I have a couple other things that I'm working on at the moment, but It's cool to hear that you enjoy my writing enough to see my takes on a specific pairing, y'know?
#I'm doing pretty good but this was a nice way to wrap up my evening#I'll have to dust off the ole medieval au doc but i had so much thought in it tbh#i just haven't thought about it in a while y'know?#i should do more wandanat stuff huh? 🤔#ideas are definitely appreciated#...and if i like the idea who knows? i might fixate on it enough to expound on it#jc ink blots#jc inked asks
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HI ILY
WHY ARE WE SCREAMING?
I LOVE YOU TOO YOU GOOBER
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I see you have done some really thoughtful metas. What're your thoughts on Nie Mingjue? IMO he's a lot more complicated than he's usually assumed to be...
One of my classic absurdly late ask responses! Glad you enjoy the meta.
I think NMJ occupies a fascinating place in the narrative, because his ultimate fate is inevitable despite the fact that he theoretically has more agency than most (all?) of the rest of the main cast.
For a start he becomes clan leader at a young age, and while that comes with its pressures it's undeniably an influential position. He's the leading general of the Sunshot Campaign. Then, after the Sunshot Campaign, the Nie and the Jin are by some margin the most powerful clans. So, in a political sense NMJ has immense power. In theory he has the ability to make far better choices. He could stop persecuting JGY, who literally has no choice but to follow his father's orders, and he could choose to focus his ire where it belongs: on JGS. And he could also choose to counter JGS in ways that don't push the jianghu back to the brink of another devastating war.
Except he can't make those choices. And I want to make a strong distinction here: he is not like other characters such as JGY or LXC or JC, whose choices are limited by their clear understanding of their own limitations and the political landscape (including but not limited to the fact that a post-Sunshot descent into war between the Nie and the Jin would be catastrophic). No. NMJ's choices are limited because by the end of the Sunshot Campaign his mental capacity is irreversibly compromised.
Not only is NMJ terminally ill, but we're given clear examples of contrast between NMJ early in Sunshot and NMJ late- and post-Sunshot. Pre-Sunshot NMJ understands the Wen have political and cultivation power that utterly outclasses him and his clan, so he stands by and tolerates their existence. He knows it would be suicide to go up against them, and it's only when the Wen cross a line and all the clans unite that he's able to actually do anything about the fact that WRH murdered his father.
Contrast that to NMJ by the end of Sunshot, so irrationally obsessed with JGY that he's willing to jeopardise the hard-won (and fragile) stability of the jianghu by trying to kill him. Reminder: when NMJ kicks JGY down the stairs, he starts to follow him down with the express intent of killing him. As in, he fully intends to murder the legitimate son of his main political rival and an immensely powerful clan leader on the steps of his own home. That is ludicrous. Pre-Sunshot NMJ wouldn't have done something like that for his own beloved father, let alone for a grudge.
All of NMJ's flaws are obvious from the earliest point of his timeline: he's proud, he's inflexible, he's righteous but he's hypocritical. But early on we see examples of NMJ bending a little, of recognising nuance and showing, in his own inelegant way, his compassionate side. By the end, that's gone. The fan-burning incident alone (the fantrum!) demonstrates it. That's the way he treats his beloved didi, never mind how he treats his san-di.
Of course the narrative claims JGY can always talk NMJ round, but it's simply not true. In the end, the only way JGY can preserve himself is by making NMJ a promise he can't keep (to deliver XY's head) in order to buy himself enough time for NMJ to die and no longer be an immediate mortal threat. If JGY had not accelerated NMJ's decline, NMJ would have killed him and plunged the jianghu into another needless conflict.
I've spilled ink on the staircase scene already so I'm holding back on digging into this in more detail, but the fact is any discussion of NMJ's downfall is inextricably tangled up with JGY. The focal point of NMJ's descent is his obsession with JGY in particular, and it's important to remember what's relevant is not so much what JGY has or hasn't done but how NMJ treats him.
I do think one of the best ways to put it in context is to compare the way NMJ reacts to WRH to the way he reacts to JGY. WRH literally kills NMJ's father but NMJ has a cool enough head to know he has to bide his time. JGY on the other hand absolutely does betray NMJ's trust, in a situation where, again, if he does as NMJ wants (turns himself in) he's going to end up dead. And from that moment on, NMJ has no intention of giving JGY the benefit of the doubt. Yes, after LXC intervenes (remember, JGY would be dead without that intervention!) NMJ backs off and ends up agreeing to the sworn brotherhood, but he enters into the brotherhood in entirely the wrong spirit, seeing it as a way to monitor and subjugate JGY, who is already answerable to his father over and above any obligations to an elder brother.
Would NMJ at fifteen years old have listened to LXC and JGY's explanations in Qishan or later on the stairs at Golden Carp Tower? Possibly. But we don't have any examples of a time when he truly listened to JGY, and he was always going to end up this way regardless, taken out by a qi deviation and turned into the stuff of nightmares. JGY accelerated an existing process to save his own skin, but he didn't invent it out of whole cloth. So the tragedy of NMJ is not what JGY did to him. It goes back further than that, to when his ancestors first started cultivating the resentful energy of beasts.
Even then, contrasting NMJ to another character is illuminating. The text tells us NHS is in a bind: if he cultivates with his sabre, he's dooming himself. But if he doesn't cultivate with his sabre, he's pissing off his ancestors. The instinct then is perhaps to think—poor NMJ! He's in the same bind!
But NMJ never has a moment's doubt about sabre cultivation. NMJ knows the price and he pays it without question. NMJ doesn't agonise about how to balance his duty to his clan and his ancestors against his desire to not go violently insane. He accepts it as a fact of life and never thinks to question it or push back against it. He marches down the path that extirpates all his good qualities and leads straight to his worst self, and never so much as glances around in the hope of sighting a different way.
Again we're getting to that tension I find most interesting about NMJ: agency rubbing shoulders with inevitability. NHS finds a way to lead his clan and Word of God become Xiandu without cultivating with his sabre. Does that mean NMJ is responsible for his choices and he can't be absolved of his actions by blaming his inheritance? I don't necessarily have an answer for that, but I hugely enjoy exploring the question.
#ask#eastofakkala#i have so many nmj thoughts you don't even know#put that man under a microscope#my heart's so hardened i cannot repent!#roquen meta
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do you think NHS will ever be satisfied with the way things have turned out in the end? or is he already? I've seen polar opinions on this one and honestly can't decide which one I like more
oooh, what crunchy questions, anon.
short answer: I think he thinks he's satisfied.
the tl;dr answer: I don't think it's possible for us to know with any degree of certainty how nhs feels about anything post-canon, because the text gives us almost no insight into his interiority outside of wwx's speculation in the aftermath of the guanyin temple sequence. but I think we can make some educated guesses based on what we do know about his character.
rather than just rewrite stuff I've already written on this subject before, I'll drop some links to previous posts that I think are relevant to your ask:
nhs took so long to enact his revenge quest because he could not make up his mind about what he wanted to do. also this one, which includes discussion of his cql performance as well. indecisiveness is as core to nhs's character as his desire for vengeance, and I think that extends to his feelings about his situation post-canon, too.
this is definitely more within the realm of headcanon and speculation but I went deep on this the magnus archives-mdzs fusion reblog speculating on why I think nhs would be an avatar of the hunt, and a big thing about the hunt is that once the hunt is over, the hunters... don't really know what to do with themselves. womp womp.
now on to the point I don't think I've spilt much digital ink on yet:
nhs is, and always has been, a people person. this is extremely obvious when you dip back into the gusu lan summer camp for wayward young cultivators chapters, where nhs is at his most effervescent when he is bopping around the cloud recesses as wwx and jc's bubbly tag-along, lamenting how much lwj and lqr clearly hate wwx while cheerfully offering to give wwx more porn to make up for what he's lost. (it was nhs's porn, too! he'd be justified in being a bit cheesed off about it, but he really isn't!) if he sees a didi-shaped hole in a prospective friends' group, he sees an opportunity to make himself lovably indispensable as the court appointed littlest brother no one asked for, and quite frankly who could blame him? he loves to be spoiled and doted on, but imo there's some clear self-awareness and reciprocity at work in these dynamics that goes beyond a desire just to be pampered and looked after. I suppose an uncharitable read on teen!nhs would be that he's lazy and manipulative and finds easy marks to do the heavy lifting for him so he can sleep and paint and catch birds for his private collection, but tbh I think that interpretation does his character dirty. most people who end up spoiling and doting on nhs in the text are clearly happy to do so and seem to get something out of making life easier for this charmingly incompetent dandy. good for him--and for them!
...and then, post-canon, he is a people person without any people around him. sure, we can presume the existence of some unnamed nie sect subordinates who are stuck dealing with a sect leader who allowed his sect to languish and decline in the years after nmj's death, but I think if any of those unnamed subordinates were inclined to be people nhs could rely on to fill the 3zun and/or wwx and jc-shaped voids in his life, we'd at least know their names. I think it is telling that we don't, and that the last meaningful interaction we see between nhs and the characters who used to be his closest friends in the text amounts to an interrogation. whatever affection wwx used to feel for nhs has clearly withered on the vine and has been replaced by mistrust and suspicion--to say nothing of lxc's dead-eyed silence as soon as he begins to put the pieces together.
also: the last glimpse we get of nhs in the text before he disappears from the story altogether is him picking up jgy's hat and walking off with it. why does he do this? why is this the very last thing we see him do in the story? there are a few different possibilities:
"he's taking the hat to keep as a trophy!" I mean. maybe? I suppose I can't entirely rule out this possibility, but it is the least interesting one to me because it glosses over the complexity of nhs's pre-existing relationship to jgy.
"nhs doesn't know why he picks up the hat and takes it with him. he just does it." this is the idea I vibe with the most because it is most consistent with my read on his character--namely that he is never 100% sure about anything (except what qualifies as good erotica). but I think the part of him that still cares about jgy (it's there! it's tiny and shrivelled and warped by his transformation into the wuxia version of montresor, but it's still there) does not want to see his hat abandoned in the mud and dirt, and also does not want to interrogate his feelings about why he feels that way that closely.
"nhs can't abide littering! he's doing his part to keep the city streets clean." doubt.jpeg
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No. 50 - All Nippon Airways Airbus A380 "Flying Honu" Livery
Happy 50th Runway Runway post! I had a bit of a hard time deciding what to do for it - after all, it's a pretty significant number. I already sort of know what I want to do for the 100th post, but I hadn't put much thought into the 50th, and I had to scuttle any plans for something long and interesting after a rather stressful week. Instead I decided to do something both fun and requested!
source: ANA Stories
One (well, three!) of the most beloved special liveries out there, All Nippon Airways' turtle-themed "Flying Honu" Airbus A380. These three friendly giants fly from Japan to Honolulu, delighting anyone lucky enough to see them.
Actually, I love the Flying Honu so much I have one myself.
I would describe myself as a bit of a magpie. I collect useless things, be they historical ephemera, horror movie memorabilia, old books, pretty rocks, or way too many fountain pen inks given I mostly use them to take notes. I even have a bunch of my old teeth in a pillbox. Surprisingly, though, the things my talons have lodged in don't include many model airplanes. I have...a few. I've actually, though serendipity, gotten two more since I started this blog, expanding my collection to a startling five. Maybe seven if you count my Starscream and Brainstorm figures, but I don't think I even remember how to put either of them in their alt modes. The fact is that while they aren't a fortune or anything plane figures are expensive enough that it's a commitment to buy one, and I usually only do when I stumble on a good deal for a model I really want. And one of the few times I've actually decided that I just needed a model of a specific livery was the "Flying Honu" A380. Specifically, the one I have is the airframe registered JA382A, Kai. (She's the 1:500 JC Wings diecast model and is around the size of my hand.)
I just needed to be able to gently tap her nose in person, okay? She can't fit up on the shelf with a lot of my other miscellaneous trinkets so she sits on my desk and sometimes I explain things to her while trying to figure them out, like a coding rubber duck. She makes me happy.
All Nippon Airways (全日本空輸) is a major Japanese airline. In fact, in terms of both fleet size and number of destinations they're bigger than flag carrier JAL. They're consistently described as being among the best airlines in the world for the discerning well-to-do business traveler, and let's just say that's not me, but what I am is a reviewer of airline liveries, and ANA sure has those! In addition to their standard Triton Blue livery they do all sorts of special designs, particularly crossovers with properties like Pokémon and Star Wars. All of these are something I would like to someday feature, but none of them matter at all to me when compared to the Flying Honu, introduced with the A380 fleet in 2019.
A couple of times when I've told people I know about this livery they asked me if 'honu' is Japanese for 'turtle'. That's a reasonable question, but the Japanese word for turtle is 'kame'. 'Honu' is the word for turtle, though - in Hawaiian.
image: ANA
In fact, Honolulu is the A380s' only destination. ANA didn't really want A380s to begin with, but ended up stuck with them while acquiring another airline. The thing about the A380, and the reason it failed commercially and so few were ever built, is that the use-case for a massive plane is pretty limited. It goes as such: you have a passengerbase of people who have to travel from one giant hub that can land an A380 to another frequently enough that you can actually make money on a plane with four entire engines.
Okay, so the use-case is that you're Emirates. ANA might be expensive, but they don't really have the central location or sheer amount of regular business travelers that Dubai does. 'Three' also isn't really that many A380s, which creates a bit of a question of reliability. So instead they fixed the problem in a way that's honestly pretty genius: they made it turtles.
image: ANA
ANA seems to be generally invested in Hawaii, with a fair amount of partnerships with local organizations. A lot of Hawaiian real estate is owned by Japanese companies, and those of Japanese descent are the second-larget ethnic group in Hawaii at 16.7%, so it makes sense that a lot of people would want to travel there. Tokyo to Honolulu is a nice 9-hour flight with no possibility for a stopover of any kind (unless they invent civilian aircraft carriers for A380s), so it's the perfect route for precisely three really huge planes.
images: ANA
They can fit 520 passengers across four classes on one flight, seated across both decks of the massive planes. There is also a section of seats which convert to couches, marketed for families. Those who fly this route get to enjoy rainbow lighting and the ability to buy a duty-free 1:500 model of the plane (not the same model I have, though, I'm pretty sure) or a set of Flying Honu plushes.
Ra looks like she's plotting something. Lani looks like she's never had a single thought in her life.
And they do make money off this, because people absolutely love these planes. People have apparently had their weddings on these planes, and I would too! They make ten weekly flights right now, but in December that will be increasing to fourteen weekly, or two daily.
Okay, so, the actual liveries.
Here's Kai in full-size! The light in my room make her look way cooler toned in the photographs, but in real life she's this color. It's frequently described as 'green' or 'emerald green', but I think it's definitely turquoise and would go so far as to call it blue. Whatever the case, it's meant to represent the color of the sea near Hawaii. Kai is also distinct from the others because of her eyes, which are closed as she smiles from ear to ear. That's why she's my favorite - she just looks so happy!
...a bit weirder looking from upfront, but look how even the ventral fairing is painted! That's part of the flippers where they curl around, tucked into the shell. Unlike the Transocean Air Jinbei Jets, the cockpit windows blend in with the 'scales' of the Flying Honu, looking rather natural.
'Ra' is a beautiful orange, meant to represent the Hawaiian sunset. She has a bit of a peach undertone if you look closely, but her details are done in an extremely vivid reddish orange. Her distinguishing feature are those gigantic eyelashes, similar to Sakura Jinbei's. The actual mouth shape on all three planes appears to be the same, but I find that the eyes still give them distinct 'personalities'. Ra has always looked very thoughtful to me.
Just look at her in flight! I've never understood why people call the 747 stately or graceful, and same for the A380 - double-decker planes are just inherently goofy-looking, and that's great, but ANA managed to make one look pretty elegant. I think it's because turtles are already regarded as large and slow creatures, so fitting like for like just makes it seem as natural for this absolutely gigantic aircraft to be flying as it is for a turtle to swim.
Finally, Lani, the turtle everyone agrees to be blue, represents the Hawaiian sky during its brightest color in daylight. If you look closely, you can see her blue 'eyeshadow', which I've always thought made her look relaxed.
This picture gives a good angle of my only real critique of the Flying Honu, which is that the shells and heads don't entirely look aligned, as if the head is in the process of being retracted. That said, I think that's just a fact of working with the shape of an airplane. There's just no more space below to fit any more shell.
Rather than being just one turtle, though, each "Flying Honu" has two fully rendered baby turtles following behind their 'mother'.
I think this is adorable, and beyond that it solves a crucial problem - the tail. Turtles do have those, but not in a way that maps onto a standard empennage. Instead, ANA makes the smart choice to end the shell at a certain point and add these two extra turtles make-way-for-ducklings-ing their way across the fuselage for more visual interest, leaving the tail empty for an ANA logo without making it jarring. This is a huge improvement over the Jinbei Jets, which again serve as a point of comparison as the other major Japanese marine life planes. (Amakusa Airlines is way smaller and thus not going to get caught up in this.)
I mean, it's hard to find too much to say about these that isn't just "oh my gosh, look at them". The Flying Honu are vividly colored, with clever shapes used to make them immediately recognizable as turtles. I smile every time I see one, including the little one on my desk!
And in case you weren't already delighted, there's two extra bonus turtles!
I think it's pretty obvious I'm giving these an A+. Come on, just...just look at them. The fact that ANA bothered to make three distinct ones with their own names and faces is just icing on the cake for me, but I do love that they did.
I can't believe I didn't find a way to fit this in earlier into the post, but I really love turtles. If you have an aquarium near you, and that aquarium has turtles, I really recommend stopping by to see them. My local New England Aquarium has had Myrtle for more than 50 years. As they describe her, 'the 550-lb Queen of the Giant Ocean Tank is large, in charge, and ready to receive your adoration'.
youtube
True to form, although a lot larger and dealing in a different type of fluid dynamics, the Flying Honu jets get plenty of my adoration too.
#tarmac fashion week#grade: a+#era: 2010s#era: 2020s#all nippon airways#aquairium#region: east asia#region: japan
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wait... it's ending??!
[A/n: I can’t believe that this is over. I also can’t believe that I pigeon-holed myself into writing a fight scene. Who does that?? Me. The answer is me. In all seriousness, I want to thank every single one of you who read this insane story. It was a wild ride (maybe not one that’s actually over yet… I can’t tell).
Thank you all so much for the wonderful comments and the kudos and just so much overwhelming love! I’m going to take a little break from the heavy stuff and supply some fluff here in the next few weeks!
As always, I didn’t proofread this, so there may be some spelling and grammar mistakes.]
Summary: Bodies start popping up within the city drained of blood and torn at the throat. Detective Ava Silva and her new partner Beatrice Alexander are determined to crack the case before more victims are discovered. But when recent technological advancements threaten how things are done, Beatrice has to put more trust in her partner than ever before.
Trigger warning: Please respect your triggers- like any creature feature there is blood, and death, and violence.
Masterlist | Read on Ao3 | Request Prompts
Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five
Dt🧛: @littleskrimp, @moreorlez, @lazyashell, @gold-dust-angel @hypertic
The Blood Ties that Bind | Chapter Six | Ava Silva x Sister Beatrice
“I wouldn’t mind roughing the guy up a little, that’s all I’m saying.” His hands were firm on the steering wheel, thumbs running over the ribbed leather absentmindedly. It was raining and the windshield wipers were putting in the work. They gave Ava a small moment of clarity before everything became warped again, a painting of neons and dimly lit storefronts. “That’s all I’m saying.”
She had her foot up on the dash, preoccupied with rolling the fabric of her pants just up above her socks. Her shoes were soaked and so was the hem of her jeans. What Ava wouldn’t give to crawl out of her skin right about now. It had been penanced for forgetting the umbrella under the seat of the Impala.
“Yeah, I’m sure you would, but the world doesn’t work that way. Izzie would rather have you at her graduation than him, anyway. No use busting your knuckles and ending up in the drunk tank for that low-life.”
Ava knew something was wrong when JC had given up on holding the newspaper above his head to catch the stray drops of rain. The ink was running in black, leaving little black smudges on his shirt. He’d dropped his hand, leaned his forehead against the top of the payphone with a heaving sigh visible through the car’s window.
His father, a man that Ava only knew by reputation, was meant to fly home just a day before JC himself would board a plane and return to his stomping ground. His sister Isabella was graduating, and despite never being present, the family held out hope that just this once, he’d show up.
“What excuse was it this time?” She asked.
“Tammy is sick, the flu, some type of stomach bug.” He pulled onto the freeway, jerking the tires just a little too fast in the rain. He righted the car. “He was apologetic, that’s what Ma’ says anyway. I don’t believe it, though. Not like he’s the one yacking up leftovers.”
Ava cringed at the mental image, but let it go. When JC got like this, it was better to let him stew in it. He didn’t want advice, or comfort. No, he wanted something to take his mind off things. So she flicked on the scanner and filled the cab of the car with the dull hum of radio static interrupted here and there with the signals and codes.
They were patient people, usually waiting for the Chief to assign them homicides. The uniforms would hadn’t the robberies, the APB’s and the traffic tickets. Domestic’s, they stayed away from entirely. But sometimes, if the day was right, they’d take the bait wriggling on a metal hook.
“All units be aware, report of a 10851 in progress. Blue Austin Allegra. License plate number; Victor, Queen, Nora 8765. Advised 22350.”
Ava smiled “You know what would cheer you up?”
“A handle of vodka?”
“Yes, but not on shift.” Ava tapped his shoulder “We should find that car.”
“If we happen upon the car, I wouldn’t mind stopping a theft. But it’s a big city, Silva. Chances, we’ll see it. Slim to none.”
Ava grinned regardless, taking this as a win. It was hard to keep a straight face when she smiled like that. JC let the ghost of happiness pass over his lips, but it made a home in the attic of his eyes. His grip loosened on the steering wheel.
They stopped at a burger place just at the edge of the city. It was wedged between the train depot, long since turned into a museum that had railroad spikes imprisoned in a glass case, and a large, immobile engine that was permanently parked against the tracks.
JC parked the car under the awnings and they placed their order before taking solace on the hood. He laid his jacket down, sopping up the chill of the water. “Such a gentleman Detective Garcia.”
“Shove off,” He said as he shoved fries into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “How much PTO do you have?”
Ava grimaced, tried to the math in her head “Don’t know. Maybe like, a hundred.”
“Just so happens a ticket to Izzie’s graduation has opened up. We can get you a cheap flight.”
“Meeting the family? After all the shit you’ve spewed at them?”
“Ava, come on! You’ve got enough paid time off to take a goddamn year for yourself. I’m only asking for a weekend.” He took a bite of his burger, grease dripping from his chin.
She’d already known the answer the second that he asked. Of course, she’d get on the plane with him. It was effortless, an agreement that came to her like breathing the balmy air around them. Before she could answer, her eyes locked onto a dark blue Austin Allegra. It looked nearly black in the gray light of midday.
“What was the license plate on that 10851?”
JC shrugged, but pushed off the trunk of the car. He opened the drivers side door, pulled out a napkin, scrawled with ink. “VGN8765. That our car?”
“Looking like it.” He nodded at her as she reached for the radio, abandoning the prospect of finishing lunch. She spoke into the receiver. “Detective’s Garcia and Silva, eyes on 10851. Proceeding to Eastbound 95, in pursuit.”
“10-4”
The taillights pulsed like a blinking demon in the stormy weather. Their car was unmarked, but even still, it was Government issued and easily recognizable. JC was careful to stay a few paces behind.
Two miles in, exiting the freeway, JC flicked the lights on the grill of the car on. They clicked, cicadas among the static of the radio. Everything was muted within the car. The Allegra stalled, brake lights bleeding red. The rain picked up enough for him to switch on the windshield wipers too.
“Oh, fucking shit, he’s going to run.” JC said.
The Allegra switched lance, pressed down on the gas. JC followed suit, the tires hesitating on the we asphalt for only a moment before he picked up speed. Car chases were few and far between, nothing like what they portrayed on ‘Chips’.
Cars would pull out of the way as they caught wind of the red and blue lights flashing. The Allegra weaved in and out and JC kept formidable speed. Ava kept her thumb on the transmission for the radio. “Suspect refuses to pull over, requesting backup.”
“10-20?”
“Corner of Montgomery and Alan, heading northeast.”
“Copy. Backup dispatched.”
They turned the corner, nearly swiping a side-mirror. The Allegra picked up speed, the rain fell harder. There was a calm in the cab of the car that did not reflect the quickness of the situation. She felt the car shift gears, the scent of burning rubber filled her lungs.
When the car failed them, it did so with purpose. Things slowed, there was an adept lack of control as it met the road. Metal upon cement, crunching so easily as if it were nothing but tinfoil to begin with. Ava felt the impact of the airbag, smelled the powder that coated every inch of the cab.
They flipped once, twice, something that Ava learned later. She had clenched her eyes shut, braced herself as the Impala landed on it’s roof and slid half a block, scraping against shattered glass and rock.
Two minutes, she was unconscious for two minutes before dragging in a breath that reeked of petrol and smoke. There was blood, blood that was dripping from her forehead onto the roof of the car. The seatbelt sawed into her throat. She rushed to unlatch it, but thought better of it.
The headlights flickered against the storm and her ears rung. She wasn’t underwater but moved as if she was. She was disoriented, fingers shaking. The radio still worked, still grumbled in it’s fruitless hum.
“10-20? Detective Garcia. Detective Silva, 10-20?”
Shattered glass cut into the palm of her hand. She coughed, tried to get the chemical burn from her lungs. Ava couldn’t feel her legs, her feet, her toes. She choked back a sob, trying to push the though aside. Respond. Respond.
“10-20? We have units enroute. 10-20 Detectives?”
Ava hated the quiet, and quiet it was. The car had settled in it’s movements, aside from the operator trying again, and again in her attempt to reach them, there was nothing. She fumbled, felt glass dig into her palm as she searched for the receiver.
“Detective Silva,” Ava’s voice was shaking, forced “There’s been an accident. Send fire, ambulance. Montgomery and… and twelfth, I think.”
“Copy.” There was a pause, she pressed the receiver to her head, breathed “Are you injured?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know.”
“Garcia?”
Ava hadn’t looked. Couldn’t look. She knew the answer, just as she had known that she would get on the plane with him and go to his little sister's graduation. It came as naturally to her as breathing.
Ava woke up screaming. She didn’t realize the sound was coming from her at first, that much was a given by how much it shocked her. It lodged in her throat, cut through the quiet of the room that she didn’t recognize at first, and even when she was oriented, couldn’t grasp it in her memory. She’d dreamt of the crash.
The interior was dark, the air cleaner here than in her own apartment. The sheets were darker, softer. There was the scent of balsam wood in the air. The walls were blank save for some tasteful photos of the city, black and white.
Detective Alexander was on the edge of the bed in the few seconds it took Ava to draw in a breath. She’d been sitting in an olive-green chair under a light that seemed much too bright, so Ava looked away, clenched her eyes shut. It was too much.
“Hey, hey” Beatrice’s words were soothing, her hand on the side of her face a blanket of ice. Ava leaned into it. “Take it easy, alright?”
She swallowed hard, trying to sooth the dry soreness in her throat. Her body ached; her limbs felt like they needed a pint of oil to get kickstarted. And her jaw, her jaw was like a loaded gun, the bullets resting just below the soft flesh of her gums. Her only salvation was Beatrice, steady and strong, right in front of her.
“It’s a lot, I know.” Her thumb swiped against Ava’s cheek. “I’m going to turn off the lamp.”
Ava let out a small whimper in response. She missed the closeness instantly, and savored the darkness that followed. The bed dipped once more and she found the courage to force one eye open, and then the other.
“Beatrice,” her voice broke, chin trembling “I don’t know what’s happening. I’m scared.”
The woman shifted her gaze, let a tear streak down her cheek. It landed on the duvet. She elegantly wiped them away, refused to let it get any further. “Ava, I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t understand.” She frowned.
The world was brighter, even in the dark. Everything was more defined. She swore, no, assumed that she could hear something moving past the heavy oak door. A conversation was being had. Hushed voices as if they were trying to keep something from her. Ava’s jaw pulsed with pain in tandem with her heart. Was it slower? Was it just less noticeable?
Beatrice placed a hand on her knee “There is no easy way to say this.”
“It has something to do with the church. That man. He was so angry.”
Beatrice laughed wetly, shook her head. “Yeah, Ava. He’s an angry man. He’d do anything to hurt me, and it turns out, the best way to do that was to hurt you.”
“And he did, didn’t he? He hurt me?”
“Yes, Ava. He hurt you.” Beatrice clenched her jaw, and then unclenched it. “He killed you.”
“Oh.”
Ava drew her knees to her chest and rested her chin on them. The fabric felt too soft, the detergent that clung to it was strong, but she hugged herself closer and the sensations ebbed away into something of normalcy.
There were flashes of teeth, of the metallic taste of blood wetting her tongue. A man in a civil war uniform washed out and gray. A scripture that played like the end credits of a movie. And Detective Alexander- Beatrice- with her honeyed eyes.
“There are things in this world that don’t simply die. A gray area where Adriel, Vincent, and I live. Though, I resent grouping us together. We are not one and the same and” Beatrice slowed her words when she met Ava’s eyes, widened, pulpy with fear. “Vampires. Fright Night style vampires.”
That was ridiculous. Ava knew it down in her core that this could be some type of elaborate prank. They’d gone to lengths, she’d admit- renting out an entire church with a musty carpet and foul-tasting communion wine.
Had it not been for the blinding white pain in her neck, the small start of a scream that was choked down due to her imminent death, then she would have swallowed back all of those longing thoughts about the woman in front of her and filed a restraining order.
“That’s impossible,” Ava whispered.
“I assure you, it’s not. And while I would have greatly preferred to have told you in a gentler way, this is the reality. What happened to you, Ava, it was unfair.”
“And what exactly happened? Because one minute I was having a normal conversation about a connection to our case and then the next, I’m… dead?”
Beatrice shifted on the bed, ran her hand across her pants, it left a small damp mark on the fabric. She opened her mouth as if she were going to say something, and then thought better of it before finally committing to what was dancing on the tip of her tongue.
“Adriel is a man that preys on fear, and it took me a long time to realize that. It took me until 1919 which happened to be one of the worst years in history, speaking strictly from experience. We were in an eatery, and he had every single person in there slaughtered because attention wasn’t on him for once.”
Ava had to take a shallow breath to swallow back her comment about the year. That, she would ask about later, if she so chose. Right now, she was doing everything in her power not to vomit up whatever she’d forced down.
“I had always despised my choice- my cowardice- when it came to becoming a vampire. I did it out of fear, but I also did it of my own will. I followed Adriel for years, decades, thinking that his way was the only way until I decided it wasn’t.”
“And he did this to me in order to spite you?”
Beatrice nodded, “I finally let my guard down enough to truly care about someone and it made me vulnerable to his tactics. More than anything, it made you a target, and for that, if you never forgive me for that- if you decide that this isn’t what you want, then, I’m behind you. I’m behind you 100%.”
“And if I decide that this isn’t what I want?” Ava’s voice came out as a raspy whisper “What happens then?”
The darkness of the room swam around them. It took a few moments for Beatrice to muster anything that was akin to words. Ava waited patiently, counted the slow beats in her temples. The world was so loud, and Ava was overwhelmed, tempted to give in to the pain without knowing the facts.
“To complete your transition, you need to drink human blood. If you decide that this isn’t what you’d like, then the venom that’s in your system will shut down your organs one by one until you’re gone… truly gone.” Her voice shook, “And if that is the case, then we’ll make you as comfortable as possible. You won’t feel a thing. I promise.”
Ava let out a small noise and flopped down into the bed. Everything was spinning. The dresser was where the bookshelf should have been, and the overhead ceiling fan was now on the floor. But Beatrice was the main constant.
She knelt by the side of the bed, waiting patiently. Ava had draped an arm over her eyes dramatically, but still, her frown was visible. It was a thinking expression and that gave Beatrice a flurry of hope.
“There were countless times in my career when I should have died. Times when guns were fired and knives were pulled. Most notably when an Impala flipped, and I lost the closest thing I ever had to a brother. And when I finally did die it was like something out of a movie rented from Blockbuster.”
Ava moved her arm from her eyes, turned her head to stare at Beatrice. The warmth radiated from her, oozed in waves.
“For so long I believed that I didn’t deserve to live. JC should have been the one to survive that crash, he should have been able to go to his sister’s graduation and he should still be here today.” Her words were choked now, tears streaking across her cheeks, making them damp. “Who am I to make this choice? Who am I to live an infinite life when his was cut short?”
“Oh, Ava” Beatrice reached forward tentatively, using her thumb to wipe away the tears. “You cannot control everything, but you can control this. You’ve fought hard for this long. I’m not trying to force your hand, believe me, this is a weighted decision. But if your concern lies in your value to this world, then make no mistake- it is infinite.”
It was heated up in the microwave and somehow, out of everything she had learned in the past twenty-four hours, everything she had felt, including her own neck snapping under the pressure of an immortal hand, this was the worst. It wasn’t’ that Ava had an aversion to leftovers, it was quite the opposite, but her stomach took a nose-dive at the smarting scent that filled the air as the small machine let out three tonal beeps.
This was normal, she told herself, she was just going to swallow a mug of very-human blood from a novelty mug that had a faded logo for NASA scrawled across the front. Not only that, but she was damned to do it in front of an audience.
Ava was unsteady on her feet at first. They felt foreign on the cold wooden floor. But, as always, Beatrice was there with a confident hand on the small of her back, leading her through the maze of a high-rise apartment. Despite the dark and the multitude of windows, she couldn’t bring herself to stare out at the endless city beneath them. She would most certainly hurl.
“Are hallucinations part of the deal?”
Ava lifted her chin towards her neighbor, who leaned against the counter in the kitchen with her arms crossed. Mary had leveled the girl who stood across the island with a toxic stare. It softened, however, when she saw Ava.
“I assure you; she is really here.” The stranger said, “I’m Lilith, and you must be Ava.”
“Great detective skills, Lestat.” Mary said coolly.
Beatrice cleared her throat, somehow commanding a hush over the room, though Mary clenched and unclenched her jaw as if she was holding back an explosion of expletives. Ava was guided to one of the barstools, and she was thankful to sit down.
It was then that Beatrice set a mug of steaming blood in front of her in a NASA mug. And it was then that Ava began to question her choice. It seemed so simple, chug the scalding liquid, choke it down, become an immortal creature that never had to fear death again, but maybe had to fear garlic or mirrors- she hadn’t exactly asked about logistics.
“So, I just… drink it and then it’s done?”
“It’s never really done.” Lilith got an elbow to the ribs, growled softly “I mean, yes. Technically speaking.”
Ava nodded, and cupped the mug like it was tea and not thick and sticky. She was really, truly, doing this. Mary seemed to have the good sense to turn away, maybe it was out of disgust, or maybe Ava’s fear for the future just carried across the room.
The first sip barely touched her lips. She wanted to reel back, the heat of the liquid scalding. But, when Ava swiped her tongue over it, the aching in her jaw pulsed to something much less painful. It was salty, pungent. She waited a moment and took a gulp, then another.
It was different than the blood she had inevitably swallowed in the church. Adriel’s blood was cold and clotted and clearly mixed with something to dilute the flavor into something akin to very aged wine. This was soothing, like pulling a shawl over her shoulders during an ice storm. There was warmth, but there was also the lingering feeling of how long it would take to get her hands on something more suited for the weather.
She’d finished the mug, and strangely, didn’t much mind the fact that it was warmed up in the microwave anymore. It had stopped the pounding in her temples and the buzzing of her skin, almost as if everything was coming into focus, if only for a moment.
Ava ran her tongue over her lips again, this time feeling the slightest pinprick of her canines. They were sharper, but subtly so. She reckoned, if she really needed to, they could create the type of markings that she first settled on when looking at the cold body of Barry Palmer, something easily mistaken for an animal.
Beatrice took the mug and rinsed the rest of it in the sink, the color of the water fading to a tinted pink before it circled the drain. “How do you feel?”
“Better,” Ava admitted.
There was a relief on the woman’s face that made Ava want to rush to her if only she could trust her legs. Not drinking the contents of the mug had clearly plagued the girl for longer than Ava had been awake and she wore it on her face, not attempting to hide the relief that washed over her. It was done, but something in the tension that settled over the room reminded Ava that it most certainly was not finished.
Whoever had done this to her, had thrust her into a newfound life of mythical unkemptness was still out there, and if what he had done to her was only the beginning, a small part of revenge in a masterplan, then they were utterly and truly fucked.
“I have people that I can call,” Mary said, reading the room. “They’ll be reluctant to team up with the likes of you, but if it’ll stop an uprising in the city, then they’ll take the chance.”
“We can pick them off in smaller groups, work our way from the outside in. Even with Adriel in command, I guarantee you that there are disciples that don’t fully adhere to his beliefs. They’ll be easier to track, and deal with.”
Beatrice had both of her hands resting on either side of the sink. She spoke with a commandment that Ava hadn’t seen before, and she certainly wasn’t about to admit that it was the most attractive thing she had ever experienced. So instead, she shifted on the barstool, averting her gaze.
“I want a shot at him.” Beatrice said, “A true and honest shot. He played all of his cards at once, and he expects me to come back begging for mercy, for some type of forgiveness. But Mary, if you have reinforcements, we have a chance to take him down.”
Mary made a small noise “Can’t say what those reinforcements will do after all of this is over, but they’ll never pass up a fight like this. This bastard should have rotted a long time ago.”
Beatrice nodded and took her hands from the counter, crossing them over her chest. Ava saw her in a new light, an immortal light that she stupidly hadn’t caught earlier. Beatrice had never eaten in front of her, she never showed any true signs of fear-driven mortality. Now, in the face of going up against Adriel, terror diminished her dark eyes.
“Ava, no one is expecting you to face this.” Beatrice pulled her from thought with a simple statement. “In your state, your physicality, things might be difficult, and they will certainly be different. Lilith, Camila, they had time to adjust to things.”
Lilith schooled her expression into a frown at the mention of the name, and Ava had a blurry picture of the girl in her mind. She’d been in the church; she’d shown nothing of pity or healing. She hadn’t faked it the way Adriel and Vincent had, and for that, Ava was oddly grateful.
“I know you can feel that power inside your gut.” Lilith said in a blasé manner, “It’s intoxicating. But it can easily make you a liability. We’ve never seen a fight like this before.”
“You’re forgetting I’m an officer of the law.”
“Yes, police officers have always been good at showing restraint, haven’t they?”
“It’s her choice,” Beatrice spoke, voice hard.
Ava would be perfectly content to stay on the sidelines, though she had a feeling that she would regret it for her long life. If something were to happen to Beatrice, or even Lilith (a tad annoying, but in the older-sister type of way), then it would destroy her. More than that, she knew she’d destroy herself without guidance.
Cement gray clouds were crudely drawn against a starless black sky. They were threatening rain, plump with water that would once again push down on the city streets. Ava breathed in deeply, she could smell it so clearly, the way that the air reacted to the impending storm. The foreign sensation clung to her skin, swirled around her as if she could physically see the whisps of rain sparring with mist rising from the heated asphalt.
There were noises too; the screeching of the wet brakes for the midnight bus, the dull French murmur of a radio housed somewhere in an open window. She couldn’t track the words, nor could she decipher them. There were footsteps galore and a woman arguing over the price of cigarettes with the owner of a bodega. How many miles away, she couldn’t be sure.
“Les employés continuent d'organiser des manifestations dans les installations qu'ils habitent, interrompant le flux de travail.”
“This is robbery! I’ve been coming here for years, isn’t there loyalty in that?”
“Cela peut affecter le commerce, la résolution est peu probable.”
“You’ve lost my business forever, you bastard. Take your cigarettes and shove them up your ass.”
Two hands were on her shoulders, firm through the fabric of her coat. Beatrice carried the scent of a beach along the coast, and Ava breathed it in like salvation. She hadn’t realized she closed her eyes, nor that she had stopped only a few paces out of the apartment. Beatrice had dipped her head slightly, meeting Ava’s.
“Hey,” her voice was smooth, grounding. “I bet you’re hearing a lot right now.”
Ava chuckled wetly “Too much, some would say. I can’t speak French, I’m afraid.”
“Je peux t'apprendre, nous avons le temps. It’s boring, political relations.”
“I feel like I can taste the rain.”
“It’s a bit overwhelming, I know. You’ll get used to it in time, but for right now, focus on me. If things get to be too much, you let me know and we’ll ground you together. Is there anything that you notice more than the rest of the world's noise?”
Ava frowned and struggled to focus. While the fuzzy words of the radio had stopped and been replaced by a jazz song with the same amount of static, and the bodega man had given up for the night, flipping the open sign and muttering profanities to himself, it was still too loud. Too much.
“I can… smell you?”
“Good, yes.” Beatrice prided “That’s something to hang onto, something to attune yourself with. Eventually, I’ll teach you to synch with your own heartbeat. Ideally out of the city. It can be quite staggering here.”
Ava swallowed hard and squeezed her eyes shut. There was a metallic scent that rested under the waves of Beatrice’s skin, a sunniness that reminded her of salt-encrusted waves and sand, the call of birds. A place she remembers from her childhood. Everything quieted.
They were walking along the sidewalk a few paces behind Mary and Lilith, who argued amongst themselves. Ava could hear every word despite the hushed tone until she took another heaping breath of summer tones in the cold, city street.
“Don’t go pissing them off, alright? That goes for all of you. If you think I’m intense, these are the big guys. Kills that stretch for miles. They won’t hesitate.” Mary fretted “I shouldn’t have hesitated.”
“Admit that you like us, and your suffering will be much less evident,” Lilith said.
“I will shove a stake so far up your ass you’ll be chewing on splinters for weeks.”
They rounded the corner and were bathed in the neon light of an electronics store. Despite having been closed for hours, the large television sets played different forms of the news, soundless, but all with the same form of cookie-cutter caster. They were rim-rod straight, clenching papers between their fingers.
Ava tried to ignore the headlines. It would skew her work. What skewed it more was the official statements the Chief had released about Sabrina Patrick’s death. All too public. It went against everything she knew. The vigil of candles by the wharf was like a calling card to those they were about to face. Her smiling face flashed against the multitude of screens and Ava turned away.
Two cars had parked half a block up. From the first, two women and two men emerged, shrouded by shadows. The second, four other women. Ava could smell something sweet on them, could sense their apprehension. Mary nudged Lilith behind her, partly out of contempt.
“What’s all this?” A muscular woman was at the front of the pack, her shoulders were pulled back. She eyed Mary, and the group that huddled behind her. Ava’s hand clung to Beatrice’s. “Your message sounded urgent.”
“It is. I’m calling in that favor you owe me, Dora.”
“You called that in last year.”
“Then I need an IOU.” Mary glanced back at the group. “I’m sure all of you have noticed the recent deaths in the city, the missing persons cases. It’s all tracked down to one man. We know where he is, and what he’s capable of.”
Dark lifted a sculpted eyebrow. “And you need manpower?”
“We need manpower,” Mary confirmed.
There was buzzing amongst those stacked behind Dora, a murmur that rippled through the crowd and fizzled out like a broken wave. They knew, Ava gathered, that Beatrice and Lilith and now her were not cut from the same cloth. She felt a chill move up her spine, knowing that just like her choice, one had to be made.
All this time, she had lived across from Mary. She’d brought take-out food over, listened to rock albums that would swarm her mind. They’d laughed and opened up about the death of Mary’s wife. And now, they stood on the wet sidewalk, separated. Ava had never known about the true nature of someone who hunts. Not for sport- but for vengeance.
Ava flushed and deemed herself the world’s worst detective.
“Have you gone soft?” One of the men asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Working with them?”
Mary laughed, bitter and soft all at once. “I seem to remember becoming a hunter to better the world. And right now, our best bet is to swallow our pride and stop the swarm right at its roots. If we don’t, it’ll keep growing back.”
“Cut off one head and three grow in it’s place.” Dora mumbled, looking back at the uneasily shifting troops. “Right. Well. You’ll owe me infinite favors if we do this. Are we clear? I’m not throwing our family into harm’s way without something in return.”
Mary didn’t say anything, she swallowed thickly and nodded. She took the outstretched hand that Dora offered and shook it. Beatrice seemed to let her shoulders drop, only slightly, not to show weakness, but to show some form of reprieve. Ava sensed it and squeezed her hand.
The lights overhead buzzed like a set of trapped flies begging for a way out. Ava struggled to pay them no mind. Her head had since stopped throbbing violently, but now her heart threatened to bubble over in anxiety. How was it still beating? How was it this loud? These were all questions Ava had at the ready for when she stopped examining her teeth.
She used her index finger to lift one pale pink edge of her lip, leaning close to the convenience store mirror that was bleeding rust. Ava had never paid much attention to her teeth before. After she got a root canal in the fifth grade, she brushed them normally like any other kid scared shitless with a drill.
Knowing that there were lethal weapons wedged under her gums sent a chill down her spine. Easily forgettable, yes, but what if the man behind the counter sliced his hand open on a crisp dollar bill? She’d latch to the wound like a bag clip, and Ava wasn’t entirely sure she’d be able to stop.
She startled when a knock sounded at the door- entirely soft but deafening at the same time. Ava took another swallow of stale bathroom air and opened it. Beatrice stood, illuminated by the harsh lighting.
“Guy behind the counter won’t let you use the bathroom without buying anything.” She smiled goofily, holding up a pack of mint gum.
“Oh, I know, I’m now a proud owner of a rabbit’s foot keychain. Figured we could use any luck we can get.”
Ava stepped aside and let Beatrice enter the bathroom. The two of them stood there for a moment, regarding each other, less like strangers and more like acquaintances.
“You don’t have to do this.”
“Are you going to be able to do this?”
They spoke at the same time before welcoming the silence again. Then there was laughter, because what else could one do when there was an impending war? The city would be sleeping, the fight drowned out by rain and ignorance that Ava wished she still had the liberty of having. When she clenched her eyes shut, she was curled up in bed, elbow-deep in the Great Gatsby, sheathed into Beatrice’s side.
“You know,” Ava said, breaking the laughter “I always imagined you wearing glasses. Before all of this, I pictured you needing them to read. And that just seems silly now. I can see everything clearly.”
“Believe it or not, I did once wear glasses, before all of this.” She took a step closer, “They were quite the luxury in 1864, but I was as blind as a bat without them. Just because one can see clearly with newfound ability doesn’t mean… doesn’t mean they can forget being human. And if that’s what you’re worried about-“
“No, no.” Ava held up both hands “Well, maybe a little bit. I keep feeling like I have to pee, but I can’t. And that’s freaking me out a little bit. I also accidentally ripped the handle off the toilet, so I might have to buy another rabbit’s foot. Truthfully, I’m worried about you.”
“Me?”
She shoved Beatrice’s shoulder gently “Yes, you. I know I’m going through a whole crisis right now and we’re about to rip through a bunch of vampire drones when I didn’t even think vampires were real, but this is a big deal for you.”
Ava stilled and fixed her gaze on Beatrice, she gently brushed her fingers against the taller girl’s eyebrows, trying to smooth out the worried frown, the small crease between them that was admittedly adorable.
“I would give anything to avenge JC’s death, truly, I would, but that would be a little self-destructive don’t you think?”
“Ava,” Beatrice warned.
“My point is, Bea, you have the option and… and part of me wants to make sure that when you’re standing there, face to face with this creature that you won’t hesitate, or contemplate, or whatever rushes through that gorgeous head of yours. I want you to kick his ass.”
“Kick… his ass?”
Ava beamed now. This was her old partner. Though she didn’t mind the tender care that Beatrice exhibited in all of her guilt-ridden actions, she could do without them for a little while. There was a quiet properness to Beatrice’s actions, even the one time Ava had seen her dislodge a gun that was pointed directly at her head with one swift movement.
She understood now, why there was no fear. But at the time, Ava nearly lost her own footing. She cuffed their target and tried not to let her admiration shine through. There was a shift in Beatrice now, that professional shift that ebbed away at her immortally perplexed thoughts.
“Yeah,” She squared her shoulders, loosening her stance. “Yeah, alright. I’ll kick his ass.”
“That’s my girl! I’ll help too. I’ve got your six, always. No more shady actions, they’ve gotten me nowhere.”
“Aw, does this mean I don’t get any more pity coffee?” Beatrice pouted. “It always tastes better when it’s pity coffee.”
Beatrice Alexander held a loose beauty as she walked past the large park that was at the heart of the city. Her presence held a match, filling the air with sulfur. The grass was damp, and her shoes sunk the second she hit it. She lingered between oaks, adjusted her hold on the double-barrel shotgun that she held in her hands.
They’d been walking the streets for the better half of an hour as lightning charged the atmosphere. Beatrice had learned quickly that while Adriel’s followers were armed with eternal life and Napoleon complex, under it all, they were still scared.
The second Dora had swung a bat embedded with nails close enough to an ear to slice it open, the packs of them started to scatter. Beatrice shuddered at the joy in her eyes, the leadership that rang through the world as they slaughtered and maimed.
Ava had winced at the gunshots, the screaming. But it quickly passed as they neared the center of the city. They had a clear path to Adriel, to the higher-ups that had clung to his every single word for decades.
They stood like the four horsemen of the apocalypse: loaded up with weapons and their own hubris. Beatrice could smell the rain and the damp of the day. There was fear bubbling in her stomach. She remembered the day at the protests in the 70s- the heat that bord down on her, and the way she ran. Beatrice refused to run.
Once she took the first step over the threshold of the park, she stilled her nerves. The steeple of the church loomed over them, and the prophet himself stood in the center of the clearing. He looked so simple, so unassuming. He wore a jack-o-lantern smile.
Vincent was on his right, and Camila was on his left. Both steeled themselves. More lurked within the trees- new like Ava, uninformed like Camila. She noted their unblinking eyes. It was impossible to count. They stopped a few yards away from the line of defense.
Adriel had always fought with American Revolutionary tactics, lines of cannon fodder. She’d never seen him raise a hand in those early days. As time began to wear against his bones and his ideals grew three sizes to oppression, that changed.
He had a proud tilt to his jaw “Beatrice, I knew you couldn’t stay away.”
She was careful with her strength, with her words. A shotgun would be useless with a bent barrel. Mary scanned the trees, calculating their chances of freedom. Lilith’s stare was locked on Camila, unwavering. Anger rolled from her in waves, never waning.
“Detective Silva,” Adriel continued “Death becomes you nicely.”
“Suck a dick!” Ava yelled back.
“Charming.”
Beatrice could count six vampires on each side, possibly seven. Men and women who had drunk from the same glass that Ava had. Their demise was gentler, she was sure. They edged closer to them- and it was Mary who took the first shot, a single hairline trigger that launched an arrow through the center of a man’s heart.
A hiss was lodged in his throat as hellfire consumed him; brilliant oranges and muted reds seeping through the cracks in his veins. Ash floated into the air, crumbled to the ground, and fed the earth. Such a quick death in such a public park. Ava suddenly looked feeble, tightening her grip on her gun.
Adriel’s stare shifted then to something tense and unforgiving. He signaled, something so slight, a movement with his hand, and the remaining eleven figures lurking in the shadows rushed forward. Their shoes squelched in the mud, kicking up rainwater.
Beatrice advanced forward. She was locked in on Adriel, the sounds of an ensuing fight breaking across the silence. Mary was good with her weapon, an expert in her craft. Blood caked Lilith’s fingers and sprayed her face. Gunshots rang out, a crosshatch flash of light blinking in Morse code with each pull of Ava’s trigger.
By the time she reached him, both Vincent and Camila had ducked to the edges of the fight. It was just the two of them and the putrid scent of congealed blood flowing through his veins.
Adriel moved like lightning, ducking the first motivated hit that Beatrice threw his way with the butt of the gun. The second thrust struck bone, a sickening crunch from a shattered nose. He reeled back and laughed as blood gushed over his lips, staining his teeth pink. Resentment rotted under his skin.
“I just want to talk.”
She swung again, striking his temple. Blood bloomed against his skull. “Oh, I’m sure. You’ve created this entire plan, this army.”
“An army we once dreamed of together, Beatrice!” he caught the next throw of the gun, holding it merely inches from his cheek, his voice was a low growl “I put all my trust in you. We could have had everything. Everything!”
“You were never satisfied, Adriel. You always wanted more.”
“And what is wrong with that? We are the superior race! Humans are fragile, they are nothing compared to us. Fodder in a war that the two of us were destined to end together.”
“Write that sentence down,” She wrenched the gun from his grasp “And hand it to your therapist.”
Adriel snarled at her and pushed his entire weight into her midsection. They both crashed to the ground. Its sweaty cold worked its way through her clothes. He brought his fist down on her jaw and she could taste copper. Once, twice, three times before she wedged her boot between them and threw him a few feet away. His fingers dug fruitlessly into the soft, damp earth.
Beatrice raised herself from the ground, placed the sole of her shoe on Adriel’s chest. There was a sadness in his mud-trodden eyes. To her, it was a sign of defeat, a tiredness that centuries roaming the earth had established.
He had never been a good fighter- instead, he employed Vincent for that. Vincent who was pinned to the ground by Mary, Lilith’s nails digging into his soft flesh. Ava fended off Camila, shoving her back, aiming the gun directly between the girl's eyebrows. Beatrice couldn’t’ hear the words that leaked from her mouth, the begging that thrummed.
No doubt, he was waiting for the rest of his army of sires, those who had no other choice. But they were gone, slaughtered in the streets. There were more, she was sure, with the same ideology spread across the world. It was impossible not to fall prey to his charming ways.
Beatrice pumped the shotgun, aimed it directly at Adriel. His hair was cemented to his forehead, his chest rising and falling under the pressure of her foot. She gritted her teeth, could taste the soil and the electricity in the air.
“What greater thing is there for two human souls than to feel that they are joined- to strengthen each other- to be at one with each other in silent unspeakable memories.” He quoted George Eliot effortlessly, trying to appeal to her.
Beatrice laughed, her words dripping with venom “There is nothing human about you. The things that you willed me to do- killing my parents, burning entire towns. Adriel, I will never get the scent of burning flesh from my lungs.”
“You could have left sooner. You could have said no.”
“You sired me!” She pressed down hard enough for his sternum to pop under the weight. He let out a scream of pain, smirked into it with sick enjoyment. “I had no choice, and when I did get the will to break your hold it was too much for you. My disobedience was too much.”
“Great things are not done by impulse, but by a series of small things brought together.”
Beatrice frowned, knelt with her full weight against him. She moved the gun, placed it directly under his chin, pushed hard enough to create angry red circles against his stubble. His breath was labored, bones unable to fuse back together. It didn’t stop them from trying. “Stop talking. Right now, you listen.”
She waited for a beat, heard another gunshot ring out.
“If you had just let me, go you wouldn’t be here right now. Neither of us would be here. But you had some sort of sick infatuation with me, with those that I choose to care about. And I have waited too long with too much patience for this very moment.
“I cared for you once, for a brief moment, or at least I thought I did. You were the only one who understood me, the only one who saw me as more than the daughter of a rich socialite and an investment banker. But that was all an act, and the real you- fuck- the real you was the most deplorable thing.”
Adriel swallowed hard and she felt it rock through the weapon. Rain had begun to fall and it was icy on her skin. When she breathed out, it mingled with the puff of mist that pushed past Adriel’s own lips.
“It wasn’t all a lie.” He said, “I enjoyed George Eliot, and I enjoyed your father, the kindness of your family.”
“You had it all then, Adriel. A simple and beautiful life and your own greed stole that away and led us to this moment.”
He glared at her for a moment but softened. Her finger was on the trigger, her knee pressed so firmly against his ribs that she could shatter them, mold them like putty. Right now, he looked like a man caught in the rain.
“I always figured it would be you,” He said, a sad smile on his lips “The moment I saw you reading under that oak tree, I knew that my demise would be at your hands.”
Ava’s words echoed in her head then. Vengeance. It werewolfed against her bones, took over her mind. This man had chased her like a feral cat for decades. He had watched, applauded with disgusted joy as she used her teeth to tear into her mother’s jugular. He’d wiped the blood tentatively from her cheeks.
Beatrice pulled the trigger.
Detective Ava Silva thumbed the rabbit’s foot that was shoved into the pocket of her black blazer. She felt the rough artificial pads and the hard plastic nails at its tip. She was grateful that she decided to keep it. Rubbing the small keychain like this kept her hand busy, kept her from fidgeting. The other held the metal rod of an umbrella.
If she focused hard enough, she would be able to hear the officiant of the funeral or the quiet sobs that Miss Palmer muffled with her handkerchief. Instead, she counted the drops that fell against nylon and dripped to the ground. They’d worm their way through soil, soak into the mahogany of the coffins that punched holes in the earth under their feet.
Beatrice had her hand on the small of Ava’s back. Her eyes were fixated on the closed casket and the rose that was placed against it. It hadn’t been de-thorned, and she was mindful of each hand that touched it. A small drop of blood could summon a situation that both girls were too somber to acknowledge.
Ava was getting better. With the major threat eliminated, she could focus more on control or lack-there-of. Beatrice had already acquired a farmhouse that had been foreclosed on. It needed work, a long project that would keep Ava’s mind and hands occupied.
Ava had turned in her badge without being prompted. Though, the Chief had her dismissal quick on her tongue. Rules had been broken and were being investigated, but when the gunfire stopped and the red and blue adorned patrol cars finally did show up at the park, there was a distinct scent of ash in the air, blood having been washed away by the storm.
No one would talk and they spent the better half of the night in a damp interrogation room. There was no evidence of a crime, just eyewitnesses who were convinced they’d seen something of a war in between oak trees and picnic tables. It was enough for both of them to pack up the things on their desks into sad cardboard boxes.
They’d come to the funeral for Barry Palmer out of respect. Ava was entirely apologetic, squeezing his wife’s shoulders and apologizing profusely for her loss. There was something in her eyes, something tender- something that assured the woman that she was safe.
The girls didn’t’ linger, it felt wrong and immoral. There was a peacefulness to the cemetery as they walked to the car, stale water pooling around their shoes. Ava’s mind buzzed with the events of the last month. She’d found a body wedged between a load-bearing wall and a dumpster and now she was immortal. She supposed she had a lot of time to think about things.
“Are you worried about them?” Ava asked as they edged through cement grave markers.
“No,” Beatrice frowned, removed her hand from the small of Ava’s back. She was growing cold in the autumn air. “If Vincent and Camila have any good sense, they’ll stay far away to lick their wounds.”
When law enforcement showed up, those who remained scattered within the foliage had scampered away in cowardice. Ava didn’t have it in her to chase after the girl, and Lilith had done enough damage to Vincent that she figured he wouldn’t get far.
Beatrice opened the passenger side door when they reached the car, gently taking the umbrella from Ava’s grasp. Ava lingered. She turned; her front pressed against Beatrice’s. “This feels like the end.” she admitted.
“Mm, perhaps.” She leaned closer and could smell the metallic edge to Ava’s breath. “George Eliot once said only in the agony of parting do we look into the depths of love.”
Ava kissed her then, under the umbrella at the edges of a cemetery to the sound of rain and a soft, smoky wind. Her fingers ghosted Beatrice’s jaw, tenderly, filled with something akin to fondness. Just for a moment, while mourning the loss of an investment banker, and the simplicity of her own life, Ava felt like nothing else mattered. Not even the hunger that burned at the back of her throat.
#Ava Silva#Sister Beatrice#Sister Camila#Sister Lilith#Shotgun Mary#Warrior Nun#Warrior Nun Fanfiction#Vampire!Beatrice#Avatrice#Avatrice fanfiction
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Hey! 👋🏻 Can you answer ❤️ ✨ 👓 🥳 🌻 📗 📚 💛 🔮 💌 🎨 from the “Fanfic Writer Ask Game”?
Thank you so much! 🥺
Goodness that's a lot. *cracks knuckles* OK, let's do this!
❤️ What is your favorite line that you’ve written in a fic?
✨️ Out of the comments you’ve received on your fics, what are two or three of your favorites?
Answer here
👓 What helps you focus when you write?
I use the Freedom app that blocks YouTube and other sites that distract me - and sometimes I use a brain entrainment app to help stimulate my brain. It seems to help a bit. Also listening to music can help. Atm my focus is pretty shot but I have found these things have helped.
🥳 Why did you start writing fanfic?
It was a pretty natural progression, as a kid I loved imagining myself in the things I loved, usually as a cool or interesting character, and then I found fanfiction thanks to my hyperfixation on LOTR and I developed from there. I just really love exploring the worlds of the things I enjoy, imaging more adventures in the worlds, or changes to the canon story.
🌻 How often do you read your own fics?
Mmm, depends, I may reread a couple of times in a short space of time, and then I won't for ages. I don't like reading much older stuff, but I recently reread all of my Loki mega series because I wanted to remember the plot threads in the hope I may one day finish it. I will often go back to stuff in my most active fandom for fun too.
📗 Do you want to write something outside of fanfiction? If so, what about?
Oh absolutely, I've always wanted to be a published author. I've dozens of different stories, from a big world building fantasy series with one story focused on that world's first ever sorcerer, to a couple of thrillers set in the real world, to a kind of fairy tale inspired story that looks at what comes after happy ever after.
📚 Is there a fanfic or fanfic writer you recommend?
For MDZS:
Cerusee - Solid JC stuff
NotActuallyASpider -Mmm, all the angsty ZhanChengXian I could want and one of the first authors in this fandom I read.
ElDiablito_SF - ZhanCheng Author that writes them so sappy I wanna puke, it's great!
Oh_Fudgecakes - Just excellent writing both plot and smut.
For Loki:
Lise - Stoki author queen, insanely prolific writer, does Yi City works too.
💛 What is the most impactful lesson you’ve learned about writing?
You can't anticipate how people will read your work, both good and bad, and you will always write your best if you find your particular spin on the subject, not what someone else wants you to write.
🔮 Any advice for writers working through burnout or writer’s block?
Given how much I struggle with both, I guess I can only say be kind to yourself, especially with burnout. With a block, try to listen to yourself -- you likely know there's a problem further back in the story that needs fixing if you're stuck in the middle of writing.
If you're struggling to start, write the shit version and start wherever you want, because it's much easier to work on something that already exists.
If some tool helps you, like the Freedom App helps me, use it as much as you want!
💌 Is there a favorite trope you like to write?
Does fatherhood count as a trope? I seem to love making my male characters dads.
🎨 If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?
Oh so many options! Any cute moment between JC and LWJ in Ink, JC with his son (and WWX and JL) in For What or it's sequels, JC skimming on water in his fancy robes from JL's birthday, WWX and JL holding JC's hands during his C-section. The shenanigans in Break Between Classes where ZCX are making good use of the desk and JC trying to keep the bucket up. If you wanna go darker and smuttier, LWJ looming over JC in bed as in Little Bit of Hope.
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THE SECRET IN THE OLD ATTIC
Lunar Cove's very own Nancy Drew...
It isn't a secret that the Historical Society has been on the hunt for any clue that could reveal what happened back in 1992. But, this week, the Coalition Leader, Ben Anak Bandi, invited local detective and banshee, Eren Öztürk, of Tower Treasure Detective Agency to help aid the Council in a number of interviews. They haven't discovered a clue from the interviewees yet, but a few individuals who have volunteered to help in the interview process are Kui James, JC Carvalho, Lyra Almeido Santos, and Meena Raja. These interviews will be held at Town Hall, but while these interviews are being conducted, Ben put together a small group of volunteers to scour back through the public archives to see if there was anything that might have been initially looked over or missed.
Low and behold, it seems our town has a resident Nancy Drew in our midst. While scouring relentlessly over documents, Selin Yildiz (@moonshincs), realized that the original article that the Historical Society had on file was slightly off from the copies that Catalyst scattered around town last summer. The Catalyst's version of the article happened to have some typos it in which, judging from the Historical Records, were never printed in the original. After circling each word with a typo in it in red ink, Selin realized that the misspelled words made up the phrase "its the Council's fault the mirage fell". But, what exactly could this phrase mean? We now look to the interviews in hope of elaborating.
REMINDERS
For the characters being interviewed: In the OOC discord, a thread will be created where the Council will be calling individuals in one at a time for their interviews to be conducted. When each interviewee enters the room, Eren (played by Pip), will use their banshee abilities to jog your character's past memories pertaining to 1992. That is when your character will receive a clue from the main revealing a piece of information that has been trapped in your character's subconscious up until now.
If you volunteered, but your character isn't mentioned above: We have messaged everyone letting them know which of their characters have been selected for plot drops. So, if your character's name hasn't been mentioned yet and you were selected as a volunteer, stay tune because your own plot drop is coming.
The above discovery is public knowledge, but these plot drops are not mandatory, so if you’d like to react to the above IC in threads you’re more than welcome to, but please don’t feel obligated include in your threads if you’d prefer not to.
The tag for these plot drops are lunarcoveplotdrop3. If you do react to any of the above, we ask you please tag everything under this tag.
This is the second of many plot drops like this throughout the month, so keep an eye out for them. We will be incorporating our volunteers into posts like these throughout the upcoming weeks.
Last, but not least, we hope you have fun!
WINTER WONDERLAND EVENT COMING DEC 14TH
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Everyone in mdzs plays an important role for the plot. Anyway, it seems to me that we know very little about most of the cast and what we know is filtered by the narrator's prospective or is narrated trough rumors. Now I am thinking about the Nie Brothers and in particular about Nie Mingjue. He is the fierce corpe whose mystery drives a huge part of the plot. But, what we know about Nie Mingjue? (disclaimer : these are English translations so a lot is lost from the original text. And these are only my opinions about this character based on some passage)
Someone can suggest this passage to figure nmj out:
As such, the ability to discern people's desires was truly Jin Guangyao's forte. The only person he could never seem to pry any useful information out of was Nie Mingjue.
Wei Wuxian had seen this firsthand, back when Meng Yao had worked under Nie Mingjue's command. The man never laid his hands on women, alcohol, or material wealth; paintings, calligraphy and antiques were all piles of ink and mud in his eyes. Top-grade premium tea tasted the same to him as dregs from a roadside stall. Meng Yao had racked his brain and still failed to identify anything Nie Mingjue might have a taste for, other than training with his saber every day and killing Wen dogs. He was truly an iron bastion, with no weaknesses to exploit.
Volume 2, Page 319
I think that this passage says less about nmj and more about wwx. (I personally think, but maybe I am wrong, that the second passage is from wwx's pov, so I am thinking according to that)
For wwx, based on his observations, nmj hasn't any weaknesses or any hobby because he doesn't like :
Women
Alcohol
Material wealth
Painting/calligraphy/antiques
Tea
For wwx nmj only likes :
To train with his saber
To kill wen dogs
Not even considering that this knowledge comes from wartime, where people, and in particular sect leaders, have to fight against their enemies, I am inclined to interpret this passage in two ways:
Wwx is judging nmj based on what he thinks ordinary sect leaders like best
Wwx is judging nmj based on what he likes best
I don't know what one of them is more appropriate but, again, for me this passage doesn't give any insight on nmj.
In fact I find more interesting this passage:
"... I apologize to all of the Sect Leaders. Everyone, I am afraid you don't know that the Wen Cultivator whom Wei Wuxuan wanted to save was called Wen Ning. We owe him and his sister Wen Qing gratitude for what happened during the Sunshot Campaign"
Nie Mingjue, "You owe them gratitude? Isn't the QishanWen the ones who caused the YunmengJiang Sect's annihilation?"
[...]
Lan Xichen responded a moment later, "I have heard of Wen Qing's name a few of times. I don't remember her having participated in any of the Sunshot Campaign's crimes"
Nie Mingjue, "But she's never stopped them either"
Lan Xichen, "Wen Qing was one of Wen RuoHuan's most trusted people. How could she have stopped them?"
Nie Mingjue spoke coldly, "If she responded with only silence and not opposition when the Wen Sect was causing mayhem, it's the same as indifference. She shouldn't been so disillusioned as to hope that she could be treated with respect when the Wen Sect was doing evil and be unwilling to suffer the consequences and pay the price when the Wen Sect was wiped out"
Lan Xichen knew that because of what happened to his father, Nie Mingjue abhorred Wen dogs more than anything, especially with how intolerable he was toward evil. Lan Xichen didn't say anything else.
Chapter 73
They are discussing about what to do with wwx who has killed jin and other's sects cultivators and has rescued the wen captives.
When jc tries to defend wwx, saying that them owe the wen siblings, nmj immediately intervenes remembering him about what the wen have done to his sect, asking what kind of gratitude they could ever have.
Then, when lxc tries to defend wq, nmj intervenes again saying that she has to take responsibility for her actions. Her silence is indifference, so, why shouldn't she have to suffer the consequences of the Sect she benefits from?
All of this, in my opinions, suggests that nmj is an extremely idealistic person. That doesn't mean that he has a black/white view of the world, only that he has strong principles for which he is ready to fight, even trying to impose himself.
That doesn't make him bad or good. He believes he is right but he respects people who fight for their principles even if these same ideals are opposed to his own.
Nie Mingjue, "The woman has much more backbone than the mob of her sect"
Nmj is talking about MianMian, someone who has tried to speak for wwx. She is mocked for that by other cultivators, because she is a servant woman, because her voice isn't important enough. MianMian stands for her own opinions but understanding that other people aren't really open minded towards dialogue, ("Fine! Your voice are louder! Fine! You are the rational ones!" that's what she says) she leaves her sect. A servant girl, now disciple, is leaving one of the four great sect, after standing her ground! Nmj shows admiration for her, despite she is in his opposite side, saying that she has more backbone than the mob (people who are mocking her but are on nmj's side).
In my view, Nmj has strong principles that he would try to impose but not mocking and demeaning his opponents, who he genuinely can admire.
Plus:
Lan Xichen knew that because of what happened to his father, Nie Mingjue abhorred Wen dogs more than anything, especially with how intolerable he was toward evil.
Nmj is intolerable toward evil, but in this one, my guess is that his past trauma also plays a huge role. Nmj watched in horror as his father's saber broke battling a beast, which then gored him with its horn. He was forced to see his only still alive parental figure being killed indirectly by wrh's hand (wrh has sabotaged his father's saber), and then he was forced to become a young sect leader. The age isn't clear, but he was a teenager. Anyway, I think his trauma plays a huge role on his decisions and that, again, doesn't make him good or bad. We are in a world where people are ready to take their revenge taking down also innocent people: nhs is ready to put in danger innocent Junior's life to take his revenge, wwx kills at least one hundred innocent disciples who are at the siege because it's their role as disciples, because he is emotionally destroyed by his sister's death.
But I am cautious about this last passage because it's from lxc's pov. It's not nmj who says that his past trauma and his principles are driving his decisions, but it's lxc. Maybe this passage says more about lxc who, understanding his friend's motivation, backs off. Ugh.
Anyway, in my view, Nie Mingjue is a man who suffered a lot, who was forced to take huge responsibilities at a young age. He admires other people who fight for their ideals and thinks that everyone has to take responsibility for their own actions.
#Silly thoughts#I don't know if I am making sense#But I find him very interesting#Everyone in mdzs is someone who is shaped by trauma and bad communication#Nie Mingjue#Mdzs
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ok i cant resist asking about "Ghost Town - wei wuxian is a ghost, sppooookkkyy - mdzs" that looks so cool!! is it abt his 13 years? either way it's super neat!
It's not, but I can totally see why you'd think that! This is a modern au where everyone is reincarnated BUT wwx never gets revived into mxy so he can't be reincarnated. Instead, his soul spends the thousands of years between canon and now reforming, just in time for nhs and jc's paranormal YouTube series to take off!!
Here's a snippet! I have not written much more tho 😅
The intro shows clips of the six episodes they compiled, small snippets of them exploring the Burial Mounds interwoven with old looking parchment scrolls and traditional ink drawings of various mythical ghouls and demons, complete with spooky music and a dark filter overlay.
There are small soundbites of their voices, just enough to get the audience interested in the story, over the top of the music. Nie Huaisang's voice quavers out, "Things are getting scary," and Jiang Cheng can't help but snort when he hears his own voice answer, "I'm quitting, I can't do this."
"I can't believe you did that, this is clickbait, right? People will riot. That’s not how it went at all."
"Standard industry practice, people expect it now," Nie Huaisang laughs in reply. "Besides, it did get scary."
Jiang Cheng stays quiet. It did get scary, but it's not like he's going to say it.
The intro ends with a flourishing crescendo of Lan Wangji's guqin that has Jiang Cheng rolling his eyes, and a gruesome, stylised blood-splatter that drips down the screen into the title, Ghost Town.
Nie Huaisang's trembling voice whispers, "Who are you?" just before the screen goes black and Lan Wangji's rumbling baritone answers, a strong contrast to the silence that absolutely in no way sends a shiver down Jiang Cheng’s spine as he remembers the moment.
"The Yiling Laozu."
#mdzs#the untamed#wip games#ngl i forgot how much i enjoyed this one too!!#i think im funny in it at least haha#theres so much shrek talk for some readon#i want to say this was like a big trope a year or so ago#like when buzzfeed unsolved was a thing#i do kinda wanna finish this too im into it again haha
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Hello hello hello, you’re great. Hi hi hi, you’re wonderful
Hey yourself :3
Would it be crass of me to say ditto? 😂
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When you get this, pretty please respond with five things that make you happy! :D Then, send this to the last ten people in your notifications (anonymously or not). You never know who might benefit from spreading positivity :)
Thank you for this! Now let's see...
1. Sleep. I just had a good ass nap, much needed too
2. Drawing. It's one of those things I can just zone out doing for the day too.
3. That refreshing feeling after you get out of the shower after bumming it the whole day. S-tier shit really 👌🏾
4. Reading. With fanfic and in general, it's just a nice pastime. Arguably another healthier way for me to dissociate sooo-
5. Minecraft. All of the things I've mentioned are pretty therapeutic for me, but there's nothing like hopping in a world and building a house and killing mobs (running away from spiders), y'know?
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VeePee Graphic launches three new products at LabelExpo India 2022
Bengaluru-headquartered VeePee Graphic – which provides an array of solutions for the flexo and corrugated packaging industry – showcased three new products at LabelExpo 2022, held from 10 – 13 November at the India Expo Center in Greater Noida.
VeePee Graphic promoted its hybrid screening solution that can reproduce 350 lpi using conventional machines and inks without any changes in the entire workflow – said to be a major breakthrough in flexo technology.
The company also showcased a futuristic product that integrates print and digital media with augmented reality. In addition, VeePee Graphic launched its Vee Ensure app, which can be used for product authentication and augmented reality. The app will help buyers identify genuine products and weed out duplicate items.
In the second product, augmented reality will help certain elements printed on a label come to life and give the consumer a wholesome shopping experience. Hybrid screening enhances images by reproducing a color gamut that cannot be achieved by conventional screening. “We're pretty excited about this hybrid screening that we just launched. In fact, a lot of people can't believe that this is possible to reproduce in flexo. This would be a game-changer for us,” Jai Chandra (JC), director, Veepee Graphic Solutions, told Packaging South Asia.
He said, “This is the third time we participated in the LabelExpo show. It is only getting better. This edition was very special because it was organized after a long break. We are very happy with the footfall. Serious customers who wanted to know what we are doing visited our booth and that was quite encouraging rather than having people just walking in and walking out.”
VeePee Graphic signed a deal with Esko for an XPS and CDI imager, which was announced at the Esko stand. JC shared with Packaging South Asia, “It's been a long relationship with Esko for the last 20 years. Getting a sixth CDI imager and a second XPS was a major decision for us. It was a conscious decision because we have understood the technology quite well and so it was the right thing to do.”
Label industry growing
According to JC, the label industry in India is growing, “It's quite encouraging as we see a lot of work moving from gravure to flexo. Earlier, it was more from offset to flexo. But now the trend is jobs moving from gravure to flexo, especially in the shrink sleeve segment. Probably in the next five years, the whole concept of narrow web is going to change – it's going to be more of mid-web presses rather than narrow web presses for the label industry. The sort of market that this industry is going to cater to is going to be much wider. It's just not going to be labels or paper stock, we're going to talk about shrink sleeves, and laminates.”
VeePee Graphic has been a key supporter of innovation since its inception. Asked about this approach, JC said, “Upgrading and updating our technology – that's the only way we've been able to come this long. Moreover, we don't want to be a part of the rest of the crowd. So we always come up with some innovative solutions, which is paying off.”
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For post-studio Sammy, because seeing his studio dynamic inverted is really fun:✨ If your OC were a deity of some kind, what would they represent? What do they look like? How are they worshipped and what offerings would they expect? What are their places of worship like? Their followers? Their teachings?
Sammy Lawrence, patron god of the orchestra
Sammys work is never done until the very last note is played. He is called upon when a piece can’t be finished, when the page isn’t full, bring inspiration to those who struggle. He guides the hands of the composer, weaves the melodies from the air, shines the spotlights just right so everyone playing their part is seen. His offerings are few and far between like sheets of paper or small woodwinds, simply playing his music is worship enough for him. Humble but generous, everyone deserves a chance at music, a chance to be heard in such a beautiful form.
And if you’re lucky enough he will sit amongst the audience and listen, the work of the mortal is always better then that of the gods after all.
(Ask meme)
#bendy and the ink machine#batim#batim au#digital art#jc au#art#sammy lawrence#sammy batim#ask meme#orchestra#music deity#god of music
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Calling all untamed fans who are tattoo enthusiasts! Has anyone gotten a mdzs inspired tattoo? I wanna see! I am thinking of getting the lan headband around my arm as my yearly bday tattoo and I wanna see what other ideas people have had!
#ask#the untamed#cql#mdzs#mdzs art#untamed art#fan art#wwx#lwj#nhs#jc#nmj#lxc#jgy#ink#tattoos#fandom
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Fresh meat:part 2
Juice Ortiz imagine
Little smutty
Part 1 Part 3
Masterlist
You where in Charming for almost a year now. You grown to love the small town. It held so much secrets, its own name contradicts itself.
You did end up finish college still looking for the career job. You didn’t want to leave the bar. It was almost like a safe heaven.
It didn’t take long to pick up on what’s going on in town either. You knew the son of anarchy where more then just a club or co workers. But you happened to think they where your best customers. And even in the lines of friends almost.
The guys frequented the bar pretty often… especially a certain tattooed Puerto Rican. Seeing Juice would always be the highlight of your day. He easily could make you smile even on the worst kind of day. It was just something about him that made you heart ache and skip a beat all in once.
Maybe it was you, and your dumb taste in men. You liked how dangerous he looked. Juice had a certain aura to him. He was built, tattoo inked across his tanned skin. He always seemed to be in black. He looked like he can easily pick you up and throw you around. And your not really sure why you liked that idea.
But you knew there was so much more to this man. He may look like a outlaw biker but he was so sweet. He almost had a child like charm with his goofy personality you grew to love. Not that you’d ever admit that to him.
Juice always seemed to make time and visit you at work. You’d like to say your friends. Well the closets thing you have to a friend here in the middle off no where. He’s helped you out more then enough other with your car and even some house work.
You would tease him. He’d flirt with you. But that’s all it ever was. He never made a move to cross the line you where so dying he would.
And just like now Friday was another night. The guys where already at the bar once you showed up for your shift.
“Thank god your here, Juice’s neck bout to break from him checking the door every damn time that bell ring.” Jax joked as he leaned over the bar.
“Im early still? He should know that.” You joked and you tied the bar apron on. You never felt like dressing up for work. You knew you’d be busting the bar barely had any time to even take a breather on Friday. Jeans and a tank top where by far your favorite. You didn’t might the extra tips from drunk horny men. But you especially didn’t mind catching Juice looking at you through out the night.
“Hey JC.” You said making smile on the nickname you had for him. It made him feel more special then the other guys. He was always your number one. Not that you ever paid attention to anyone else and he liked it that way.
“Hey (y/n).” Juice said loving how your name sounded. He always said it any chance he got.
“Are you free tomorrow? That stupid new dishwasher finally came in. I don’t understand why no one delivers to charming.” You huffed as you opened the guys new beers. Juice promised weeks ago to help you install it. You knew nothing about anything. And you loved Juice over your house helping. Something about him doing house work made your inside stir.
“I’ll be there in the morning, unless your closing tonight and sleeping in?” He asked. He didn’t want you to have anyone else over. He liked helping you with anything. He would do any silly task you would ever ask if that meant spending more time with just you.
“Yeah hopefully I can get this place cleaned up and shut down before morning. You can come anytime. And have I ever told you your the best Juice.” You said giving him a big smile. You probably wouldn’t have made it here this long without him.
“Juicy boy get your ass over here. Got to show these old guys about you know what.” Jax yelled over the noises bar. Your rolled your eyes watching Juice walk to the back of the bar. Probably some dumb super secret SOA stuff.
Most of the night went pretty uneventful. You just wanted to see Juice but they where doing club shit. Your heart raced when the door would open but still no Juice.
“Hey doll another one.” A customer asked. You simply smiled filling another beer. But he didn’t leave he just stood leaning at the bar. You haven’t seen him around before, it was odd.
“Anything else?” You asked him trying not to sound rude.
“Just your company would be nice. Has anyone ever told you that you have the most captivating eyes? Almost like your staring right through me.” The stranger flirted with you. You weren’t one to flirt well the only man you wanted to flirt with has you last in his priorities list.
Juice made his way out the back room. SOA was discussing a run with another branch. It was a far run almost to the coast. Juice felt like it was a waste of time but agreed.
He quickly hurried through the bar to find you. He almost froze as he noticed some stranger in his place at the last stool at the bar. That’s where he always stayed and talked with your during your long shifts.
“Who the fuck is this.” Juice grumbled making his way over. He didn’t like how this man was making you laugh. He didn’t like his when you went to serve another customer that guy just eye raped you. He didn’t like that you haven’t told him to piss off either.
Juice was never one to share. Your weren’t technically his but he still wouldn’t share. No one would even understand in the slightest what you two shared together. He always wanted to it to progress farther into more. He just was stuck and didn’t know how to make the next move. Juice was a confident man but when it came to (y/n) he was in shambles of a nervous mess.
“(Y/n).” Juice stated leaning over the bar trying to get a big closer to you. He hoped you wouldn’t notice how much of an effect you had over him.
“Gez took you long enough. Thought you got kidnap for a second.” You joked as you poured him a whiskey sour.
“I knew you missed me it was only 2 hours babe.” He said finding the anger and jealousy to be fueling his confidence. His dark eyes flickered over to the guy who was still sitting there looking at you. All Juice wanted to do was stand up and yell that no one was allowed to look at you that way or any way. He felt like a child having a tantrum.
“Excuse me (y/n) I’ll take another.” The man said making juice blood boil. He didn’t like hearing someone else say your name.
“Here you go.” You quickly popped the lid off the beer handing it to him.
“I was thinking, maybe you’d want to grab a drink when your not in the clock.” The guy said make Juice lose it. Right if front of him. Juice was up in the guys face before you could even say a word.
“Hey kid, you better get the fuck out here before I start rearranging your face.” Juice threatened holding the guy by his neck. He can be very intimidating when needed. His appearance really was threatening but you knew he was just a goof ball. You gulped down feeling nervous yet kind of engaged seeing Juice like this. You can see his veins sticking out on his muscular arms. His jaw clenched and back muscles bulging.
“I didn’t know man.” The stranger said his eyes darting from the threatening biker to you. You’d admit you never though Juice would react like this. With one swing he threw the guy over. It took less then ten seconds before he disappeared.
“Was that necessary?” You asked him putting your hand on your hips.
“Lets go.” Juice said spinning his finger. You could feel anger radiating off him. You’ve never seen him like this before.
“JC you know I’m here till 3 to close.” You nagged on. You weren’t sure what he’s getting at.
“(Y/n) we’re going.” He said taking your hand pulling you along with him. His hand gripped hard. It was rough you can feel his calluses rubbing against your skin.
“Where?” You finally asked as you where already outside. He didn’t answer he just pushed you up against the cold wall. His hand holding you up by your hips. His forehead pressed against your making your breath mix with his. You can see he was breathing pretty heavily.
“Juice?” You whispered a little scared to say anything. Your hands gripped in to the sleeve of his shirt.
He didn’t say anything. He just crashed his lips against your own making a low moan escape. You pictured kissing juice thousands of time made but this was even better.
You couldn’t hold yourself up, only relying on him to keep you up. Your hands two went to the back of his neck pushing him even closer to you. His hands pressed roughly against you as he tried pulling you even closer to him now.
“Juice..” Your breathed out your lips still brushing against him. Your eyes searched his looking for something but you weren't quit sure what.
“I’m taking you home.” He stated not really waiting for you to respond. You just simply followed in suit with him to his bike. He helped you on the bike before getting on himself. Your arms quickly wrapped around his waist pulling yourself closer to him. You’ve never been on the back of a motorcycle. You knew he can feel your heart thumping against his back. But you weren’t sure if it was from the nervousness of going on the bike or from the kiss earlier.
You almost didn’t want to pull your arms off Juice once you pulled up to your house. You felt so warm pressed against him. Juice also felt warm but he wasn't sure if he was still angry or horny from your chest pressed against his back.
Juice quickly got off the bike, helping you again to get off. He kept watching you as he followed you to the front door. The silence was oddly calming and at the same time terrifying. He couldn’t help himself as he stared down at your perfectly sculpted bum as you unlocked the door leading him in.
Juice didn't even give you a chance to say anything before you pushed you back against the wall reattaching his lips to your. It was like they where made to fit perfectly together. You loved felling him against you. Your kissed quickly turned more desperate by the second.
Juice slowly lead you through the hall way not breaking any contact from you. Next thing you know you where being pressed against you bed with Juice on top of you. The only moments your lips broke apart was when you pulled each other clothes off.
He eagerly trailed kisses down your neck making you moan when he was a little too rough. your hands gripped his large biceps knowing you where going to leave marks and not really caring at the moment.
“Off now,” You mumbled into his lips as you played with his belt not able to undo it your self. He pulled always smirking with his eyebrow raised. You took your chance to gather your breath as you watched his undo his belt letting his pants fall to the floor. You bite your lip trying not to stare at the huge imprint in his boxers.
Juice winked at you leaning back over and quickly pulling off your own jeans. Anywhere where his skink touched yours felt like it was on fire. You couldn’t compose yourself as Juice climbed on top of you.
“Tell me to stop.” He mumbled out in a deep raspy voice you never heard from him. Oh and you liked it so much. You imagined that’s how he sounded right when he woke up in the mornings.
“Please Juice. You begged him trying to pull him back to you. You felt so desperate but at this moment it didn’t matter because you where. You where so desperate for his touch, for his love.
It didn’t take anything else before Juice leaned back down to you. His hand gripped your throat and his lips moved with yours. You can feel him getting rougher with you and his tongue made its way past your lips.
With ease Juice flipped you over. It was almost like instinct that you pressed your bum up meeting with his lower reign. You needed him now. Juice groaned rolling his eyes back. He never thought it would end up like this. But seems like for both of you the animalistic lust just took over. You both have been holding back for way too long. To scared to cross a line the other might have been unwilling to go over.
His large hands gripped on your ass as he pulled you closer. Juice couldn’t realize if maybe he was still sleeping or if this was real. You where already wet and dripping down your own thigh waiting for Juice to make the next move.
You arched your back just a little bit more. You can feel him right at your entrance. Juice knew once this happens theres not going back after this. without having a second though he filled you up. At the moment you weren’t even sure what to think everything felt like cloud nine bliss.
He slowly moved in and out groaning as your dripped over him. Sex never felt this good to him, he must be in a dream. You groaned not likely the slow teasing pace. You needed so much more of him. roughly you pushed back on him finding your own rhythm against him.
“Shit (y/n)” Juice groaned out meeting every one of your movements. He loved seeing your ass bouncing back on him. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold out.
“Don’t stop.” You let out feeling your high coming faster then you ever thought possible. Your hands gripped the sheets under you as your body started to shake on its own. Juice took it upon himself to make sure he gave you the best orgasm of your life. His huge hands gripped your ass pushing into you harder then ever before. He couldn’t hold himself back any longer before he let himself go inside you. He leaned over you fall down to the bed with you.
“Damn baby” He whispered pulling you back to him.
“Uh huh” You whispered, you couldn't get anything else out really. Your head was still spinning and your whole body still felt the high. Juice moved slightly behind you, Slowly slipping out of you. If it wasn’t for that orgasm you might have been freaking out a little about not being safe. But you didn’t even seem to care, it was Juice.
“Good night.” He mumbled behind you as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder.
“Goodnight JC” You said smiling to yourself before puling the blanket over both of you.
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