#but i gotta embrace the murder god so it was all intentional

[killjoy-prince]

Have to keep telling myself "We're playing the bad guys in this run" whenever I come across a good option I want to pick

[notmuchtoconceal]

To reflect upon the brutal and fascinating realities of human sacrifice in many cultures of antiquity -- usually rendered as stylish and alluring spectacles of mass-terror to cement the divine right of conquerors -- may make one squeamish when collaborating with extant energetic intelligences for whom constant human folly is nothing new, but who nevertheless seem to demand forms of biblical flattery.

Chimpanzees and other primates will sometimes eat their babies, or eat their competitor's babies. You give these fuckers a spark of divine light and let them wall themselves off in tremendous gilded cityscapes where they're constantly hallucinating God-visions and bloodlust, they're liable to go a little fuckin crazy. They've been -- in a non-insignificant sense -- divorced from their natural context of small tribal bands and blown up to hive scale, rendering their awareness functionally more cellular.

You watch the news every day, don't you? I don't gotta tell you constant exposure to murder and carnage numbs your capacity to feel, especially when your loving and compassionate political leaders are telling you this is all necessary and according to plan. You saw the Dark Knight. You know what the Joker said to Harvey Dent. I'm not tellin you anything you don't already know. What, you think a bunch of weird edgelords on the internet over-meming made that any less true or beautiful? What the fuck is going on in the human mind that facts stop being persuasive when they're told to you by someone you find personally disagreeable?

It's becomes human beings aren't concerned with facts, they're concerned with survival. This is because humans remain animals despite their spark of divinity. Yet, if one is living in a mass urban industrial center, what is more dangerous to one's survival are the words they're told and act out, as the only wild animals in cities are bosses and muggers, who think in pretty similar ways, the main one being they ain't sheep. They're not corralled. They're not led by the nose into slaughter, cause they can act on their own volition, though with no respect for the realities of the soul, they'll just fuckin eat you like Upton Sinclair's concrete Jungle.

Yeah, buddy. Eat the working class. Grind em up and put em in your burgers. Remember, kids. Regulation and unionization are your enemies. It's your bosses who have your best interests in mind. Your bosses who want to farm your time, underpay you, rule your life, and brainwash you into learned helplessness towards the systems designed to fail you.

The product is you. You're being sold.

You're acting like a dumb whore cause in an age where privacy is being eroded, you can weaponize your lack of privacy. Look all a fucking round you. Most people are way too complicit in their own suffering to just say what they mean. Usually, when you're making excuses for other people, it's cause you want to make those same excuses for yourself. It's enabling and junky behavior is what it is, bro. Sometimes the only way you can show a fucker you love em is by smackin their whore mouth and letting them bleed cum and drool all over themselves til they wake up.

Right, so.

Now that I've said a bunch of needfully cruel things to drive away the fuckers who can't handle it, I'm gonna tell you -- brave, strong brothers who still remain -- about three practical and non-murderous points about embracing a sacrifice-oriented mindset which can help you de-clutter your life, strip-out the bullshit and attract what you want -- with no cost to me, because I already have everything I could ever want from you.

First off, to offer a sacrifice (think of it as a gift, you already do this) to a non-material entity does a couple things. First off, it shows seriousness and commitment via a willingness to expend material means, showing me and you that you already value something higher than mere resources. You could say it acts as a crystallization of intention. A symbol of exchange. To offer a gift is to make the first move, make yourself a priority, and redirects consciousness towards consideration of your goal. In essence, a concrete object given is the initial means by which intention moves from an abstract idea to the beginnings of a practice.

Second, the nature of the sacrifice. There is where your imagination comes in, sweetie. Think about the object you are offering, and the context of how it appears not only to you, but the goal itself. If you've been over-standardized by institutions, you may struggle here. Not only to think in terms of symbols and associations, but to trust your own fantasy life, for fear that it is incorrect or illogical. You gotta trust me here, kid. Follow what turns you on. Don't say no. Part of doing a ritual and entering into a sacred space is to suspend ordinary modes of rational discourse to commune with your unconscious. This is why commitment and making the first step is important. You need to know you're going there to give yourself the permission to be there. If you're scared, you may need to follow steps to sorta dip-your-toes in.

Reading most grimoires or demonic codices, you may get a sense that a lot of the steps are arbitrary, largely because they are. Some ritual functions have a definitive psychological anchoring effects which play off unspoken realities of the human body, but most are there to trick you into having some confidence in yourself by giving you a checklist to complete. As with any field of study, the more you know, the more you know what can be safely skipped. Ultimately, you need to trust yourself here. What's most effective for you. What's going to make you get off your ass and do this evocation, get the life you want? As with any collaboration, you will know yourself as you come to know the other.

Think of what you already do with friends or superiors. A libation can be a toast, a way to loosen up, a way to entertain. In some sense, a ritual isn't any different from throwing a party or planning a wedding, for these two are ritual events meant to crystallize certain moods or occasions.

Think about what objects truly mean to you. What they represent. What they're in the image of, or what they're used for. Let the thoughts come to you. Sit with them. Experience the real you. Your real wants.

From there on, put it together. Make a collage, tell a story.

Subdividing from the nature of sacrifice, there are two main distinctions in an object you're willing to surrender, and that comes down to the why.

If there is something you have which is precious to you, but which you know someone else would make better use -- you may give that as a gift. You are freeing yourself from a responsibility you cannot fully entertain, and bravely empowering someone else, not only raising the net total of human divinity, but also carrying on your dream through them.

Secondly secondly, if you have something which is precious to you, but which you no longer need, or is holding you back, well -- smash it, or gift it someone more deserving. There is catharsis in controlled destruction.

If your love has been tainted by bitterness, you may strengthen your resolve and your will by quick and semi-painless amputation. Alternately, if you feel the object is cursed -- you may consider a curse, at its simplest level, as simply a prolonged and aggressive negative association -- then surrendering that to an enemy will help you kill two birds with one stone, perhaps even painlessly unburdening your enemy of some of this more persistent and irritating delusions if the curse can drive him to light.

If I replaced the word "sacrifice" with downsizing, it would go down a lot more smoothly, for in fact -- coining new phrases is itself a form of magic, association being primary on the emotional level, and words and concepts being constantly sullied by misuse and distortion, necessitating they be purified and restored by regeneration into a new form.

[ppersonna]

organic - ksj | thirteen

a social media au

↳ summary- You agree to do your childhood best friend, Namjoon, a favor by working as his boss’s gardener.  However, Namjoon fails to tell you just how much of a rich ass Kim Seokjin really is. You hate him, and he hates you, so why does it bother you when his ex makes her way back into his life?

↳ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

↳ pairing- seokjin x reader

↳ warnings- 😬 smut, oral sex (m/f receiving), penetrative sex, dirty talk, teasing, bratty!yn, brat-tamer!jin, unprotected sex (dont be dumb), aftercare (ig), lmaoooooo here we mf GO.

↳ a/n- omgomgomgogmogmogmogmomgomgogmg. thats all i gotta say yall.  also, so sorry but the tags are currently being VERY BAD and i am sorry if they didnt work.

taglist-

@rjsmochii @broke-bts-stan @kookiesjoonies @sistaflubs @sombreboy @brilliantlybasicb @sugarly-laysa @absoluteyoongit @chimoona @ladyartemesia @lemonjoonah @jinsearth @tiddieshakeshownu @hannahdinse8 @imluckybitches @55west81st @xoxrinaxox @remplazable-yellowpink @lustingstae @lidda @amoreguk @deadleaves278 @devotedlywriting @koostime @fangurl-ontgeside @hauntedlilies @gukniverse @simplymemyself @alyboo-jpeg @themyscirarey @taetaewonderland @jinhitwhore @softychimseok @amberaesthetics @lovesjenmoong @bangtansbun @garii71 @sweetnspicy93 

The house was empty. Too empty. 

The normally chaotic space of the living room, where all the roommates and friends usually joined was silent. 

You walked around aimlessly, still confused by Jin’s texts, and hoped to find someone to distract you, keep you from going into the bedroom Jin most certainly occupied. 

You couldn’t wrap your mind around the man. In one minute, you’d be daydreaming about his lips and the way he felt pressed up against you. The next, you’d be contemplating methods of murder and if you could bury his body next to the freshly planted rose bushes in the back courtyard. 

A sigh escaped you. No one was home. You were stuck with Jin.  

You grumbled under your breath as you made your way down the lush hallway.  Some friends. Didn’t even invite you out. Left you here with the extremely handsome, tempting, annoying asshole. 

The door opened before you even reached your hand out to grab the handle. Jin appeared with a sleazy smile. 

“Little vixen,” he said, grabbing your wrist. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?!”

It was almost starting to get annoying. 

Jin motioned to the bed. Pretty, pink lingerie lay on the luxe fabric, arranged delicately yet with full intent displayed. 

“I can’t wait to see you in it,” Jin spoke. He moved closer. So close it made your throat swell up. His hands ran up and down your arm. “I knew you’d give in.” 

His words snapped you out of any sensuality you felt at his embrace.  Your hands pushed at the expanse of his chest. 

“I didn’t fucking do this!” You snapped. “Why the fuck would I want you?”

“You think I don’t notice the way you slide in bed towards me until you’re practically humping me?” 

Jin’s smirk was reaching levels you’d never seen before. He was pleased with himself, with this situation. You were sure if you glanced down his body you’d see proof of his arousal. But you couldn’t. You’d lose all ability to talk, to fight. 

“Okay, I was cold! That’s the only reason!” 

Jin tsk’ed and shook his head. 

“Darling, it’s okay. You’re meant to be my wife, you should know how your husband performs in bed. It’s natural to be curious.”

Your hands balled into fists. 

“I’m… not curious.” 

He quirked his head and smiled. “No? Not even a little?”

Jin stepped towards you again, this time slower and with heat. 

“Not curious how deep I can get inside you, how wet you can be for me?”

You would be lying if you said your body didn’t react, didn’t heat under his intense gaze. 

“Clearly, someone set this up,” you whispered, trying to navigate the conversation away from the topic of your wet pussy. 

“Did they now?” Jin asked as he played with a piece of your hair. “You sure it wasn’t all a ruse to get the worldwide handsome in bed with you?” 

“You’re so arrogant,” you snapped. “You think every woman is falling on their face to fuck you.”  Your words were sharp but lacked any of the heat behind it. 

Jin chuckled. “That’s because they generally are.”

His fingers trailed down your face, your neck.  His eyes were fixated at your collar bones, magnetized to the juncture of your throat and shoulder. 

“Well, I’m not.” 

“Say someone set this all up, say I believe you… you still aren’t putting up much of a fight.” 

Damn. 

Jin had you there. 

He continued before you could speak. “It’s almost like you’ve been wanting to find out more ever since I kissed you.” 

Your eyes closed in reply.  The kiss.  The god forsaken kiss.  

“You played me.” 

Jin sighed and tucked a stray hair behind your ear, eyes now level with yours. 

“It’s okay to be curious. About me. About us. I think about it too.” He admitted. 

It piqued your interest and made you swallow hard. 

“I think about what it would be like to have your fiery little body underneath me. Trying to be big and bad and headstrong while you’re getting stuffed full of my cock.” 

You couldn’t help the soft whine that left your lips, and you kicked yourself for allowing Jin to see your moment of weakness. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He asked as he moved you towards the bed.  His eyes burned into yours and it felt like all the air in the room left, leaving you suffocating. 

“You want me to take control, to tame the little brat inside you. I can do that, baby. All you have to do is admit you’re the one who did all of this.” 

You fell against the bed with a soft thud, right next to the expensive lingerie. It was your style, your type. Even through the rage of Jin believing you were trying to seduce him, you can’t help but envision yourself in the lace and letting the man unwrap you. 

“It wasn’t me,” you whispered. “I wouldn’t buy something so expensive. You know I prefer secondhand.” 

Jin visibly recoiled and rolled his eyes. 

“I should spank you for that.  You don’t have to lie. You don’t have to save face. I know you did it, baby.”

“It wasn’t fucking me!”

Jin stared at you, eyes seeking answers in your own. 

“You’re such a petty bitch sometimes, you know that?” He stalked closer to you, pushing you down into the bed. “Such a little fucking tease.  You act like you hate me, yet you can’t stop looking at me. You can’t stop thinking about me. You made me get in bed with you every fucking night and still try to claim you hate me?” 

He looked infuriated.  It was scary as much as it was arousing. 

“Don’t you fucking get that I want you?” Jin asked as he pressed a finger under your chin to make you stare him down. “Do you not understand in that thick head of yours that you drive me fucking crazy?”

It’s the straw that breaks the camel's back. 

Instantly, you tugged him down and crushed your lips to his. You kissed him wildly, no finesse or skill. It’s all mouth and teeth and tongue.  Jin groaned into your open mouth, and you pulled away. 

“I didn’t fucking set this up,” you stated with intent. “But I will fuck you until you’re not a goddamn asshole anymore.” 

He never got the chance to retort any smart-ass remark—your hands pushed him onto the bed and your hands flew to his tight, teasing jeans. Your mouths melded together again with the heat of an oven, meshing together with all passion and fire of your argument now funneled into pure, sexual charge. 

Jin’s head rested on the pillows as you hovered above him, trying to tug at his jeans while maintaining a steady assault on his lips. 

He chuckled, his own hands coming to assist you as his tongue explored your mouth. He pulled away to kick the jeans off, leaving him in his expensive Balenciaga tight boxers. 

“God,” you groaned. You were part aroused by the impressive length pressing against the black fabric, half annoyed that his underwear likely cost half of your paycheck alone. “Fucking ostentatious rich asshole.”  

Jin couldn’t help but laugh out loud, but it quickly escaped him as your hand rubbed at his hot bulge, gripping tightly and gritting his teeth to keep from moaning. 

“Shit,” he sighed. “If you make me cum in these, I'm taking the cleaner fee out of your paycheck.” 

You made a show of rolling your eyes, moving down his body and tugging the fabric down along the way. 

“The fact that you get your fucking underwear dry cleaned…,” you sneered. 

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to. Jin’s impressive length was now free and thick and hard in your hands. His expensive underwear fell to the floor without a care from either of you as you eyed the stiff cock in your hands. 

“Is it everything you’ve dreamed and fantasized of?”  He tried to act cool and collected, using his bravado to mask the absolute pleasure he felt at your delicate hand gripping him tightly. He was certain he would cum instantly if he wasn’t careful. 

“Hmmm,” you sighed as you gave long, languid pumps with your hand. “I mostly fantasized of kicking you here. But, I’m sure this will be a suitable way to shut you up, too.” 

Jin opened his mouth in reply but cut himself off with a strangled groan as your hot mouth descended, taking him fully to the hilt at the back of your throat.  His eyes nearly rolled back in his head as he felt your tight mouth envelop him and suck. 

Your mouth worked eagerly, licking and sucking as you began a pace.  You’re determined to suck the cocky attitude right out of him. And judging by the look that crossed his face—eyes glazed over in bliss, mouth ajar in pleased disbelief—you’d say you did an outstanding job at it. 

His hand moved to your head, a surprisingly gentle grasp in your hair as he held back pieces of your fringe that fell in your face.  Your heart thumped harder against your chest, eyes flickering up to his to gaze at him as your mouth continued its assault on his cock.

You cursed yourself the moment your eyes locked with Jin’s.  It would be easier to hate him, to think of this as a way to get back at him, if you hadn’t.  Now, all you saw was the side of Jin you saw before.  The sensitive, passionate Jin who kissed you deeply and held your hand through dinner.  The look in his eyes now spoke more than just of sexually charged thoughts—it spoke something tender too.

You quickly forced yourself back to the task at hand.  Your tongue swirled around the tip of his head.  You forced yourself to see this as sex, nothing more.  Your heart was too sensitive to allow other thoughts invading in.  What was it that Tae always said to do? Get the dick, secure the bag?

Oh, what did he know—wasn’t the boy head over heels for Jimin, anyway?

Jin’s hand tightened around your hair, encouraging you to come up for air.  Your hand kept a steady pace as your lips popped off his length.

“What? Enjoying yourself too much?” You teased as you used your free hand to wipe at the saliva running down your chin.  

Jin groaned as he watched your fist still work its way up and down his slick cock.  

“Mm,” he sighed and bit his lip. “Yeah, actually.  I don’t wanna cum yet.  Wanna save it for that bratty little pussy of yours.”

The words made your breath hitch in your throat.  

In an instant, Jin had you flipped over and you were prone to him.  The devilish grin on his face told you he had you right where he wanted you.

“I hope you had fun thinking you’re the boss,” he murmured as he sat back on his heels and unbuttoned his tight shirt.  “Daddy’s in charge now.”

The shiver you feel run down your spine makes you feel too vulnerable, too attracted and exposed to the man above you, now completely naked.  His body was cut to perfection, hard lines of his muscles exposed that made your mouth water.

“Didn’t realize you had a daddy kink.” Your attempt to sound bratty failed—both you and Jin knew it.  Your eyes were still locked at the way his lower abdomen formed a perfect V line, the slight thatch of hair just above his cock.  

“My eyes are up here, baby.”

Your eyes snapped up to him instantly, cheeks turning pink.

“It’s okay.  Don’t be shy.  Lots of women get overwhelmed when they see the worldwide handsome in the flesh like this too.”

His words rolled around in your stomach uncomfortably and you’re forced to face the reality that Jin does this—a lot.  With a lot of women.  And you’re overwhelmed by how jealous it makes you.  You want to be the only one underneath him, the only one able to graze your fingers down his chest, the only to cry out his name.

And the thought scared you.

So, you did what you did best—ignore it.

Jin’s hard, burning gaze bore into you.  His hands reached towards the tops of your jeans and you noted the way he ignored the patches of dirt on the knees from your day at work.  In fact, you’re surprised he even let you on the bed in clothes that were shabby too.

The jeans quickly left your body, and Jin hovered over your legs.  His hands trailed down the soft satin of your panties, barely covering your core.  Your body reacted instantly, thighs moving to press together, but Jin would have none of it.

“Ah, ah,” he warned.  “Don’t tell me you’re shy.  You never seemed so shy when you’re biting my head off.”

“Shut up,” you murmured, allowing your legs to spread apart again.  

Jin lowered himself between your thighs, fingers wrapping around the fabric.

“I see you’re wearing the panties I bought you.”

The look on his face told you he was proud of himself.

“I still hate that you made me buy underwear.  Not like you were going to see them.”

Jin sent a look at you, tearing his gaze from your soaked core.  

“Oh, then what do you call this?”

Your words caught in your mouth.  He got you there.

“...shut up.”

Jin grinned and moved his eyes back towards your cunt, pulling your panties down.

“So mouthy.  Someone needs to put you in your place.”

Your mouth opened in a gasp as the panties slide off, a string of slick arousal following it.  Jin can’t help but chuckle.

“For all that big talk, you seem to be very excited.”

The desire to be touched quickly outweighed the need to hold your own.  With your pussy open and exposed, and Jin’s eyes focused on it like it was his last meal, the burning desire in your stomach nearly bubbles over.

“Jin,” you gasped. “Please.”

“Now, look who’s begging.”

You wanted desperately to wipe the smirk off his face, to put him in his place, but your resolve quickly faded the closer he got to your glistening folds.

“You want me to eat your sweet pussy? Tell me you do.  Tell me it’s all you’ve wanted.”

The pride in your heart thuds hard—you can’t find it in you to say it but you ache for his sweet mouth, plushy lips, harsh tongue that would spear into you deliciously.

“Jin, fuck, please,” you begged.  “I can’t…”

“I won’t touch you if you don’t,” he explained. “You could be halfway to a screaming orgasm by now if you’d just suck up that pride of yours as well as you sucked my cock.”

Your body squirmed uncomfortably and his hands gripped your thighs, keeping you secured to the bed.

“Fucking say it,” he demanded and the timbre of his voice had your cunt pulsing around nothing.

You’ve finally had it.  

“Please! Jin! I fucking need you!  God, I always think about fucking you, are you happy?” You asked with frustration boiling over.  “I think about you fucking me all—fucking—day.  Please, I need you, daddy.”

Jin smirked at the sound of his honorific and knew he had you wrapped around his finger.

“Good baby girl,” he cooed.

His mouth latched onto your cunt in seconds.  His hands spread the folds apart and his tongue darted out to begin a licking motion on your clit.  Your eyes snap closed and mouth gaped open in silent pleasure.

“Oh, fuck!” You finally found your voice and your hands grasped at his brawny arms below you, fingers digging into his skin gently.  

Jin didn’t hold back.  His tongue worked your clit in a frenzy, knowing just where to suck and nibble and lick just right.  You hated to admit that for all his bragging he had the skills to back it up.

Your moans encouraged him more, and his hand worked its way in, two fingers slipping into your heat.  The added sensation made your back arc off the bed.

“Shit! Oh, shit!”  The combination of all the sensations made you keen and your core tightens impossibly.  “Oh, fuck, Jin! I’m going to cum!”

He smirked against you and kept his pace, increasing the speed of his finger as his tongue worked you to the height of your climax.

It washed over you—hard.  Your vision blacked out around the edges and you’re sure you stopped breathing for ten whole seconds, before your lungs burned and gasped in for air.

Jin pulled his fingers from within you and licked them clean.  The cocky aura surrounding him was gone.  Now, it felt worshipful.  It felt pious.

He didn’t want long before crawling up to you.  His lips pressed against your own, your own unsteady breath mixing with his as you tasted your own slick on his tongue.   The flavor of your cum and his mouth made you gasp. 

Jin pulled away and peered down at you, his thick length now lined up at your soaked core.

“Can I fuck you?”  Jin’s voice was gentle.  “I have condoms, if you want....”

You nodded your head quickly. “If you’re clean, please… just fuck me like this.”

You didn’t know what came over you—normally a good rule-following type of girl, but something deep down wanted to feel Jin, all of Jin, uninhibited.

His eyes sought into yours for a moment.  He held an emotion in there—one that you couldn’t quite recognize , and your heart clenched at the idea that anything other than lust flickered through his consciousness.

“Okay, I’m clean too,” he whispered as his length breached you. 

Jin pressed his lips to yours as his cock slid into you, tenderness lacing the movement as he stilled inside you.  He held you there for a moment, hands moving to cup your face.  His hips remained motionless, and you both melted at the feeling of your bodies joining.

You forced yourself to look away from whatever emotion Jin was trying to reveal through his gaze and moved your hips slightly to encourage him.

He seemed to get the idea and quickly slid himself in and out.  The feeling of his bare cock stuffed inside you, each ridge and vein dragging itself in and out of you, felt better than any sex you’d ever had.  

Jin’s pace became quicker, and the tender sensuality became quickly replaced with raw passion and lust, which loosened the feeling of vulnerability you felt before.

“God, you’re taking me so good,” he gasped as he plunged himself deep into you, as if to make a point.  “You’re so fucking tight and wet for me, fuck, baby.”

Your moans echoed off the luxe walls, and you threw your head back against the fine egyptian cotton pillows.  As much as you wanted to hate the display of wealth, you couldn’t help but be grateful for Jin’s need for expensive fabrics.  They felt like heaven against your bare skin, and the friction of Jin’s movements made them rub on you deliciously.

“Yes, fuck!” You exclaimed.  “You feel so good!”

There was no need to hold back the praise, and you had no desire to either.  Jin was fucking you so good that any ideas of hating him had left the second he entered you.

Jin let his head drop to your ears—whispered praises of how good you were, how fucking tight you felt.  He continued as he pounded you deeply and pulled your body close to his, as if he couldn’t get close enough.

It didn’t take long for you to feel your second high coming.  Jin’s cock hit just the right places, and he dropped a hand to your joined centers to rub at your clit, encouraging your climax to spiral towards the end.

His pace became frantic as he fucked you with fervor and no finesse, hips snapping and pistoning into you as deeply and quickly as he could.  Idly, he realized he wished he could be buried in your cunt forever, that he’s likely never felt such a better pussy in his life.  And he didn’t want to allow himself to think too hard about what that meant.  

He could feel it building, climbing to an ever growing peak that he felt on the brink of summiting.  His breath hitched, yours panted heavily, and he felt hypnotized by the way your cries escalated to near screams.

The chase to the end was quick, as Jin quickly worked himself up to his climax as your cunt became tighter and fluttered around his cock the closer you edged to the end.  Jin groaned as the feeling inside of him snapped.  It pulsed with each shot of his seed into your womb--and he groaned as he felt your walls clench around him as you soared over your own edge.

His name was the only thing you could scream as he kept his pace, allowing your walls to milk him dry.  He held himself inside you, allowed him the chance to soak in the feeling of you and him mixing as one.

Your come-down from the orgasm felt slow, languid.  Jin’s body laid next to you and his cock still nuzzled deep inside your walls.  It felt secure.  It made you feel safe, love, full.  Your heart beat erratically, combined with the exertion of the act and the physical proximity of the man now lying next to you, breathing just as hard.

His arm wrapped around your waist and he pulled you in tight, only allowing his cock to slip out of you after he was sure you were secure in his arms.  His forehead pressed against yours—eyes seeking your own with that same, tender look from before.

No words were spoken for a moment, just the silence and combined breath of your exhaustion.

Jin kissed you, then.  Deep, soft, loving.  It felt too real.  Too much.  It bothered you how much you loved it and wanted it to continue.

“Do you,” he began, before pausing for a moment. “Do you want to maybe… stay longer than a week?” 

You bit your lip, pondering his request.

Did you want to leave? Did you want to return to a life of working for the man you just let cum inside you?  Could you still pretend to be his wife after experiencing this and walking away?

Did you even want to pretend at all?

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Yeah, I think I kind of like this gaudy house.”

Jin’s soft smile turned into a smirk and his hands gripped your waist tighter.

“Next thing you know, you’ll be shopping only at Armani.”

“In your fucking dreams, daddy.”

[goodgirlsfanficawards]

Happy Monday! Start your week off right with five angsty authors who wrote their first Good Girls fic since 1 April 2020 and we can’t wait to read more.

Cinnamon_schnapps started posting in June and since then has completed one 18 chapter fic and started two more. Their fics feature heavy topics, crime, unplanned pregnancy, marriage, and everyone’s favourite: jealous Rio. 

Risky Business

Completed 09 Nov 2020, E, 60K, 18/18, 262 kudos

When single bachelor Rio has an itch he frequents local strip clubs to find someone to scratch it, leaving all attachments beyond the physical dormant. One night he meets a woman who makes him change his mind about everything.

Loving and Losing You.

Updated 11 Nov 2020, M, 28K, 6/8, 145 kudos

One day Christopher “Rio” Martinez made a mistake at the heat of the moment that caused him to loose the most important woman in his life. It will take them years to reconnect but will a lie threaten their happy reunion?

See you soon, yeah?

Updated 27 Sept 2020, E, 10K, 4/?, 130 kudos

When Elizabeth Marquez’s husband disappears leaving her a widow, and single mother of two young children she has to figure out the life he left behind in order to survive ruthless criminals and shady business dealings.

alittlemystery posted their first fic in September and have written three more since then. They write hurt/comfort set in/around season 3.

Maybe It’s Karma

Updated 27 Oct 2020, M, 7.2K, 4/5, 380 kudos

The blood spurts out of her mouth and down her chin, she tries to cough, to catch her breath but that just makes it worse. She can hear someone yelling at her, over her, touching her. She tries to focus on it but they sound underwater, her sight all hazy, numbness spreading throughout her body.

What Happened?

20 Oct 2020, T, 934, 1/?, 158 kudos

Beth is found unconscious. Inspired from a behind the scenes photo. “So I’m not the only one thinking it right, Rio found you and brought you here?” Annie concludes “Or he was already with you” Ruby suggests

A Matter Of Time

20 Oct 2020, M, 1.5K, 1/1, 242 kudos

He was back, and he was going to kill her, but what if… what if she tried to beat him to it? - Beth tries to take matters into her own hands, again. And not in a way he expected. Set somewhere during early season 3.

Kithi1 first started their currently five part series featuring Rio POV, a number of missing scenes and a full WIP s3 rewrite in November. 

His Elizabeth Boland

27 Nov 2020, T, 927, 1/1, 30 kudos

Part 1 of His Elizabeth Boland series

Based on season 3,ep 3 (egg roll) Rio comes back from 'the dead' and confronts beth at the bar with intention to off her. This scene plays out from rio's POV. And I gotta tell you, he's not a happy camper. He's here to cap a bitch!

Remembrance

28 Nov 2020, M, 2.1K, 1/1, 40 kudos

Part 2 of His Elizabeth Boland series

So when Beth Boland told Rio that she was pregnant, what did he do? I mean, did he just go home all comfy and what-not? Where's that scene? Also, what happened in Beth's bedroom with Rio; when he "hit it while her husband was at work." 😀 (God! That man is petty! Love to see it.) Like Ruby, I just wanted to know: how was it? was it good? Missing scenes and flashbacks from Rio's POV.

Him, Her, Them.

01 Dec 2020, M, 5.1K, 3/3, 42 kudos

Part 3 of His Elizabeth Boland series

Dear Reader, these 2 have feelings. But they're idiots. Idiots in love. Okay, so beth told Rio that she was pregnant. Season 3, ep 3 and then she came home from grocery shopping and he was waiting to take her on a little ride. (the way he says, "hey, now" gives me shivers. Damn!) So they took a little ride. How did that go. I think it was fraught with all kinds of tension. Emotional tension, sexual tension; knife. Amiright? They would probably like to keep those thoughts/feelings to themselves. Can't have that now! And plus the golden gun may or may not be in play. 😋😋 Oh and eyefucking. *blush. Soooooo much of it. And we all know how well they do do that. I'm living vicariously through them and fully intend on going down with this ship.

lopezuuus ( @riveramour​ ) starting posting in November. They write angsty headcanons and reminiscences, sometimes with sad endings and a fic about Beth and Rio embracing his dark side during sex.

a lifetime of firsts

26 Dec 2020, M, 10K, 1/1, 90 kudos

Rio reminisces about his and Beth's firsts.

Natural Habitat

Updated 14 Dec 2020, E, 28K, 7/?, 329 kudos

Part 1 of prompts and headcanons series

A collection of headcanons and prompts about Beth and Rio, because I can't get enough of them. Prompts are 99% of time unrelated to each other.

murder on my mind

30 Nov 2020, E, 2.6K, 1/1, 88 kudos

Beth gets off on Rio murdering people.

elizabethmarks only has one fic for Good Girls so far. It’s a dark WIP with a lot of angst and hurt/comfort but a promise of a happy ending.

My Girl

Updated 26 Nov 2020, M, 9.8K, 5/?, 260 kudos

Another Brio fic. ❤️ A lot of dark. And a lot of light. A lot of feels. Thank you for reading! Read notes for trigger warnings.

If you know of anyone’s tumblr/twitter and we haven’t found it or tagged incorrectly, please send us an ask to let us know.

[icecream-and-gadreel]

Contagious (NSFW)

Summary: In the first step to take down Abaddon, Dean needs to get the Mark of Cain. This proves to be a longer process than anticipated.

Pairing: DeanxCain

Other characters: Crowley, Abaddon(Mentioned), Castiel(Mentioned)

Rating: NSFW

Warnings: language, unprotected sex, mentions of violence

Word count: 2400+

A/N: This is based on Season 9 episode 11, and is also a part of my 21 songs challenge! Enjoy! Tagging @sheinthatfandom​​ because I love you

You’re contagious, touch me baby, give me what you got.

"Come on, I don't got all day," Dean snaps, his chest heaving. "If you haven't noticed, we're up shits creek without a god damn paddle!" He snaps. Still, all Cain does is stare, pondering Dean's words. Crowley watches them both intently, trying to keep the fear from showing on his face. That mark. Given by Lucifer to the most infamous demon to roam the earth. And here Dean is, acting like it's a sticker that can just be slapped on. "I'm done with the games," Dean grunts. Crowley nudges Dean, gesturing to Cain with a clenched jaw.

"There's a process to these things. Strenuous rituals," Crowley whispers, never taking his eyes off of the other demon.

"What kinda ritual?"

“Bonding ritual,” Cain says, ending his silence. “The mark only chooses those it deems worthy,” he adds, crossing his arms over. Crowley shifts his weight from leg to leg, whipping around at the sound of banging. Demons are climbing around the house from all angles, trying to gain purchase into the home.

“So what we uh – we share our feelings? Go on a fishing trip? The hell kinda bonding we talkin' here?” Dean asks, gaining a shrug from Cain.

“The strongest kind –”

“Boys,” Crowley says, his voice hushed as he watches more and more treacherous demons pile up.

“What we gonna be blood brothers?”

“Again, stronger than that –”

“Boys,” Crowley repeats.

“The hell is stronger than that?!”

“Dean! Cain!” Crowley snaps, flinching when Cain's eyes land on him. “Cain, sir,” he says, clasping his hands together. “I'm not one to complain but under the circumstances, I figure we should speed this up a bit,” he says, his shoulders relaxing as Cain makes his way to the kitchen. Dean follows after, muttering under his breath as he does. The door slams hard, leaving Crowley to his own devices as he waits for whatever the hell is supposed to happen, to happen.

–

Dean tosses his knife on the counter, throwing his hands up. “Alright, let's get it over with,” Dean says, eyeing the window. Yeah, demons are swarming and he's not seeing an easy way out.

“Since this is the last thing I'll be enjoying for a long time –” Cain looks Dean up and down, rolling his sleeves up. “I'm in no rush.”

Instinctively, Dean gets into a fighting stance, grunting as he's pulled into the other man's embrace. “Woah uh...” His voice trails off, all previous thoughts being wiped away. His body is pulsing. Something inside of him is frighteningly aware of how good this is, how powerful he will be once he takes on the mark. His mind races to thoughts of future fights, beyond Abaddon, beyond anything he's already gone against. He could kill them all, easily. The thought should scare him, but as Cain nuzzles his head in the crook of Dean's neck, all the fills his mind is 'I need this'.

"You're worthy of the mark, it's calling to you," Cain says, finally pulling Dean back to earth. They never break eye contact. Something is pulling them both in, begging for the connection to be complete.

"The hell is this?" Dean asks, his shaking hands ghosting along Cain's arms.

"'It's power, Dean, pure ecstasy for men like us." His beard scratches against Dean's neck, sending a shot of electricity up the hunter's spine. "Doesn't it feel good?"

Does it? All he can see is conquest. Destroying his enemy and taking sick pleasure in the experience. "Yeah," he grunts, his chest heaving. Cains's fingers grip into his hips rougher, making the already intense connection even more so. "I want...I want it --"

"And I'll give it to you," Cain whispers, his lips tracing along Dean's neck. "Just lie down, and we can begin," he says, pulling away and gesturing to the table. Just like that, the euphoric feeling leaves Dean. His mind clears, and he can finally see just how...wrong that feeling was. But like it or not, if he's gonna cut Abaddon down, he needs this.

Still, this wasn't what Dean had in mind.

He was gonna grab the damn blade, take Abaddon out, and put a rest to all of this. Instead, he's sprawled out on the kitchen table with the father of murder standing before him. His face sinks, the realization of what 'strenuous rituals' means setting in. Cain slides a hand down Dean's neck, a blank look on his face. He can't explain it. The way Cain touches him feels primal, calculated, and pure instinct; more dutiful than anything. Yet he's never craved someone's touch more than he does now. Dean flinches as Cain grips his neck, his breaths shaking.

“Now where did that bravery go, Dean?” he asks, unbuttoning the hunter's collar.

“I don't need the foreplay sweetheart, let's get this over with,” Dean chuckles, trying to keep his voice from wavering. Where the hell is Crowley? He'd be eating all of this up. Cain gives a cold, stale smile, ripping Dean's shirt open and sending buttons flying into the air.

“Mmm, you want me to speed through this rare opportunity?” he cooes, pulling Dean's pants down his hips. “Rush past having the infamous Dean Winchester twisted around my finger? Absolutely not.”

“Whatever floats your...” he lets his voice drift away, squeezing his eyes shut tight as Cain grips his length over his boxers. “Can uh – can Crowley see us?”

“I'm a fan of privacy,” he retorts, eyes locked on the hunter's twitching cock. “So that feels good, now we're getting somewhere.” Dean swipes a hand over his face, cursing under his breath as his length is freed from his boxers, being stroked roughly by the other man. Once more, Dean's body springs to life, eager to taste the unimaginable amounts of power being offered to him. He fights the urge to cry out, slamming his fist down against the table. “I'd love a little more enthusiasm.” Dean rocks his hips up, thrusting into Cain's hand while trying to imagine he's here under better circumstances. “I apologize for not being your usual demographic,” he adds, chuckling breathlessly. Pausing, Dean opens his eyes, chest heaving and face flushed red.

“Look, you're not bad lookin', I'm just painfully aware that neither of us should enjoy this,” he says, leaning up on his elbows. “I gotta take that bitch out, you gotta tend to your bees. Strictly business.”

“Hm. Business.” Cain presses his lips over the head of Dean's cock, slowly swirling his tongue. Though he tries to hold it in, Dean lets out a stifled moan, damn near whining as Cain takes him deeper into his mouth.

It feels far too good. Hot and wet, his tongue swiping along every inch slowly. The pulsing pleasure returns, forcing moans out of the hunter. How the hell can this feel so good?

“W-wait –” Dean cries out, his hips snapping into the air as his orgasm pulses through him. His cock is buried in Cain's throat, but the demon barely reacts, gently caressing Dean's balls as he rides his release. “Was that it?” he breathes. Cain releases the hunter's cock with a smack of his lips, shaking his head. The connection begins to dull yet again, but before it's completely gone, Dean is pulling him into a gentle kiss. He can't keep riding this high and having it taken away from him. Soon, the air between them changes, and what was once an uncomfortable exchange turns into the two of them crashing into each other. Cain moans into his mouth, his free hand wrapping around the Winchester's neck and pulling him impossibly close. Dean fumbles to undress the demon, his cock twitching as pleasure tingles at his every nerve. Breaking from the kiss, Dean stares at Cain's length, words lost to him. It wasn't supposed to be that...big. Before he can speak, Cain is shoving his fingers into the other man's mouth, settling between his thighs.

“Now now, Dean, my aim isn't to hurt you.” He slowly drags his fingers out of Dean's mouth admiring the stream of saliva before pressing his digits against the hunter's hole. He starts slowly, easing one finger into Dean, humming as he clenches around it. “Doing great,” he whispers, dropping his head to Dean's shoulder as he eases a second finger in. Dean bites back a moan, resisting the urge to rock against the fingers. “Hmm...”

“What?” Dean asks, huffing as the demon begins stroking his prostate in a come hither motion.

“You're good at keeping quiet,” he says, pulling his fingers out and spitting into his palm. After slicking his shaft, he presses the head of his cock against Dean's tight hole. “Never was a fan of that.”

“Yeah well –” Cain abruptly thrusts into Dean, gaining a startled moan in return. Dean arches from the table, hands instinctively gripping at the other man's forearms. “Oh my g-god.” His body clenches around every thick inch, his mouth gaped as Cain sinks deeper into him. More than before, the mark's power pulses through him, his eyes rolling back as Cain lets out a hungered growl.

“So tight, Dean, I was sure the angel I'd heard about had you first,” he breathes, setting a slow, methodical pace.

“Shut the hell up – nngh!” He tries to sound intimidating, but with each hard, slow smack of Cain's hips against his, a moan is forced out of him. Cain lets out a ragged breath, hands gripping the sides of the table as he bottoms out in Dean. He pauses there, enjoying the warmth and tightness squeezing around him, along with Dean's guttural whimpers. The demon lowers his lips to the hunter's, pressing gentle kisses against his lips.

“Cain,” Dean moans, his fingers gripping deeper into Cain's arms. “Fuck that's good,” he breathes, an array of curses falling from him. “H-harder,” Dean whispers.

“Couldn't hear you –” He leaves a sloppy kiss on the hunter's neck – “Speak up.”

“Fuck me harder,” Dean spits, gasping as the other man slams into him balls deep, knocking the wind out of him. Cain fucks him into the table, his gentle pace being replaced with fast, deep strokes. Dean's moans turn into pleasure filled screams, his voice strangled as each thick inch is forced into him. “Don't stop!” he whines, voice fluttering. The only thing he can manage to spit out is Cain's name. The demon leaves rough bites on his neck, licking and sucking his flesh. He flips Dean on top of him, lying flat on the table and resting his hands on the Winchester's hips. Slowly, Dean begins bouncing, his body shuddering with every movement. God, he never thought he'd come like this, but his second edge is quickly approaching. Cain laces his fingers through Dean's hair, yanking his head back and bucking his hips up. He returns to his unrelenting pace, gaining new, choked sounds out of the other man.

“Harder, right?” Cain rasps, his free hand drifting to Dean's length. “You're gonna come again?” he asks, gaining a moan in response. Before he can tease any further, Dean is crying out, hot streaks of come spurting out of him.

“F-fuck – I'm –” He cuts himself off as his orgasm rocks through him a second time, his body going limp. Cain slows his thrusts, tssking Dean. This was going to be more entertaining than he previously thought.

….....

Dean can hardly think at this point. An hour has passed, bringing with it another orgasm for him, and nothing for the demon. Dean lays on his stomach, standing on his tip-toes as Cain fucks into him. Dean's words aren't making sense anymore. Cain kneads the hunter's toned cheeks, his thrusts never wavering.

“You'll excuse me for holding back, this feels too damn good,” Cain says, gaining incoherent words in return. He drags his shaft out slowly, watching each inch until the tip tugs at Dean's rim. In one swift movement, he smacks his hips forward, gaining a garbled moan from Dean. Once more, he pulls his hips back, and Dean tightens up, trying to keep Cain's cock from leaving him. “Your greedy little hole won't let me go,” he teases, giving Dean's ass a playful smack. Cain bites his lip, pumping his hips as finally, his edge approaches. “Our time together is drawing to a close.” He grips his hand in Dean's hair, pulling him flush against him and wrapping an arm around his torso. Cain's hips stutter, his head falling to Dean's shoulder as he comes. He stays buried inside of him for far longer than needed, riding his release and being milked dry by the hunter.

“Nngh,” Dean groans, staring down at his arm as stinging red veins creep up it. The powerful pulsing he's been feeling all night overtakes his whole body, making him feel...awake. Soon, the Mark of Cain is etched into his skin, his arm throbbing. He inadvertently pushes his hips back, a helpless groan forcing out of him as Cain's cock rubs against his spot. Cain keeps his fingers knotted in the other man's hair, still buried inside of his ass.

Somehow, the pleasure Dean was feeling is amplified. He feels like whatever the hell is coursing through his veins is drawn to Cain as it knows of their newly formed 'connection'.

“I'll call on you when I need you,” he says, pulling Dean out of his trance. Cain snaps his fingers, and in an instant their both fully clothed.

–

Crowley checks his watch, grumbling under his breath. Leave it to a Winchester to get him trapped in a house with daddy murder himself. How long could getting that damn mark take?! He checks his watch once more, flopping his head back against the couch. Whatever magic Cain is using made it impossible to hear them, let alone see into the kitchen.

Finally, after what seems like ages, Dean comes limping out, the mark etched into his arm. Crowley stands to his feet, swaggering to Dean with his hands tucked in his pockets.

“A braver man than I, squirrel,” he begins, eyeing the mark, “Whatever happened must have been...grueling.”

Dean twirls his blade in his hand, staring at the crowd of collecting demons. “Yup.”

[mochikeiji]

[Take it Slow.]

↠ Pairing: Bokuto Koutarou x Reader

↠ Warning: cursing, blood, angst, slight fluff, Mafia AU! Monster Bokuto!

⇢ Songfic! Twenty One Pilots: Heathens

✎﹏

(Welcome to the room of people

Who have rooms of people that they loved one day

Docked away

Just because we check the guns at the door

Doesn't mean our brains will change from hand grenades)

He remembers like it just happened yesterday. The only people who had shown him love— his parents. Huge men tearing his arms away from his mother's warm embrace, he remembers her screaming, his father demanding to release them, that the child meant no harm. That he was innocent.

"You would say that because you were the source of this Demon Child."

He can recall the way his heart cracked. After having to be called that, watching with empty eyes as a puddle of crimson like liquid flow on his feet. He no longer hears the screams of his parents.

"Mom? Dad?"

He hears a gun click, the men in their green uniforms yelling orders, staying a good distance away from him. When he hears no reply from his parents, something inside him snapped. They were the last people to hold his entire sanity together. Without an anchor to stop a ship from fall, it'll be like a speed of light before you'll see the action happening.

Those events caused chaos throughout Japan. And he was only 10 years old at that time.

"Demon Child, escapes, killing almost 30 of our fine men who came to put him in custody."

Always on the run, never finding a place to stay. A place to call home. No one was siding with him because of the way he looked. No one listened as he defended himself, telling his side of the story.

"I heard, he killed his parents too."

"He's said to be like a one man army. "

Laughing at society. How stupid must people be to always believe in the media's. How stupid of them to pray to God that he won't come, and do the same to their families. He never believed in anything. There was nothing to believe in a world filled with savages. There was no God controlling their lives, it was them, acting all religious and innocent. He was disgusted. He wanted to make them see reality.

Some think he was just a legend. Some knows he's lurking in the shadows in Tokyo. People using his title to scare little kids. Only his title was known, but never his name. His looks poorly described, instead they made up something that was close to make people believe.

"He had owl like hair and eyes, he was big— his body is some kind of ware human! He had sharp teeth, blood over his clothing. The Demon Child is on the lose, still growing everyday, please, if you have found anyone looking suspicious or matches the following details, immediately contact the nearest station."

He was all over the news. Soon he was about to go worldwide for exposing himself a lot. A man's gotta do what he has to do to survive right?

Everyone feared for their lives. Thinking they're all so saint, innocent, worthy enough to live. It made him puke in disgust.

Still you find yourself getting drunk of love because of this dangerous person.

(You're loving on the psychopath sitting next to you

You're loving on the murderer sitting next to you

You'll think, "How'd I get here, sitting next to you?"

But after all I've said, please don't forget)

How did you find yourself in a tight situation in the first place? Just a week ago you were just taking a train ride on the way home after school, it was already dark outside. If you haven't had a review study you would've been home already.

You would've never have to encounter him.

Like fate, you were being mugged, harassed. Long story short, you found yourself with ripped clothes, cowering in fear, then he swoons in. You can still hear the gun shots fresh in your head. The sound of bones cracking with shrill shrieks from the men in pain. Hearing a body came contact on the ground. You were afraid to meet your saviors eyes, having to experience this in first hand. Bokuto thought you were just some kind of harlot in the streets, but taking in a closer look. You were just a university student. An innocent one if he had to describe. He could hear your whimpers, see your body shaking.

He had one vow in his life after that faithful day, "Protect the weak, the innocent. Eliminate the threats." he never knew there would be people like you in this part of the world.

You remember his soft, big hands taking your smaller ones, he was gentle. He was far from what people had describe of him. But you never really believed in the Demon Child. You didn't even know you were holding hands with him. And that he saved you instead of killing you also. You were so shaken up by that day, he escorted you back to your apartment. Ever since Tokyo was in chaos, many people fled the city. Not much people in your apartment, but a lot of thugs down your blocks. He was about to leave you, disappear once again in the shadows, but you grabbed his hand, he was shocked. It was so gentle than what he has experienced before. You offered him to stay as a token of your gratitude. But you didn't know you were the ones who was staying with him forever.

You wanted to ask him where he came from. Where he was staying. You wanted to know his name, you wanted atleast some kind of background from him. But all he said were these simple words.

"Take it slow, darling. You don't know the half of the abuse."

and that's where your life started.

(We don't deal with outsiders very well

They say newcomers have a certain smell

You have trust issues, not to mention

They say they can smell your intentions)

After filing a report on murder of the men who had previously caused a scene. You were no longer safe in your apartment. Bokuto was no longer safe. You can hear loud footsteps coming from downstairs, the few people evacuating the building. All doors being kicked down, and inspected the rooms. You were the last room from the top of the building. Bokuto was calm, but inside him he doesn't want to leave without you. If he did, what would happen to you? Would those savages kill you for protecting him? No they weren't. He opens your window wide, looking at the next building just a few centimeters to jump on. Your heart was pounding, the footsteps were nearing. You felt nauseous, Bokuto grabs your jacket, and puts it on you, covering you with a hood and mask.

"Jump, I'll follow behind you."

You looked at him as if he was crazy. But you saw his dark eyes, his body in protective stance. He looked like a wolf shielding his mate. Your lips quivered, grabbing some of your belongings in a backpack, you gulped at the distance between your window and the building. Flinching as you hear the neighboring room doors burst open, you closed your eyes for a short moment, holding your breath and took a big leap on the building. Being resourceful, you used your bag as a soft cushion for impact. Grumbling to get up, your eyes scanning the opened window, waiting for Bokuto to join you.

Back in the room Bokuto was impressed at your action. When the locked door was being knocked on hard, he pushed all the furniture against it before jumping out, expertly landing on his feet in front of you. He grabs your arms, carrying you in a princess style, and started running.

"Just close your eyes if you don't want to see what's going to happen."

But you didn't, each sound of the gun shots, sirens the smell of gun powder, blood, smoke, everything you took in on that day as if you were reborn.

"You bought home another one, Bokuto san?"

You stood frozen in your spot. Bokuto had ran a long way, but being fazed by the sirens and gun shots, you didn't realize you were in some kind of dark building with a bunch of guys that look way more dangerous than thugs.

"She's different."

He pulls your hoodie off carefully, letting you hair fall down to your face. But you kept your mask on, remembering his words when he was running,

"Be careful with my crew. They're all quite wary with new comers, darling. We have....trust issues."

You gulped when Bokuto left your side, you hugged yourself as the boys began to huddle over you, eyes looking like they could kill you on the spot. The one who spoke earlier kept a good distance, but his eyes were cold as ice as they bore into you.

"Leave her. She's clean."

They all followed. Was he some kind of leader? Just what we're you getting yourself into?

(You're loving on the freakshow sitting next to you

You'll have some weird people sitting next to you

You'll think "How did I get here, sitting next to you?"

But after all I've said, please don't forget)

Everyone sat on the floor, having a short meeting with Bokuto. You on the other hand, just stayed seated on the corner, shying away from the men who seem to deem you as a threat.

"Hey, (Y/n), come here."

You hear his fingers snap, with shaking legs you slowly made your approach, he pats a spot next to him, gingerly taking a seat beside him. He spoke in a low tone voice.

"Do you know who we are?"

You shake your head, "N-no."

"Do you want to know who we are?"

You didn't move an inch when his hand came forward, brushing against your cheek for a short while, before pulling down your mask.

"You look much better like that, darling."

One second you were scared. Now you were flustered. Snapping out of the feelings, you let a weak, "yes". Wanting to know their identities, their background. Why they were all running away from the police. It took almost several hours of listening to everyone's stories, and names. Almost crying at everyone's stories, especially Bokuto's. You were understanding the deeper meaning on how life was so cruel. You learned that the man earlier was named, Akaashi Keiji. Bokuto's first encounter with— people fear how intelligent he was. He was abused so much by his family for admiring the Demon Child. Taking defense on saying maybe he used to be innocent, and people mistaken him for his actions. He was Bokuto's most dearest and first friend.

"S-so, your name is Bokuto Koutarou?"

"Feels nice to hear it from you, darling."

"Hey, (Y/n). Be sure not betray us, or else."

The guy, Konoha, you presumed threatens. You almost hid yourself behind Bokuto by grabbing his arm in instinct, "Now, now, Konoha. You're scaring the little lady." Another guy, Washio if you have that correct came to defend you. The rest bickered on about you being a threat, and how someone as weak, and defenseless like you against them could get away. You feel Bokuto's hand grip your shoulder firmly, his hot breath against your ear as he murmurs out a familiar set of words.

"Take it slow, darling. You don't know the half of the abuse."

(All my friends are heathens, take it slow

Wait for them to ask you who you know

Please don't make any sudden moves

You don't know the half of the abuse)

It had almost been 2 months since you've gotten used to the gangs presence, and them with yours. You became like the mother of the group, and yet still the child of the group. You've gotten use to see them make deals with other men in Tokyo to earn money, weapons, seen them kill in front of your eyes whenever things get heated. Akaashi would be first to pull you away from the sight of Bokuto snapping someone's neck, or slowly torturing them to death.

You weren't completely used to see Bokuto kill people. Knowing it was for your safety, you wish you could a day without having to hear muffled screams, and pleadings from both men and women.

"Hey (Y/n), why don't you come here and sit with us." Washio calls out, flicking his cigarette on the floor, crushing it on his feet. "Eat, (Y/n), you're the only one who eats less here. It's unfair of us to be selfish." Akaashi offers you a plate filled with food. After having 2 months to stay with them, and staying silently at your place, you had gotten thin from the lack of nutrients. You ate slowly, not wanting to look improper in front of a group of men.

"Um...thank you!" You bowed all of a sudden.

They had their eyes widened, they thought you were going to scream for help like most people, but instead they heard a thank you.

"For what?"

"F-for taking me in! And, for the meal with you guys for the first time!"

Everyone looked at eachother before chuckling. Bokuto stood up from his chair, removing the black gloves on his hands before patting your head.

"Now do you trust her?"

You looked behind, listening to his words.

"Fine, fine. She's innocent, Bokuto."

"See! I told you she was innocent from the moment I saw her." hitching your breath, you admired his wide smile. It seemed so genuine despite everything that was going on.

"Don't worry no too much, (Y/n)! You're part of the gang."

He kneels down next to you, fingers down your chin and gently pulling them to meet his eyes.

"And I will protect you."

He doesn't know when, why. But he knows deep inside, he was allowing himself to fall inlove.

And it was dangerous.

(Why'd you come? You knew you should have stayed)

The building was surrounded.

They should've known they were going to spotted if they stayed long. The team was packing up all weapons and sources they could carry. You stayed hidden on the behind some of the boxes as they opened the doors to be met by almost an army of men with guns.

"Freeze!"

You hear the commander yell, all of the team hidden and scattered on many places, as Bokuto was kneeled onto the ground.

As bait.

The police force were closing in, as they were, everyone inside the building started firing guns, Bokuto running off as he throws in a flash bomb. Blinding many, easily shooting all down in ease.

(I tried to warn you just to stay away)

Things had gotten out of hand when one soldier threw in a bomb. Setting the building on fire. Akaashi held your hand, running alongside with the team to somewhere safe.

"W-wait, where's Bokuto?"

Everyone stayed silent. Akaashi just grips onto you tighter, but he underestimated you. You kicked him on the groin, his hand releasing your arm as you ran away from them before they had the chance to catch up.

You were nearing at the sounds of gun shots, you spot Bokuto hidden on a left over concrete, face smeared with blood, and smoke.

"Bokuto!"

You ran next to him, kneeling behind the concrete wall.

"(Y/n) what the fuck, I said get out of here!"

"Like hell will I leave you!"

(And now they're outside ready to bust)

He was taken back at your outburst and strong willed personality, startled by a bullet almost hitting his head, shooting the man down instantly. You looked behind the wall, instructing Bokuto where to shoot. Since your were small, you weren't easily spotted.

Shooting the last man down. Bokuto sighs. He was out of bullets. You gasped out a breath you were holding in, only to have your eyes shrink back.

There was someone behind him.

As if in slow motion, you pushed Bokuto back. Taking in his position, pulling out a gun that was secretly tucked in your pants and hoodie.

Firing quicker before the man could have a chance.

Bokuto was in awestruck. Who knew you had it in you all the time. Panting at the rush of adrenaline, Bokuto gets up from his spot and pulls you in his arms, crashing his lips almost roughly. Getting addicted to the way on how perfectly and delicious they felt on his, he bites on your lower lip harshly, dominating you with his height.

From the innocent, and scared girl you were, now looking like a hot badass in his eyes.

He had learned that you were more than capable as much as he was.

And he now knew that falling inlove with you was never dangerous, but exciting as it adds thrill in his life.

And finally, someone who actually listened to the others side, and learned to love them.

(It looks like you might be one of us)

The two of you walked hand in hand. Stopping abruptly in front of the man you had just shot. His eyes skim your body, and then your face weekly. You looked so innocent. Tainted by evil.

"W-what have you done to her?"

He weakly utters out, only to be stepped on the head by Bokuto. Who was annoyed. How dare he blame him for making you like this. You places a hand on his chest, telling him to take his feet of the fallen man.

Kneeling down in front of you, just lowered your lips next to his ear, murmuring something. You hear him let out a scream, before it was cut off by head shot deep in his skull. Bokuto licks his lips at the sight of you getting up slowly, gun on your hand as you blew off the smoke.

"Take it slow, dear. You don't know the half of the abuse."

[oh-theatre]

Objection!: Chapter 18

Chapter title: Two Ways Home

A/n:  WE ARE BACK IN THE COURTROOM BBY!!! I lovE IT. And them I did it btw! I did the kiss ™ t-the one in the snow?? Yes, that one because it melts my heart ahahah the irony. Anyway, they are baby and I love them and would die for them. Ughhh I hope you enjoy I know how bad this is but I love writing so hopefully idk?? leave me some comments!! I'm a mess sorry

oh god they're moving too fast arent they..sihiawdhiw i always do this

First | Previous | Next

words: 4034

summary: The gang returns to court!

pairings: Eventual logicality, prinxiety, platonic demus, romantic remile

warnings: Murder mention, child murder, Law and Courtroom, swearing, blood, hospital, crime scene,  murder, gun mention, guns, swearing, abuse, graphic descriptions, tickling mention

Ao3 Link  

“You're late” Virgil huffs opening the door, Roman presses forward, an apologetic smile falls upon his face. “Come on princey” He says, taking the judges hand leading him into the house. “Go help Dee pick a movie, I need to finish up a few things and then ill make some snacks,” Virgil says trying to go, leaving Roman but the judge isn't that easily shooed.

“Woah slow down...Virge, is everything ok?” He takes his hand gently, Virgil turns to him matching the steady beat of Roman's heart, he nods. “Ok, I'll go help with the movie and you?” He squeezes the detective's hand ��Take a breather” Virgil does just that simultaneously resisting the urge to lean forward and connect their lips. What is wrong with me?

“He's waiting” Virgil cocks his head towards the coach, Roman nods smirking, his nose scrunching quickly. He scans Virgil once more before feeling it safe to retreat to the couch, a small figure already enveloped in a mountain of blankets lays. Damian quickly scrambles to a more conscious state as his small eyes fall upon Roman.

“RoRo!” He squeals jumping into the judge's arms. Ignoring the slight pain that seizes his body he hugs back, embracing the child he holds so dearly. “I missed you!” He pulls away still clinging to Roman's neck. Roman smiles at him, unable to allow his shiny pearls to gleam. He's just so happy. The little boy wriggles impatiently in his arms, playing with Romans more than fluffy hair, it bounces under Damian's touch.

“I missed you too niño!” Roman assures, ruffling the younger boy's hair. He laughs falling back onto the couch, he grabs the remote handing it happily to Roman, he wriggles comfortable in his blanket cuddling up to Roman. “What's the mood for tonight?” He wonders opening up Netflix on TV, Damian shrugs, his eyes entranced.

“Christmas!” He exclaims throwing his hands in the air, missing Romans face by an inch “It's snowing!” He marvels looking towards the window, indeed it was. It fell slowly but it seemed the November air had cooled away as the light breeze of winter took its place, ready to cover the world in a soft layer of possibility.  He could see it, he hadn't meant to but his mind was not his own. The image of squealing laughter as he raced down a snowy hill, Damian in front of him holding on for dear life.

“It is Dee!” Virgil affirms, he stands over the couch his hand ruffling Damian's hair. The little boy crawls up on his father, Virgil situating him on his shoulder taking him to the window. Damian places his hand across the frosted glass, astonished laughter as it chills him. Roman stands to join them, Damian waves to the unknown hoping a shimmer of something might greet him back. Someone, something out there will grant his ever so silent hopes.

“Bye-bye snow,” He says, his fists closing quickly as he waves goodbye. Roman chuckles allowing Virgil to swift past him, landing on the couch. Damian snuggles once more under his mountain of blankets allowing the warm pressure to calm him. Roman sits next to them handing the remote to Virgil, giving him full control. He takes it his hands tracing the buttons carefully, the bumpy exterior awakening him.

“Thanks,” He says, he looks to Damian who watches the blank screen with intent “What are we watching buddy?” Damian shrugs fully morphing into his father, clearly seeking an adoring hold from the man. Virgil allows him now checking on Roman. “Any requests?”

“How about ‘Elf’?” Roman suggests, Virgil watches him hesitant “Its a classic! You just gotta...believe” He teases, Damian cheers clapping his hands together. Virgil shakes his head knowing that what the child wished the child gets.

“Elf! Elf!” He chants, Roman points towards him looking at Virgil. He groans finding the movie quickly. It starts slowly and Roman has trouble focusing, the soft hum of the radiator, the awfully quick noises from Damian as he reacts to everything. It feels more natural as they get into it, clearly, Virgil had a long day. On multiple occasions, his head would fall slightly onto Roman's shoulder before jerking awake. Roman didn't mind, he even encouraged it once when it was maybe too much.

“Virge, rest, I've got Dee” Roman whispers, Virgil blinks at the reflection of the movie playing. He sniffled nodding, Roman pushes his head carefully onto his shoulder letting him warm up to the judge. Virgil was asleep in minute, steady breathing as his chest would rise. The movie finished quickly and it seemed the Tormine family was fast asleep. Damian had clearly been consumed by his mountain of blankets and snored sweetly. Virgil had clutched to Roman his presence soft on the judge. Oh, woe is Roman as he stirs the detective awake, his soft face bubbling as his eyes adjust to the outside world. “Sorry just...the movies over and..” He pushes Virgil's ruffled hair away from his eyes. “Thought you might want to sleep in your own bed” Virgil yawns nodding, he struggles to get up but soon enough is waddling away, Roman laughs watching him go. He wraps Damian up his arms watching as Virgil returns.

“I forgot my son” He mumbles, Roman stifles a wheeze placing Damian gently in Virgil's arms. “Thanks,” He says, Roman nods their eyes meet. The tired storm behind Virgil's eyes intriguing the fading flame in Romans. “Thanks for…” He starts slowly, getting closer to Roman's mouth. “Tonight” He whispers meeting Roman's lips, their eyes closing in unison. A little groan from Damian pulling them apart. “See you tomorrow Ro” Virgil says disappearing into his room

“See you...tomorrow,” He says, the tickling sensation upon his lips leaving a satisfactory mark. “Virgil” He muses, he collects his things making as little noise as possible. Closing the door behind him, the silent night falls on him only increasing the volume of his thoughts.

This has to be a dream

~~~

“We are back in the courtroom” Patton taps his desk excitedly, the echo ringing through the room. He shuffles through his papers a familiar buzz in his heart as the door opens behind him, the urge to turn his head watch who enters overwhelming him. Hoping, almost praying its a certain lawyer. His urges win however as he watches Logan diligently speaking to Reeve as he makes his way down the aisle, the young intern frantically taking notes. He blushes as if a teenager once more focusing back towards the empty witness stand, feeling a light brush of air while Logan walks by, taking his place on the opposite end of the courtroom.

“Your client” Patton smiles at George as Virgil and Remy lead him in, tight hold on his constraints of a prison. They take him to his end of the desk, handcuffing him to the table. He's silent as he moves, little to do about anything as the world moves on without him. It almost makes Patton sad to watch, and harder to read.

“Thanks, guys,” He says, a light squeeze to Virgil's arm as he passes, receiving a lingering feeling as the detective walks away. Virgil watches him for a moment but retreats to his chair.

“Mr.Hart?” Patton looks up smiling at a young intern watching him expectantly. “Mr.Tolentino wanted me to let you-

“You can just call him Logan,” Patton says, his smile remains placated. Reeve fidgets uncomfortably but nods as he continues on.

“Um...Logan just wanted to let you know that he is going forward with calling Annie to the stand.” Patton bites his cheek but nods, his smile fades staying resolved. “He has also decided to call Brandon to the stand, and he was wondering whether you were calling Carlton” Reeve finishes feeling as if the words were not his own. Patton shakes his head softly, he looks to Logan who seems to be buried in mountains of work, he hides a disappointed pout.

“Yes...I'm sorry Brandon? Brandon Hoff?” Patton checks, looking back to where two children sit where their mother, all sadly eyeing George. Reeve nods, Patton takes a deep breath but stretches a pursed smile. “Great thanks Reeve,” He says, the intern scurries away, himself betrayed by his words. He doesn't agree with Logan's methods but he is a good lawyer...but Patton is too. He re-focuses taking a seat next to Logan. Soon the trial begins and Patton is instructed to call his first witness.

“The defense call detective Carlton to the stand” Patton calls, feeling as discouraged as before. He avoids looking to Logan, knowing the usual hopeful glance the pair shares wouldn't be returned today. Once he's sworn in Patton begins, knowing his intuition could fail him he simply prays. Prays that Carlton, that everything he's built this case on...won't fall apart. Please, don't let this man be guilty. “Detective Carlton, you were recently discovered at a hostage scene correct?”

“Objection! Leading the witness” Logan declares, he barely grazes Patton with his eyes, the man's stomach sinks. He knows he shouldn't be thinking about this right now, but...had he done something wrong? Had he shattered everything he had ever built up, his friendship? His trust? Was all of it...the kiss, out of pity?

“Patton?” Roman whispers, Patton jerks back realizing his own condition.

“Detective” He starts, he looks to an unfazed Logan, right there deciding he knows his path. “Do you know this man?” He points to George, a moment of hesitation before the witness sucks in a sharp breath.

“I've never seen that man before” He admits, Patton smirks “In my entire life” He adds, Patton nods satisfied as a tiny groan, ever so slightly escapes Logan's mouth. Check and mate, mister Tolentino. His next move may be deemed risky, and Roman certainly won't enjoy it and yet…

“I want to submit that detective Carlton be admitted as an expert witness” He requests, the room falls silent. Logan, surprisingly, is the first to move. He stands abrupt from his chair and points towards Patton.

“Absolutely not your honor! The man is convicted felon!” He claims, Patton cocks his head, his smirk returning.

“Exactly the reason I propose this, not only is he a convicted felon but one who has admittedly worked with the so-called ‘Alphabet Murderer’. Which means that unless he perjures himself, he knows more than most. More than say...Brandon or Annie Hoff” Patton explains, Roman cant find a rebuttal.

“That's ridiculous” Logan huffs looking to Roman for confirmation “Your honor?”

“Let it be known to the court and jury, detective Carlton is now an expert witness” Roman bangs his gavel, a rush of excitement as it passes through him. Logan glares, his nostrils flaring as he resits himself. Patton wears a triumphant smirk turning back to Carlton. “Watch yourself, detective, one wrong move…” Roman threatens, as his job. Virgil can't help but feel a sense of pride. The judge doesn't get enough credit.

“Thank you, your honor” Patton sighs “Carlton, has mister Hoff ever contacted you or attempted to?” The detective laughs shaking his head, he scans Geroge.

“Him? Please...if he was the murderer, you would know” Carlton scoffs, instantly clutching his throat. Almost surprised by his own words.

“Do you know who the alphabet murderer is?” Patton inquires, the entire room leans forward allowing themselves to dangle at his anticipation

“Absolutely” Carlton grins, Patton digs his nails deep into his palms, stopping just before the skin breaks blood. “Haley Bloomington” He seethes, Virgil and Remy share a look, both with the same idea.

“As in the precinct captain?” So much more happens in Patton's mind, everything falls into place, he feels lightheaded. He looks to Logan, a helpful plea is administered, a stab to the heart as Logan...ignores him.

“That's the one” The one? The one who Patton took all his complaints about Liam to? The one who Patton pleaded, begged for help? All these years-

No, focus.

“Thank you, no further questions,” Patton says “I also suggest that we hold on cross-examination until further notice,” He says before retreating to his seat. Roman watches but nods.

“Court adjourned,” He says in a practical whisper. The jury clears out in whispered murmurs, each giving a look towards Patton as they move through. Patton says a quick goodbye to George as the detectives lead him away, shuffling his papers. He feels the room around him gain quiet until two quick feet make their way out and its just him and Logan. He refuses to look towards him, a mixing bowl of emotions, not sure which recipe to follow.

“Patton” Logan stands at the desk now, across from Patton. The lawyer turns, his brows in a knitted furrow, he tries to scowl but instead places a worried pout.

“Oh, now you-”

“Would you like to go on a date with me on Friday?” Logan wonders, his hands fidgeting carefully behind his back. Patton softens, oh…

“Yes, absolutely” He whispers, Logan purses his lips bouncing on his heel. He nods before carefully leaving the room, the door closing behind him. Patton presses his file against his chest, trying very hard not to swoon. “Yes...absolutely” He repeats, just for himself.

~~~

“And why is that?” Logan wonders straightening his bowtie, he tilts his head as the mirror reflects his image.

“Because this is Patton's first date in almost a million years,” Virgil says from the couch, his position quite extravagant. Roman chuckles from the ground as he plays with Virgil's hanging hair. “This night is for him, I mean seriously...the last person he went out with was-

“Liam” Logan breathes, his strict posture falls as he watches the sky fade. The outer world becomes less prominent as he loses himself in his own mind. Virgil hops from the couch and takes his stance in front of the lawyer, he slaps his hands away instead taking Logan's lopsided bowtie into his own hands, fixing it. The Friday night of the neighborhood dim.  

“Exactly” Virgil pats his chest once he's done, Logan moves onto his hair suddenly feeling his confidence drain with him. He wasn't sure what he was doing, Patton assured him everything was fine but that couldn't be true could it? And that's not what he deserves, if Logan could he would summon a plane to Europe right now. Seat himself first class with Patton by his side, his eyes marveling-

“But isn't a date about two people? About both of us?” Logan genuinely requests. Coming down from dream.

“Not this one dude. This is for Pat” Roman says drumming his fingers in the air. “Sorry, but it just isn't about you tonight.” Roman shrugs, Logan dusts himself off choosing to heed their words, he shows off his outfit carefully. “Two thumbs up from me. Love the vest” Roman compliments

“It looks great” Virgil nods, he fixes one strand of hair before squeezing Logan's shoulders gently. “It'll be great, just...make it great ok? For him?” That's all I wanted to do

“Mmhm” he hums going towards his watch, placing it slinked on his wrist. One more check in the mirror before gathering his coat and things. He wishes he had a bag to carry with him, his phone rings out. “Don't want to be late” he mumbles to himself, he turns to his friends. “Good?” He checks

“Perfect,” They say in unison.

“Perfect!” Patton says in his home, feeling as though time just wasn't enough. “It has to be perfect Em!” He says gathering his keys. “Logan probably thinks me a fool, this is simply to amuse his own ideas” he sighs sadly, knowing how deep this fear runs.

“Surely you don't believe that Pat!” Emile exclaims sitting in front of the couch watching as the twins play in front of him. “You've been friends forever! And Logan asked you, and seemed more than excited to go with you”

“Ugh, I don't know anymore. I mean Em...what am I doing?”

“Going on a date...doi” Remy reminds returning from the bathroom. Patton rolls his eyes playfully.

“Thank you captain obvious!” Patton jokes, Remy blows him a kiss, receiving a swat from Emile. ‘No I mean...what am I doing? I don't have time for this, I have kids...a full-time job. I don't have time or space for heartbreak” He sighs resigned, leaning over the couch.

“Now who says it's going to be heartbreak, Patton?” Emile says as Valerie presents her latest creation. She makes her way to Patton showing him all the same, he picks her up smiling brightly.

“Beautiful Val” He commends, kissing her softly on the forehead as he releases her back to play. She joins her brother Remus in his quest to save the world in lego form. “Ugh, maybe I shouldn't go...so I got caught up with the children or something,” Patton says wistfully, the twin gleam at the idea. The bounce up rushing to their father, enveloping his legs in their tiny arms.

“Papa! You have to go! Mister Logan loves you!” Valerie squeals, Patton blushes picking her up, he boops her nose to which she recoils giggling. Remus jumps around him, poking him gently.

“You have to! Then! Then! Mister Logan can teach me new words!” He claims, Patton laughs picking up Remus next. Emile watches happily, Remy takes his place next to his partner. Remus points to them “Look! Look! Rem and Em will take care of us!” He claims, Patton nods.

“You heard thing two,” Remy says, Patton smirks “We got them Pat” The lawyer smiles gratefully as he hands one of the twins to each of them. He moves to his room finishing up the cleaning as he moves around, wanting the room to be clean for when he returns, to drown himself in his embarrassments. He turns to find the mirror showing him his reflection, had he always looked so tired?

“Hey you,” He says, maybe only slightly joking. “You're going on a date!” He points his fingers wagging. “Oh god, what am I doing?” Patton sighs rubbing his forehead. “You can do this” He laughs, an actual laugh, it's bright. He might be losing his mind, but he plants himself. “Ok Patton, look at you. You've got this, you...deserve this. Well no...you definitely don't-” He groans turning away “Just cancel Pat,” He says his hands shaking over the phone, he just wants it to go well. To see Logan smile, just as he deserves, he wants him happy should that be too much?

“Patton! There's a car in your driveway!” Remy calls from the living room. Well, now or never. He takes his coat and gloves from the stand, walking out. He gives the children two quick kisses on the head before a deep breath reigns him in. His hand circles the cold knob, twisting as he steps into the timid air. Logan steps out of the car, double-taking as he sees Patton in his doorway.

“Oh! I was coming to-” He stops, his eyes trace Patton. “You look...wow” He smiles, Pattons night is made. Just that small twitch of the lip as it moves upwards.

“Well, you look-” Don't make it weird, don't make it weird “Amazing”

Crap

“Thank you” He nods extending his hand, Patton steps into the snow taking it.

Well, here we go.

~~~

“Oh my!” Patton laughs, his hand meeting Logans across the table. “Did he actually?” He checks allowing Logan to comfortably fiddle with his hand. Logan nods affirming his story, the room lights with the candles that float.

“I kid you not, he fell asleep” Logan recalls, Pattons smile only grows. “The case was just that boring I suppose, it really is a Roman thing to do” Logan guesses, Patton takes a sip of his water. Logan does the same with his wine, trying subtlety to get it down.

“Only Roman” Patton smiles, the waiter stops by delivering their desserts to mark a night of love-filled happiness. A successful dinner thus far. “Mmm tiramisu” Patton digs in, his eating gracefully as the sweet dessert tickles his upper mouth.

“I do enjoy a simple chocolate cake,” Logan says himself as he takes a delectable bite of his food. He pushes the plate slightly towards Patton. “Would you care for a bite?” He offers, Patton pulls the fork from his mouth, a lopsided smile.

“Of course” He tries, a sweet but bitter taste befalls his mouth. “Care for a bite of mine” Logan takes it, trying not to cringe inwards. It's not bad, just incredibly sweet, made to Italian perfection but not his style. “Too sweet?”

“Just like you” He retorts, a coy smile spreads as Patton blushes his eyes darting quickly to suddenly very interesting candle.  “Sorry” He shakes his head, Patton giggles.

“Don't be, thank you,” He says finishing his dessert. Logan quickly does the same, and somehow once the check has been paid the pair make their way outside. The chilly air only growing in cold, Pattons not sure why but he interlaces his arms with Logan, the lawyer blushing excited when Patton does so.

“Are you having a good time?” Logan checks for what seems like the fifth time tonight, Patton stops him taking his shoulders.

“Ok, you've asked that a lot tonight. Is everything ok?” Patton wonders, the taller man adjusts his glasses. “Lo…” Patton moans softly, wishing to return the fun that logan has gifted him that night.

“I just want this to go well for you” Logan replies, his throat growing hoarse. Patton chuckles his breath visible in the air.

“Logan” He starts so carefully, in a way that Logan wishes his name should only be uttered by Patton. “This isn't just about me. You know that right? We should both be enjoying this night, god I hope you are” He jokes, his voice shaky. “I want you to have a good time, and if you aren't that's ok-”

“I am” Logan confirms, his interruption causing a sweet smile upon Patton.

“Well good, I am too” He bounces taking Logan's hand “Where to next?” He asks looking up to Logan. The lawyer looks back at him. He turns Patton towards him studying his face, under the snow Patton practically glistens. The snow begins to fall softly, coating the brim of their glasses, they laugh looking up.  “Snow reason to end the night now” Patton teases.

“Really?” Logan groans, an amused smile failing him. Patton giggles falling into Logan's chest softly. The warmth that spreads around him is something that overtakes him. Patton recoils a bit holding to Logan's scarf, twirling it gently. Logan places his hand under Patton's chin as he leans in meeting their lips. Patton returns the soft gesture still clutching to his scarf, his gloves wrapping further around it. A careful click as they pull apart, Patton's undeniable smile as he meets Logan's eyes. He laughs as the snow falls directly onto the lawyer's nose taking his glove to wipe it away. Logan fails to resist the urge to giggle as the wool tickles him.

“Oho…” Patton smirks “Logan Tolentino...are you ticklish?” Patton checks, Logan laughs away, turning his face away. “Oh my! You are!” Patton claims

“Please don't tell Roman” Logan begs “I don't want to know what he would do with that information” Patton giggles delighted imagining the judge locked into battle with a very flustered Logan.

“That's alright, I can find other ways to get you flustered” Patton leans in kissing Logan once more, not sure how long he's waited to that so casually. As if second nature.

“Ways...that I don't mind” Logan nods, Patton rolls his eyes playfully as they continue their trek through the snow, closing the door on a night that can only be described as perfect. Because it truly was, the evening had been something of a new experience for both of them. Patton had never felt so safe in someone elses arms as they played with his fingers, Logan had never felt so invested, so truly passionate.

They were…

In the most professional sense...

In love

[crapitskizaru]

My Pirate. (Eustass Kid x Reader)

Warning: filth, lil bit of weird roleplay, slight descriptions of gore scenes in a horror movie

Word Count: 1,9k

The darkness of the Halloween night behind the window would have been disturbing if it wasn’t for the close warmth beside you and a strong arm wrapped around your shoulders.

Even if someone with ill intentions wanted to give you a scare, they would fail miserably - there was simply nothing scarier than the man you were currently cuddling with. You silently wondered if there was a safer place on Earth than the one you were in - his protective embrace.

“What a coward,” your boyfriend snarled. “You gotta find a weapon and fight. I wouldn’t ever run away, you know?”

“Oh, I know.” You moved your focus back to the screen. “But I think any murderer would rather be the one running away. You’re simply too scary to handle.”

His grimace turned into a smirk as he whispered into your ear. “But you can handle me.”

The voice he gave you was flirtatious and bluntly hinting at what it was that he wanted. But it didn’t take you by surprise, he was always like this. And so the TV screen consumed your attention once more.

The main protagonists in the movie were, to put it lightly, having a hard time. There were screams and jumpscares involved every few seconds, the unsettling music seemingly running down your veins with each turn of the camera and each location the murderer appeared in.

It didn’t bother your boyfriend at all. He laughed at the scene where teeth were brutally snatched out from one of the main character’s gums, he cheered the murderer on during their numerous attempt on skinning their victim alive.

In his amazing costume that resembled both a pirate and a New Romantic fashion, it felt as if Kid was born for Halloween. Ever since you’d gotten into a relationship, you always spent the night with him - and he always made sure to make it a memorable experience.

A moment of suspense from the sudden, lingering silence on-screen was abruptly cut off by a faint sound of a text message.

“It’s Killer,” Kid muttered, mindlessly scanning his phone. “Says he’ll be at least an hour late.”

“Mmmh...” Your casual stretch not going unnoticed by your boyfriend as he scooped you closer. “That’s good, actually. We’ll be able to finish the movie.”

“What movie?” His words were barely audible with how his lips were already in your neck, eagerly catching your skin.

“It tickles!” you laughed, grasping his hair. “Oh my God, at least wait until the movie ends-”

“What movie?” he repeated with a grin, huge body obscuring your vision of the screen as he moved to your mouth, massaging your tongue with his own.

He went from mildly interested in all the sophisticated torture methods and gore scenes to being as enthusiastically turned-on as possible in literal seconds, it was difficult to catch a breath.

Your body only reacting after a few moments spent near his warmth; your mind dizzy with agitation and slight anxiety, there was no time to gather your thoughts.

His lips were cold against yours, your body numb with too many sensations - your boyfriend’s hand on your thigh, his chest pressed up against yours, his licking tongue and his whole frame that you struggled to grasp in your embrace.

Your palms rubbed feverishly around the nape of his neck, only to slide down and come around toward his front, mouth reaching to keep up with the pace of the kiss.

“I wanna have sex so badly,”‌ he groaned, parting and exhaling against your ear. “We can fuck before Killer comes.”‌

To give yourself some time to think the response through, you caught his lips again and tried to calm your racing thoughts; all of them currently busy with telling you how hot Kid was and how you could spend the whole night just making out with him on the couch.

“Let me just-” you finally breathed out, touching your forehead to his. “-go to the bathroom real quick.”‌

“Don’t take too long. Else I’ll just start jacking off on my own and cum in five minutes.”‌

After cupping his face and giving him a teasing peck, your legs felt shaky when you went upstairs for some time for yourself. There was no denying the hungry pool in your stomach that just ached to be satisfied by your boyfriend.

The trip to the bathroom was indeed as quick as you could make it, as you found yourself in the bedroom - wondering just which toys to grab for this particular night.

Before you could as much as evaluate the possibilities, your gaze landed behind the window. The darkness had been replaced by faint light reflecting from the moon, revealing the busy streets; all around there were spooky decorations hanging from the roofs, covering the gardens and driveways, shining on the lamp posts.

There was a distant feeling of longing in your heart at the sight - the chilly October weather, the soon perspective of the New Year, the veil of the supernatural in the air, it all added to the chills that ran down your spine.

You couldn’t wait to go out with Kid and his friends onto the streets and relish in the eerie atmosphere while admiring the costumes of passing-by strangers, all while taking attempts to frighten one another with scary stories.

“Changed your mind?”‌

Your heart skipped a beat, your face and chest heating up in surprise. There he was, his tall figure standing in the doorway.

“Hm?‌‌ Sorry, got a little…lost in thought,”‌ you smiled as he walked closer, his arms enveloping you from behind. “Just look, isn’t the night magical?”‌

“It is,”‌ he hummed. “But not magical enough to leave me hanging for so long.”‌

“Didn’t you say you would start jerking off on your own?”‌

“I’d rather you did it.”‌ He gave you a smirk. “Besides, I‌ had to check on you. What if I was a vicious pirate? What would you do?”‌

His tone was getting more teasing as he sent a few licks down your neck, the previous hunger and impatience seemingly lost. You had to admit - imagining your boyfriend as a pirate was as ridiculous as it was exciting, making the arousal in your gut heat up once more.

“You?‌ A vicious pirate?‌‌ You’re far too soft for that,”‌ you cooed and flushed your back against his chest harder. “You wouldn’t harm an innocent being. And I, sir, am as innocent as a human can get.”‌

“And the fact that all of our sex toys are displayed on the bed‌ is supposed to be the proof of that?‌‌”‌

You tried to hide the embarrassment by reaching up and tangling your fingers in his hair, pulling his face into your neck once again.

He just chuckled. “Very innocent, indeed.”‌

“Even if you were a pirate…I’d have captivated you with my natural charm,”‌ you muttered while pressing your butt against his groin. “And took it from there.”‌

His satisfied grunt was followed by the harsh dig of his nails into your hipbones, hands already moving to get rid of the costume you had on.

“What if I was very vicious?”‌‌ One movement exposed your skin to the chilly air of the room that was soon forgotten when his warm palms kneaded your butt. “Vicious and cruel. And savage.”‌‌ He accented the last word with a harsh bite to your neck.

You couldn’t stifle the moan that was breathed out as soon as you rest your head back against his shoulder.

“I‌ would have begged that pirate.”‌‌ Your body responded to your needs faster than you’d have imagined as it rubbed along your boyfriend’s in a needy manner. “I‌ would have begged and pleaded for him to take me.”‌

“And if that pirate would make you scream your name?‌ Would you still want him?”‌

“Yes,”‌ you whispered, closing your eyes and heightening the sensations of his warm body near yours, his hands roaming around your chest, lips taking care of your neck. “Yes. Please.”‌

You could feel him rubbing against your backside, the slow rolls of his hips so distant to his usual manner. The window in front of you acted as nothing else than a way for you to support yourself as the weight behind you suddenly disappeared, only to come back to you after a few seconds.

Kid poured the lube into his hand, pants already down to his ankles, the slicky sound of it being spread along his cock cutting through the silent, dark room and digging deep into your gut in anticipation.

You rested your hands against the windowpane, spreading your legs open as if to offer yourself up to him completely.

His name was whispered when one of your hands got ahold of his hair again, your mouth catching the corner of his lips but soon flying open when you felt him pushing himself inside of you.

Hips snapping against your skin, he set the pace as rough but oddly slow, his breath on your ear.

“That’s not very vicious,”‌ you hummed, resting your forehead on the window glass. This time your senses were far too distracted to pay attention to the lovely sight of the Halloween night.

“You just wait.”‌

You felt his length poking and rubbing inside, the pleasure already starting to wake in your gut. His fingers dove forward to stroke your thighs and in between them - wherever he reached, your legs seemed to give out and start to tremble from the amount of stimulation.

His warm skin touching yours kept on sending sparks up and down your spine, and his words - those being whispered and mumbled so intimately - made you feel like you two were the only people in the universe, right at that moment.

You tried to lean on the window to prevent yourself from sliding down, but there was hardly any strength left in your body. The matter being quickly disregarded when your boyfriend hoisted you up and pushed himself even deeper.

He grunted with pleasure. “I‌ fucking love how you feel around me.”‌

His thrusts began to slide harder inside, his pace even - the friction and delicious sensation of being filled started to set your whole body aflame until its burst was laying within your reach.

“I‌ love you,”‌ the whisper stumbled from your lips before you could stop it, but you were too lost in Kid’s presence to care. “I‌ love you.‌”

“‌I know,‌” he smirked, his cock rolling into your inside relentlessly and drawing a sharp breath each time. “Who wouldn’t?”‌

The teasing tone earned him a quick bite on the lip as you pulled him into a kiss, it being the last impulse you needed to gasp his name out loud and reach your high.

You fell forward against the window, worn out and still shaken by the roaming pleasure between your legs. Your boyfriend was also near his release, as he suddenly pulled out and came on your back with a breathless groan. “Oh, fuck!”

His body was soon slumped over yours, his heavy breath heating up your skin even more. You felt a soft kiss on the back of your neck.

“I would do anything for you.‌ You little shit.”‌

“I know,”‌ you laughed weakly and turned around to face him, finally able to give him a proper kiss. “‌Who wouldn’t?”‌

[thegeminisage]

hey liz i've been thinking a lot about story structure lately and i wanted your take on how you decide what structure your stories will have? i know there's that "you have to do what your story needs and tells you to do" thing but these bitches dont ever tell me anything they just multiply so. thoughts? - bma

(as an aside, i don't know whether involving medium would change many things but it may be worth considering. mainly i think medium is just a matter of arrangement and that the story would be for most intents and purposes the same no matter how you choose to tell it. i guess you could argue that structure is arrangement in itself and intrinsically tied to medium but i sort of feel like it is secondary arrangement, if at all? like if you consider time as an element to outline -- the time IN the story (how things happen to your characters) is not necessarily the time you’re telling the story IN (how you are telling your reader that things are happening) aka internal chronology doesnt equal your work’s pacing? or should it??? does this make sense? i dont think so. i am sorry.) - bma :|

NOOO dont be sorry ur making total sense

i think there’s 3 thots to unpack here (medium, structure, & chronology) & i’m gonna start with medium bc it’s easier. im also putting it behind a cut bc it’s gonna get just stupidly long and rambly. i’m sorry in advance if it’s not helpful to you, i have a lot to say for someone who has never taken even one single class on writing and as a result doesn’t know jack shit (there’s a tl;dr at the end dont worry)

about MEDIUM: 

so like ok i’m just some goof-off with a HS degree who writes fanfiction but In My Very Super Qualified Personal Opinion, i don’t think that most of the time medium is intrinsically tied to STRUCTURE of the main storytelling arc...i think the art of storytelling itself is distinct from the medium you choose to tell the story IN. this post puts it better than i ever could but basically for me, i feel like the story itself is sort of the raw, malleable concept, and the medium you choose to tell it in is how you convey the information??

like in a book, you can say “she forgot her keys” and in a film you have to show her smacking her forehead, heading back into the house, and swiping her keeps off the counter. you can’t TELL in film, you have to show. similarly i regret every day i cannot perfectly describe a facial expression with words when i see it so clearly in my head. for audio-only podcasts that are dialogue heavy out of necessity you have different limitations than you would for, say, animated music videos with no dialogue at all. games allow for more interactivity and exploration while sacrificing accessibility, tv shows allow for more length while sacrificing, uh, a big hollywood budget...medium affects the kind of story you can reasonably tell which is why some stories are better suited to one medium than another. i think trying things in other mediums is a good way to stretch your storytelling muscles but with enough skill nearly any story could be told in any medium. i think when trying to decide on a medium you just gotta weigh the pros & cons and what you feel comfortable with/what you think would be most effective/what would evoke the strongest reaction

re: structure:

firstly “do what the story tells u to do” is a little silly like...the story isn’t sentient. come on. that’s like “i can only write when the writing gods inspire me” there are no writing gods! inspire yourself! it’s all in our weird messed up brains! ok anyway.

this is, again, just how i do things, and i am 700% self-taught so take it with a grain of salt, but when i sit down and start blocking out a story from scratch i don’t...actually consider the big structure at all! sorry if that’s not helpful to you. i like to make a list of everything i want to happen, and then put it together in a few different orders to see what looks best. and when i’m finished, whatever i have just like...IS the structure i go with, with perhaps minor tinkering to make it flow more smoothly. (i think this might be in the same spirit as “do what the story tells you” with less bullshit and more Agency Of The Writer.)

for long and more complex projects, i actually usually have several lists - one list of stuff that is, for example, the Action Plot (the kingdom has been cursed, i’m tracking down my serial killer sister to bring her to justice, i’m running from djinn who wanna kill my dad, i’m trying to bring my dead not-boyfriend back to life). then i have another list for Character A & Character B’s romance or whatever. and maybe a even another one for solo character development (magicphobic prince learns to love magic, former werewolf hunter figures out his family is a cult, half-demon learns to embrace his own nature). and as many lists as we need for however many Main Characters and or Plots/Sideplots

how i order the lists: individually first. don’t mix them together to start with. when deciding the order of an individual list i like to, for example in a romance arc, use escalating intimacy. “A and B have dinner together” is naturally gonna go way sooner than “A and B kiss” or “A and B talk about A’s angsty backstory” because that’s more satisfying. draw it out, good/important stuff last, dangle that carrot so we have a reason to keep reading! for singular character development, it’s basically a straightforward point A to point B...if i want my guy to start hating magic with everything he is and end up being very comfortable with it, i have to put “reluctantly uses magic to save his own life” WAYYY before “casually using magic to light torches and reheat his cold stew.” 

the tricky part for me is when i’m done with these lists and then i need to mix them together To Pace My Whole Story. (this is usually why i wind up with a rainbow colored spreadsheet.) i don’t like to put too many things too close together because then the pace feels uneven. even if my Action Plot is only a thinly veiled excuse for romance and character development, i still don’t want to focus on a romance for 30,000 words and then go “and oh yeah in case you forgot Serial Killing Sister is still coming for your asses.” the more sideplots and major character arcs you’re juggling the harder it is to get an even distribution, which is my main concern always

and like, generally, whatever i have when i’m finished...is my structure. (sorry.) 

i don’t know much about the classic 3-act or anything like that, but i usually can divide them up into 3-5 big arcs based on story turning points. sometimes i take a scene out of one arc and put it in another because it fits better and i like for my shit to be organized, but usually by the time i’m finished with all that, that’s what the final story is mostly gonna look like. (there have been a few exceptions when i realized i needed extra scenes/changes while i was MID-DRAFT and let me tell you that murders me EVERY time. it happened on the merlin fic i’m currently posting and that was like my own personal hell.)

this is also where thots about chronology come in:

i think time CAN be an element of this if you WANT it to be, but it doesn’t HAVE to be. if you want it to be, i would consider it just another “list” like character development or the romance arc. 

i usually plot without considering Time very much...to me, it’s all down to the events you want to show, and however much time it takes is the byproduct. if you want to show something from a character’s chilhood but then tell the bulk of it when they’re adults, that’s one thing. if you want to show a scene from their childhood, teenhood, young adulthood, etc, that’s a different kind of pacing?? i usually do it this way so i can regard time like wordcount: it takes as long as it takes. 3 days or 3 years, a 1.5k drabble or a 100k epic...overall, my LARGEST CONCERN is that even distribution. in the same way that i don’t want one chapter to be 30,000 words when the rest are 10,000 words, i personally am not a fan of huge timeskips offscreen

(because this where i think someone’s own internal chronology DOES matter...this is just a personal preference, as a reader i have a hard time really comprehending, say, a year timeskip or a 10yr timeskip when all i did was turn one page. like, a year is such a long time. i can’t even begin to describe how different i am now to how i was a year ago. it’s the same for character development. time IS development and as a writer i’m not really comfortable having that take place offscreen - for main characters, at least. it’s just too jarring. a little prologue with something happening 10 or 20 years ago is usually fine, but for the most part, i’m not a fan. ...i can do one chapter per year a lot easier than i can do two chapters in childhood and the other 8 in adulthood. of course you can play with this a LOT with nonlinear storytelling, which is a whole other very cool thing, and someone skilled in their work can keep me sucked in no matter what, but imo if you don’t want to risk throwing your reader out of your work it’s better to keep things steady)

HOWEVER sometimes time IS an element u wanna consider outside of just making sure your shit is evenly distributed...if your heart is moved to tell a story in a specific timeframe, over a year, or from solstice to solstice (this was almost the timeline for my merlin fic and then i changed it), for the first six months of a friendship, or even a huge journey in the span of a single day (toby fox had a lot of success with this one lol).

i think it can help to choose a start and end point for your chronology the same way you do for character development (prince goes from hating magic to being ok with it, story takes place from ages 8 to 25, or from new year’s eve 2038 to 2039, whatever) - that way you can keep your distribution even, if that’s a thing you want to do...even if you have a lot of skips you can still note what happens offscreen to make it work better in your head? like, if you just make it another List, another column on your spreadsheet, when you’re in the early stages of organizing you can be conscious of it and make sure it’s playing into the story the way you want it to

anyway these r my thots im SOOOO SORRY this is so long lmao. brain machine broke today which is why i had to ramble more to explain myself. the tl;dr in case ur brain is melting out of ur ears & u didn’t sign up for an essay:

imo medium is totally distinct from storytelling tho ofc some stories are better suited to some mediums

structure? i don’t know her. i plot w/o regard to structure and then if it looks funny i mush it into a more structurally sound shape

my main concern when structuring anything, including time, is an even distribution of Events and a steady rate of escalation

structure to me is just what i have when i’m finished plotting. i’m sorry one day i’m gonna take a writing class

internal chronology matters to me personally because i have a little bit of time blindness but maybe not to everyone, i know many very successful stories where they disregarded that entirely to no ill effect

writer’s block isn’t real! everyone just needs more rainbow spreadsheets

thank u for asking I HOPE i didn’t make you regret it too badly lmao and that at least a little of it was helpful!! 

[shirtlesssammy]

14x20 Bullet Point Rambles

Just two more of these “Carry On” openings. Cry with us, people

This promo is so father-heavy. We’ve watched the whole season and we’re still not ready

Jack knocks our boys down and flaps outta the totaled storage room. Cue the (emotional) fireworks

Dean vows to kill Jack, who is “just another monster.” Cas knocks into Dean’s shoulder on his way out. Ugh. Emotions.

Jack wanders the land, listening in on conversations. He’s hearing a lot of conflict. “Stop lying,” he commands. We grimace as Jack’s “perfect” world begins to take shape

This facial recognition business name is MIRROR UNIVERSE you have gotta be kidding me (Boris: bless you, Andrew Dabb)

HOLY SHIT Dean has gotta do the case work while not lying and we are just dying and dead and buried under the sea

Sam’s favorite singer is Celine Dion. BLESS YOU, ANDREW DABB

Things fly into chaos pretty quickly. There’s a special call out to a…crooked US president in the background (bless u a.d.)

Cas wants to head to Hell but the demons are not terribly helpful. CHUCK APPEARS. ALREADY. (Pay no attention to the air bubbles emerging from our coffin at the bottom of the Pacific.)

Listen, we know that the enjoyment at the beginning of an episode is inverse to the pain at the end but still…bless you andrew dabb (byad) (Boris: we are so doomed)

Cas confronts God Chuck. He’s here about Jack. Cas gives him some soulful eyes… Sorry, Cas. That mostly just works on Dean

Jack arrives to talk about Kelly with his grandparents but…she tells him that she knows he lied. Oh no, Jack’s getting upset. Ooooh no

Dean follows mommy blogs? This makes me very happy

Chuck is very self-satisfied and pulls out a GUITAR to sing a song to the Winchesters. Dean smashes it and GOSH we are all experiencing feelings, huh?

“I’m the deus from the machina.” (Amara’s in Reno just having a good time). Chuck pegs Jack as an apocalyptic-level event

The Queen of England is apparently a lizard. Why is this world full of such beautiful gifts? (byad)

Chuck does a reset on the world and gets rid of the “no lying” clause. Thanks for…turning it off and on again, IT Chuck? (Hey, question, why is Rob Benedict so damn cute?)

Chuck tells them they can stop Jack with a special new, shiny gun (styled specially to appeal to Dean, mayhaps?)

Chuck wants to call it “the Equalizer” or the “Hammurabi.” No bby

The gun doesn’t use bullets. Are these…anti…bullets? It’s a wave of multi-dimensional energy calibrated to destroy the target…and the shooter...in proportion.

Cas fights for Jack, asking Chuck to restore Jack’s soul. But “souls are complicated” (Weeps)

Dean lays down an ultimatum with Cas to get on board or walk away. Cas walks away. (Chuck watches like….yeah, drama baby I love it) Later, Dean has the fun “Imma kill myself” talk with Sam

Sam makes the Jack-is-family argument with Dean - Jack burned his soul off to save all of them. Sam also puts his foot down at losing Dean.

Jack finds Cas at a cemetery and Cas embraces him immediately. Feeeeeelings inside of meeeeee

Hey one alternate universe is just “all squirrels.” Bless. I can’t wait for AU Squirrel!Dean to accidentally get swapped with our Dean

We learn that Jack didn’t kill his grandma. Thank Chuck

Chuck watches the Winchesters. They’re his “favorite show.” Aw, same, Chuck, same. Oh, except Chuck told Dean where to find Jack and Dean’s got a head start on Sam. Um, fuck you?

“All I ever wanted was to be good, but now I’m just empty.” Oh, Jack

Dean appears, holding the gun and the air is suddenly thick with intent (Boris: I’m reminded of the two parents at the beginning who are breaking up and telling the kid that things will still stay the same. Bless you…Andrew Dabb???)

Cas stands between Jack and Dean and MY HEART CAN NOT TAKE THIS

Jack knocks Cas away to confront Dean. He knows what’s up. He kneels and the sacrifice is ready (Hey I think I actually feel a little physically sick? What has this show done to me?)

Dean lowers the gun and I get about 80 years of life points returned to me. (Chuck is mega disappointed by the interruption of his stories)

“My mom is my hero,” Dean tells Chuck, but he won’t trade Jack and himself for his mom

Boris: God’s the ultimate baddie in this show. Just a popcorn eating, story-addicted baddie

Chuck snaps his fingers and it’s the end for Jack, I guess?

SAAAAAAAAM

Sam wings him in the shoulder. “Story’s over” a pissed-off Chuck says. “Welcome to the end.”

The sky goes dark. Jack’s…dead? “Writer’s lie,” Cas says about Chuck’s betrayal. Wing burns. Wing burns, my friend.

Jack’s in the Empty. He wakes while Motorhead’s “God was never on your side” plays. BILLIE shows up. The SHADOW is there

FUCK. YES.

The dead rise….

Hey, guys, when are Dean and Cas gonna work in their romantic beach honeymoon in the midst of this apocalypse?

SHIT. GOES. DOWN. Women in white, killer clowns, Bloody Mary, murder…everything

I AM LIVING, MY FRIENDS (And, as it happens, so is literally everything else the Winchesters put down)

It’s these three against the world. It’s go time, motherfuckers

God, I love this show

[deafeningnightcollection-things]

Worlds Collide ~ TEEN WOLF

Chapter 2: My best friend is definitely a werewolf (S1 E1)

Cassie was anxious to get to school the next morning and make sure Scott was alright. She dressed quickly and ran downstairs, hopeful to avoid awkward questions. But parents seem to have a sixth sense for when their kids are trying to sneak out and her dad was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, and he didn't look very happy.

He did his best to keep his voice at a whisper, hoping that her mom wouldn't hear them. "You're lucky that your mother is a deep sleeper, and didn't hear you climbing out your window in the middle of the night. What the heck where you thinking? They found a body last night. If this town lights up like it did with the Hale fire, we're going to have to move, again."

"I know, I know. He's after us, but we're stronger than we've ever been. Would it really be so bad if he found us now?" I'm tired of running. "We can't run forever, dad."

Her father sighed. They'd had this same fight for years. "You don't know him like we do, we can a lot of things others can't, but he can do more. More than anyone should be able to." He paused, clearly not wanting to escalate the argument further. "I'm going to be home late tonight, Dr. Draile is out sick today and they asked me to cover his night shift. Your mom is going on a trip for a few  days, thankfully she's not too freaked out cause she hasn't heard about the body in the woods yet. If you need anything call Melissa, she's off tonight."

"Ok." She smiled tiredly, "I know that you're trying, it's just frustrating because I know that we could be doing so much more. I'm tired of being afraid."

"I know." He embraced her gently, "now lets get out of here before your mom comes downstairs and yells at us both."

Cassie laughed, a little more subdued than usual, but still a laugh and it felt good. "Ok"

The drive to the high school seemed to go by in a flash. She was worried about Scott, she'd spent nearly an hour debating with herself whether or not to go back out and look for Scott, eventually she'd decided that it must've been a normal wolf, it had to be. Still, she couldn't completely banish her worries, even though they were social pariahs at the best of times, Scott and Stiles still managed to attract more danger than anyone she'd ever met.

"Bye, dad." She waved as she jumped out of the car quickly and made her way towards Scott and Stiles.

"Dude, let me see." Stiles was motioning impatiently at Scott's shirt.

"Unless Scott's has a stripper career that I don't know about, I'm gonna need more context than that." Cassie said, inserting herself between the two. She was only mildly bewildered by what she'd heard, it was no where near the oddest thing she'd heard Stiles say.

Stiles answered impatiently, clearly anxious to see whatever was under Scott's shirt. "Little Scotty here, claims to have a huge freaking bite in his stomach. But I say pics or—"

"What!" Cassie exclaimed looking to Scott anxiously, it couldn't be. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah. I'm fine." His eyes met hers quickly, trying to alleviate her panic. "Stiles is exaggerating."

"Let me see." She stated emphatically, holding his gaze.

Scott lifted his shirt reluctantly, "I told you it's not that bad."

No. No. NO. It has to be a coincidence, normal wolf bites look the same as werewolf bites, right?

"Cassie, you ok? You seem a little spacey." Scott was looking at her curiously.

Don't be weird. "Yeah, fine... Just didn't get much sleep last night." She sent a halfhearted glare at Stiles, curse him and his stupid ideas. If she was right this stupid idea was going to have much bigger consequences than a couple weeks grounding or a detention.

"Seriously though, this is awesome." Stiles barreled on, oblivious as usual to his friends' unease. "First a body, now this, at least something interesting it finally happening in this town."

"What do you think bit you?" Cassie tried to ignore the dread growing in the pit of her stomach.

"It was dark but I think," don't say it, "it was a wolf." Scott...

Don't freak out. "That's weird. I thought there hadn't been wolves in California for a long time."

"Yeah." Stiles agreed vehemently, "it's been like 60 years since there was a wolf sighting."

"Well, if you two don't believe I saw a wolf than you won't believe I found the other half of the body." Scott said with a hint of a smile.

"Dude. Really?! That's amazing." Stiles might as well have been jumping up and down. This boy was way too excited by a murder. "The only thing better than that is Lydia Martin." Stiles attempted to say suavely as a certain redhead passed by, "h-hey, Lydia."

As usual she walked by without sparing in glance in his direction. Stiles brushed it off, but she knew it had to hurt. She clapped him on the shoulder gently, "better luck next time, buddy."

He glanced at her gratefully, a small smile tugging at his cheeks. "Thanks," he said softly, before turning to Scott. "This is your fault, both of you." He pointed an accusatory finger at her and Scott, "I'm a nerd by association."

Cassie laughed, and for a moment everything felt normal. Just for a moment she wasn't worried about her entire life in Beacon Hills being uprooted because of some stupid midnight adventure in the woods. She threw an arm around each boy, "well then, nerds. We'd better get inside, don't want to be late on the first day. Scott's enough of a problem child as it is."

"Hey," Scott was quick to defend himself. "Every time I've gotten in trouble has been entirely Stiles' fault."

"Hey!" Stiles replied indignantly. They all laughed.

Their first class passed uneventfully, and it was easy to pretend there wasn't a weight on her shoulders. The second class made it harder to ignore. Their teacher was droning on incessantly about the syllabus and talking about a body in the woods like it was nothing. Teachers really don't feel anything. Scott glanced out the window, something evidently having caught his attention. Sure enough there was a cute girl sitting on a bench in front of the school. Cassie nearly rolled her eyes. Boys, she thought exasperatedly.

The girl's voice drifted towards Cassie's sensitive ears. "Mom, three calls for my first day is a little over-doing it..." She said into her cellphone, exasperation clear in her tone as she rummaged through her bag. "Everything execpt a pen, oh my god did I actually forgot a pen!" She closed her bag with a sigh as the vice principal walked up to her. "Okay okay, I gotta go, love you..."

Cassie glanced back at Scott who had been watching the girl intently. This time she did roll her eyes, but a nagging doubt tugged at her. He seemed like he could hear what the girl had been saying. She tried to ignore her doubts, Scott was just staring at the pretty girl. For some reason that didn't alleviate her doubts.

Not two minutes later the girl walked into their class. Oh great, now Scott can spend the entire period staring at a girl. She shared a half-exasperated half-amused glance with Stiles. "Class, this is Allison Argent." The V.P. introduced her. Argent? Could she be? No. There has to be more than one family named Argent, but in Beacon Hills? Can it really be a coincidence? Cassie shook her thoughts away, today was going to be normal through sheer force of will. If she let things spiral out of control the next step would be her parents packing bags and flying out to the furthest reaches of Canada.

Allison walked forward, taking the seat behind Scott, and next to Cassie. Scott turned towards her, a faint blush on his cheeks, and handed her a pen.

Why did you have to drag us into the woods Stiles? ——— The rest of the day passed by rather uneventfully, the most interesting thing that happened was Scott doing some light stalking/eavesdropping on the new girl. She managed to stem her oncoming panic by promising herself that she'd get answers after school. The last bell seemed to ring out of nowhere. Cassie walked down to the lacrosse field by herself. Scott and Stiles had to go to the locker room first. Normally, she'd wait for them, but today she needed a moment to clear her head.

The bleachers were relatively full, back to school hype always pulled a decent crowd. She waved to a few kids as she sat down, including Danny who had just emerged from the locker room. She was so lost in thought that she didn't noticed Lydia and Allison sitting behind her until Allison tapped her on the shoulder.

"You're Cassie, right?"

"Yeah." Cassie answered cautiously, she wasn't sure how much the Argents knew of her family, but she still wanted to keep off their radar.

"You're in my English class." Cassie resisted the urge to sigh.

"Yeah. That's me..." She chuckled slightly, hoping to diffuse an awkward situation. It didn't work. She tried a different tactic. "So, how do you like Beacon High so far?"

"It's ok." Allison shrugged, "we probably won't be here very long, anyway." Cassie almost smiled at that, good. Less hunters in town the better. Cassie nodded noncommittally, before turning back to the field.

Scott and Stiles were on the bench as usual, but as she watched Coach Finstock walked over to the bench. He pressed a helmet to Scott's chest, "McCall, you're in goal."

Scott replied awkwardly, a little flustered, "but I've never played goal before."

Coach clapped him on the shoulder. "Exactly. It'll give the boys a confidence boost on their first day back."

"What about me?" Scott shifted uncomfortably.

"A few bruises won't kill you, McCall." Coach clapped him on the shoulder one last time.

Scott paled a little, but never the less walked towards the goal with determination. Stiles just shook his head, she could practically hear the thoughts going through his head. You're going to die. She leaned forward in her seat anxiously, hopefully there wouldn't be any rampaging werewolves on this field today. Especially with an Argent in the stands.

The boys lined up one by one to take their shots on goal. Various people in the stands cheering as their respective friends took a shot, but Scott blocked every one. Stiles leapt to his feet shouting, "that's my friend. That's my friend!"

Cassie smiled widely, knowing how important it was to Scott to do well this season. She cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled, "go, Scott. Yeah. Whoo, whoo." Underneath the helmet, Scott's eyes found hers and he smiled. More boys took shots on goal, and Scott blocked more and more shots. It seemed as though no one could get a ball passed him. Finally, it was Jackson's turn. Oh boy, she thought to herself. If something goes wrong it's going to be here.

The tension was palpable in the air. Jackson squared his shoulders and ran at Scott, attempting to bowl him over. But Scott stood his ground, appearing to catch Jackson's ball effortlessly. The people in the bleachers cheered, it really was a good save. Too good. Her gaze flicked between Scott and Stiles, how do you boys always manage to stumble into the worst situations?

Why now? Beacon Hills had been quiet since the Hale fire, six years of nothing, and now this. She couldn't think of any other wolf in town. What are you up to, Derek? She was tempted to leave before practice was over, but Scott and Stiles would notice, and that would lead to questions that she wasn't ready to answer. How do you tell your best friend that he's a werewolf?

The rest of the practice went by very quickly, Scott didn't miss a single shot. Cassie met them on the field as soon as practice ended. "That was amazing, Scott."

"Thanks, Cas." He answered, pride shimmering in his eyes at what he'd done. She smiled.

"You did good too, Stiles." She added turning to her other best friend. "It takes skills to warm a bench that well."

"Yeah, yeah." Stiles swatted her away with a roll of his eyes. "You were good out there, Scotty boy. First line may not be a pipe dream after all."

Scott rolled his eyes. "Are you ever going to stop calling me that?"

"Nope." Stiles puffed out his chest proudly. "I've already come up with five ways to work it into my best man speech."

"Of course you have." Scott cringed half playfully.

The conversation ended abruptly as they reached the locker room. "See you in five." Cassie nodded. She walked around to the front of the school slowly, arriving at Stiles' blue Jeep only a few moments after the boys.

"So where are we headed?" Cassie glanced between Scott and Stiles.

Scott glanced at Stiles before answering, "back to the Preserve."

Why do I let you drag me into these things? ——— Beacon Hills' preserve was chilly. Leaves crunched with every step, and branches fluttered in bursts of wind. The whole scenario felt so similar and yet so different from the previous night. Stiles walked a little ahead of Scott and Cassie, leading the way forward like usual, but so much had changed in a night. Scott had changed.

Unsure how to broach the topic, she tried the first tactic that came to mind. "Scott, you seem different today." Still the truth, just not all of it. "How're you feeling?"

Scott shook his head. "I don't know. Something's off, I can feel it. It's like my senses are on overdrive. I can see things, hear things, smell things. Things that I shouldn't be able to."

Stiles, ever the curious one, couldn't resist a conundrum. "Things like what?"

"Like..." Scott sniffed experimentally. "I can smell the mint gum in your pocket. I can hear Cassie's heart beating."

"I don't have any..." Stiles fished around in his jacket pocket, finding a piece of mint gum, neatly wrapped in foil. Glancing at it oddly, he tossed it back into his pocket. "Hmm... So this all started with the bite?"

Scott nodded. Cassie could practically see the pieces falling into place in Stiles' head, but this had to be too ludicrous, even for him and his wild imagination. "What if I'm dying? Like everything in my body is just fritzing. And then...blegh."

"You know what, I think I have heard of this." Stiles began, in that overeager way that almost always signified mischief. "It's super bad, like crazy bad, but only once a month."

"What?!" Scott was clearly freaking out, maybe on the verge of an existential crisis. "What happens once a month? Is it fatal?"

"No." Stiles eyes continued to glimmer with mischief. "They call it lycanthropy." Stiles spread his hands wide for emphasis.

"Is it serious?" Scott squeaked, growing paler.

"Only on the night of the full moon." Stiles howled.

Cassie smacked him on the back of the head. "This is serious, Stiles!" Her voice was louder than she'd intended, both Scott and Stiles looked at her a little oddly. She rarely raised her voice, but her panic was slipping through.

"Jeez, Cas. It was just a joke." He rubbed his head, wincing exaggeratedly. "You really pack a punch." He winced once more.

"Sorry." She glanced at Scott, and then Stiles, then back to Scott. "I'm just worried about Scott." Stiles nodded.

"I'm pretty sure I dropped my inhaler somewhere around here." And just like that the tension diffused. Scott walked forward to a patch of leaves. It had been dark last night and even with her advanced senses she couldn't tell one batch of decaying leaves from the next. Scott crouched down and began rifling through the leaves. Cassie moved to help him when the sound of leaves crunched under foot reached her ears, she saw Scott's head snap up.

"You're trespassing," an angry voice called out from behind them. "This is private property."

Derek. She tried to keep her face neutral, and not punch Derek. She saw his eyes widen a fraction as he looked at her, they hadn't talked since before Laura died. This whole problem had something to do with him, there were no other wolves in town. Well, there was Peter, but he was in a coma.

Stiles in his infinite bravery shrunk away meekly, "we didn't know, dude."

"Yeah, we were just looking for something... The preserve is big, we must've wandered here by mistake. Forget it, we'll just go now." Scott said stepping up next to Stiles.

As Scott turned to go, Derek tossed something to him. He caught it with lightning fast reflexes, and Derek quirked an eyebrow, his suspicions no doubt confirmed. Scott opened his hand, to reveal his inhaler.

"Uh thanks." Scott looked up, but Derek had vanished. "That was weird."

Stiles smacked Scott on the arm eagerly a few times. "Dude, do you know who that was?!" Scott shrugged. Cassie didn't answer, she had no reason to know Derek Hale. "That was Derek Hale, his whole family died in a fire like six years ago."

Cassie glanced back and she could see Derek, standing just out of normal human eyesight, watching them.

"Didn't he move away after that? What's he doing back here?" Scott wondered aloud, glancing back just as Cassie had.

Stiles shrugged. He knew something didn't add up, but he didn't have all the facts. She had more, but they still didn't add up.

"I gotta get to the clinic, Deaton's expecting me soon." ——— Stiles dropped Scott off in record time—breaking even more traffic laws than usual. Stiles turned to her as they sat in the parking lot, engine idling, "where to now, my padawan?"

Cassie raised an eyebrow, "one of these days you're going to stop referencing Star Wars."

"Never."

Cassie laughed, "well, master Jedi. Could you please take me home now?"

"I think I can arrange that." His eye twinkled as he deftly shifted into gear and backed out of the vet's office. The ride home was filled with amicable silence, that Cassie was thankful for. She was still trying to figure out how all the pieces fit into the wolf puzzle.

As she turned to leave the car, Stiles put a hand on her shoulder. "I know you normally talk to Scott about stuff, but I'm here too. I know somethings wrong, no pressure. Just... when you're ready, I'm here."

She squeezed his hand gently, "thank you." Stiles is a better friend than I give him credit for. Stiles nodded. She stood on the porch, until he was out of sight, then she broke into a run, heading for the preserve. It took her less than 10 minutes to reach the preserve on foot. She then followed the familiar trail, through the brush and leaves, to the charred house. She paused outside, listening, only hearing one set of footsteps in the house, and knowing that Derek would've heard her approach, she marched in.

"You've got some explaining to do, Hale!" She yelled at the quiet house.

"And you still know how to make an entrance, Cassaia." Derek appeared in front of her. It still felt so strange to hear her birth name, only a limited few knew it and even fewer ever said it. She shoved him harshly into the wall behind him.

"Why is it that you show up back in town the same day my friend is bitten?" She flung the accusation out hotly, her temper refusing to stay on its leash.

Derek sighed. "I didn't bite Scott, and I don't know who did. But I do know that whoever bit him, killed Laura."

"What?" She breathed out in a startled gasp. She released him, backing up a few steps.

Derek nodded bitterly, "there's an alpha running around the woods with my sister's power, and her blood on his hands." His eyes flashed their familiar icy blue. Tears welled up in her eyes and her blood boiled even hotter.

"The monster that killed Laura is just running around biting teenagers! Why?!" She threw the words at Derek like an accusation.

"I don't know, but I've been trying to find out." Derek answered calmly under her tirade, she nodded, wiping her eyes.

"I'm sorry." She reached out a hand before wrapping both arms around her friend, Derek's arms wrapped around her back firmly before releasing. "I'm sorry that I wasn't there enough when Laura died."

"I know." He met her gaze steadily.

"I'm going to help you find the alpha, and, I promise, we'll make him pay." She wasn't thinking about her parents, or keeping under the radar. At that moment, she was thinking of how kind Laura was, and how sweet Derek used to be and how their family didn't deserve any of this. He nodded. "Be careful. Ok? A beta alone can't defeat an alpha." Please don't be rash. I don't need to see another Hale tombstone. Derek was silent, she knew he wouldn't answer, he could be so stubborn and reckless.

She turned to go, "Cassie. You too." She didn't answer. So maybe we're both a bit reckless.

[jojo-at-his-computer]

Ooh I love this one so much.

Rohan X Fem!Reader:

You have only moved to Morioh a few days ago, but you already loved this peaceful, if strange town. You were on your own for the first time, and moved here because while Morioh was a small town, it had a lot of weird, interesting landmarks that you wanted to check out. Even the colors of the town seemed different as the sky was always a bright orange as if the town was in eternal sunset.

After 2 or 3 days of unpacking and arranging your house to your liking, today you decided you wanted to visit the shopping districts, maybe get some lunch somewhere. It was a beautiful, sunny, early summer day as you walked through the city. It was warm, but a slight wind stirring every once in awhile. You found a comic store and while buying this week's Shonen Jump, had discovered the newest volume of Pink Dark Boy had released. It was your favorite manga, and you had to add that book to your collection.

"We have a special promotion today," said the cashier as he rung up your purchases, "Buy a manga, and you get a free t-shirt."

"Oh my God, that's so cool!" you beemed. You found a Pink Dark Boy shirt in your size and brought it up to the register and paid for your stuff. After you paid, you immediately threw your new shirt on over your dress, excited to wear it out.

"Thank you! Come again!" said the cashier as you left with your items. You walked around looking at the shops. There was a bakery called St. Gentleman's, which looked like a great place to stop for lunch. You spot a beauty salon called Cinderella, and another shop -

"LOOK OUT!"

Your thoughts were interrupted when you felt yourself being pushed away by another person. Hearing the tires screech and a driver mutter a string of swears, you realized what happened, you had absentmindedly walked in the middle of the road, and a man had pushed you out of harm's way just in the nick of time. You catch your breath as you looked at your rescuer. He was a man in his early 20's about your age with his hair in odd sweeps and held up by a wavy purple headband. His hair was dyed green and matched his deep emerald colored eyes.

"What the hell were you thinking!?" he yelled as he helped you up. "What kinda crazy person would cross the street without looking to see if a car was coming!? You could have gotten killed!"

"I'm so sorry." you stuttered, still in shock with what just happened. "I guess I got distracted. I dunno what I was thinking. Thank you for saving me though." The young man's face softened a bit.

"Well, you're welcome." he answered. "But you should always look before you cross because you might not be lucky next time. Whatever, at least you're not hurt. Are you alright?" He still held onto you. This man was really handsome and you almost wished you could just stay in his arms forever. There was something familiar about him that you couldn't put your finger on.

"I think so," you answered, then noticed you didn't have your purse or your bag from the comic shop. "Oh no, where's my stuff?" The green haired man helped you to your feet, you wobbled a bit still somewhat disoriented.

"Is this it right here?" he asked pointing to your bags which had flung a few feet away. You nodded yes as he went to retrieve it, a few contents had spilled out, keys, wallet, lipstick from your purse, and both the Shonen Jump and manga from the comic store, which the young man picked up an put back in the bags. He noticed the manga and the shirt you were wearing as he handed back your stuff.

"So you're a fan of Pink Dark Boy?" You nodded excitedly.

"Mhm-hm! I read it a the time, I just love it so much. Just got the newest copy today, and this shirt came with it. I'm new in Morioh, so I never been to that comic store before, I'm definitely going again." The man was staring intently at you with a soft smile on his lips, making you blush a little. "So I take it you like PDB too?"

"I guess you could say that." he answered with a chuckle. "May I see your copy for a minute?"

"Sure I guess" you answered, passing the book to him. He took out a pen from his pocket and began writing something on the cover.

"Hey, what are you doing!?" you shout, wondering why the hell he would write in a stranger's book for. He finishes writing and passes the book to you.

"Well, I figured you'd want to have an autographed copy." he answered with a wink. You look inside the cover where he had written. It read "Let's run into each other again sometime. Rohan Kishibe".

Wait, what!?

THE Rohan Kishibe, the author of Pink Dark Boy, he's the handsome stranger who saved you!

"It-it's you!" you stuttered, almost ready to scream. Rohan quickly covered your mouth before you could.

"Don't say that here, or I'll get mobbed by rabid fans!" he said in a loud whisper. You nodded as he removed your hand.

"You're a really good writer and you do all these awesome illustrations!" you said in a loud whisper. "But what happened, why are you on hiatus?" Rohan paused a moment before answering. A lot of things have happened to him recently, including his house catching on fire, and the fact that he and a bunch of teenagers were trying to track down a murderer in town. But for obvious reasons, he wasn't going to talk about that.

"Um, let's just say it's a long story," he answered, "but Pink Dark Boy will resume, eventually. Anyways, I realized I haven't caught your name."

"It's (name)" you say, getting lost in Rohan's beautiful green eyes.

"That's a pretty name." answered Rohan. "I gotta say (name), you might just be the most beautiful fan I've ever met." he said, inciting a blush from you.

"Oh my!" you gasped. "So is it true, you really want to see me again soon?"

"Of course I do!" he answered, "Why else would I have written my phone number?" You looked confused, until he motioned towards your PDB manga. Sure enough, under his signature was his phone number.

"I really hope you call." says Rohan embracing you, your heart skipping a beat. "Maybe we can plan for dinner at a nice restaurant on Friday."

"That sounds wonderful." you exclaimed. "I can treat you, you know, for saving my life and all." Rohan shook his head.

"Don't worry about it, that's on me." he reassured. Before he turned to leave, he steals a quick kiss from your cheek, making you a giggling blushing mess.

"Wait so Friday?" you asked quickly before he turns a corner.

"Friday." Rohan answers with a smile. You give a lovesick sigh as you continue with your shopping. You feel as if you're walking on air as you make your way down the streets, careful to avoid cars this time around. Now to find a nice department store to get a pretty dress for your date on Friday.

[hshouse]

oh god this is bad bad

Liam Payne recently lamented that when One Direction’s management realised he was the sensible one, they made him keep his bandmates in check. Getting cast as Mr Boring was annoying, he explained, yielding him the least screams from fans. Happily for Payne, solo freedom has let him reap maximum screams and embrace his officiousness: with 3.7bn streams, he is the most commercially popular 1D member.

It’s hard to see why. Despite LP1’s effortful attempts to cast Payne as a sexual piranha, the 26-year-old generally comes off as an uptight scold. On Hips Don’t Lie, he stares at a woman’s groin as she dances and warns that she’d better not be wasting his time. “I hope your hips don’t lie unless they’re lying with me,” he sings, a conclusion so deathly it feels like a funeral for reproduction. The thrumming Rude Hours finds him inviting a lady to a “parking lot”. “Might be a bad idea,” he admits, “I’ll probably do your ass in the car.” But never let it be said that Payne is boring and responsible: “Key unlocks the door, ticket on the floor.” If it’s a pay and display, there’ll be murder if it’s not clearly visible. Stack It Up is halfway between a 2003 50 Cent single and the Tory manifesto: “If you wanna stack it up,” he advises, “you gotta work for it.”

Such are the accidental highs of an album empty of intentional humour, heart, or anything much human at all beyond base carnality. Its generic trap and Latin-tinged production and its many guest rappers suggest Payne is trying to keep pace with Drake and the Weeknd. He can’t, because his rank randiness lacks the sense of guilty pleasure that makes his Canadian contemporaries irresistible. The simmering Both Ways, about a woman who loves threesomes, finds him and her “sharing that body like it’s our last meal”, like cheetahs at a carcass. On Familiar, he admires a lady who’s “shaped like a model or some kind of bottle” – Orangina? Ketchup? Perhaps this leg-crossing horror show is another sign of Payne’s prudence: LP1 is a terrible pop album, but very effective contraception.

[thelastspeecher]

MerGucket French Fish Girl it be interesting if the Stan had to meet with the council or return of Bill.

*finger guns* You got it!  This takes place pretty much right after Stan turns into a mer in that particular variation of the MerGucket AU.

              “Stanley?” a voice saidsoftly.  Stan groaned.

              “Five more minutes,” he muttered,waving a hand.  The movement encounteredmore resistance than it typically did. He opened his eyes, confused. Angie’s face was a mere few inches away from his.  She beamed broadly.  Stan let out a small yelp of surprise andbacked away.

              “I didn’t mean to startle you,sorry,” Angie said sheepishly.  Stanstared at her.

              “Am I- am I underwater?” Stanasked.  Angie nodded.  “The flower worked?”

              “It sure did!”  Angie watched Stan, a small smile on herface, as he examined himself.  “Like whatyou see?”

              “Um, I- I guess,” Stan stammered,staring down at the webbing between his fingers and his large, extravaganttail.  “Huh.  So, what controls what color scales I get?”

              “Honestly, I don’t know,” Angiesaid, circling him gently.  “Mine, I gotfrom my mama.  But I can tell you thatred is a very rare color.  I haven’t meta single mer with red scales before.  Theclosest I’ve gotten is that my pa saw a red mermaid in passing once.”

              “It’s rare?  Really?”

              “Mm-hmm.”  Angie grinned at him.  “I suppose it makes sense that you got a rarecolor, since you’re a rare person.”

              “You keep calling me that,” Stansaid.  Angie nodded.  “Look, it’s not true.  Guys like me are a dime a dozen.”  Angie sighed.

              “We can argue about this later,dear.  Right now, I need to take you tothe colony council.”

              “The what?”

              “The colony council.  They’re in charge of all the merfolk thatlive in my colony,” Angie explained. Stan’s tail flicked excitedly.

              “They’re the ones that have newson how to get Ford to join, right?” Stan asked. Angie shook her head.

              “No.  Don’t mention anything about Stanford whileyou’re meeting them, okay?  You can’t letthem know that we’ve got a plan to let him join us.”

              “Whattaya talking about?”

              “It wasn’t the council thatfigured out there might be a loophole to let Stanford into the colony,” Angiesaid firmly.  “It was my ma.  Granted, she’s a member of the council, butstill.  The rest of the council can’thear a word from you about letting your brother in.  Or they might revoke your mer status.”

              “But you promise we’ll figure outhow to let Ford in, right?” Stan pressed. Angie nodded.

              “Yes, yes.  My ma will explain everything.  Afterwe meet with the council,” she said firmly. Stan crossed his arms.

              “Good.  Then let’s go.”

—– 

              Angie grabbed Stan’s arm andpulled him.

              “Hey, easy there,” Stan said,yanking his arm out of her grip.  Angieflicked her tail in agitation.

              “It’s not wise to keep thecouncil waiting,” she hissed.  “I’m justtrying to help you get there faster.” Stan scowled at her.

              “I’m going as fast as I can.”

              “You’re slower than a seacucumber!”

              “What the hell is a sea cucumber?” Stan demanded.  Laughter came from somewhere outside ofStan’s field of vision.

              “Aw, do I sense disagreementbetween the two French angelfish?” a voice said.  Angie rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

              “Lute!  Cut it out!” she snapped.  A mer finally swam into view, just behindAngie.  He had an amber-orange tail andthe same nose as Angie.

              “Is this a relative of yours?”Stan asked Angie.  She nodded.

              “My clutch-mate and brother.  Lute,” she said.  Lute grinned at Stan, baring his needle-liketeeth.

              “So this is the human that mysister convinced the council could join us,” he said, swimming over to Stan andlooking him up and down.

              “Former human,” Angiecorrected.  Stan’s heart stopped.

              Shit.  She’s right. I’m not human anymore.  God.  What would Ford say if he could see me?

              “Hmm.  I s’ppose he’s all right,” Lute said.  He looked back at Angie.  “The council will be pleased that he’s red.”  Angie nodded.

              “Especially if we have anyguppies that end up red like him,” she added. Lute let out a low whistle.

              “Wow, yer really face over finsfer this one, huh?  Guppy talk?” hesaid.  Angie beamed.  Stan didn’t focus on what the siblings weresaying, instead still thinking about the loss of his humanity.  “Stan?” Stan jerked back to attention.  “Youall right?”

              “Yeah, just, um, just thinkingabout my brother,” Stan said quietly. Lute let out a sinister hiss.

              “Ya best leave talk like thatoutside the council cave,” he said.  “Theywon’t want to hear that yer still stuck on yer homicidal twin.”

              “He was under duress,” Angiesaid.  Lute frowned at her.

              “How the heck are ya defendin’the man what tried to kill ya?”

              “Stan believes in hisgoodness.  So I do, too.”  Angie smiled at Stan.  He smiled hesitantly back.  “Now, let’s go on inside.”

              “Wait, we’re here?” Stanasked.  Angie and Lute nodded.

              “We were swimmin’ this whole timewe were talkin’,” Lute said.  He patted arock wall that Stan hadn’t noticed before. They had arrived outside of an undersea cave.

              “Oh.  Didn’t realize.”

              “Remember, Stan.  You can’t say a word about your brother.  Or at the very least, nothing positive abouthim,” Angie said.  She grabbed hishand.  “Come on.”

              Stan and Angie swam through the caveentrance.  Stan’s eyes widened.  The cave was composed of one very large room,with fluorescent crystals on the ceiling and small shoals of shimmering, silverfish scuttering around the sandy bottom. Only half of the cave was filled with water; the rest was composed of abeach, upon which nine merfolk were sitting, watching the two of them approach.

              “Impressive, isn’t it?” Angiesaid softly.  Stan nodded slightly.

              “Speak,” said one of the merfolkon the beach, a merman with indigo scales and pale hair.  Stan opened his mouth, but no words cameout.  Angie frowned.

              “Carmine, he doesn’t know what tosay,” she said.  A mermaid sitting nearCarmine, who had the same coloration as Angie, leaned forward.

              “Stanley Pines, you come beforeour council as someone granted a life within our colony, the greatest possiblegift that we can bestow upon a human. You were given this chance for saving the life of one of our own, mydaughter, Banjolina.”  Stan looked backat Angie.  She smiled.  “We cannot emphasize enough the significanceof this.  In the time since our colonywas first founded, fourteen thousand years ago, only two other humans have beenallowed to join us.”  Stan directed his attentionto the council again.

              “That’s- um- that’s a really longtime,” Stan stammered.  One of the mermenon the beach rolled his eyes.  “Thank-thank you.”

              “Understand that this gift comeswith conditions,” another mermaid, this one with a green tail and bright redhair, said.  “Should you be seenassociating with humans without intent to feed upon them, you will be exiledand your mer status revoked.”  Stan letout a strangled noise.

              Whatthe fuck?  “Feed upon them”?

              “In addition, your egg-mate andbrother, Stanford Pines, has been charged with a crime of the highest order,”the mermaid continued.  “Attempted murderof a council member’s heir.”  The mermaidthat looked like Angie shifted slightly.

              “Should he be spotted in ourwaters, he will be put upon trial to determine his punishment, then sentenced.”

              “Hang on,” Stan interrupted.  “I thought trials were to determine guilt,before you go to punishment.”  Carmineraised an eyebrow.

              “If he were a mer, perhaps.  But as a human, he has no right to such atrial, particularly given that we all know he’s guilty.”

              “That’s messed up.”

              “Stanley,” Angie whispered.  Stan looked back at her.

              “It is!”

              “We take the threat against ourown very seriously,” the green mermaid from before said firmly.  “Particularly given that Banjolina wasselected as a future council member by her dam. Make no mistake, Stanley Pines, your egg-mate is an outlaw.”

              “But-” Stan started.  Angie grabbed his hand and squeezed.  Stan took a breath.

              Angie said that her folks figuredout a loophole for Ford.  I just gottatrust her.

              “Okay,” he said quietly.  A few members of the council exchangedimpressed looks.

              “We’re glad to see you haveaccepted this,” Carmine said.  “Should yoube caught interacting and/or associating with your egg-mate, you will be put ontrial as well.”  He glowered atStan.  “Do you understand?”  Stan nodded. “Excellent.”  The mermaid thatlooked like Angie smiled.

              “Welcome to our colony, StanleyPines,” she said.  “As you wererepresented by my daughter, I will accompany you to your new home.”  She dove into the water and swam over to Stanand Angie.  Angie embraced her.

              “Thanks, Ma.”

              “Just doing my job, sweetheart.”

              “You’re Angie’s mom?” Stanasked.  The mermaid nodded.  “Then you’re the one who found the-”

              “Yes,” Angie’s mom said.  She glanced back at the rest of the council,still on the shore.  “Let’s talk about thatin private.”

[ferallymine]

50s AU Pt 13

Ask- 50s au? Prompt under the rocks of the blues

 (((Yo, gonna be honest. I didn’t quite understand what you meant with this. I googled it and came up with a bunch of blues rock bands. It was weird, my dude. This thing is written purely by instinct on what I think you might have meant. That being said, there are mentions of near-drowning situations. If that triggers you, don’t look!!)))

50s AU Part 13

Two cars and a motorcycle parted ways at a fork in the road at the city limit. One went east, the others went west.

Kaito and Kirigiri rode in the same vehicle. Safehouse 4 was a good 6 hour drive from home. They had half of the items and evidence from the investigation.

“This is unreal,” Kirigiri mumbled, gazing out at the sunset, “You sure you wanna drive all night?”

Kaito gave a small nod, “It’s for your protection.”

“Ryder said I could defend my-”

“Congratulations, you can shoot guns with ease. So can the mob that murdered Asahina and Rudie,” His grip on the wheel tightened, “There’s only four of us and at least hundreds of them.”

“What about the rest of Steel Rose?”

“We can’t entirely trust their intentions. You saw Rudie’s box- the gangs are compromised. As of now, we can only trust each other.”

“And Maki?”

Silence for a moment…. “I don’t know. Ryder has a gut feeling about her, so we’ll see.”

Kirigiri turned back to the window, feeling uneasy.

Kaito noticed, “Hey. Don’t….don’t let this consume you. We’ll figure this out,” A pause, “…and avenge Aoi.”

She sighed, “I’ll hold you to that.”

The car was loaded with half of the things from Ryder’s house. Shuichi drove while Ryder followed on her motorcycle. 

It was only a four hour drive to Safehouse 7. Shuichi wondered exactly how many safehouses Ryder had and knew of.

It was a monotonous drive. The roads were dead, and the sky was black. It would surely storm tomorrow. 

The clouds were letting loose their tears when they finally arrived. Ryder parked beside the car, and swiftly moved to unpack. 

Tedious, repetitive work, all done in silence. 

“Ryder,” Shuichi finally spoke when they moved everything in, “Talk to me.”

She rolled her shoulders, “Riding for 4 hours sucks on your back.” The light rain outside turned into a heavy storm, “Huh, good thing we got everything in.”

He sighed, “Yeah. One less thing to worry about.” 

Ryder yawned, “I’m going to bed… the bathroom is the first door down the hallway to the right. The bedroom is the second door upstairs on the left. Night, Shuichi…” She hit a light switch, turning off the main lights. Only a single kitchen light remained on.

“I’ll just go to bed now,” He fell in step behind her up the stairs. 

Ryder shed her leather jacket and flopped onto the right side of the bed. Shuichi took off his coat and shoes and laid down beside her. 

“Hey, Ryder?” He whispered in the dark.

“…hm?” She blinked and turned her face towards him.

“Come here,” Shuichi’s arms opened, indicating he wanted to pull her close.

Ryder rolled over, landing in his warm embrace. Thunder roared outside, and rain pounded hard against the rooftops. Yet they slept soundly, knowing that the other loved them.

“Kiri,” Kaito nudged her awake, “We arrived.” 

The purple haired girl jumped at the touch, “…Already?”

“C’mon. It looks like it’s gonna storm.” Kaito opened the car door and began hauling things inside. The safehouse was set on a cliff overlooking the ocean.

She slapped herself awake, then got to work. They finished in fifteen minutes.

“Bedroom’s down the hall on the left,” Kaito slunk over to the couch, “Night.”

He was out like a light. Kirigiri shook her head and went off to the bedroom. She grabbed the comforter off and went back, laying it over Kaito’s sleeping body. Then she finally shed her shoes and over-shirt to find sleep. 

Morning came, and Kirigiri woke to a heavy rain outside. She sat up, rubbing her eyes. 

A crash came from the kitchen.

Kirigiri leaped to her feet, “Kaito?”

“Sorry!” His gruff voice called, “I’m making breakfast!”

“Sounds like you’re making a mess.” She mumbled. She threw on a clean shirt and came out, “Sleep well?”

He nodded, “Yeah.”

Silence came again as they ate breakfast. Kirigiri thought it was nice. The rain lightened, and rays of sunshine could be seen scattered outside. 

“How you feelin’?” Kaito asked.

“I don’t know,” Kirigiri looked out the window, “I just… Wait, what’s that?”

He came over, “What’s what?”

She pointed towards the ocean, “See? Under the rocks by the ocean. That little cove overlook area…. Is that a person?” 

“Stay here,” Kaito’s sudden aggressive voice left no room for debate. He raced out the door and headed down. 

“Hey!” Kaito shouted at the person by the rocks. They were laying face first on the shore.

He ran closer, “Oh my god.”

It was Maki. Her Mad Dog jacket proved it. 

“Maki! Maki are you okay?!” Kaito knelt  beside her. 

No response. Kaito pulled her away from the water and began CPR. 

Hands over her heart, Kaito began what Angie taught him. 1…2…3… Mouth. 1…2…3… Mouth.

Repeated over and over until-

Maki sprang back to life, She turned and coughed up an unholy amount of water. Gasping, coughing, almost crying. It was all in pain. Kaito scooped her up in his arms and carried her back to the house.

She stood in the middle of town. She dialed on the payphone the agreed-upon number. He picked up and spoke first. 

“Are they dealt with?”

“Yes, Master.”

“How you sure?”

“I tied them both to cement blocks with wire and shoved them off the edge of the overlook. They sank. I waited there for a half hour and saw no sign of them.”

“Thank Heaven. I’m tired of pesky teenage gang leaders meddling where they shouldn’t. What about the leader’s box?” 

“Miss Harukawa didn’t have it, and didn’t reveal who did. Her associate, Owada, also proved ineffective.” 

“Then it’s a good thing they sleeping with the fishes.” A maniacal laugh from the line, “Now’s all we gotta do is find this….Ryder chick I’ve been hearing about. Like hell that’s her real name.”

“Of course, Master.”

“Stop calling me Master, Peko.”

“Apologies, boss.” 

A sigh, “You can report back when you have Ryder. I want that bitch alive and in front of me.” The line cut off. He hung up.

The silver haired woman hung up the payphone and sighed, “Boss, you’re getting crazier every day.”

[buckykingofmemes]

Sweet-Talker

Or, How Bucky Won Over The Hammer Of Thor.

(Here on AO3) 

Thor enjoyed the pleasant fragrances of Midgardian soaps. The one in the common-floor bathroom was labelled “Lavender Daydream” and was tinted a mild purple. It had a gentle floral scent with a slightly acrid undertone, and Thor wondered absently if Midgard had an actual plant named lavender, or if it was like blue-flavored drinks, with no non-artificial analogue. With Midgard, there was no way to tell. Regardless, it was a pleasing scent, and Thor would enjoy the soothing scent and gentle moisturizing properties of the liquid. 

Midgard was such a fascinating world. 

Thor toweled his hands dry and stepped out of the bathroom, intending to head towards the kitchen. Bruce had left some curry in the fridge, and Thor wanted to test his mettle against his perennial foe, the spicy pepper. 

He took one imperious stride into the common room and tripped. He caught himself on lavender-scented palms, just shy of sprawling flat on his face on the carpet. 

Sitting innocently in the middle of the hallway was Mjolnir. 

Strange. He was sure he’d left his hammer on the sofa. 

kingofmemes posted:

common room rules state that anything unlabeled is fair for anyone to use. shoulda put a sticky note on your mythological weapon of unimaginable power before you left it on my seat buddy

Posted at 3:23 pm, 4729 notes

(Read More below)

Steve had said the steaks needed tenderizing before they could be grilled. Thor was unsure of what beast the steaks had come from, but they looked a bit like bilgesnipe flanks, which required the fists of a strong cook for an hour before they were tender enough to cut. 

Intending to reduce the time spent on the task, Thor raised his hand and summoned his weapon from where he’d left it in the gym. He could hear it whizzing down the hallway, and continued to examine the meat without turning to watch it arrive. Midgardians were so fragile; perhaps their cattle was alike? Might the hammer be too much force? Well, he had a couple dozen steaks to work with; if the first one proved too frail, he would simply try--

The hammer came to a perfect stop against his palm, and Thor found himself abruptly within a sparkling pink cloud. 

His first thought was magic, but there was none of the electricity-on-skin feel of true enchantment. No, this was the strange substance called glitter, which Clint had bafflingly described as “the herpes of art.” It rained in a shimmering mist from his hammer, and there was a gleaming trail down the hallway along Mjolnir’s flight path. Thor could feel it settling on his skin and clothes, and blinked to clear it from his eyelashes. His hammer remained coated in a thin sheen of pink powder. 

Who--

Why--? 

This was going to take forever to get off, he could just tell. 

kingofmemes posted:

i’ll teach you to leave your crap in the middle of the gym floor where anyone can trip on it. i may have a broken toe, but you will know true pain, my friend.  revenge is a dish best served pink.

Posted at 4:56 pm, 28402 notes

Mjolnir, weapon of the gods, smith of thunder, was covered in yarn. 

Fuzzy, red yarn, with a slightly furry aura of loose fiber and a pompom attached at the handle. The knitted hammer cozy fit snugly around the ancient metal, and on the side opposite Odin’s inscription, picked out in silver embroidery thread, was the title “World’s Best Bludgeon.”

Thor had no idea what to make of it. 

Cautiously, he reached out and took his weapon. The yarn around the grip made the handle comfortably plush. What the cozy lost in intimidation it clearly made up in user-friendliness. Thor had heard tell of the Stark Tower Stitch&Bitch and their adventures into fibercraft, much like his own noble mother practiced. Which nonetheless did not explain how a tiny hammer sweater had gotten onto Mjolnir in the first place.

Perhaps Darcy would know. Darcy had many explanations for the mysteries of Midgard, though deciphering her explanations was a craft all its own. Nonetheless, Thor was determined to discover who had made the hammer cozy.

Mjolnir was not supposed to be cute. 

kingofmemes posted:

i am the ultimate combination of cute and murderous. things get cuter and more lethal just by being in my presence. check out how fluffy my sweater is, i knit it myself. im gonna adorable somebody to death

Posted at 7:46 pm, 27493 notes

Mjolnir was sitting on the coffee table, precisely where he’d left it. 

Or...almost precisely where he’d left it. Thor was pretty sure he had not set his hammer atop a copy of A Cheap Trick & A Cheesy One Liner: The Unofficial Biography of Tony Stank, as Experienced by James Rhodes. In fact, Thor was quite sure that the coffee table had been bare when he set down his hammer. 

Thor summoned his hammer, and it leaped to his hand with a lingering trail of pink glitter. He retrieved the book and opened it. Inside was a crushed circlet of dandelions and daisies. The pages were stained yellow, including a black-and-white photo of a young James Rhodes and Tony Stark on spring break, bedecked in flower leis and beer hats. Beer hats--Thor marveled again at the ingenuity of mortals. 

It must be the Vision, for he alone of the Avengers had proved worthy of the hammer. But for what purpose had Mjolnir been moved? 

The lady Jane had placed the Asgardian twilight bloom which Thor had brought her into a book thus, when the flower had begun to wilt. She claimed it was a method of preservation, to keep it from rotting, so she might have it as a token for years to come. Perhaps someone was preserving the circlet in the same manner? 

If that were the case, Thor would not hinder the creation of such a keepsake. He returned the flowers to the book and placed it back upon the table, then settled the hammer where it had been before.

Now. Where would Tony Stark be? Thor desired ownership of a beer hat. 

kingofmemes posted:

turns out the heart of a star is plenty dense to use for flower pressing. much better than a stack of encyclopedias. 

Posted at 11:27 am, 86953 notes

Mjolnir was not where Thor had left it--again. It was becoming a worrying trend, but Thor was not overly concerned, for anyone who could steal his hammer must be worthy of its use. Though he did wonder at why the Vision kept moving it. Perhaps if he went to investigate, he might catch the android making use of it, and thereby determine his intent. 

Thor set off down the corridor towards the Avenger’s private quarters, making use of millennia of stealth training. His tread may not be so light as Loki’s, but it served his purpose well. 

When he was yet five doors away from the Vision’s, Thor heard a quiet muttering coming from Barnes’s open door. Curious, Thor stepped into the gap.

Barnes had his steel hand wrapped around Mjolnir’s handle where it rested on his side table, and was murmuring...endearments?

“Listen, lovely lady, I just gotta sink a couple nails for this painting Stevie made. I know it’s beneath you, starstuff dame like you are, but Tony’s got all the regular hammers stashed down in his workshop for some reason, and every time I go down there Dum-E wants to arm wrestle, so if you wouldn’t mind...?”

The hammer lifted in his steel grip, as light as a feather.

Thor knocked the door off its hinges as he burst into the room. Barnes startled and whirled, drawing the weapon back, and accidentally sunk it eight inches into the drywall on his backswing.

“Shield brother!” Thor bellowed, delighted, “I am delighted! Never had I thought to find another worthy of Mjolnir, and she is so fond of you!” Thor rushed forward to embrace Barnes, briefly forgetting in his excitement that Barnes did not welcome physical contact. Barnes, wild-eyed, yanked the hammer out of the wall and caught Thor across the jaw. 

Thor toppled like Darcy after Vodka Night with Natasha. 

Mjolnir hummed in Barnes’s grip. “Sorry, ma’m. But you gotta admit he had it coming.” 

Mjolnir hummed again. Thor had had it coming, but he could hardly be blamed for getting over-excited. Mjolnir was worth excitement. 

“Fine. He can have a hug when he wakes up. But slowly. And later he’s gotta teach me how to electrocute stuff.”

Thor was very apologetic when he woke, and gleefully accepted the offered embrace. And then he went to get the celebratory feast started. 

Mjolnir and Bucky sunk two nails in the wall and hung up Steve’s painting. The drywall repair would have to wait for another day.

kingofmemes posted:

a little sweet talk goes a long way, both with ladies and with sentient weapons of ladylike disposition.

not as far as a little spackle does, though.

Posted at 6:32 pm, 79402 notes