#changes authors are gonna do what they gotta do so quit bitching about it

[ziracona]

I very much get the whole ‘the point of found family is not needing family to exist inside traditional structures and it’s sooo annoying when people always put it into traditional family roles’ complaint but at the same time it’s not the authors at fault for that. (I mean also, sometimes found family irl /does/ fall into those. Sometimes you get a surrogate sibling or father or kid. But also) Authors specifically wouldn’t have to do this so much in their stories if people wouldn’t automatically interpret every close meaningful relationship as inherently romantic and sexual. Like you can’t complain an author keeps going ‘this person is like a brother to me’ or ‘like a mother’ until family-zoning hard as hell isn’t literally the only way to try and convince at least some portion of the audience that the characters have a canonically most important to them relationship that doesn’t actually involve wanting to fuck each other.

[sweetandgentlecreature]

Sweet Tooth

Author’s Note: Hope you’re hungry for a third helping of Somethin’ Sweet! This one’s my favorite so far, so let me know what you think. Don’t worry, the next one’s gonna bring the heat, so stay tuned. Enjoy! ❤️

Summary: Summertime in Texas isn’t for the faint of heart, but neither is Merrin. AKA: Sy needs a cold shower.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x Female OC 

Warnings: Adult language and suggestive situations. Two idiots in love.  I am an adult, and due to the nature of this content, all works created by me will be rated for those 18 years and older. Minors, DNI.

Merrin was melting. Sure, maybe some of it was more figurative than physical, but as a transplant from Coroado fighting to make it through her first Texan summer, she was almost positively dying. She learned quickly that, around here, air conditioning wasn’t a luxury; it was a necessity. The humidity rivaled even the most expensive conditioner in her arsenal, so leaving her hair down was out of the question. Her thighs stuck to every pickup truck bench seat, every plastic lawn chair, and every diner booth they came into contact with. She’d gotten pretty good at the ole peel-and-shimmy to wiggle her way out again, but there’s just no graceful way to do that on date night. Underboob sweat. Ass sweat. Eyebrow sweat? She didn’t even know that was a thing, until now. At work, she hid in the walk-in freezer as often as she could, and cussed every time the front door chimed with each new patron that walked in. 

Right on cue, when those stupid little bells rang again, Merrin sighed. She imagined ripping them down from their place above the door and pitching them clear out into the middle of the street, but only for a moment. “Gotta pay the bills,” she reminded herself, and closed the heavy door behind her again. Daydreaming in the ice vault would have to wait. 

Afternoons in the bakery were always slow. Stealing a quick glance at her reflection in the glass on the front of the oven, she dusted off the front of her apron and pushed through the swinging doors to get behind the counter. “Hello! How can I– Well, shit.”  

His laugh came from somewhere deep in his gut as he leaned against the bar beside the bakecase. 

“Well hello to you too, darlin’. Expectin’ somebody else? Must’a been waitin’ on yer other boyfriend, huh.” 

Sy crossed one ankle over the other and smiled. It was rare for him to get a day off, so today was a nice change of pace. The only problem was that he just couldn’t sit still. The yard needed mowing, the old fence at the edge of the property line needed mending, and the tree that had fallen on it needed split. By lunch time, he couldn’t bear to stay away any longer. After a quick shower and a shave (just a trim. Gotta keep his woman’s seat warm, ya know), he made his way to her. That cocky son of a bitch knew exactly what power he held over her, coming in here looking like that, and he played it to his advantage every single time. Damn him.

Merrin rolled her eyes at him and laughed. Clayton’s always been nothing but trouble, yet he seemed especially mischievous this afternoon. The poor bastard never did have a very good poker face. 

“You’re not my boyfriend, Sy. You haven’t even been a boy in a very long time.” 

If the saying goes “not to toot his own horn,” Clayton Syverson had a train whistle. Back in the day, his reputation with the ladies preceded him. Sy was just as perplexed as he was fascinated by Merrin. He’d never met a woman quite like her. She had a good head on her shoulders, and the kindest heart he’d ever seen. Nobody was a stranger for long, at least in her eyes. So fuckin’ smart, smarter than he’d ever be, with both book smarts and common sense to boot. Effortlessly funny in a way that almost made him jealous. Soft in all the right places, both physically and emotionally. Feminine, yet not too delicate. And that body. Jesus Christ. The things he’d do to her, if ever given the chance…

But that’s the thing about Merrin. She knew it just as well as he did. From the moment they met, she’d been keeping him at arm’s length. Sure, the attraction was there, as was the chemistry. Sy’s a fuckin’ dreamboat, and she’d have to be blind not to see that. Merrin’s not afraid of much, but the uncertainty of where he’ll be in just two month’s time…She wasn’t sure if she could cope with that. So instead of opening herself up to him, instead of giving in and just enjoying what time they did have together, Merrin had decided that they could just be friends. Just friends. That was reasonable enough to ask, wasn’t it?  Men and women could be just friends, and only friends…couldn’t they? According to Sy, it seemed that just wasn’t the case. Maybe it was unfounded optimism, or just plain stupidity. Maybe it was just that he wouldn’t hear it. Either way, Sy wasn’t ready to give up on her yet. What she hadn’t anticipated, though, was just how ridiculously stubborn Sy could be. Stubborn as a fuckin’ mule, and Merrin was the one stuck shoveling shit. 

“Boyfriend? Did I say boyfriend? I’m sorry, sugar. What I meant to say was boy-friend. Ya know…a friend that’s a boy.” Crossing his arms over his broad chest, he gave her a playful wink. “A man-friend, if ya’d like.”

“You’re full of it today, aren’t ya, Big Guy?”

She saw it as clear as day, the way her words got the wheels turning behind that darkening gaze of his. No, but you could be. How dare he, the sinful fuck. The thought of being full of something made Merrin’s face burn a bright shade of embarrassed pink, and she turned quickly to distract herself by pretending to fold takeout boxes instead. “What do you want, Sy?”

“Well, see’s as yer not too busy, I was hopin’ ta steal ya away fer a bit. Got somethin’ ta show ya.” Sy looked down at his nailbeds as he spoke and picked at his cuticles. When he met her eyes again, he grinned. “That’s the thing ‘bout bein’ yer own boss, right? Get ta’ make yer own hours.” 

It was a tempting thought, closing up shop and disappearing for a little while. She hadn’t seen a customer in the last two hours, so…what’s the hurt in closing a little early? He had her wrapped around his finger, and she knew it. Defeated, she sighed and shelved the rest of the boxes. 

“Alright. Let me go close up in the back, and I’ll meet you ‘round front.” 

Sy felt victorious, as he watched her loosen the tie from around her waist and hung the apron on a hook by the door. Excited fingers drummed on the countertop in a quick victory dance. He smiled and fished the keys from the pocket of his jeans. “You got it, doll. Take yer time.” 

__

They rode together in the pickup with the windows rolled down, letting the radio compete with the roar of the wind as paved highway turned into an old gravel road. Merrin hadn’t made it out quite this far before, so she had no clue as to where he was taking her. Could’ve been to some of his old stomping grounds. Could’ve been out to the woods to hide her body, never to be found again. There was no way to tell the difference. Gravel let way for a dirt path a little further down the road, and soon enough, Sy was pulling off down a hill and into a grass lot filled with cars. He parked in an empty spot between two other trucks and turned off the ignition. Live music echoed down through the open field, as did the sounds of laughter and jovial excitement.

“I didn’t know the fair was in town!” 

Merrin felt lighter than air. She hadn’t been to a carnival since she was a kid. The smells of deep-fried-everything wafted in through her window and made her stomach growl. If there was one thing that Texas was good at, it was food. Sy cracked a smile and grabbed his wallet from the dash, stuffing it away into the back pocket of his faded Wranglers for safe keeping. 

“Tonight’s on me, babydoll. Whatever ya want, alright?” 

He hopped out of the truck and came around to the other side to help her down again. Merrin landed on her feet with a soft little grunt. She wasn’t quite built to climb in and out of that beast with grace. Dusting away a spattering of flour from her tight jeans, she almost wished she’d had the chance to go home and change. She did her best with what she had, all hulled up in the bathroom in the back of the shop, huddled over a hand mirror with a hairbrush and some mascara from the bottom of her purse. The thought made her shake her head. Jesus, Mer. It’s not a date. Right?

__

Sy led her through the maze of vehicles and off to the ticket booth.  Merrin wasn’t much for roller coasters or anything too steep, so they settled for the bumper cars and some carnival games instead. When he got tired of her kicking his ass, which was really just him letting her win, it was time to eat. Everything looked so good, and there was plenty to choose from, so they each got a little bit of it all to share. Sitting across from one another at an empty picnic table, Merrin groaned as she took a bite from a barbecued rib. When she looked up from her plate, Sy had stopped altogether. His mouth hung open just a bit and his eyes were wide. It made her giggle and blush, and she covered her mouth with the back of her hand as she chewed. “What? Is there something on my face?” 

Sy grinned as he sat back to watch her. He felt a little silly, bein’ so jealous of a piece of meat. He’d do anything to make her eyes roll to the back of her head like that. Down, boy, he scolded himself. Don’t wanna spook her. Merrin read him like a book, shook her head and scoffed in distaste. She punctuated it with a kick to the shin from beneath the table. “Perv.”

He gasped, feigning surprise, and sat up a little straighter. The napkin that was tucked so carefully into the collar of his t-shirt fell into his lap. “What was that for?!” Sy wiped his hands down the front of his pants and sucked his teeth at her. “Ain’t no way ta’ be treatin’ the man who bought you those ribs.” 

“Is that so?” Merrin arched a perfect brow and accepted his jest as a challenge. If he wanted to be a pain in the ass about it, then so be it. Two could play at that game. She let her eyes flutter closed and let another soft little moan of pleasure escape from deep within. Licking her parted lips, Merrin groaned as she took another bite. She laid it on thick, writhing around in her seat as she polished off the rest of the meat from the bone, then licked her fingers clean, one by one. By the time she was finished putting on a show, she looked up at him again and chuckled. His face was beet red, from the tops of his ears and clear down his neck. A vein stuck out at his temple. He was fighting for his life, and she grinned as she watched him squirm. “Thank you, baby. They were great.”

Sy groaned lowly. He let out a deep breath as he decompressed, ragged and strained. If that’s how she acted over some smoked meat, he couldn’t wait to watch her unravel over some homemade brisket, some cheap wine, and a good, hard dicking. Until then, he’s a dead man walking.

“Lord have mercy.”

__

The horizon was painted in shades of pink and orange as the last few rays of light shone against the clouds. A cool breeze blew through the lowlands of the fairgrounds and sent the heat of the day dissipating along with the sun. Merrin and Sy sat on the tailgate of the tuck and watched as the fireflies dipped and danced through the treeline. Merrin let her feet swing freely from where they hung off of the end of the bed, humming softly to the band as they played. Sy was stretched out behind her, belly full and eyes getting heavy as he reclined back to rest against his elbows. Though she couldn’t see him, Merrin could feel the way his gaze lingered on her. Nice and slow, as if to memorize every curve and curl, every thread in her work shirt and every seam in her jeans. Goosebumps spread down her arms and a chill ran down her spine. Every nerve in her body was ablaze for him, until she just couldn’t take it anymore. There was no turning back now. She was too far gone.

“Damnit, Clay.”

In an instant, she was on him, grabbing a fistful of that faded Metallica shirt and tugging him into her. Sy let out a grunt of surprise, but quickly fell into line. He tasted sweet, like the banana split they’d shared just moments before, like the sticky chocolate syrup and whipped cream, but with a hint of something deeper. Something strong and addictive. Something that had her coming back for more. She wanted to savor this moment, to bottle it up, save it for a rainy day, but she just couldn’t make herself stop. She kissed him, and he kissed her, and she kissed him again until the burn for breath broke their embrace. 

Her hands trembled when she finally let him go, chest heaving and achy as she fought for each breath of fresh air. That’s when she saw it. That beautiful little speckle of brown hidden amongst the ocean of blue in his eye. Merrin couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed it before. Visions of little curly headed babies running around in the yard raced through her mind. They’d have her nose, her lips and sweet little smile, but it was their eyes that had her attention. They were as deep and as vast as the eastern Texas sky, each with their own constellations of honey brown mixed in. They were perfect in every way. They were his. 

Merrin cleared her throat before she spoke again. “White flag. I surrender.” She could feel the rumble of laughter in his chest beneath her, as he reached up to sweep away a loose strand of hair from her face and tuck it behind her ear. 

“Oh, darlin,” Sy smirked. “You never stood a chance.”

__

Taglist: please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!

@geralts-yenn @peyton-warren @kingliam2019 @uunotheangel @deandoesthingstome @drewharrisonwriter @foxyjwls007 @melissareadsstuff @totalwool @summersong69 @caramariehurst @niallhorwen @warriormirkwood @summersong69 @mairablue @omgkatinka @evansabove1981

[aminiatureworld]

Mannerisms

Characters: Zhongli, gn!reader

Word Count: 935

Warnings: Swearing

Premise: In which the reader speaks and acts much less formally than Zhongli

Author’s Note: Though I am myself young I am still very excited to see the slang in this age poorly, as all good teen speak does.

Put this in headcanon format because I thought it worked best.

Zhongli

Whenever Zhongli introduced you to people there was always that moment of disbelief, the moment their eyes widened and their expressions conveyed “really?” perfectly. Usually that was right after you opened your mouth.

Perhaps it should have bugged you, but really you just found it hilarious.

You generally classified the people you and Zhongli interacted with into three camps: immortal, citizen, and comrade.

The adepti that still retained their ancient respect for Rex Lapis couldn’t understand you or your mannerisms. Every time you cracked a joke or struck a pose that could be only described as bizarre in front of them you could see the light slowly drain from their eyes, their faith in Morax questioned each day.

“Ah, my dearest, I’m so glad to see you.” Zhongli turned away from Cloud Retainer, leaning over to kiss your cheek.

“Hey Zhongli. Oof I had the weirdest day today. I don’t understand what’s up with this one archaeologist, you’d think that she’d be able to find shit herself. Honestly, I don’t fucking know, she says that she’s the trustworthy one but like bitch you’re obviously suspicious. Next time she asks me to find something for her, I think I’m just walking off the nearest cliff.”

“Just be sure to stay safe my love.” Zhongli smiled, oblivious to Cloud Retainer’s barely concealed disdain.

The citizens of Liyue had a similar sort of reaction. They knew Zhongli as the reserved funeral parlor advisor, keeper of history, man known for his calm politesse. In contrast you were known as a bit of a stray bullet, the young adult with the mannerisms of a person on a never-ending sugar high, and with the mouth of a slightly drunk sailor.

“Ah I see that Zhongli’s here.” Lan looked over at your partner.

“Oh yeah! Yo, yo Zhongli!” You hopped up and down slightly, waving your hand wildly as Zhongli approached you, smiling and nodding his head in response to your gestures.

“He’s certainly very put together.” Lan commented. “And very knowledgeable, I wonder if he might know –”

“Oh yeah, you’re still looking for that sword huh? You should definitely ask Zhongli about it. I think he’ll know something about it, and if not welp, I guess you asked right?”

“Yeah.” Lan deadpanned, looking back and forth between you and Zhongli before sighing and turning back to the bulletin.

As for your comrades in arms, friends, coworkers, people who generally liked you, they ranged from understanding to the most confused.

“Why would you ever want to be Zhongli’s partner?” One of your friends once asked. “He seems like such a hardass.”

“Nah, he’s really pretty and his voice is nice, I can totally see it.” Your other friend replied, smirking at you. “Too bad he’s broke, he’s got rich people vibes.”

“I still don’t really see the compatibility, but as long as you’re alright I guess.”

You appreciated that they tried to understand, or that they were wildly enthusiastic.

However though you were certainly very energetic, you didn’t really get a picture of how different you and Zhongli spoke until you put your writing side by side.

Slightly messy, full of made up words and abbreviations, slanting as a result of your weird sitting positions, your writing sat in stark contrast to the tidy formality of Zhongli’s notes and letters.

Hey Zhongli, I gotta go do smthing for the Guild so can you pick up le food? The money’s on the table, since I know you don’t have any lol. Anyways wish me luck I’m gonna need it. See you later, love you!

My dear one, Forgive the late notice, but it appears that we are hosting the funeral of a merchant of no small importance. As of such I will be working later than usual today. There is also the question of disturbances in Jueyen Karst, which I may have to enquire about. I think of you throughout my day, and I cannot wait to be with you again. Ever yours, Zhongli

Most of the time you didn’t really think about the difference in your personalities. I mean, Zhongli was a god. Of course he’d be a little different than you, of course he’d be more formal! Besides, he didn’t seem to mind your way of talking, and you weren’t going to change it any time soon.

Still, sometimes the complete confusion of the people around you chipped at your self-confidence, as you found yourself wondering if you were really a “proper” partner. What if you were just too blasé for the man who had protect Liyue for centuries.

“Hey, Zhongli?”

“Yes my love?”

“Do you think, do you think that I’m not… I don’t know, not good enough? Like, I don’t know how to explain it. Do you think that I’m too silly?”

“Never my love. Your vivacity is something that brings me great joy. Do not worry about what others think, there is no one else for me.”

You had to admit that Zhongli’s lyrical style of speaking made you feel all the more soothed, as if your love was something destined, something that didn’t have to worry about the judgement of others. If Zhongli loved your mannerisms for their energy, then you loved Zhongli’s nature for its soft constancy, its quite solidness.

At the end of the day it was just speaking, just different levels of formality. What did it matter if you two were saying the same things, only in different ways?

Love is love no matter how its spoken. And at the end of the day that’s all that matters.

[knockknockchicagopd]

A serie with Antonio Dawson. Chapter II.

❚❙ WORDS: about 1k

❚❙ A/N: this writing hasn’t been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I’m sorry about that. If you find a description about body or a word out of place, or something that makes you feel uncomfortable / unrepresented, let me know by a private message and I will change it delighted.

❚❙ GIF credits: to the author.

❚❙ Tag list: @melblacc @rebelwrites @skyofficialxx @sesamepancakes @scarletsoldierrr @mondefantastique @that-chick212 @enbyamaro @anotherfan07 @ocetevasgirl @destynelseclipsa @jadakiss13 @mcgreads @miahelen. If you want to be added to my tag list, send me a message.

A few days have passed and nothing has been the same. At the moment of happening you didn't think about it, but when you came home and sat on your sofa, you knew that mission fucked up your friendship. The adrenaline you were feeling while working didn't let you see how far you left the limit away. Now, you can't look at him in the face without shivers running down your back. And you can't avoid feeling like shit ducking him all the time, thinking that maybe it will help you to calm the sentiments recently discovered, wishing it's just a phase.

Closing your locker trying to not look at the picture stuck on the blue door, you let escape a heavy sigh as you wear your leather jacket before putting on the black knit cap, to keep out from the cold of Chicago as soon as you leave the District. Hanging your bag on your shoulder, you check a bunch of text messages that make your phone. Meeting of doctors, firefighters, and cops at Molly's. For you, it sounds fun, but you're not in the mood to deal with Antonio. He has been trying to talk with you since the next morning after the undercover, but you've always found an excuse to avoid it. Mostly, related to work.

Keeping your phone in a pocket and looking for your headphones in the other, you collide against a body, standing there without any intention of moving. The strong scent fills up your lungs, and you don't need to raise your eyes to know who it is.

“I'm hurrying”.

“No, you're not”.

Having the clear intention of passing him away, Antonio stops you by grabbing your forearm, pushing you back to face him.

“Don't do that”.

“I gotta go”.

“You aren't going anywhere till you tell me what's happening”.

“Nothing's happening”.

“You've been avoiding me, (Y/N). Since the night in the club. I already apologized for what I said”.

“It's not because of what you said”. You scoff rolling your eyes, with a bitter chuckle installed in your mouth. “Forget it, okay? Things are… really bad for me right now, to turn it worse”.

“I felt it too if it's any consolation”. Tilting his head closer, Antonio moves his fingers around your forearm to your ching, urging you to look at him.

“Don't, please. I don't wanna fuck up our friendship”.

“It's already fucked”. He whispers puckering his lips, trying to hide the way he feels after being ignored these days. “But you have two options. Keep digging or plug up the hole”.

Putting your gaze away, somewhere in the locker room, both options start to dance inside your head. You didn't even contemplate the alternative of him feeling the same. Yes, he was nervous too that night, but not like you. So you thought that he was like that because of how he was seeing you at that moment, not because he was having the same desire for kissing you again.

“Still being the one who stays, you said so”. Repeating the same words, your partner earns your look again. “I can handle people leaving my side, but it isn't the same with you”.

“Antonio…”

“What? Don't tell me another excuse, I beg you”. The despair in his brown orbs touches you. “Listen, I accepted that undercover because I thought you were good with the idea too. Otherwise, I'd not accepted it. But I liked it. I liked kissing you and I don't regret it. So, why don't try it?”

“What if it doesn't work? What happens next? We work together, pretending nothing happened?”

“But what if it works, uh? After all this time, you think we don't work?”

“I don't wanna lose you, Antonio, just because you liked that kiss”.

“Didn't you? 'Cause I felt quite the opposite”.

Your eyelids drop as soon as you feel his other hand landing on your lower back, making you take a step closer. You don't even know how Voight it's going to take it if he'd care if he'd let you have a relationship being partners. How Kim with Adam, and Jay with Erin, is a precedent for your boss. But on the other hand, they weren't friends before the Unit. You two are.

“Look at me, please”.

Opening your eyes and finding his glued on you causes you a chill that bristles your skin. You can't help but wrinkle your nose in a childish gesture, making his mouth curve in a smile.

“One chance. I promise you, if it doesn't work, we'll continue being friends. As always”.

“This is one of those times you talk too much”.

The words come from nowhere, you weren't expecting to reply like that but your brain has played dirty. You don't have time to back out when Antonio presses his lips on yours. Your eyes get closed by inertia, placing your arms around his neck slowly until there's no distance between the two of you. Again, the sparkles within your stomach explode as the tender kiss turns into a lot of short gestures on every inch of your lips.

“We will make it work. I know you can't break my heart”. Antonio murmurs touching your nose with his, being very sure of himself.

“Don't challenge me”.

“I'd not dare”. He chuckles placing an arm on your shoulders, waving a hand slightly. “You love me too much, admit it”.

“You give yourself too many credits, Tonio”.

“Do I?” He arches an eyebrow, walking you outside of the locker room to leave the District. “Molly's?”

“I wanna go home, it's been a long day of paperwork”.

“C'mon! One beer and I take you home. Don't you wanna drink with your new boyfriend?”

“Since when are we dating, uh?”

“Since two minutes ago”.

“You didn't ask me”.

“Are you really gonna mak— fine. Oh, beautiful (Y/N), would you make me the hon—”.

“No”.

“Shut up, bitch. You're my girlfriend now”.

“I swear I'm gonna punch your face, if you call me like that again, Dawson”.

“I'd like to see you trying…”

[realisaonum]

book meme

thank you, jen @det395​ !! i feel like this meme got away from me a bit, but no shame! i love talking about books and writing so onward ~under the cut~

1- how many books are too many books in a series? 

mhmmmmm i guess it depends on the objective of the series, right? is the plan to have x number of books in the series and if so, when we finally get to the end will it be satisfying considering all the books we’ve read leading up to it? OR is the objective of the premise / characters just to exist doing whatever? both can be done well. i would say a lot rides on how much i trust the author.

2- what do you think about cliffhangers?

so this is meant for cliffhangers in a series like between books? i don’t really care if there’s a cliffhanger as long as i have the next book sitting right next to me. otherwise uh, only if the wait between books is tolerable, because at that point you need to know that the author can clear this mess up, right? there’s this other thing, like you know how if the entire series was already written, then they might release the books a month apart or a quarter apart - that could be alright too. but years in between? not especially a fan. is anyone a fan?

3- hardback or paperback?

jen, you and me are complete opposites here. paperbacks stress me out. i will go out of my way to buy a used hardcover if given the choice. of course, there are some publications i don’t mind in paperback —thinking poetry and super indie books that don’t have a hardcover release OR books where the spines are thin enough they won’t break and i won’t be holding them long enough for them to wear. hardcovers are sturdy and i don’t have to worry i’ll accidentally bend the cover in some damaging way. I am invested in keeping my books nice to the point that i create covers for my books out of kraft paper or brown grocery bags while i am reading them. this is something i started when i was in college and didn’t want these books i was hoping to probably resell get thrashed coming in and out of my bag for all these classes. My home library is probs more half and half paperback/hardcover but if given a choice usually it’s hardcover.

4- least favourite book?

i think it’s good to at least attempt to meet a book on its level. there are lots of books i didn’t like, but i wasn’t meeting them on their level and i know that so we’re ignoring those. i do however have a shelf on my goodreads dedicated to books that i have beef with so i’ll just go off on two of them.....

tana french’s the likeness for being plagiaristic shit. it is essentially poorly concealed alternate universe OC insert fic of the secret history. you’ve got french’s dublin murder squad folks and then this group they are investigating who bear a STRIKING resemblance to the greek students in tsh 🤔. this would be one thing. it is pretty well acknowledged that nothing is original and there are enough changes to The Likeness that MAYBE i could let it slide if not for this other thing: french’s book, the likeness, has lines that are just basically reworded quotes from the secret history and french positions these lines so they are said by the counterpart (essentially same!) character that gave them original life in tsh. i cannot stress this enough: you can HEAR how similar the sentences are and their core intent is always the same. it’s thinly veiled theft! it astounds me that French hasn’t been sued frankly. it is one thing to want to capture some of the genius that tartt’s debut novel holds, but it is completely lazy and disgusting theft to go about it in the way French did with this book. and YES the secret history was published before french’s book. if i could stomach how fucking goddamn boring the likeness was to read it a second time and cite every one of these offenses i would, but that’s yet a third strike against it—it’s too boring to be worth it. 

T. Kingfisher’s second book of the Clocktuar War duology : The Wonder Engine. this is a book that i feel violated the contract between writer and reader. the first book feels almost like a YA book. the stakes while described as very high are treated, as actions unfold, as very low. nothing truly irreparable happens until the climax of the second book and the fallout of that action is so off-tone of everything that came before i felt deeply betrayed. no, like, completely betrayed as in it ruined the rest of my afternoon, i am still viscerally angry eight months later, and i will never trust this author again. sure, maybe none of those actions that led to the climax were out-of-character, but there was nothing NOTHING in the proceeding action that even came close to that level of consequence. it’s a pity because right up till that point i was having a really good time. the entire vibe of the rising action to the climax of book one all the way through the rising action of book two was just a quippy fun version of roadtrip/quest - it felt like a comfort read. the abrupt tone shift had all the subtlety of dropping a graphically, brutal murder into Blue’s Clues. you don’t do that - this is a basic tenet of a writer / reader relationship. i’m not touching this bitch’s shit again.

5- Love Triangle, yes or no?

not so much. i like jen before me will scream ‘just be poly.’ love triangles that lead into poly relationships? yes, awesome will be glad i read. but i am at a stage in my life where your standard will-they-won’t-they-love-triangle is just fucking pointlessly frustrating to me. an example: i read a Nic Stone’s book Odd One Out a couple years ago and something about the synopsis or the hype made me think that it would resolve the love triangle that way, so when that did not happen i was incredibly frustrated and immediately wanted to resell the book. it’s the potential of the thing. stone’s book could have been the perfect vehicle for opening up the concept of polyamory to a ya audience but instead just really squandered that potential with weak floundering — in my opinion!

6- the most recent book you just couldn’t finish

uhhhhh i’ve got two and i’m not sure i’ve entirely given up quite yet buuuuuuuut 

fucking dune. i got really pissed off with this book. So just…setting aside the whole vaguing at a pedophilically inclined queer coded villain - it’s done so poorly, that it's almost funny? like it doesn’t (as of half way through) actually have any consequence on…anything at all and is tacked on like an afterthought to the end of his scenes. honestly it all could just be cut out entirely with no recourse to the larger story. So my actual beef with this book is the pacing is ATROCIOUS. like yo, not only do you expect me to give a shit about these Atreides cunts, when we just met them and we spend the same amount of time with them IF NOT MORE with the antagonist? but you also expect me to believe Paul was able to just convince the leader of the Arrakis people —the leader of an entire planet!!— with a single fucking sentence??? yeah, not so much. it was not set up for me to believe that Paul could do that! maybe if Kynes hadn’t died immediately after—or at least not died at that moment? baring the fact I thought he was by far the most interesting character, IF he had been convinced by Paul in that scene, it would have been great to see some actual work done around that - with a transfer or a liaise of power between Kynes and Paul and the Fremen. By not having any substantive scene that does it - it begs the question of what the fuck was the point of the character in the first place? unplumbed potential!!! over all there seem to be some key scenes missing to get the reader to where the narrative expects us to be? but the choices made of the characters we spend time with and the moments we see with them, the benefit to the larger story…is not always there. hey herbert, these words you have written aren’t doing what you want them to?? i feel like i should finish it but i reaaaaallly don’t want to :) the only thing i can say is it looks like from the trailer, villeneueve is giving space to these moments so that the viewer can foster a genuine connection with the characters? radical concept.

our lady of perpetual hunger - i started this one optimistically bc i like chef memoirs, but i am at the point where she has just given birth to her son and honestly DON’T CARE. i still haven’t officially given up on it yet since i actually fucking bought it like a dope. i certainly would not have if i knew how much NOT about working the line this was gonna be

7- book you are currently reading

Aside from the failures mentioned above, I am working on the second book in B. Catling’s Vorrh trilogy, The Erstwhile. Also very close to finally finishing Iain Sinclair’s The Last London - there’s a review of his work from the LA Times that goes “One of Sinclair’s greatest skills has always been his ability to take diverse if not chaotic source material and refashion it in a way that sometimes seems downright alchemical” which captures some of the wonder I experience when reading his work. His style and how he creates atmosphere and setting is just unique and astounding.

8- last book you recommended to someone

The Secret History by Donna Tartt. Before that I told my brother to read Eat a Peach, as we both love Anthony Bourdain and David Chang talks about him a bit here, plus it’s just a fucking great book. any book that gives insight into Chang’s methodology and paradigm is worth a shot.

9- oldest book you read

I think it might have to be Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night (which apparently according to wiki premiered on the stage a whole four months before Hamlet so that’s what we’re going with) and if plays don’t count, I don’t care. I think they count and that’s what we’re going with.

10- the most recent book you read ?

Given the previous question, the most recently published book, right? It’s gotta be the one I just finished: The First Collection of Criticism by a Living Female Rock Critic - Revised and Expanded edt., which like just came out this summer. I watched Jessica Hopper’s promo zoom, curtesy of my local indie bookstore, and went ahead and bought it. This was a great decision! It was just what I needed to read these last couple of weeks. i love there’s lots of short pieces that made the read quick and the fact that it’s non-fiction so there was no pressure of a plot or the emotional weight of character investment when I had a lot of big stressors dragging me down irl -it was such a relief. Hopper’s criticism is fun to read and there’s some real art in her appreciation of music here.

11- favourite author?

These are the top in a kind of order but not really: Donna Tartt, Jeff VanderMeer, Megan Whalen Turner, Flannery O’Conner, Chuck Palahniuk, Anthony Bourdain

Other faves very much worth mentioning: Emily O’Neill, Richard Siken, Brandon Sanderson, Warren Ellis, Nathan Englander, Stephen King, Eddie Huang, Carl Hiaassen, Anne Carson, and Iain Sinclair.

12- buying books or borrowing books?

Depends on if my library has it, of course! I nearly always see if my library has a copy first if i have never read it or the author before. If i’ve read the book before or trust the author, I’ll buy it. Like I’ll straight out buy new stuff from Jeff VanderMeer even though with him it’s either this-hits-exactly-and-is-my-new-fave or i-really-disliked-this-but-admire-the-boundaries-you’re-pushing-my-dude - so it’s always a gamble but a worthy one.

12- a book you dislike that everyone else seems to love

a little life (just bc it's torture porn elevated to art doesn’t negate the fact that it’s torture porn. Yanagihara’s project here is repugnant and the fact that this book is lauded as moving lgbt fiction makes my skin crawl)

sharp objects (good writing, compelling story, BUT typographical scarification doesn't work like that - i am not going to get into it but i know from first hand experience how Flynn described it is not accurate)

nesbø’s the snowman (what kinda dumbass detective would think THAT when a woman finds her missing father’s corpse? absolute idiocy - so obviously reverse engineered with that end in mind)

the raven cycle (fuck ronan lynch to start and then fuck him to end as well - there’s some other stuff but mostly he’s a total CUNT and if i don’t say that once a day i have probably died)

14 - bookmarks or dogears?

Bookmarks and sticky notes. Then I can place it pointing directly to the paragraph I last stopped on.

15- The book you can always reread?

This is my question because I reread all the time. ALL THE TIME. Books I reread often: The Secret History, Medium Raw (especially chapter 17 The Fury), Crooked Kingdom, The Violent Bear It Away, and The Goldfinch. Every year like clockwork (since it came out apparently) I will reread Stephen King’s The Outsider.

Other books I feel the urge to reread: VanderMeer’s Acceptance, Englander’s Dinner at the Center of the Earth, Frazier’s Nightwoods, Fresh Off the Boat, the Mr. Mercedes trilogy, the Peter Grant Series (which is queued up for another go here soon I think), any of the stories from A Good Man is Hard to Find, Sanderson’s Wax and Wayne Mistborn books, simon vs the homosapiens’ agenda, and there are two of Alan Morinis’ books on Mussar that I am technically always revisiting—when i need a reminder, i’ll jump around and read specific sections to get centered again.

16- can you read while listening to music?

Yes, but only ambient or near ambient (only usually one track on repeat) or a soundtrack I am extremely familiar with. No new music. I do usually need some audio stimulation or my mind will wander terribly.

17- one POV or multi POV?

Multi pov can certainly be done well (looking at the soc duaology and VanderMeer’s Acceptance) but working a multi-pov means there are more plates spinning, it’s more of a challenge, and some authors pull it off better than others.

18- do you read book in one sitting or in multiple days?

I don’t really do this anymore. that might have something to do with me picking up thicker books? but also i have a full time job now and let’s be real the book has to be hella good if i don’t want to put it down. the last book i attempted to shotgun was the final installment of my favorite series and it still took me two days so....i can get through a lot of books but none of them are ever in one sitting anymore.

19- who to tag:

@sybilius​ @mouth-rainboy​ @iwonderifthatisart​ @phereinnike​ @magnificentmoose​ @wambsgangs​ @moriarteaparty​ and anyone else if you feel so inclined!

Bonus Question: What’s on your to-read shelf? 

As for me, I am excited about one i just picked up, Danforth’s Plain Bad Heroines, which i might start tomorrow and I will be taking Paul Madonna’s Come to Light on my trip to see my brother this coming weekend. 

[tigerdrop]

i have a lot of trouble writing benrey in my fics— how did you experiment with his characterization until you were satisfied with it, and what other benny interpretations do u enjoy from other fic writers? i love the way you write him, his dialogue feels so authentic and believable.

AW thank u......it always makes my day to hear something nice about the way i characterize ppl......there were a lot of things i did to try to nail how he talks and thinks. thank u for asking this b/c i have a Lot to say about this subject

the first thing is, obv, watching the series. i have to include this one b/c i feel like quite a few ppl in this fandom.....like.....havent. there is a certain way of characterizing him as an Epic Mischievous Gamer that is, uhhh, very much a fanon thing that ppl see on tumblr and imitate and flanderize all to hell. but, like, im an obsessive little weirdo who will rewatch things over and over again to take notes on characters’ behavior and dialogue and i really gotta recommend just sitting back and listening to how benrey talks.

hes not dropping gamer references constantly. hes not making every single sentence out of his mouth some obnoxious quip. hes slow on the uptake and drops conversations entirely if he doesnt care about them. he has never once said “cringe” before and whenever i see a fic that has him doing it multiple times i feel minutes shaved off of my lifespan. the #1 tip i can give here is to not have benrey talking in fucking 2010s gamer lingo every time he opens his mouth. please

(i feel partially responsible for the spread of this kind of characterization. my first 2 fics have him doing stuff like that every once in awhile. sometimes i debate going back and changing them, but like, benrey saying “poggers” one time aside, i think they hold up pretty good. so i havent. something something historical accuracy)

the more i wrote about him, the more i tried digging into the aspects of his character that i found the most appealing. some people are really into his polite side. i am really into his bullying side. so i would watch the bits where benrey really has his “gordon bullying” mode cranked up to 11 and make note of how he acts, how he talks. trying to replicate it. “benrey saying epic random shit to piss gordon off” is much less his vibe than, like, demeaning gordon, and i feel like the bathroom skit is the ultimate manifestation of this. it is genuinely my favorite bit in the whole series b/c its so ideally representative of their weird-ass dynamic. this fuckin high school bullying LARP in the middle of a public restroom. god in heaven

the less you lean on the crutches of “gamer lingo” and “wacky non-sequitur”, the more it forces you to think about how he behaves. what motivates him. and generally, like, he operates on his own wavelength. he doesnt fully understand everything thats going on around him and selectively chooses what he tunes into. and, most importantly, he just wants to play games, man. benrey likes goofing off with the science crew and playing mind games with gordon. he fails to understand the gravity of his actions a lot of the time b/c hes not human, and hes not operating under the same social guidelines.

(this is the part where people like to speculate exactly what kind of non-human he is, and i think this can be helpful for setting up his motivations! me, personally, i am of the opinion that hes just a video game guy made real. kind of like a live-action cartoon character. so hes operating on video game logic a lot of the time, and doesnt grasp that consequences for actions are different for normal people who cant noclip or respawn. a kind of lack of empathy that manifests in him being capricious, indifferent, detached......purely oriented around “getting his job done” and “chilling” and, naturally, “fucking with gordon freeman“.)

ultimately it boils down to distilling just what i like out of their interactions and trying to Manifest it repeatedly. i go crazy about their actual canon interactions and i want to write things that hit the notes i like: two guys who are mutually kind of obsessed with one another, for better or worse, and engage in a lot of play fighting (and, you know, genuine fighting, too) as a sublimation of it. best frenemies, if you will.

i think that a lot of the problems people have in writing benrey is that they kinda just project whatever attributes they want in a lover onto him. like, man, i like cute shit as much as the next guy, but do you really think that the dude who bullies gordon freeman while hes having a panic attack is gonna tenderly stroke gordons hair and wipe his tears and tell him that everythings gonna be okay? no, dude. even when benrey expresses any kind of concern, he does it in a way that communicates that he doesnt understand the gravity of whats going on and he doesnt “get” why gordons lying on the ground yelling, or why gordons howling in pain after getting his arm cut off. he is not an empathetic guy. hes actually kind of a creep!!! a lil freakjob! the weirdness and the lack of humanity are what make him hot!!!!

and this is what makes it own so hard on the rare occasions he does show empathy! its the same reason why its so cute when gordon stops bitching for 0.5 seconds and tries to be nice! theyre earned moments, not character defaults. and cutesy/lovey-dovey shit with these two is definitely doable, but i would love to see more of it take into account the fact that these are two dudes who fucking suck and who especially suck at being emotionally open with each other.

as far as characterizations that i really like........okay. full disclosure. the biggest reason ive been losing my shit over the catmaid freemind fic is b/c the author is one of the few people who really taps in to what i like about benrey, and what i like about his relationship with gordon. hes teasing. he likes to use his perceived authority to bully people. hes weirdly protective of gordon. but hes also just, like, a chill dude who wants to play video games. and he legit likes gordon and expresses affection for him in some of the most in-character ways ive ever seen

like. deliberately spilling milk on the couch and flatly going like “oops.” b/c he wants gordon to sleep in his room......playing nurse by doing fuck-all apart from giving gordon powerade while hes sick and keeping the volume on his video games low......kicking barmey under the table for making fun of gordon being dogboyed.......it is all exceptionally cute shit and its delightfully in-character. i feel so bad for the author b/c im a frenrey head and i am primarily reading it for those two. but god they do it so well.......im hooked. im obsessed

thank u again for asking this and for the lovely compliment ^q^ i hope this answered your question......i have spent entirely too much of my life thinking about my favorite half life funny guy

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP Meme Lines from "AHS: Coven" Episode 13: "The Seven Wonders"

I've chosen caviar from the Caspian Sea served on blinis along with champagne as fitting stand-ins as we partake of our own last supper.

When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I understood like a child, I thought like a child. But when I became a woman, I put aside childish things.

Put aside fears, reservations and petty things.

Kick ass tomorrow.

What if I can't do it?

Almost sounds like you want it.

Commonly only known to the public as mind control. It's a tricky little craft. When properly exercised, can bend the strongest of wills to your desire.

Nobody controls my mind but me.

Knock it off!

Ow! Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow!

Well done.

I'm not done.

Now, lick it.

That's enough. Let's move on.

Having fun yet?

If your soul hasn't returned to your body by sunup, you'll die.

You're the first to return.

It was horrible. I was stuck on a network musical. It was a live version of The Sound of Music. I wasn't even the lead.

I'm right here, it's okay.

Freak. You're a freak.

No, I don't wanna kill a living thing.

No, you can't make me kill a living thing.

We have to help her.

There's nothing we can do.

Follow my voice.

You're a stone-cold bitch.

When you play with fire, you get burned.

Tag, you're it.

Gotcha. No tag-backs.

Can't we just have a little fun?

Suck it. Ha-ha-ha!

Nothing's happening.

What's "deserve" got to do with any of this?

So either crown me or kiss my ass.

I can feel all their eyes on me.

Maybe we deserve to die out.

Why did you leave me? You said you'd never leave me

My mother was always right.

How true is it that a prophet is never recognized in his own country?

Well, I guess it's different when it's your own family.

You have royal blood in your veins.

I was a fool not to have realized it earlier, seeking all this time in the dust for that which may have been right before us all along.

You must let it out.

I'd stake your life on it.

I'm not stupid.

Are you ready?

What did you see?

This thing started as a competition. I say we end it like one.

Divination. Let's rock.

This is stupid. I'm not doing it.

Let me show you real power.

Divination first.

We're doing this by the book.

I'm sick of your book.

I have so many powers, I could tear this room apart until there's nothing left but your little trinkets, but, no, I have to do this bullshit.

There's something in the thing.

Because the game is rigged, [NAME]. Wake up.

You would accuse us of chicanery?

I didn't even wanna come here.

I'm going back to Hollywood where people are normal.

I suggest you change the locks, because when I tell TMZ everything it won't be long before torches, pitchforks, and Molotov cocktails become a real big part of your day.

Peace out!

What do you want, dumb-ass?

You let her die.

Why did you let her die?

You know that dark place! We've both been there!

I did it for us.

You're not that good an actress.

No one will wonder where the body went once we bury her.

Since your extraordinary public statement last month there has been quite a bit of fanfare.

We are not a cult. We don't proselytize. We have no agenda. We're not recruiting.

Women who identify as witches are born as such and their abilities, which we call powers are part of who they are, part of their DNA, if you will.

So in fact, you're saying that it's not a choice, being a witch.

There are so many young witches who have resisted their calling because they're afraid of how they may be perceived, or what's expected of them.

But you know, when you hide in the shadows, you are less visible, you have less protection.

We'll always be targets for the ignorant. It is what it is.

There is a home and a family waiting for you.

I'm so proud of you.

Start by telling them that being an authority figure requires you to make hard, unpopular decisions for the greater good.

Your tasteful modesty is out of fashion, so knock it off.

Thanks to you, we're entering a new era.

You've planted the seeds but in order to reap their harvest, you have to clear the rot of the past.

I love your metaphors, but I have no idea what you're talking about.

I'm not suggesting. I'm insisting.

You want to be burned at the stake?

At the start of your glorious reign the last thing you need is an ABSCAM or Watergate.

I killed and I must pay for it.

I didn't hear this.

I've made many painful mistakes in my life. I want my death to have some meaning.

Stiff upper lip, my dear.

You cannot be a hypocrite. I won't stand for it.

Any last words?

Balenciaga!

I'm excited. I wanna get in there and show what I can do.

You gotta check this shit out. Line's around the block.

We'll buy more houses if we have to.

I got your back.

Should we open the doors now?

There's just one more thing I need to deal with.

I saw you die.

You men, with your fragile egos.

We still have a deal, babe.

I'm going to Paris for just a couple days.

Why? Why would she decide to do that?

I mean, it won't be pleasant for you. But if you do it right, I promise you the world.

I'm gonna put something inside you.

What happens when I wake up from this vision?

If you're gonna offer me your spit, I'll take it straight from the spigot.

I ruined a perfectly good pair of Jimmy Chaos.

I knew you'd get rid of him for me, once he served his purpose.

Whose blood was it?

I never killed anybody. Not yet.

That was the plan. Let you do the dirty work.

You didn't come here to kill me.

You were hoping I'd put you out of your misery, but I don't need to. You're close. I doubt you'll make it through the night.

Is that why you were always so awful to me? Because you knew I was going to take your power some day?

A woman becomes a mother, she can't help but see her mortality in that cherubic little face.

Every time I looked at you, I saw my own death.

You were a constant reminder of my worst fears.

Oh, and all this time, I thought you just didn't like me.

It was nothing personal, darling.

I loved you plenty, though. Just my own way. Which, I'll admit, had its limitations.

I can feel the power vibrating off of you.

It feels good, doesn't it?

I have to die for you to truly live.

I'm not crying over you. I'm crying for me.

You were the monster in every one of my closets.

A lifetime spent either trying to prove myself to you, get close to you, or get away from you.

God knows you'll do a better job of it than I ever did though you won't look half as good doing it.

For God's sake, have mercy on me. Put me out of my misery. I hurt everywhere.

You're scared, maybe for the first time in your life.

You have to do this alone. And the only way out is through. So feel the fear and the pain. Let it all in and then let it all go.

I don't think we ever hugged.

You're up. I hope you're hungry.

Oh, get those goddamn things out of my face.

Why you always gotta be like this?

I'm tired of fighting.

How long have we been here?

If you want a stiff one, come over here.

Don't be vulgar.

Maybe you ought to lay off the sauce for a while.

Drink in the fresh air.

I can't spend eternity here.

This place it reeks of fish and cat piss.

I'm in heaven.

All right, let's open the doors.

We survived. Up until now, that's all we've done.

I know together we can do more than survive. It's our time to thrive.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Teen!Chucky /Charles Lee Ray x Reader || Oneshot

Title: Night Time Air 

Notes:

·         Y/B/F: Your best friend

·         This was inspired by Season 5 Pretty Little Liars when Caleb and Alison are rocky and Alison tries to tell Hanna not to be with him, and she goes ahead and gets back together with him. 

·         Told you I would overuse this gif. 

·         I should be doing requestssssss

Plot: 

Chucky is the boy at your school, that is well known for all the bad things he has done. He has no respect for anyone except… maybe you… and he is unpredictable, which is exactly why your friend, your bitchy, not-really-your-friend, frenemy-that-you-only-spend-any-of-your-time-with-because-your-real-friends-like-her tries to order you not to hang out with him.

You don’t take it well.

Warnings: Language maybe? 

~~~

It takes a few seconds before I can clear my enough, and stop myself from jumping to the conclusion of what she’s trying to tell me. Demand of me. “What?”

“You shouldn’t hang out with him anymore. I mean, I know he’s pretty and everything,” With a roll of her eyeshadow heavy eyes, she tries to infer to me, that my friendship with Chucky is so skin deep. Again, I bite my tongue and stop myself from saying anything, but oh, are there things coming to mind that I wish I would say. “But he’s never been any good, since kindergarten. I’m just looking out for you, you know. You know that I love you.” Oh, sure.

My blood boils at her words, and the fake way she tilts her head and furrows her eyebrows, the  touch she manages to land on my arm before I flinch away that makes me feel disgusting. She has to be aware that we are not friends, and there is no one else around so where does she get off saying this stuff to me. Demanding something, from me like she’s got any authority. “Maybe you didn’t sense my complete disbelief the first time through your hairspray; I understand chemicals can interfere with alien sensory technology. So, let me say it again. What?”

“Woho,” She laughs, but I see under the thin, unimpressive veil of counterfeit that completes her look of total bitch, that she was not expecting a snap back like that. “Wow, Y/N. No need to get salty… “

Something about the night air has made me confident tonight, for sure. Because at school, there’s no way I’d say these things to her. I’m glad I came out tonight! “I don’t know where you think you get the authority to tell me what to do, but you’re mistaken.” Nervously, I glance past her into Y/B/F’s house to see if they were looking at us, because the last thing I need is drama with the others after this, and then stonily back at Jane. “Tell the others whatever, I’ll set it straight tomorrow. I gotta go, I happen to know where Chucky’ll be tonight.”

She narrows her eyes and looks miffed, but I’m already turning around, shoving my hands into the pockets of my jacket and walking off down the street. God, I’m glad I said that. Its been dying to come out since I realised I didn’t like her in the first place- it might stir some trouble in our group, but its better she knows I don’t like her then to let her keep thinking she any control in my life. Besides, I’d kinda… I’d much rather go see Chucky then stay in and play forced Monopoly with her for the rest of the night, and wake up in the morning with moustache drawn on my face.

When I get to my destination, I don’t see him but I don’t get to wonder if he just hasn’t come to the playground tonight like he brags he does every night -like some edge master on the big screen,- because he calls my name and I turn around to see him walking over from another street. “What are you doing here?” He stops in front of me on the woodchips and stuffs his hands in his trench coat pockets, grinning down at me in a way that gives me the strangest feeling that he’s glad I’m here. “Thought you’d be… Ahhh, I dunno, enjoying skimpy girl sleepover activities? See, I listen to you. Unless I got the day wrong?” I wish we could move somewhere else, maybe walk around, but he’s just standing and looking at me with his grin like I’m a weeping angel.

Instead of staying there and talking about my run in with Jane, although I’m sure he’d love to hear about it -he doesn’t like her either. One of the many things we talk about when we’re together,- , I turn and head for the swing. “Skimpy girl sleepover activities? Sounds like you put some thought into that!” I tease, sitting in a swing and pushing off. There’s something very free, about playing on a playground when its dark, and no on else is around. I suddenly get why its such a popular teenage stereotype. Not too far out of my comfort zone like most adult things that I want to do or am being pushed to try, but still new.

He laughs. “Would’ve come by and visited if I knew where your girl friend lived.” Turning my head, I watch Chucky come around and get in the other swing, but not push off.

“You would’ve been disappointed. We had intensive plans to snuggle up in our skivvy’s and raincoats and watch Singin’ In The Rain. But I would’ve made room for you!” Which is true. I would. I definitely would. I’d love to ‘accidentally’ fall over and snuggle with him. Totally would. Any day. Yes.

Watching him grin to himself at my dumb joke gives me little tummy squirms, so I take a deep breath as I swing and look away. “Oh well. Glad I get you, tonight. They always seem to win your time.”

“They’re my best friends… “I say, falling backwards and feeling my hair fly after me, on either side of my face. Then turn and grin at Chucky, curiously. “You’ve never expressed any desire to hang with me more, before.”

“Well its not like I have many friends apart from you… “He trails off, but his face doesn’t reveal any sadness or forlorn desire to change that. I know, for a fact, that he doesn’t like anyone else at our school. He has nicknames for them all! And none flattering. He turns to me sharply, causing my heart to seize in my chest. Oh my god. “Custody agreements, how would I go about winning weekends with you?”

Rolling my eyes, I look away and keeping swinging, distracting myself from him. “Mm, payment’s a bit dear,” I mutter, loud enough for him to hear but quiet enough to be a mutter to myself. I wanted to reply, but I don’t want him to hear the rest of that quip. Which is ‘Its you have to kiss me’.

Seems the night air isn’t just making me confidently mean, tonight…

“I bet… “He says back, not quite to me and under his breath, the same as how I said it. Then he gets up from the swing and looks around, shifty eyed. “Let’s walk around a bit.”

He looks bored, so I slow down the swing and pop off, not noticing he moved right in front of me until I’ve hopped right into him. “Nice going, pal! Smart move!” I exclaim sarcastically, and push out of his arms and away from his face, which is grinning cheekily and laughing.

“Dunno what you’re complaining for, I’m not the only one who got to second base just then! Wanna try for first?”

“You’re very funny.” I say, forcing an irritated tone through my smiling face. Its times like these, when I thank having a crush on such a loudmouth and tease. “As if.”  

“Yeahh, right. Whatever, come on.” He starts walking, scooping me up on the way, walking with his arm over my shoulders… like friends. Friends. This is friendly, I remind myself quickly. These moments, when he touches me and acts like we’re a couple, are when I curse having a crush on such a loudmouth and tease. We walk around the park, not leaving the gleam of the streetlights, but leaving the mulch of the playground for the grass surrounding it. After a while of conversation about school, and other kids in our class -never touching his father or mine, this night time playground acting as sanctuary, - , we hit a lull in the conversation, and I watch our feet wading through the luscious grass, due to excessive levels of rain recently. My fingers feel like icey poles. He hasn’t removed his arm from me the entire time we’ve been walking, though, so at least the rest of me is warm. “So, what happened to your sleepover anyway. Cancelled or did you blow them off?”

“Uh… I blew it off.” For you. Of course, I don’t utter the last words. Too much of a chicken shit to finish the deal, even feeling the night air on my cheeks.

“There’s my bad girl.”

“Hah,” Thank god, its too cold for my cheeks to heat up. I glance at his face, and do a double take. He’s waiting for the rest of the story! Uhhhhh… “Um, well, we… Jane said something annoying, you know.” Flashing him an awkward half-smile, I see he’s still waiting for the kicker and look away again, picking up his other hand and lacing my fingers through his, to distract me. “Here, warm my fingers up, they’re icey.” As his fingers willingly wrap around mine, I don’t have to glance to feel his look edging me on for the rest of the story. I sigh. “Well, she said something dumb about not wanting me to hang out with a certain bad boy loner type with yucky hair, and I didn’t feel like sticking around.”

“I’m gonna ignore the part about my great hair for the moment, because I’m too chuffed that you stuck up for me… “Remarkably, somehow, his voice is grinning, as he slows us immediately too a stop and moves to stand in front of me, loosening his arm around me just enough to do so, but not letting go so I’m kind of… well, I’m enveloped in him. I can smell his familiar shampoo and aftershave, and feel weirdly, wonderfully small in front of him, who is taller. Which is usually not too noticeably because he isn’t magnificently tall, but he is… 3 to 5 inches taller than me? And because we’re so close, you can tell.

Embarrassingly, I just stand there silently as he grins, and brings our linked hands up to his mouth, to tap a kiss to mine. What? What? WhAT! This is not… this cannot just be friendly, can it? I glance away from his blue-blue eyes, so I can gather my voice back. “Not a big deal.”

“Maybe not, but I like it.”

With nothing else to use my voice for, because I can’t think of anything else to say, I look back up at his, our hands still close to his mouth a grin on his lips. There, I decide to do something. I decide to make or break our friendships, to see what happens, to do something I want to try.

I decide to kiss him.

I tilt my head, and pull down our hands and close my eyes, not allowing for any second thoughts before I get up on my toes and hopefully touch his mouth with mine. I remember wondering what happens if I actually get his chin or his nose, before my lips connect with his and everything goes starry.

Because immediately like he was prepared for it, like that, he kisses back. Pulling me in comfortably with his arm and letting go of my hand so he can cup the side of my neck, his thumb resting on my jaw. I use my new freedom to bunch his coat in my fist, and bring him warmer to me. Not that it could get much warmer for me, with his mouth laying a long, soft kiss to me.

This is definitely the ideal outcome to my decision.  

“Took way too long for you to do that, sweetheart.” Is the first thing he says post-first-kiss, husky and quietly, against my lips as he looks from them to my eyes which is way too attractive a power for a teenage boy to have if you ask me, before kissing me again, this time deeper and with his tongue. All I can do is stand there and try my best to reciprocate the sheer, hot passion that somehow he’s able to convey to me without words, despite this being my first kiss, to the best of my mediocre abilities.

“I… didn’t know you were waiting for it,” I say, when he seems done for more then 2 seconds. A flash of a smile crosses his face, rolling his eyes.

“I wasn’t obvious enough for you??”

“No!”

“I said that I’m glad I get you tonight!”

“That’s code for ‘Kiss me’???”

“Yes!”

“Well, I’ll remember that now!”

He sighs in exasperation while smiling, which is good because I’m grinning too. “Do you wanna just make out some more?”

“Oh, yes, we shall. Good idea.”

[eujazmine]

TASK TWO: CHARACTER PLAYLIST ( x )

hall of fame - the script ft. will.i.am / champion - kanye west / just my luck - coco jones / rage - rico nasty / watch me - jaden / don’t stop the music - rihanna / hot girl summer - megan thee stallion ft. ty dolla $ign, nicki minaj / listen before i go - billie eilish / midnight sky - miley cyrus / smack a bitch - rico nasty / wolves - big sean ft. post malone / ordinary life - the weeknd / rise - willow, jahnavi harrison / power is power - sza ft. the weeknd, travis scott / icon - jaden / got it on me - pop smoke / OTHERSIDE - beyonce / until i bleed out - the weeknd / gone too soon - michael jackson / the other side - sza, justin timberlake / ohfr? - rico nasty / lonely - justin bieber, benny blanco / my sanity - thriii, messenger : 1 hr 15 mins

okay so this is basically a soundtrack of her life so far. i’ve included a rundown below including sample lyrics if you’re interested, so you won’t have to listen to get the gist, but fair warning there’s probably HELLA typos since it’s almost 6 am now <3

it starts off with hall of fame, bc as far as she can remember her father was always telling her that she was special and destined for greatness. according to her father, there was nothing she couldn’t do, no limits to how much she could achieve. she carried her godliness with pride, training hard to one day be one of the greatest.

“ yeah, you can be the greatest, you can be the best. you can be the king kong bangin' on your chest. you can beat the world, you can beat the war. you can talk to God, go bangin' on his door. . . you can move a mountain, you can break rocks. you can be a master, don’t wait for luck. dedicate yourself and you gon' find yourself. ”

next comes champion, where jazmine is starting to think that her father may not be as great as she thought he was, but her little siblings still view him as such. although there is this slight confusion going on with her father, she doesn’t want it to stop her from achieving greatness, so she keeps working hard.

“ this is the story of a champion. runners on their mark and they pop their guns. stand up, stand up, here he comes. tell me what it takes to be number one. ”

just my luck. at this point, she’s feeling that all the authority figures in her life, especially her dad, see her as a weapon rather than a person. she feels like she’s too under their control, so she begins to retaliate. around this time, she is nearly expelled from school and is then sent away by her father to full-year camp in greece.

“ I don't know where you're leading me to go. pulling me here, pulling me there. can't take no more. what happened to being happy? that's what I ask myself. ”

while the last song described her insecurities and stress, rage gives a glimpse into her anger from the situation. she starts to grow a chip on her shoulder, and she takes it out on the people around her.

“ keep my name out your fucking mouth before you find out what we about. type of shit that you read about. if you talk it, then be about it. ”

she channels her frustrations into her training. watch me represents how she no longer wants to reach the top for the people back home, but rather to spite them. she wants those that hate her to watch her reach the top regardless of their opinions.

“ watch me, watch me, watch me, do this. ”

don’t stop the music and hot girl summer are most relevant during her two years after school, which she spent traveling in europe and taking on quests solely for monetary and extra adrenaline. for the first time in her life, she is really letting loose, and she mostly focuses on chasing pleasures and easing up pressures.

“ I gotta get my body moving, shake the stress away. ”

listen before i go expresses how low her spirits are after her final confrontation with her father. at this point, she’s struggling to see her life’s purpose. midnight sky is when she finally starts relishing in her newfound freedom from completely cutting ties with him.

“ if you need me, wanna see me, better hurry 'cause I'm leavin' soon. ”

“ lotta years went by with my hands tied up in your ropes. forever and ever, no more. . . I was born to run, I don't belong to anyone. I don't need to be loved by you. ”

smack a bitch and wolves describe both her aggressive confidence in her godly lineage. and how her past has shaped her to be more vicious. she may no longer claim her father, but she’ll show people what she can do as a descendant of hecate.

“ since a baby in her tummy, mama knew I was great. they can't play me like a dummy, they know what not to take. ”

“ I was raised by the wolves, ate 'til they full. run through the night, playin' with your life. go against the pack, that's risking your life. ”

ordinary life depicts her acknowledgement that her life isn’t normal, but she doesn’t think she was meant to have an ordinary life. at the same time, she feels desensitized -- like something’s missing.

“ and she said that she'll pray for me. I said, "It's too late for me," ‘cause I think it's safe to say... this ain't ordinary life. ”

in rise, she resolves to start making her actions purposeful again. she commits to more important, high-stake quests. she’s no longer searching for whichever quests will make her the quickest money.

“ don't be nervous; run towards the light. I need to live for higher purpose. ”

she feels empowered again, as heard in power is power, got it on me and icon. she’s started to make a name for herself in the demigod world, with a nearly impeccable completion rate. feeling invincible, she almost pities whomever she has to defeat next. she thinks that the only thing that could slow her down at this point would be forming attachments with others.

“ a knife in my heart couldn't slow me down ‘cause power is power, my fire never goes out. I rise from my scars, nothing hurts me now. ”

“ many men wish death 'pon me. yeah, I don't cry no mo'. I don't look to the sky no mo' 'cause I got it on me. ”

“ I am not a Mayan, I'm a menace. ”

in otherside, she knows that there is a high possibility that this mission in opposition of zeus may be her last. despite herself, she feels bonded to celeste and adelphie, and she feels grateful to have met them regardless of what the consequences may be.

“ if it all ends, and it's over. if the sky falls fire. best believe me, you will see me on the other side. if we wake up, lose our patience, or even lose our lives, oh, I'll feel lucky to say that you've been a friend of mine. ”

until i bleed out encompasses her feelings in the cave. she’s questioning everything she’s done up to this point in her life, which she fears is quickly coming to an end. after she tries to revive the already-deceased adelphie and watches celeste be thrown off the mountain, all she can feel is paralyzing shock and terror.

“ I can’t move. I’m so paralyzed . . . I can’t explain why I’m so terrified. . . well, I don't wanna touch the sky no more. I just wanna feel the ground when I'm coming down. ”

gone too soon - reminiscing of a fallen friend.

“ shiny and sparkly and splendidly bright. here one day; gone one night. like the loss of sunlight on a cloudy afternoon. gone too soon. ” 

in the other side, jazmine starts to consider her new beginning. she’s enrolled at eonia and is studying business, of all things. it’s the closest to normal she’s ever been, and it feels weird.

“ back on your feet again, lift your head, hold it high. you wanna run it back, but you can't turn the time. you start to feel like you're losing your shine, but the grass ain't always greener on the other side. ”

she knows that people at eonia may have varying opinions of her depending on what they’ve heard, but she feels that she doesn’t have to explain or change herself for anybody, which is represented in ohfr?.

“ ... wе reel in any bitches fishin' and seekin' out for attention, geekin' in the mentions. please don't make me have to smack a bitch. ”

the next song is lonely. she’s still proud of the name she’s made for herself, but now that she’s mostly away from all the chaos and mayhem, she realizes how alone she feels.

“ everybody knows my name now but somethin' 'bout it still feels strange, like lookin' in a mirror, tryna steady yourself and seein' somebody else. ”

she’s not quite at my sanity yet, but she’s trying to get there.

“ when I'm feeling like life's really putting up a fight, and I don't know the reasons why. from the front to the back, throw my hair down my back, and I know it's gonna be alright. ”

[spn-safeandsound]

16. The Yellow-Eyed Demon

Safe and Sound

Dean Winchester x Original Character

Episode: 1x22; Devil’s Trap

Word Count: 9,163

Warning(s): Mature language, canon violence + gore, murder, blood

Author’s Note: Sorry for not updating for a while. This is the last chapter in season one. I hope you enjoy! Make sure to reblog and like!

Masterlist in Pinned Post!

Dean shakily snapped his phone shut. "They have Dad."

Even though Julia and Sam already knew that, having Dean confirm it made everything feel worse. If Dean was shaken that meant things were bad; he was their rock who was hardly scared of anything and to see him so upset made things so much worse.

"Dean..." Julia said hesitantly, wanting to comfort him in some way. Dean was focused, though, grabbing the Colt from the nightstand between their beds and tucking it into the back of his jeans. "What are we going to do?"

"We got to go," Dean said quickly, grabbing his duffle bag and throwing it over his shoulder.

"Why?" Sam asked as Julia went to make sure everything was in her bag; when she was satisfied that everything was in place, she zipped it close.

"Because the demon knows we're in Salvation, all right?" Dean slipped on his jacket. "It knows we have the Colt. It's got Dad—it's probably coming for us next."

"Good," Sam declared. "We've still got three bullets left. Let it come."

Dean whipped around to face Sam, his eyes wild. "Listen, tough guy, we're not ready, okay? We don't know how many of them are out there and we're no good to anybody dead. We're leaving now."

"Sam," Julia touched his arm for only a second. "Let's go."

An hour later, they were a hundred and some miles away from Salvation. Sam was still sulking about the fact they left Salvation but Dean wasn't worried about it and Julia ignored him in order to text Abby for help.

"I'm telling you, Dean, we could have taken him," Sam spoke up tensely.

"What we need is a plan," Dean changed the subject. "Now, they're probably keeping Dad alive so we just gotta figure out where."

"You think they're gonna trade him for the gun?" Julia asked him, briefly looking up from her cellphone.

Dean nodded in confirmation but Sam shook his head.

"What?"

"Dean, if that were true, why didn't Meg mention a trade?" Sam's voice trembled. "Dad, he might be—"

"Don't!" Dean cut him off.

Sam sighed, thinking that Dean was in denial. "Look, I don't want to believe it any more than you but if he is, all the more reason to kill this damn thing. We still have the Colt. We can still finish the job."

"Fuck the job, Sam!" Dean grunted.

"Dean, I'm just trying to do what he would want. He would want us to keep going."

"Quit talking about him like he's dead already," Dean scolded his brother. "Listen to me, everything stops until we get him back, you understand me? Everything."

Sam was quiet for a moment before speaking up again. "So, how do we find him?"

"Maybe we got Lincoln," Dean suggested. "Start at the warehouse where he was taken."

"I don't think the demons will leave a trail," Julia interjected.

Dean nodded. "You're right," he agreed. "We need help."

"Well, I reached out to Abby," Julia told the brothers, looking at the text that Abby sent her. "She can't leave her hunt but she told me that we should go to Uncle Bobby's house."

"Bobby Singer, huh?" Dean hummed. "If he actually wants to help us. He and Dad had a falling out a couple years ago. I haven't seen him since."

"He's probably over it. Besides, he's not gonna turn away the Winchester boys when they need help. He adores you two."

Dean sighed and pressed on the gas pedal. "Looks like we're heading to Sioux Falls, then."

-

Julia was right about Bobby; he let them right in, giving tight hugs to all three of them. Despite the fact that he was glad to see him, he had to make sure they were really them—especially since they called ahead and told him what was going on. He handed a flask of holy water to Julia and she took a sip—with no reaction, she quickly went to Bobby's desk, reading the large book on demons that he got out for him.

"Here you go," Bobby handed Dean the flask of holy water and the flask that he didn't offer Julia; she assumed it was alcohol.

"What is this, holy water?" Dean studied the flask.

"That one is. This—" he showed him the other flask and took a sip of it. "is whiskey."

Dean drank the holy water and passed it off to Sam before taking the whiskey Bobby offered him.

"Bobby, thanks," Dean said gratefully as Sam took a sip of holy water and whiskey. "Thanks for everything. To tell you the truth, I wasn't sure we should come."

"Nonsense," Bobby waved him off. "Your daddy needs help."

"Well, yeah, but the last time we saw you—I mean—you did threaten to blast him full of buckshot. You cocked the shotgun and everything," Dean reminded him; Julia smiled to herself and continued looking through the book, stopping on the page about devil's traps.

"Yeah, well, what can I say?" Bobby shrugged indifferently. "John just has that affect on people."

"Yeah, I guess he does," Dean chuckled lightly while Sam nodded in agreement.

"None of that matters now," Bobby clapped Sam and Dean's shoulders. "All that matters is that you get him back."

"Uncle Bobby," Julia called for him, reading the rest of the writing about devil's traps. "Where did you get this book? It has great info."

Bobby walked around the desk and stopped at her side. "Key of Solomon? Your daddy gave it to me," he told her. "It's the real deal, all right."

Sam drifted to Julia's other side, scanning the page. "And these protective circles, they really work?"

"They do," Julia confirmed before Bobby could say anything. "If a demon walks into one, they can't move and they're powerless. There a few under the floorboards at home."

"It's like a satanic roach motel," Bobby added.

Sam chuckled while Dean walked over to them. "You two know your stuff."

Bobby smiled slightly. "I'll tell you something else, too. This is some serious shit you three stepped in."

"Oh, yeah?" Sam looked at him curiously. "How's that?"

"A normal year, I hear of, say, three demonic possessions. Maybe four," Bobby informed them. "This year, I hear of twenty-seven so far. You get what I'm saying? More and more demons are walking among us—a lot more."

Julia raised her eyebrows and wrinkled her nose, alarmed. "Do you know why?"

"No but I know it's something big," Bobby shook his head. "The storm's coming and you boys, your daddy—you are smack in the middle of it."

Before Sam and Dean—or Julia, for that matter—could say anything, Bobby's dog, Rumsfeld, started barking loudly. Bobby stiffened and headed over to the window to see what was going on.

"Rumsfeld, what is it?" the barking abruptly stopped; Bobby looked back at Julia, Sam, and Dean. "Something's wrong."

The door burst open and Meg appeared, easily stepping into the house. Julia and Sam backed up as Dean inconspicuously grabbed the flask of holy water.

"No more crap, okay?" Meg snarled at them.

Dean screwed open the flask and advanced on her. Meg waved her hand and he went flying, straight into one of the huge piles of books. He ended up knocking it over and falling unconscious.

Sam protectively stepped in front of Julia and Bobby while Meg laid her eyes on him.

"I want the Colt, Sam," she said sternly. "The real Colt—right now."

Julia grabbed Sam's arm and slowly backed away into the living room, Bobby right by her side. Their goal was to get Meg to follow them and get stuck under the devil's trap that Bobby had painted onto the ceiling. It was working so far; Meg was steadily approaching them.

"We don't have it on us," Sam lied to her. "We buried it."

"Did I say no more crap?" Meg called him out. "I swear, after everything I heard about you Winchesters, I got to tell you, I'm a little underwhelmed. First, Johnny tries to pawn off a fake gun and then he leaves the real gun with you chuckleheads," she entered the living room, standing right under the devil's trap; Julia had to hide her smirk. "I mean, did you really thing I wouldn't find you?"

"Actually," Julia spoke up, her eyes flicking from Meg to Dean, who was now standing behind her. "We were counting on it."

Meg turned around to look at Dean and, when his eyes went to the ceiling, she followed his gaze. The devil's trap loomed over her, making her unable to move a single toe.

Dean smirked at her, anger blazing in his green eyes. "Gotcha."

Julia, Sam, Dean, and Bobby quickly got to work. Julia grabbed her journal to make sure the exorcism she had memorized when she was a kid was correct and she had all the right words and pronunciations, Sam and Dean got a chair and tied Meg to it, and Bobby went to salt the doors and windows and grab a flask full of holy water.

"You know, if you wanted to tie me up, all you had to do was ask," Meg drawled, staring over at Sam and Dean.

Dean nor Sam responded to her but Meg did earn herself an eyeroll from Julia.

Bobby came back into the living room. "I salted the doors and windows," he told the three of them. "If there are any demons out there, they ain't getting in."

Dean nodded at him and slowly walked over to Meg. "Where's our father, Meg?"

"You didn't ask very nice."

"Where's our father, bitch?" Dean casually corrected himself.

"Jeez, you kiss your mother with that mouth?" she scoffed before adding mockingly, "Oh wait, I forgot. You don't."

Julia could feel Dean's energy flip; his anger about his father and the whole demon situation had turned much darker—he was furious and he was going to do whatever it took to get information out of Meg. On the other hand, Meg's energy was pure black, swimming with evil and darkness. It was horrible to experience but her brief run-in with the yellow-eyed demon had been much, much worse.

Dean moved quickly, leaning over Meg with his hands clenched around both arms of her chair. "You think this is a fucking game?" he shouted at her. "Where is he? What did you do to him?"

"He died screaming," Meg answered calmly. "I killed him myself."

Dean glared at her, pure hate in his eyes, and harshly slapped her across the face. Julia flinched as Meg's head whipped to the side from the blow but she quickly looked back at him with a smirk.

"That's kind of a turn-on," she said slyly. "you hitting a girl."

"You're no girl," Dean sneered.

Julia exchanged a knowing look with Bobby; they both knew that Meg was possessing someone and the girl she was wearing was more than likely innocent. Bobby stood from his leaning position from the wall and beckoned Dean into the study. Dean followed him with Julia and Sam on his heels.

"You okay?" Sam asked his brother, concerned.

"She's lying," Dean declared. "He's not dead."

"Dean, you got to be careful with her," Bobby advised him. "Don't hurt her."

Dean gave him a bewildered look. "Why?"

"Because she really is a girl, that's why."

"What are you talking about?" Sam wondered.

"She's possessed," Julia told them. "Meg is possessing that poor girl's body."

Dean glanced back at Meg, who was glaring at him, before turning back to the others. "Are you trying to tell me that there's an innocent girl trapped somewhere in there?"

Bobby and Julia nodded in unison; Dean briefly looked at Meg again.

"That's actually good news," he stated, turning to Julia. "Jules, you still have that exorcism memorized?"

"Yeah," she nodded in confirmation. "and I have it in my journal just in case."

"Good girl," he praised her; she flushed as he turned to Sam and Bobby. "Let's send this bitch back to Hell."

Julia grabbed her journal, opening it up to the pages she bookmarked, while Dean and Sam went to stand in front of Meg. Meg's eyes flashed from Julia to Sam and Dean.

"Are you gonna read me a story?"

Dean angrily gritted his teeth. "Something like that," he looked over to Julia. "Go on, shortcake."

Julia immediately started to recite the exorcism. "Regna terrae, cantate deo, pasallite domino..."

She kept going as Meg smirked at Sam and Dean. "An exorcism? Are you serious?"

"Oh, we're going for it, sweetheart—head spinning, projectile vomiting, the whole nine yards."

"...Tribuite virtutem deo..."

Meg flinched as Julia ended the first phase of the exorcism, grunting in pain. Julia immediately looked to Dean and Sam, wondering if she should keep on going.

Meg looked over her shoulder at Julia and then back at Sam and Dean. "I'm going to kill you. I'm gonna rip the bones from your body."

"No, you're gonna burn in Hell," Dean shot back at her. "Unless you tell us where our dad is?"

Meg smiled smugly at him.

"Well, at least you're get a nice tan," he snarked and then nodded at Julia. "Jules."

"Exorcisamus te, omnis immundus spiritus. Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursion infernalis adversaii, omnis legio, omnis congregation et sectra diabolica—"

Meg jerked and cried out in pain, trying to fight off the effect that the exorcism had on her. "He begged for his life with tears in his eyes," she shouted at Sam and Dean. "He begged to see his sons one last time. That's when I slit his throat."

Julia continued. "Ergo...

"For your sake, I hope you're lying," Dean leaned over Meg again, pure rage covering his face. "Cause if it's true, I swear to God that I will march into Hell myself and I will slaughter each and every one of you evil sons of bitches. So help me, God!"

"...Perditionis venenum propinare. Vade, santana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciae..." the room started to cool, wind coming out of nowhere and blowing things around. "...Hostis humanae salutis. Humiliare sub potenti manu dei, contremisce et effuge, invocato a nobis sancto et terribili nomine. Quem inferi tremunt—"

As Meg made another noise of pain, Dean glared at her. "Where is he?"

Meg gave him a dirty look that was full of pain. "You won't just take dead for an answer, will you?"

"Where is he?"

"Dead!"

"No, he's not!" Dean screamed at her. "He is not dead! He can't be!"

Sam gave his brother a look of concern and Dean turned to him, sensing eyes on him.

"What are you looking at?" he asked Sam before turning to Julia. "Keep going."

"Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, domine. Ut eccelsiam tuam secura tibi facias litertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos."

Meg screamed but Julia kept going.

"Ut inimicos sanctae eccelesiae humiliare digneris..." Meg's chair started moving, forcing her around the devil's trap. "Ut inimicos sanctae, ecclesiae humiliare digneris, te rogamus audi—"

"He will be!" Meg shouted, cutting off Julia.

"Wait, what?" Sam looked down at her in shock.

"He's not dead but he will be after what we do to him."

"How do we know you're telling the truth?" Dean asked her harshly.

"You don't."

Dean nodded at Julia to keep going. "Julia!"

Meg spoke up before Julia could start up again. "A building, okay? A building in Jefferson City."

"Missouri?" Sam raised his eyebrows. "Where? Give us an address."

"I don't know," Meg was breathing harshly.

"And the demon—the one we're looking for—where is it?" he insisted.

"I don't know," Meg repeated. "I swear! That's everything. That's all I know."

Dean stared down at her for a long second, his jaw clenched angrily, and then looked back at Julia. "Finish it."

"What?" Meg protested. "I told you the truth."

"And I don't care."

"You son of a bitch, you promised!"

"I lied," Dean shouted back at her. "Julia!"

Julia wanted nothing more to send Meg back to Hell but the more she thought about it, she wondered if it was a good idea. The girl that Meg was possessing had dropped from seven-stories—if she exorcised Meg, the girl would die. She was sure of it.

"Julia?"

Sam looked as hesitant as Julia did. "Maybe we can still use her," he suggested to Dean. "Find out where the demon is."

"She doesn't know," Dean spoke lowly.

"She lied!"

"Sam, there's an innocent girl trapped somewhere in there," Dean reminded him. "We've got to help her."

"We're gonna kill her," Julia walked over to them at the same time as Bobby.

Dean gave her a strange look. "What?"

"You said she fell from a building," Bobby backed her up. "That girl's body is broken. The only thing keeping her alive is that demon inside. You exorcise it and that girl is going to die."

Dean inhaled deeply before adopting a stern face. "Listen to me, all three of you. We are not gonna leave like that."

"She's a human being."

"And we're gonna put her out of her misery," Dean snapped at Bobby. "Julia, finish it."

Julia knew that Dean was right but that didn't make her feel any better about what she had to do. At the end of it all, though, she knew it was best to put the girl Meg was possessing out of her misery. She had never been possessed but she knew that it was terrible on the victim.

"Dominicos sanctae ecclesiae, terogamus audi nos. Terribilis deus de scantuario suo deus israhel. Ipse tribruite virtutem et fortitudinem plebe suae. Benedictus dues Gloria patri!"

The exorcism worked. Meg screamed as her head was thrown back and black smoke escaped from her mouth. Once the black smoke disappeared, the real Meg Masters' head fell forward, chin pressed against her collar bone.

Julia snapped her journal closed and rushed over to Meg, seeing the blood drip steadily out of her mouth. "She's still alive," she told Dean, Bobby, and Sam after feeling Meg's slow pulse. "Call 9-1-1 and get some water and blankets."

"Thank you," Meg managed to whisper as Julia untied her wrists and ankles from the chair.

"Shh, shh," Julia shushed her gently. "Just hold on, okay?"

"Here," Dean and Sam hovered behind the girls. "Let us get her down."

Julia nodded and stood up. "Be careful."

Meg's bones creaked as Dean and Sam gently picked her up, making Julia flinch and start tearing up. She couldn't stand the girl's cries and whimpers of pain; she felt such sorrow for her and all that she went through.

"Sorry, sorry," Sam apologized as they lowered her to the floor. "It's okay, it's okay."

Julia grabbed a throw pillow from Bobby's couch and gently laid it under her head before kneeling next to Sam.

"A year," Meg wheezed quietly. "It's been a year."

"Shh," Sam comforted her. "Just take it easy."

"I've been awake for some of it," Meg continued. "I couldn't move my own body. The things I did—it's a nightmare."

Tears fell down Julia's cheeks at Meg's admission. It was times like this that Julia questioned God. How could he let good, genuine people like Meg suffer at the hands of evil?

"Was it telling the truth about our dad?" Dean asked her.

Julia gave him a sharp look. "Dean."

"We need to know," he insisted.

"Yes," Meg confirmed breathlessly. "but it wants...you to know...that...they want you to come for him."

"If Dad's alive, none of that matters."

Bobby entered the living room, a glass of water and another blanket in his hand. He handed the water to Dean, who held up Meg's head and helped her drink. Once she was done, Sam gently laid her head back down on the floor.

"Where is the demon we're looking for?" he asked her.

"Not there," Meg's breathing was slower now. "Other ones. Awful ones."

"Where are they keeping our dad?"

"By the river...Sunrise..."

"Sunrise?" Dean raised his eyebrows. "What does that mean? What does that mean?"

"Stop, Dean," Julia sternly before looking down at Meg to comfort her. "It's gonna be okay, Meg. You're safe now."

Meg smiled weakly at her as her heart stopped beating her and breathing stopped. That smile was still on her face when Sam closed her eyes. Julia sighed and bowed her head, saying a prayer for Meg and hoping that she would be going to Heaven where she would be in paradise.

"You three better hurry up and beat it before the paramedics get here," Bobby told them only minutes later as they all walked into the office-dining room.

"What are you gonna tell them?" Dean wondered.

"You think you guys invented lying to the cops? I'll figure something out," Bobby took the Key of Solomon off his desk and handed it to Julia. "Here, take this. It belongs to you."

Julia took the book with a grateful smile. "Thank you, Uncle Bobby."

"Thanks for everything," Dean added. "Be careful, all right?"

"You just go find your dad," Bobby clapped his shoulder. "And, when you do, you bring him around, would you? I won't even try to shoot him this time."

Sam chuckled. "We will."

-

They arrived in Jefferson City six-and-a-half hours later, thanks to Dean's crazy-ass driving. They stopped just outside of town, in an empty field next to the train tracks, in order to make sure all their weapons were ready to go.

Sam and Julia occupied themselves as Dean checked the weapons, flipping through the Key of Solomon. Julia quietly answered any of Sam's questions—to the best of her abilities, anyway—but kept glancing over at Dean, who was quiet and melancholy.

She pointed out the devil's traps to Sam before she walked over to Dean's side. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," Dean said shortly, adding more holy water to their weapon's duffle.

"You're not, Dean," she squeezed her hand through his arm to wrap hers around his waist. Dean easily gave in and relaxed in her hold, pressing his forehead to her hair; she rubbed her thumb against his back to comfort him. "Everything is going to be okay."

"You don't know that," Dean murmured.

"Well, I have faith and I have hope," she replied into his bicep, her lips brushing against the old leather of his jacket. "And you're Dean Winchester. You're invincible."

Dean scoffed slightly and pressed his lips to the crown of her head. "Jules..."

Julia lifted her head and happily received the quick peck he gave her on the lips. "I know."

She could feel what he couldn't say. He was grateful and loving and nervous and scared. He was glad she was here with him and Sam and he was glad that she was his and he was hers. She felt the same way. Julia loved him—she was in love with him.

It's funny how you don't notice something—or how you feel—until it comes down to a scary situation. Julia had already known that she liked Dean as more than a friend but she didn't realize she loved him until now. She would die for Dean and she would kill for Dean and she would comfort Dean and she would do anything for him—she was oblivious until this moment.

And she wanted to tell Dean that she was in love with him but she couldn't. Dean wanted to take their relationship slowly and she was pretty sure that she had never heard him say those three words before—not even to Sam. Plus, with the fact that Sam was within hearing distance made her hesitate as well. He didn't know about her and Dean.

Until now, anyway...

Sam appeared out of nowhere and it was Dean who noticed him first. He quickly pulled away from Julia, where they were pressing their foreheads together, and cleared his throat awkwardly.

Julia faced Sam, wrinkling her nose. "Oh, hi, Sam."

"Hi there," Sam smirked triumphantly at his best friend and his brother. "So, how long has this been going on?"

"None of your business," Dean said gruffly, unwrapping his arm from around Julia and getting back to work on the weapons. Julia gave Sam a pointed look, silently telling him that she give him details—non-sexual details, of course—later when they were alone.

"You're quiet," Sam changed the subject knowingly.

"Just getting ready."

Sam nodded. "He's gonna be fine, Dean."

Dean didn't answer but Sam nor Julia expected him to. Sam went back to the Key of Solomon and read the last of the page about Devil's traps. "Hey, J, come here."

Julia patted Dean on the lower back, earning herself a small smile, and made her way over to Sam. "What's up?"

"If we draw one of these on the trunk, could a demon get in?" he whispered quietly.

"No," Julia answered softly, shaking her head. "Unless the trap is broken, no demons will be able to get inside."

Sam nodded and pulled out two white wax pencil from his bag and handed one to her. Julia nodded, realizing what he wanted done, and went to the trunk where Dean concentrating on packing the weapons.

While Sam went to the other side of the trunk, she wiped off the dirt that had been coated on Baby from the stretch of driving more than thirty hours in two days. She started drawing a devil's trap on the space she cleared off.

"Dude," Dean huffed, walking over to Sam. "What are you drawing on my car?"

"It's a devil's trap," Sam answered casually. "Demons can't get through it or inside it."

"So?" Dean's eyes flickered over to Julia, where she was just finishing up. "You too, Junior?"

Julia gave him an apologetic smile and tossed the pencil back in Sam's seat. "They turn the trunk into a lockbox."

"So?"

"So, we now have a place to hide the Colt while we go get Dad," Sam explained patiently.

"What are you talking about? We're bring the Colt with us."

"We can't, Dean," Sam shook his head. "We've only got three bullets left. We can't just use them on any demon. We've got to use them on the demon."

"No, we have to save Dad, Sam," Dean argued. "We're gonna need all the help we can get."

Sam sighed, irritated, and finished his devil's trap. "Dean, you know how pissed Dad would be if we used all the bullets? He wouldn't want us to bring the gun."

"I don't care, Sam. I don't care what Dad wants," Dean declared firmly. "And since when do you care about what Dad wants?"

"Dean, Sam, come on," Julia sighed. "Now, more than ever, is not a good time to fight."

The brothers either heard what she said but chose not to acknowledge it or they were just ignoring her.

"We want to kill this demon!" Sam exclaimed. "You used to want that, too. Hell, you're the one who came and got me at school!" Dean scoffed and shook his head. "You're the one who dragged me back into this. I'm just trying to finish it!"

"Well, you and Dad are a lot more alike than I thought, you know that?" Dean retorted. "You both can't wait to sacrifice yourselves for this thing but you know what? Me and Jules, we're the ones who are gonna have to bury you."

Julia pressed her lips together, already devastated at the mere thought of Sam being dead.

"You're selfish, you know that," Dean continued when Sam sighed. "You don't care about anything but revenge."

"That's not true, Dean," Sam argued; Dean scoffed. "I want Dad back but they are expecting us to bring this gun. It they get the gun, they will kill us all. The Colt is our only leverage and you know it. We cannot bring that gun. We can't."

Honestly, Julia didn't know what to think. Both Sam and Dean had good points but there really wasn't a right way to do this. She was more inclined to agree with Sam, though, but she didn't speak up. She was merely a bystander in this fight or back-up when they needed it. Sure, she'd fight like hell but she wouldn't call the shots.

Dean was quiet for a moment before he agreed, "Fine."

"I'm serious, Dean!"

"I said fine, Sam!" Dean raised his voice, very obviously annoyed. He took the Colt out of his pocket and put it close to Sam's face, obnoxiously shaking it, before throwing it into the trunk.

"There's an hour until sunset," Julia spoke up, opening her door. "We better get going."

Dean and Sam nodded, both of them getting into the Impala.

-

They parked the Impala in a free parking lot by the Mississippi River before they started to walk around to see if they could find anything that related to what Meg had told them before she succumbed to her injuries.

The weather was absolutely beautiful and being by the river during summertime reminded Julia of her summers at home. Lake Michigan was practically her home during her least favorite season. The heavenly breeze, the smell of the water, the crashing of waves, the cheerful cries of kids playing with their friends, siblings, and parents...it was one of the truest forms of nostalgia for her.

"Hey, check it out," Dean said suddenly, stopping Sam and Julia and pointing at the nearest apartment building. "I think I know what Meg meant by sunrise."

The apartment building had a large sign in front of it, declaring the name of the company who owned it. Sunrise Apartments.

"Wow."

"Son of a bitch, that's pretty smart," Dean looked reluctant to give the demons any kind of compliment. "I mean, if these demons can possess people, they can possess almost anybody inside."

"Yeah and make anybody attack us," Sam pointed out.

"So, we won't be able to exorcise them," Julia hummed. "It's a building full of their pick of humans."

"They probably know exactly what we look like, too," Sam added. "And they could look like anybody."

"Yeah," Dean scoffed, shaking his head. "This fucking sucks."

"Tell me about it," Sam agreed with him while Julia nodded. "All right, so, how the fuck are we going to get in?"

Dean pressed his lips together thoughtfully. "We can pull the fire alarm," he suggested. "and get out all the civilians."

"But the city will respond in seven minutes," Julia wrinkled her nose.

Dean nodded. "Exactly."

Within five minutes, the alarm was pulled by Sam and was blaring loudly from almost every part of the building. In the seven minutes that it took the firemen to get to the building, Julia, Sam, and Dean planned out what they were going to do. Dean and Julia would distract one of the firemen while Sam broke into their truck and stole two firemen uniforms. They would go in and Julia would wait by the fire escape to wait for their call before climbing up the apartment.

Julia and Dean joined the group of civilians coming out of the apartment and waited a minute until they approached the fire chief.

"Hey, what's happening?" Dean asked him, acting nervous. "Is it a fire?"

"We're figuring that out right now, sir," the fire chief replied politely. "Just stay back."

"We've got a dachshund upstairs," Julia made her voice shaky and forced herself to tear up. "He pees when he's nervous."

"Sir, ma'am, you have to stay back," the fire chief repeated patiently and started escorting them back to the group of apartment owners.

Once the man left them, Dean turned to Julia with an excited look on his face. "I've always wanted to be a fireman."

Julia grinned at him, melting from how adorable he was. "That's cute."

"Well, I was thinking more sexy than cute," Dean smirked down at her. "Would you like that better?"

Julia flushed and shrugged. "I like you both ways, Dean Winchester, but..."

"But what?"

Julia flashed him a sly but sexy smile. "I think I would prefer the sexy version."

Dean's eyes darkened. "Oh, baby," he groaned quietly so he wasn't overheard by any of the people they were standing next to. "When this is all over, we're getting ourselves a hotel room and we're not leaving for a week."

Julia giggled. "Promise?"

Dean snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her flush against him, letting her feel his semi-hard cock. "Does this feel like a promise?"

Julia shook her head in amusement and buried her face against his chest. She pressed a chaste kiss between his pecks, near where his heart would be.

"Dean, Julia!" Sam approached them, looking annoyed by their flirting in the middle of a very serious situation. "Let's go!"

Dean and Sam quickly changed into the firemen uniforms that Sam snatched and grabbed holy water, salt, and a EMF device. Dean made sure that he gave Julia a good-luck kiss—it was kind of freeing that Sam knew about them now—before he and Sam made their way into the apartment building.

Julia stood on the first level of the fire escaped, waiting until Sam and Dean called her with the location of the apartment the demons were holed up in. Her phone rang only six minutes after the brothers left, telling her that they were on the third floor and it was the third apartment.

Julia raced up the stairs, climbing as fast as she could to the third floor. She counted the windows, hoping that every apartment had two, and chose the one that was likely to be the third apartment. She was able to unlock the window with the knife that Dean got for her and, when she slid it open, she sighed in relief when she saw John passed out and tied to the bed.

She could hear a commotion going on outside of the bedroom but she ignored it for the moment, climbing into the apartment. Once she was securely inside, she rushed over to the bed, checked John's pulse—she was very relieved to know that he was still alive—and started untying the ropes around his wrists.

There was a lot of banging going on in what she assumed was the living room and kitchen but it died down within seconds.

"Julia?" she heard Dean call. "Jules, are you here?"

"In here!" she told him loudly, taking out her flask of holy water. "I found your dad!"

The door quickly opened and Sam and Dean walked in, staring at their father in shock.

"Dad?"

"He's still breathing," Julia informed them.

Sam sighed in relief while Dean went to her side. He started shaking his father, trying to get him to wake up. "Dad, wake up. Dad!"

"Hold on," Julia cautioned him, screwing the cap off her flask.

"What are you doing?"

"He could be possessed," she answered Dean. She poured some water on John's face, relieved when nothing happened and he started to wake up. "All good."

"Julia?" John groaned groggily. "Why are you pouring water on me?"

Julia laughed lightly as Dean gave John a worried look. "Dad, are you okay?"

"They've been drugging me," John gave a non-answer. "Where's the Colt?"

Of course that was what he was worried about.

"Don't worry, Dad, it's safe," Sam assured him.

"Good boys, good boys," John breathed.

Dean and Sam helped John off the bed, wrapping his arms around each of their shoulders, and started carrying him out of the bedroom, following Julia. Just as they were about to reach the kitchen, where the door was located, it was burst open by a fireman and a mail carrier.

Julia immediately turned around. "Go, go!" she urged the brothers. "The fire escape."

Sam shut the bedroom door behind them and, while the fireman demon was destroying the door with his ax, he sprinkled a line of salt in front of it. Meanwhile, Julia was helping Dean and John out onto the fire escape.

"Sam, let's go!" Dean called urgently.

Sam hurried over and climbed out of the apartment, handing the salt to Julia as he helped Dean with John. Julia poured salt on the window sill just as the demons broke into the room and quickly followed Sam, Dean, and John down the rusty escape.

When they reached the ground, Julia and Dean held onto John while Sam went for the Impala. As he was crossing the alleyway, he was tackled to the ground by a demon.

"Sam!" Julia shouted in shock as the demon started wailing on him. "Go," she told Dean. "I've got your dad."

Dean sprinted over to the demon, who was close to killing Sam, and kicked him in the face. The demon hardly reacted and turned his head to the right; Dean went flying through the air and landed on the windshield of the nearest car.

"DEAN!"

The demon continued to beat Sam up when, out of nowhere, there was the sound of a gun going off. The demon was shot in the head; he flickered with an orange light before falling to the ground, dead. Julia looked over at Dean in absolute shock and saw the Colt in his hand, aimed right where the demon had been.

She quickly pulled herself together. "Let's go!"

Dean shook himself out of the daze he seemed to be in, put the Colt back in his jeans, and ran toward Sam. "Sam!" he exclaimed. "Sam, come on!"

Sirens started to approach them. "Hurry!" Julia urged them, keeping her hold on John. "Dean, Sam, we have to get out of here!"

Dean finally got Sam to his feet and Julia helped John walk over to them. Once she got the first aid kit out of the trunk, she joined Sam in the backseat and Dean took off.

She made sure she stopped Sam's bleeding, pressing some gauze against the cuts on his face. Once the blood stopped, she made sure to disinfect the wounds, ignoring the winces and grunts of pain that Sam gave.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she chanted under her breath the whole time.

By the time she was finished putting butterfly bandages on the cuts that needed to stay closed, it was pitch black outside and they were arriving to a nearby safe house that the Petersen-Alexander family owned.

Once they entered the cabin, Julia demanded that John and Sam take a seat while she salted all the doors and windows. She took out one of the large containers of salt hidden under one of the kitchen cabinets and Dean volunteered to stay with John and Sam and salt the windows in the dining room-kitchen.

Julia took care of the rest of the cabin, including three bedrooms, the living room, and two bathrooms. It only took ten minutes to take care of the bedrooms and bathroom and she was in the living room when Dean joined her.

"How are they doing?" she asked him quietly as he saddled up to her side.

"They just need a little rest, that's all," Dean replied, wrapping an arm around her waist. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," she deflected; and she really was fine, despite the fact that had been scared out of her wits only two hours earlier. "How are you?"

"I'll survive," he grumbled. "Hey, do you think that we were followed?"

"I have no idea but I doubt it," Julia sighed, finishing up the last window. She turned in his arms, wrapped her arms around him, and rested her head on his chest. "We got this place for a reason. It's secluded and so far away from civilization it might as well be in the middle of Russia."

Dean snickered slightly, resting his chin on the crown of her head. "I don't think that made any sense."

"Russia is barren, Dean," she told him matter-of-factly. "I'm pretty sure that the people who live in New York City outnumber the whole population of Russia by, like, two times."

"Hmm, okay, smarty-pants."

"Mmm," Julia hummed. "I'm glad you brought the Colt. If you hadn't..."

"I'm not going to say I-told-you-so but..."

"But?"

"But I told you so," Dean sighed, his amusement fading. "Jules..."

"Hmm?"

"You know that demon I shot? There was a person in there."

Julia's heart fell at the reminder. She wasn't mad at Dean and she certainly didn't blame him for anything. He had saved his brother's life—the person he loved most in the world—and there wasn't really another choice. They couldn't exorcise him and he was on the brink of killing Sam.

"Dean," she rubbed his back with her thumbs. "You didn't have a choice."

"Yeah, I know," Dean agreed quietly "but that's not what bothers me."

Julia moved her head so her chin rested on his chest, looking up at his beautiful freckled face. "Then what is bothering you?"

"Killing that guy, killing Meg..." he swallowed harshly. "I didn't hesitate. I didn't even flinch," he confessed. "For you or Sam and Dad, the things I'm willing to do or kill, it's just, uh...it scares me sometimes."

Usually Julia would know what to say to Dean that would comfort him. But what was she supposed to say to his admission? Thank you? That was awkward and by the way Dean was talking about it, she didn't think he was appreciate that. That being said, she knew how he felt; she'd do anything for the Winchesters, Bobby, her dad, sisters, brother-in-law, niece, and aunt. She was in the same boat as him.

"It shouldn't," John declared as he and Sam walked into the living room. "You did good."

Dean pulled away from Julia and gave his father a look of surprise. "You're not mad?"

"For what?"

"For using a bullet."

"Mad?" John scoffed lightly. "I'm proud of you. You know, Sam and I, we can get pretty obsessed. But you—you watch out for this family. You always have."

Instantly, Julia was suspicious. This wasn't like John—one time, when Dean sixteen and Sam was twelve, he got into huge trouble for stealing peanut butter and bread from a gas station so he could feed Sam. He was arrested and, when the police called John, he told them that Dean could rot in jail for stealing. At that time, he was looking out for Sam, too, but John sure didn't appreciate it.

And there were many times after that when Dean took care of Sam in John's absence. So, either he changed his attitude within the past few days, or something was wrong. Julia squeezed Dean's hand as a warning and he squeezed back right away, signaling to her that he was suspicious too.

It couldn't be a coincidence that the lights started flickering at that exact moment. The wind blowing around the trees suddenly harshened. John walked over to the nearest window and looked out at the woods around them.

"It found us," he told Sam, Dean, and Julia. "It's here?"

Sam bristled. "The demon?"

John nodded and ordered, "Sam, salt the doors and windows."

"Julia and Dean already did that."

"Well, check it, okay?"

"Okay," Sam agreed and left the room.

John turned to Dean now. "Dean, you got the gun?"

"Yeah."

"Give it to me."

Dean pulled the Colt out of his jeans but hesitated when John stuck out his hand for it. "Dad, Sam tried to shoot the demon in Salvation but it vanished."

"This is me," John insisted. "I won't miss. Give me the Colt, hurry. Son, please."

Dean grabbed Julia's hand again and pulled her with him as he backed away from his dad.

John shook his head angrily. "Give me the gun," he ordered firmly. "What are you doing, Dean?"

"He'd be furious that I wasted a bullet," Dean muttered. "He wouldn't be proud of me, he'd tear me a new one."

Obviously Dean had been thinking along the same lines as her.

John blinked as Dean raised the Colt, aiming it right at his chest. "You're not my dad."

"Dean, it's me," John insisted.

"I know my dad better than anyone and you ain't him."

"What the hell has gotten into you?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Dean retorted. "Stay the fuck back."

Sam rushed back into the living room, eyes wide with shock at the scene he walked into. "Dean, what the hell is going on?"

"Your brother has lost his mind," John told him.

Julia rolled her eyes and looked over at Sam. "He's not your dad."

Sam blinked in shock. "What?"

"I think he's possessed," Dean stated, upset. "I think he's been possessed since we rescued him."

"Don't listen to them, Sammy," John pleaded to his youngest son. "

Sam immediately turned to Dean and Julia. "How do you know?"

"He's...he's different."

"You know, we don't have time for this," John pointed out. "Sam, you wanna kill this demon, you gotta trust me."

Sam looked back and forth between his father and Dean and Julia, trying to decide what he should do and who should he trust.

But the demon inside of John was right; they didn't have time for this. "Oh, for crying out loud," she muttered before raising her voice. "Christo."

John blinked, his eyes changing from his usual chocolate brown to a hazy yellow. The same yellow eyes that the demon at the Holden's house had. He chuckled lowly. "I almost had you."

None of them could even take a single step before each of them were thrown to separate walls, hovering a foot or so into the air. Julia grunted in pain, pressure building in her abdomen and lungs. Dean and Sam weren't fairing any better, both of them struggling against the force the demon had them in.

The demon picked up the Colt and examined it, shaking his head. "What a pain in the ass this thing's been."

"It's you, isn't it?" Sam spat through gritted teeth; the demon nodded. "We've been looking for you for a long time."

"Well, you found me," the demon shrugged.

"Why didn't the holy water work on you?" Julia asked with some difficulty, tilting her head upwards to try to ease the pressure on her lungs.

The demon looked over at her and laughed. "You think something like that works on something like me, Julia?"

Sam clenched his jaw and struggled against the demon's force. Unfortunately, he was unable to move. "I'm gonna kill you!"

"Oh, that would be a neat trick," the demon drawled mockingly. "In fact, here—" he put the Colt on the coffee table. "Make the gun float to you there, psychic boy."

Sam locked his gaze on the Colt but after a few seconds, nothing happened.

"Well, this is fun," the demon sighed wistfully as he walked over to Julia, studying her with curious eyes. "I could've have killed you a hundred times today, but this...well, this is worth the wait."

Julia flinched as he reached for her, cupping her cheek roughly. "Get your hands off of me!"

"Aw, so precious," the demon clicked his tongue. "You're as threatening as a fruit fly...And they say you're the Chosen one? Please."

"Get away from her!" Dean shouted, trying to get out of the demon's hold.

The demon laughed and left Julia, wandering over to Dean. "Your dad—he's in here with me. Trapped inside his own meat suit. He says hi, by the way. He's gonna tear you apart. He's gonna taste the iron in your blood."

Dean clenched his jaw. "Let him go or I swear to God—"

"What?" the demon cut him off. "What are you and God gonna do? You see, as far as I'm concerned, this is justice," he stepped closer to Dean. "You know that little exorcism of yours? That was my daughter."

"Who, Meg?"

"The one in the alley?" the demon continued on. "That was my boy. You understand?"

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

"What? You're the only one that can have a family?" the demon narrowed his eyes. "You destroyed my children. How would you feel if I killed your family?" he smirked. "Oh, that's right. I forgot; I did. Still, two wrongs don't make a right."

"You son of a bitch!" Dean growled at him.

"I wanna know why?" Sam spoke up. "Why'd you do it?"

The demon looked over at Sam. "You mean why did I kill Mommy and pretty little Jess?"

"Yeah."

The demon scoffed and turned back to Dean. "You know, I never told you this but Sam was going to ask her to marry him. He'd been shopping for rings and everything."

Julia pressed her lips together sadly; Sam and Jess were so close to a happy ending, so close. It destroyed her to know that Jess was dead and Sam was never going to have a normal life again.

"You wanna know why?" the demon backed away from Dean, making his way toward Sam. "Because they got in the way."

"In the way of what?" Sam asked, voice hard.

"My plans for you, Sammy," the demon said simply. "You and all the children like you."

"Listen, you mind just getting this over with, huh?" Dean interrupted, hoping to get the demon's attention off of Sam. "Cause I really can't stand the monologuing."

The demon scoffed. "Funny," he walked back over to Dean. "But that's all part of your M.O., isn't it? Mask all that nasty pain, mask the truth."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Oh, yeah? What's that?"

"You know, you fight and you fight for this family but the truth is, they don't need you," the demon lied. "Not like you need them. Sam? He's clearly John's favorite. Even when they fight, it's more concern than he's ever shown you. And your girl over there?" he nodded at Julia. "She'll get over you soon. It'll be like you never existed."

"Shut up!" Julia shouted at him. "God, you talk more than my sister."

The demon rolled his eyes at her and Dean shook his head, silently telling to keep her mouth shut.

"I bet you're real proud of your kids, too, huh?" he got the demon's attention again, smiling sarcastically. "Oh, wait, I forgot. I wasted them."

The demon took a couple steps away from Dean and bowed his head. And then Dean was screaming in pain and the demon was looking back up at him.

"DEAN!" Julia and Sam shouted in unison before Julia continued, "Stop! Stop it!"

Dean's chest started bleeding heavily; it looked like he had a waterfall of blood falling over him, dripping down his chest and staining his gray t-shirt.

"Stop!"

"Dad! Dad," Dean grunted desperately, trying to get through to his father. "don't you let it kill me!"

The demon continued to attack Dean.

"Dean!" Sam shouted as Julia cried in fear. "No!"

"Dad, please," Dean whispered before his head drooped and he fell unconscious.

"DEAN!"

Suddenly, the demon paused and, when he spoke, there was pain and sadness in his voice. "Stop. Stop it."

Julia saw the change in his energy as John took control of his body. The three of them dropped to the ground, the demon's force no longer holding them; once she steadied herself, Julia rushed over to Dean's side, putting pressure on his wounded chest, and Sam reached for the gun, aiming it at his father.

Julia patted Dean's cheeks, trying to wake him up, all the while looking between him and Sam and John. His energy changed again and the yellow eyes appeared; the demon was back in control of John's body.

"You kill me, you kill Daddy," he taunted Sam.

"I know," Sam said harshly and lowered the Colt, aiming at John's right leg and pulling the trigger.

The bullet shot strait into John's left thigh; his body flashed with a white light but it didn't kill him like they had expected it to. John's body still fell to the floor, though, and as soon as he was down, Dean woke up, wheezing.

"Dean," Julia sighed in relief. "Thank God."

"What's happening?" he breathed.

"You lost a lot of blood, so stay still, okay?" she advised him. "Sam's checking on your dad right now."

"Is he okay?"

"Sam, how's John looking?" she called over to him.

Sam didn't get to answer; John suddenly gasped loudly, his back arching severely.

"Sammy!" he shouted desperately. "It's still alive. It's inside me, I can feel it! You shoot me, you shoot me in the heart, son!"

Sam shakily raised the Colt, aiming at John's chest.

"Sam, don't!" Dean protested as loudly at he could. He tried to sit up but Julia had to take most of his weight. "Don't you do this. Don't you do this."

"You do this, Sammy!" John ordered his youngest son. "Shoot me, son! I can't hold onto it much longer! I'm begging you! We can end this here and now! Sammy!"

"Sam, no," Julia shook her head at Sam.

"Sam..."

Sam lowered the gun and a half-second later, John's mouth opened and black smoke erupted from it. It quickly left the cabin through the floorboards, leaving John to stare at Sam in disappointment.

They didn't have time to just sit around and accuse each other of what they did wrong. Dean was severely wounded and John wasn't much better. Julia and Sam quickly scooped them up and helped them out of the cabin and into the Impala.

Julia slid into the backseat behind Sam, who was going to drive, and opened the first aid kit that she, thankfully, didn't put away when they arrived. She ripped open a few packages of gauze as Sam started to drive and passed one patch up to John to press against his bullet wound.

"Hold on, Dean," she breathed, pressing the gauze to his bloody chest. "Just hold on for me, okay? You're gonna be fine. You're gonna be fine."

The closest town with a hospital was an hour away; Sam drove as fast as he could and, within less than a half-hour, they were only ten minutes away.

"Just hold on, all right," Sam spoke up as John groaned in pain, having put on a new patch of gauze on his wound. "The hospital's only ten minutes away."

"I'm surprised at you, Sammy," John grunted. "Why didn't you kill it? I thought we saw eye-to-eyes on this? Killing this demon comes first—before me, before everything."

Sam looked in the rearview mirror, checking on his brother and best friend. Julia was still putting pressure on Dean's wound, stroking his hair every few seconds, and Dean was halfway unconscious, his eyes blinking rapidly as he tried to stay awake.

"No, sir," he finally replied to John. "Not before everything."

John shook his head in disagreement.

"Look, we've still got the Colt. We still have the one bullet left," Sam said optimistically. "We just have to start over, all right? I mean, we already found the demon—"

(Gif is not mine)

[1-1snailxd-art]

Sanders Sides oneshot fic - Magic Beans

Type: Magic au (kinda...like my own magic universe)

Characters: Logan Sanders, Remy/Sleep, Virgil (Patton and Roman are mentioned)

Relationships: I’m tagging losleep put it’s mostly platonic cause they’re roommates (oh my god they were roommates) and analogical because that’s the bit, implied royality.

Warnings: Remy swears...he said b**ch.

Words: 2032

Summary: Remy steps in when his sleep deprived roommate wants to quit magic school before even attempting to learn magic. A visit to his favourite coffee shop seems like the best way to snap Logan out of the funk he’s in.

Authors note: Look, I was sad, I watched @blinksinbewilderment stream on instagram and they mentioned a losleep/analogical magic coffee shop au (no angst) and I tried something. 

General Taglist (let me know if you want on or off): @thequeensphinx @ollyollyoxinfree @celeste-tyrrell @pumpkinminette

Bonus: @aowrot did some art of Remy (click to see). I approve of his style and floating hat. Honoured to have fanart done for this little tale. 

———————————————

“Girl, you know there is a bed right there for a reason.”

Logan sat up stiffly when the sound of Remy’s voice filled his tired ears, along with the crinkling of paper as he moved.

“I am…aware.” He said, squinting up at the man highlighted by his desk lamp. “I did not intend to sleep here.”

“Well, you did, and if that schedule is correct, you have class in an hour.”

Normally that comment would have caused Logan to bolt upright, but instead he slammed his head against the desk and groaned in frustration. If Remy’s statement on time was correct, he’d probably managed a maximum of 2 hours of uncomfortable sleep and was nowhere near ready to give his presentation on wand construction.

“You learning through osmosis now?”

“If it were possible, I would.” Logan mumbled into the paper before sitting up to rub his forehead. “I shouldn’t even bother. This whole thing is pointless. I’m not going to get into the magic course anyway, so I might as well give up and go to sleep.”

“Right, bitch, we’re out!”

Logan gasped and fumbled over his words as Remy suddenly pulled his chair back and pulled him up by his arm.

“Wha-where are we going?”

“We need a magic elixir to find my annoying, magic obsessed, roommate because that ain’t you right now.”

“That is ridiculous.” Logan huffed, unable to pull out of their friends firm grip. “Even if some personality changing elixir did exist, you wouldn’t be able to afford it.”

“True, but you don’t gotta bring it up.”

Remy was kind enough to at least grab Logan’s satchel as they left their tiny dwelling and headed into the town centre; leading the conversation so Logan could walk in reasonable silence. When the pair had first moved in together, they had hardly interacted beyond cleaning and rent day. Remy was either working or out at someone’s party until the early hours, while Logan filled his daily schedule with work, class and study. At one point, Remy questioned if the man ever slept or understood the meaning of free time. However, over the past month, Remy noticed a shift in Logan’s behaviour that he couldn’t ignore. Dishes were left piled into the sink more often, curse words penetrated the thin walls at all hours and he found an empty jam jar left on the count with a spoon in it. The jam was the final straw for Remy because it was too weird to be considered normal for his formally perfect roommate.

 “May I ask where exactly we are going?”

The further they walked into the busy centre, the more Logan wanted to return to his room and forget the real world existed.

“I told you. To get an elixir.”

“That was a joke, so what is the truth.”

A sideways glance with a raised eyebrow was the only response Logan received as Remy took his hand and quicken their pace down the street. Rounding the corner Logan groaned as he saw the painted sign for ‘The Magic Beans’ and understood what his black jacket clad mate had meant by elixir.

“Coffee? Seriously?”

“Serious as a heart attack, babes.” Remy said, holding the door open for Logan to walk inside. “Trust me, this will perk you right up.”

“You’ve been partying with Patton again haven’t you?”

“I will not apologise for appreciating Roman’s poppin’ parties with that puffball dancing around. That kid has more energy than 100 shots of espresso.”

Shuffling awkwardly around the couch in the stores centre, Logan watched as empty cups levitated their way into the kitchen and laughter echoed from full tables and booths. Jealousy gripped his gut as he watched how effortless some of the workers made magic seem. Clearly, they had been blessed with strong magic in their families, unlike him. Remy may have been perfectly content with a magic-less existence, but Logan wasn’t. He wanted nothing more than to point his finger at a book to guide it to him, or even just be able to use a wand. Anything that would make him more than what he was.

“This way bookworm,” Remy guided Logan to a secluded booth in the far corner of the store and ushered him into the seat. “Let me introduce you to my magic elixir of life.”

“I don’t understand the allure of a beverage brewed from bitter tasting beans.”

“You’ll understand soon enough,” Remy beamed, hiding his face behind a menu.

“Doubtful. I’ve tasted coffee before and it was far from an enjoyable experience.”

“Haven’t tried magic beans then, have you?”

Suddenly Logan understood why Remy was hiding his face, because he was sure he was trying to compose himself right now. The voice belonged to a man that made Logan’s brain come to a sudden halt; eyes lined black, purple highlights peeked through black hair, and glossed lips were pulled into a half smile that Logan couldn’t take his eyes off.

“He hasn’t.” Remy cooed, lowering the menu and leaning back now he could maintain a cool expression. “Logan is a hard one to coax away from study hall and your parents don’t allow take away.”

The worker chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck, giving Logan a peek of his hip as the black uniform lifted behind his apron.

“Yeah, they are very protective of our recipes. Better safe than sorry though. You just want the usual, Rem?”

“Cheers, babes. You know how I like it.”

“Sure thing. And what can I get - ah, Logan, was it?”

Worry danced across the server’s eyes when he was met with only a stare in response. Upon releasing he had been asked a question, Logan cleared his throat and forced his mind to function enough to grab a menu without showing just how shaky his hands were.

“Ah-um-yes. Logan is, well, me.” Cheeks burning, Logan cursed his sleep deprived brain for being unable to form coherent sentences and tried to read the jumble of letters in front of him. “I’ll have a…um…”

With a sigh of defeat, Logan dropped the menu on the table and hopped he didn’t look too ridiculous smiling up at the other man.

“I don’t know what to have. I’m sorry. This isn’t really my…”

“Cup of tea?” He offered, seeming to immediately regret the comment as Logan blinked back.

“…ironically, I’m not a tea fan either, um…my apologies, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Oh, sorry. Virgil.” Quickly scrapping his hand down his pants to dry it, Logan shook the hand Virgil had extended. “So, you’re a real newbie to this scene then. How have you survived studying?”

“He isn’t surviving, which is why I’ve brought him here.” Remy offered before he had to watch another awkward pause.

“Right.” Virgil let out an awkward chuckle and ran a hand through his fringe as he thought out loud. “So, coffee noob, not a tea fan, study-aholic. Do you prefer sweet or savoury flavours?”

“Oh, Logan is very salty.” Logan’s head snapped round and glared at his friend opposite him. “Girl, that look only cements my point. What do you recommend, Virge?”

“I think I’ve got an idea. I’ll be back.”

“Take your time,” Logan called after him as he watched Virgil walk back towards the counter.

 “You’re so gay-ow!”

Logan kicked Remy under the table and spoke in a hushed tone.

“What the heck was that?”

“You’re smitten, kitten, that’s what.” Remy said, rubbing his shin under the table. “Thank Mama Remy when you get his number.”

“Falsehood. I’m going to kill Mama Remy while he sleeps.”

“Good luck with that, you’ll be too preoccupied to even think about me. So, what’s the most powerful wand core?”

“Phoenix feather strands with northern tree sap.” Logan replied without thought; resting his elbow on the table so he could comfortably massage his left temple. “What exactly is your plan here?”

“To find the nerd that wants to put magic into the Sanders name despite what his parents say. Should I buy a wand or make my own?”

“I seriously doubt I will ever be able to learn magic at this rate… and if you’re born with magic, and the wand is just for show, buy it; but you’ll need to make it if you’re not.”

“I think you’re gonna blow them away when you pass this course and get to make a wand. I can see you now;” pushing his glasses up onto his head, Remy gestured an invisible wand out to the side. “Wielding a wand crafted from a fallen elm.”

“Based on previous encounters, I’d say that is more likely Roman’s style. Given my birth is in the later part of the year, and my reduced sight, oak would be a much better fit.” Yawning, Logan fiddled with the corner of the menu until he froze at Remy’s laugh. “What?”

“Girl, you are going to ace that test.”

“Falsehood.” He said with more force than earlier. “With an infinitesimal amount of sleep and limited knowledge, it will be impossible for me to achieve a passing grade.”

Leaning onto folded arms, Remy locked eyes with his friend and smiled. “You just answered 3 key wand questions without batting an eye. I think you’ll be fine.”

Logan raised a pointed finger to rebut the statement, before realising what Remy had done.

“You are one bad elixir away from an evil genius.”

“I was born without magic because I would have been too much for this world to handle.”

“I will concede to you this time, but even if I do go to school, I will still need to stay awake for the test and practical examination. I don’t think I can function for another 3hours.”

“I’ve got you covered,” Virgil beamed, placing a tall dark mug in front of Remy and holding another out for Logan. “Chilled to help you wake up. Mild bean blend with a salted caramel mix; extra salt to balance out the sweet. All the buzz of Remy’s coffee, without the bitter bite and some cream on top just for show.”

“That hasn’t been on the menu,” Remy grumbled as he reviewed it one more time just in case he’d missed a new addition.

“I know.” Logan noticed Virgil shift nervously on his feet after placing the beverage down before him. “Thought I would make something special for the beginner.”

“You never did that for me!”

“Don’t act so offended. You were already a veteran drinker when you first came here.”

Tuning out the other voices, Logan glanced sadly between the clock on the wall and the personalised drink in front of him. He considered what Remy had just demonstrated and made a decision before speaking again.

“Thank you, Virgil, but unfortunately I can’t stay.” Two sets of eyes snapped to Logan as he carefully shuffled out of the booth. “Remy believes I can pass this test, but if I don’t leave now, I might not be able to even take it in the first place. I’m sorry.”

A smile crept back onto Remy’s face as Virgil grabbed Logan’s hand when he turned to leave.

“Wait…you said you needed something to help get you through the exam, though.”

“I-I-I’ll just have to…push through it I guess.”

“No. Here.” Grabbing the cup from the table, Virgil held it out for the other. “Take it with you.”

“But… you don’t do take away, here. What about your family recipes?”

“Yeah, well…this is my recipe a-a-and I want you to take it.” Cautiously, Logan took the cup and Virgil released his other hand. “Besides, when you return the cup…I’ll get to see you again.”

Logan almost let the beverage slip through his fingers in shock but nodded and hurried out of the store. Remy chuckled before carefully taking a sip of his own drink.

“The only thing that would have made that gayer, would have been if Pat and Roman were here sharing a rainbow unicorn.”

“You planned that whole thing, didn’t you?” Virgil breathed, not taking his eyes away from when he last saw Logan.

“Not entirely,” he sighed and dug into his back pocket. “I thought for sure the bitch would have paid.”

———————————————

What else have I done?

Writing masterlist / master post thingy

Check out my main blog @snail-giggles for random fandom reblogs and stuff

[sebastianshaw]

RP meme from "Clerks"

Man goes into cage. Cage goes into salsa. Shark's in the salsa. Our shark.

Bunch of savages in this town

There's a million fine looking girls in the world. But they don't all bring you lasagna to work. Most of them just cheat on you.

What do you mean there's no ice? You mean I gotta drink this coffee hot?

Ooh! Navy seals!

Do you have that one with that guy who was in that movie that came out last year?

That's beautiful, man

There's nothing more exhilarating than pointing out the shortcomings of others, is there?

This job would be great if it wasn't for the fucking customers.

Yeah. [NAME], your a rude motherfucker, you know that? But you're cute as hell. I could go down on you, suck you, line up three other guys, make like a circus seal.

That's what life is, a series of down endings.

All 'Jedi' had was a bunch of Muppets.

My mom's been fuckin' a dead guy for 30 years. I call him dad.

They say so much, but they never tell you if it's any good.

I don't watch movies

Well, have you heard anything about either one of them?

I find it's best to stay out of other people's affairs.

I don't appreciate your ruse

Hey! You're not allowed to [THING] here anymore!

My love for you is like a truck, BERZERKER! Would you like some making fuck, BERZERKER!

Are there any balls down there?

I'm gonna fuck this bitch, I'll fuck this bitch, I'll fuck ANYTHING THAT MOVES!

Yo, what the fuck you lookin' at? I'll kick your fuckin' ass! Shit yeah.

Doesn't that mother fucker owe me 10 bucks?

You know, fuckin' tonight, we're gonna rip off this fucker's head, and tear out his fuckin' soul.

I'm gonna shit in the motherfucker's bag

What's up sluts?

Noinch, Noinch, Noinch, Schmokin Weed, Schmokin' Weed, Doin' Coke, Drinkin' Beers...

I had some girlfriends too, but all they wanted from me is weed and shit.

What's a good plate with nothing on it?

I don't care if she's my cousin or not, I'm gonna knock those boots again tonight.

Hey what you want, Grizzly Adams?

Someone jammed gum in the locks.

A woman makes a guy cum, it's standard. A guy makes a woman cum, it's talent.

You'll sleep with anything that says 'yes.'

My girlfriend sucked 37 dicks!

Shocking abuse of authority.

I'm a firm believer in the philosophy of a ruling class. Especially since I rule.

People say crazy shit during sex. One time I called this girl "mom."

She broke your heart and inadvertently drove men to deviant lifestyles.

That's what high school was about. Algebra, bad lunch, and infidelity.

He said he has to find the perfect dozen.

Why doesn't he mix and match?

He said it was important to have standards, and he says nobody has any pride anymore.

It's not like you laid the eggs yourself.

That seems to be the late motif in your life, ever backing down.

You always back down. You assume blame that's not yours. You come in on your day off. You buckle like a belt.

Insubordination rules.

How did you get here so fast?

Do you always talk this weird after you violate a woman?

He just sat there and let me do all the work.

We didn't just have sex in the bathroom?

Well I didn't just fuck myself!

Who the fuck's in our bathroom?

You sucked that guy's dick?

How many?! How many dicks have you sucked?!

Why couldn't you sleep with them like any other decent person?

Don't look at me like I'm the town whore, because you were plenty busy yourself before you met me!

I only had sex with the guys I loved

Try not to suck any dick on the way through the parking lot!

That article's accurate

Something just never sat right with me the second time around.

I'll bet they brought independent contractors in on that thing

They'd hire anybody who could do the job

Casualties of a war they had nothing to do with

Along come these left-wing militants that blast everything with their lasers

I'm a contractor myself

A [PROFESSION]'s personal politics come into play heavily when choosing jobs

I'm alive because I knew the risks involved in that particular client

Could never put my finger on it but something just wasn't right.

You knocked the casket over!

Her fucking body fell out!

He broke his neck trying to suck his own dick

Come on, haven't you ever tried to suck your own dick?

You're as curious as the rest of us

I guess everyone gets curious and tries it sometime

You haven't said anything for like twenty minutes.

My life is in the shitter right about now, so if you don't mind, I'd like to stew a bit.

You should shit or get off the pot.

You'll sit there and blame life for dealing a cruddy

hand, never once accepting the responsibility for the way your situation is.

If you hate this job and the people, and the fact that you

have to come in on your day off, then quit.

There are other jobs, and they pay better money. You're bound to be qualified for at least one of them.

This is a life of convenience for you, and any attempt to change it would shatter the pathetic microcosm you've fashioned for yourself.

I'm satisfied with my situation for now.

Melodrama coming from you seems about as natural as an oral bowel movement.

I can't make changes like that in my life.

I'm not the kind of person that disrupts things in order to

shit comfortably.

Women as lovers are basically the same, they just have to be there

Making a male climax isn't at all challenging. Insert somewhere close, preferably moist. Thrust. Repeat.

What an embarrassing way to die.

Title does not dictate behavior

I think the idea or the conception of us dating is a lot more idyllic then what actually happens when we date.

You want to blame somebody? Blame yourself.

I'm stuck in this pit, working for less than slave wages. Working on my day off, the goddamn steel shutters are closed, I deal with every backward ass fuck on the planet. I smell like shoe polish. My ex-girlfriend is catatonic after fucking a dead guy. And my present girlfriend has sucked 36 dicks.

Oh, hey [NAME], break his heart again this time, and I'll kill ya

Such a sordid state of affairs.

I'm not even supposed to be here today!

[medea10]

My Review of In/Spectre

How did I get into this anime? Let’s see what my check-list was back when I picked this up during the winter time. Does Crunchyroll have immediate rights to play it? Yes! Do I have one more slot open for weekly showings? Yes! Are you in the mood to hear Mamoru Miyano right now? Always! Let’s do it!

Kotoko Iwanaga is used to the abnormal and out of place situations. When she was 11 years old, she went missing for two weeks. During that time, demons asked her to become their “God of Wisdom”. However, Iwanaga lost her right eye and left leg as a result of this power. Fast-forward approximately 7 years later when she meets a college-aged male named Kuro Sakuragawa. She found a fascination with him, but kept her distance due to him being engaged to another woman named Saki.

But Kuro’s life changed when he and his girlfriend were on vacation and saw a kappa and the situation turned near-deadly. Due to an abnormality with Kuro, whenever it looks like he’s on the verge of death, he comes back to life. Thing is, his girlfriend Saki was absolutely set aback by this development and they wound up breaking up. With the news of Kuro and Saki splitting up, Iwanaga seizes this opportunity to spend more time with this young man as she asks for his assistance with dealing with the supernatural…

And to be her boyfriend!

BETWEEN THE SUB AND THE DUB: At the moment, Crunchyroll is the only one with authority to this anime and several weeks after the premier, they gave us an English dub. So far, so good! I’m getting a chance to hear a few of the newer voice actors and even some veterans like Cristina Vee. Now that some time has passed, all of the episodes are finally dubbed after a long hiatus due to the COVID-19 pandemic. As you already know from sentence one Kuro spoke, yes, that is Mamoru Miyano playing another main lead role. Luckily for me, he isn’t spazzy and he isn’t a holy asshole. Next to him, we have Akari Kitou who I’m hearing quite a bit of as of recent. I really enjoyed her performance as this insightful little lady. Here’s what you might recognize these folks from.

JAPANESE: *Iwanaga is played by Akari Kitou (known for Aru on Hitoribocchi, Nene on Toilet-Bound Hanako-kun, and Kaho on Blend S)

*Kuro is played by Mamoru Miyano (known for Cilan on Pokemon BW, Light on Death Note, Tamaki on Ouran HSHC, Koutaro on Zombieland Saga, Rin on Free!, Death the Kid on Soul Eater, and Tsukiyama on Tokyo Ghoul)

*Saki is played by Misato Fukuen (known for Georgia on Pokemon BW, Chibiusa on Sailor Moon: Crystal, Iggy on Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure Pt. 3, Eruka on Soul Eater, Yami on To Love Ru, and Yin on Darker Than Black)

ENGLISH CAST: *Iwanaga is played by Lizzie Freeman (known for Cardinal on SAO: Alicization and Trish on Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure: Pt. 5)

*Kuro is played by Brandon Winckler (known for Eugeo on SAO: Alicization and Dale on If It’s for My Daughter…)

*Saki is played by Lauren Landa (known for Kyouko on Madoka Magica, Michiru/Sailor Neptune on Sailor Moon [redub], Annie on Attack on Titan, Juno on Beastars, Xenovia on High School DxD, and Sakuya on SAO)

SHIPPING: Well, let’s see if I can make any sense out of this.

*Iwanaga x Kuro: I guess it was love at first sight for Iwanaga as she seemed to have developed a crush when she first met him at the hospital. And you could tell how disappointed she was when Kuro’s relationship with Saki was growing. Even when Kuro is still in the post-breakup mode, Iwanaga has the balls to ask him to enter a relationship with her in the span of a single episode. And even after the two-year time-skip…I guess they are in a relationship. At least according to Iwanaga they are! It’s just that Kuro is so damned uninterested it’s so hard to tell. I’m not sure if I’m fully on board with this ship. Mostly because of Kuro’s disinterested attitude whenever he’s around his “girlfriend”! Iwanaga is very controlling in this relationship and prone to jealousy when Saki re-enters the picture later in the Steel Lady Nanase arc.

*Kuro x Saki: Yes, Saki was Kuro’s former girlfriend. Actually, it was more than that! They were freakin’ engaged! But because Saki got freaked out by the fact that Kuro could regenerate his body if he gets severely injured, she ended the relationship. Yeah, I can totally see how that would be shocking for anyone to go through. Due to the mystery that Iwanaga and Saki were trying to solve, the romance talks kinda had to be put to the side. It seems as though near the end that Saki has put her feelings of Kuro in the past and seems to have moved on for the most part. Plus when Saki was engaged to Kuro, she felt inferior to ANOTHER past love of Kuro’s. And now we gotta talk about…

*Kuro x Rikka: They’re cousins! BLOOD COUSINS! But Kuro has a special place in his heart for his sickly cousin! I mean, his thoughts of being greeted by Rikka at home compared to his real girlfriend are freakin’ damning. Plus both of these people have the same anomolie courtesy of their fucked up family. I’m not sure after the whole Steel Lady Nanase mess if Kuro’s perception of Rikka has changed for the worse. I just know that there was definitely something between those two. Kuro brings all his girlfriends to meet Rikka only for Rikka to say something like, “she’s not your type”.

ENDING: For the majority of the series, Iwanaga and Kuro have found themselves in the midst of a mystery involving the death of a famous actress. Seems simple enough in an anime like this, an idol (Karin Nanase) dies suddenly by a steel beam to the face and comes back to haunt the world of the living as a ghost (later named Steel Lady Nanase). But it can’t be that simple! There’s gotta be reasons for Steel Lady Nanase’s existence and Iwanaga is gonna figure it out one way or another.

I mean, she knows the real truth. It’s just that someone is pulling the strings behind Steel Lady Nanase still causing havoc. She’s still running amok due to a fan website dedicated to the ghost. And that site has A LOT of traction with fans of all sorts. Add to this mind-fuck, Kuro’s “lovely” cousin Rikka is the administrator for the website. As I’ve mentioned before, she has that immortality power that her cousin possesses as well. And Rikka uses that power to keep things going with Steel Lady Nanase.

Iwanaga went through several scenarios to disprove Steel Lady Nanase’s existence. And all but one of those theories were poked by skeptics and even Rikka who was stalking the forums. It wasn’t until Iwanaga came up with the theory of Nanase meeting a woman who looks exactly like her and that her doppleganger was the one that died at the construction site. Somehow that was the theory millions of fans took as truth and this was how Iwanaga was able to take down Rikka and her fansite.

So everything is gonna go back to somewhat normal. Karin Nanase can rest in peace, the spirits around the area can rest easy without being tormented by a crazy bitch swinging a steel beam, Saki goes back to work as a police officer, Rikka is still lurking around, and we get a cute moment between Iwanaga and Kuro.

This anime started out strong, but once you realize that this Steel Lady Nanase arc was going to be covered in 10 episodes out of a 12 episode series, it kinda leaves this series a little underwhelming. The idea of having one character with the ability to communicate with spirits and another character with an anomolie in his body preventing him from dying seemed really interesting. Especially when you have someone like Iwanaga trying to solve mysteries and coming up with the best case scenario in every case! But that’s just it, we only got two cases in this 12 episode series. The manga still seems pretty new and so I’m hoping to see more development with Iwanaga and Kuro. It’s an okay series, it’s just that I give a hesitant recommendation with the warning that this will drag a bit when we’re stuck in Steel Lady Nanase hell for 10 episodes. In an anime season that was filled to the brim with mystery animes, I actually found myself a little more invested in Toilet-Bound Hanako-kun. But that’s just me! You guys make your own judgments on which mystery anime of 2020 wins your vote.

Final note: The OP is a banger and as for the ED, it’s always a treat whenever Mamoru Miyano is singing!

If you would like to watch In/Spectre, Crunchyroll has all 12 episodes available for streaming in both sub and dub.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Dark Side of the Moon: Final Part

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,441

Warnings: typical supernatural violence, language, angst, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated. I really want to hear what you guys think about this one!

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

Underneath a ‘Come In We’re Open’ sign, Ash draws another sigil-formula. This one is different from the other ones you’ve seen, but you know it’ll work.

“All Access Pass to the Magic Kingdom,” Ash smiled.

“Good,” Dean nodded, but when Ash gave him a pointed look, he changed his attitude about it. “Not good?”

“That Zachary fella is going to be watching every road to the Garden.”

“We’ll be prepared. Thanks, Ash,” you thanked, giving him a hug.

Behind you, Pamela hugs Sam before moving onto Dean. Instead of hugging him, she decided on other things. She pulls his head down for a kiss. You wanted to care, but since she was dead you kind of gave her a pass for it. Plus, he needs to be used to kissing other women since he’s definitely breaking up with you once he finds out. You have to tell him when you’re alive because this was getting to be too much for you to handle.

“Yup. Just how I imagined,” she grinned.

Dean looked over at you, but when he saw you not even looking at him and Pamela, he knew something was definitely wrong. He is going to have to question it when he gets back to his body.

“Ah, gentlemen and lady. I don’t mean to be a downer or anything but… I’m sure I’ll see you again soon,” Ash chuckled once the contraption was ready to go.

“Well, keep a sixer on ice for us,” Dean declared.

“Yeah,” he nodded.

He opened the door for you three, and you walked in first with Dean right behind you and his little brother in last. Whatever Ash did definitely didn’t lead to a garden because this was the living room of Dean’s childhood home in Lawrence. It’s dark, empty, and kind of creepy if you’re being honest. A train’s whistle can be heard in the background.

“What the… Why are we back home?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know. So what are we going to do?” Sam wondered.

“Keep looking for the road, I guess,” you shrugged.

You turned to start looking when you noticed Mary standing behind you three. Nudging Dean’s shoulder, he turned around first and then Sam last. This time, Mary was just like how she is in the pictures Dean had, but she was wearing the nightgown she wore the night she was killed.

“Honey. Why are you up?”

“Look. I’m-I’m sorry. I love you but you’re not real and we don’t have time—”

“Did you have another nightmare? Tell me,” she interrupted him.

“I gotta go,” he shook his head.

“Then how about I tell you my nightmare, Dean? The night I burned,” she chuckled.

Blood started appearing on the nightgown right above her stomach.

“Sammy let’s get out of here,” Dean said shakily.

“Right behind you,” you declared.

“Don’t you walk away from me,” Mary snapped, and Dean halted in his steps. “ I never loved you. You were my burden. I was shackled to you. Look what it got me.”

She blinked and her eyes turned yellow… the same yellow as Azazel’s.

“Dean, come on. This isn’t real,” you urged, yanking on his arm to get him moving.

However, he just seemed frozen in place. When he could finally move, he turned to you with a look of pure devastation. The lights in the house begin to change color, taking on an unhealthy green hue. The room starts to change all around you, and suddenly, the doors are gone. Mary blinks once more and they are back to their normal color.

“The worst was the smell. The pain, well. What can you say about your skin bubbling off? But the smell was so… you know, for a second I thought I’d left a pot roast burning in the oven. But… it was my meat.”

Dean moves away from his demented mother to go to the wall where the door once was. Instead, it’s been bricked over so there was no chance to escape.

“And then, finally, I was dead. The one silver lining was that at least I was away from you. Everybody leaves you, Dean. You noticed? Mommy. Daddy. Even Sam. Y/N eventually. Want to know what she did?” she asked with a huge smile.

“Okay, shut the fuck up! You’re not real!” you yelled, throwing your hands out as if you still had your magic.

“Not going to work on me, sweetheart,” she said to you before turning to her eldest son. “You ever ask yourself why? Maybe it’s not them. Maybe, it’s you.”

“Easy now, kitten,” Zachariah revealed himself.

“You did this,” Sam glared accusingly.

“And I’m just getting started. I mean, guys. Did you really think you could just sneak past me into Mission Control?”

“You son of a bitch!” Sam yelled.

Very large angel goons appeared behind you three, and they grabbed you from behind. Normally, you could have gotten out of this with your magic, but you didn’t have it to protect yourself with this time.

“You know, I’d say the same thing about you, Sam, but I have actually grown quite fond of your mother. Or at least the Blessed Memory of her,” he chuckled.

He moved Mary’s hair away from her neck and began to kiss it. Dean has no choice but to look away since he won’t be able to handle this.

“I think we’re going to be logging a lot of quality time together. I’ve discovered she’s quite the... MILF,” he chuckled.

“I’m going to kill you,” you threatened harshly.

“With what? You’re magicless here, Y/N. In heaven, I have six wings and four faces, one of whom is a lion. You see this vessel because you’re,” he ran his fingers down the length of Mary’s arm, and it’s Sam who can’t watch this time, “limited.”

“Let’s brass tack this, shall we?” he continued, snapping his fingers to make Mary disappear.

“You gonna ball-gag us until we say yes? Huh, yeah, I’ve heard that one too,” you challenged.

Zachariah walked up to you and wasted no time slamming his fist in your stomach. If you were till pregnant, then that would surely kill the baby. He knew this would mess with your head which is why he did it in the first place. You folded over in a painful groan.

“I’m going to do a lot more than that. I’ve cleared my schedule. Get her up,” he ordered.

The angel holding you forced you to straighten, and Zachariah gave another hateful punch to your gut. Sam and Dean struggled against the angels holding them to they and help, but it wasn’t working.

“Let me tell you something. I was on the fast track once. Employee of the month, every month, forever. I would walk these halls and people would AVERT THEIR EYES!” He yelled, and the house begins to shake. “I HAD ‘RESPECT! And then they assigned me you three. Now look at me. I can’t close the deal on a couple of flannel-wearing maggots? Everybody’s laughing at me… and they’re right to do it. So! Say yes, don’t say yes; I’m still going to take it out of your asses. It’s personal now, and the last person in the history of creation you want as your enemy is me. And I’ll tell you why. Lucifer may be strong, but I’m ‘petty’. I’m going to be the angel on your shoulder for the rest of eternity.”

“Excuse me. Sir?” a third party spoke from behind Zachariah.

All heads turned to the stranger who interrupted this fun fest. He is a slightly older black man who had a calm look on his face.

“I’m in a meeting,” Zachariah said.

“I’m sorry. I need to speak to those three.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s a bad time, I know, but I’m afraid I have to insist.”

“You don’t get to insist jack-squat.”

“No, you’re right. But the boss does. His orders,” he chuckled which only unnerved Zachariah.

“You’re lying,” he said uncertain.

“I wouldn’t lie about this. Look, fire me if you want. Sooner or later, he’s going to come back home and you know how he is with that whole wrath thing.”

Zachariah gave one last look at you, Sam, and Dean before turning to face the newcomer. The stranger is clearly not going to back down, and it was foolish on Zacharia’s part to challenge him. In a flutter of wings, Zachariah and his goons have gone away. Suddenly, the environment changed from a childhood house to a verdant, green garden—a conservatory. You are surrounded by the sounds of a forest. You walk down stone steps, approaching the stranger.

“This is heaven’s Garden?” Sam asked.

“It’s-it’s nice… ish. I guess,” Dean shrugged.

“You see what you want to here. For some, it’s God’s throne room; for others it’s Eden. You three, I believe it’s the Cleveland Botanical Gardens. You came here on a field trip.”

“You’re Joshua,” you concluded.

“I’m Joshua.”

“So, you talk to God.”

“Mostly, He talks to me.”

“Well, we need to speak to Him. It’s important. Where is he?” you asked.

“On Earth.”

“Earth?” You were very shocked at this.

“Doing what?” Dean cut in.

“I don’t know.”

“Do you know where on Earth?”

“No, sorry. We don’t exactly speak face-to-face.”

“I… I don’t get it. God’s not talking to nobody so…”

“—why is he talking to me,” Joshua finished for Dean. “I sometimes think it’s because I can sympathize—gardener to gardener—and, between us, I think he gets lonely.”

“Well, my heart’s breaking for him,” Dean said in a disgusted tone.

“Well, can you at least get him a message for us?” Sam asked, bringing the topic back to the important issue on hand.

“Actually, he has a message for you. Back off.”

“Excuse me?” you scoffed.

“He knows already. Everything you want to tell him. He knows what the angels are doing. He knows that the Apocalypse has begun. He just doesn’t think it’s his problem.”

“Tell me you’re joking because I am this close to kicking someone’s ass,” you growled.

“God saved you already. He put you on that plane. He brought back Castiel. He granted you salvation in heaven,” he turns to Sam, “and after everything you’ve done too. It’s more than he’s intervened in a long time. He’s finished. Magic amulet or not, you won’t be able to find him.”

“But he can stop it. He can stop all of it,” Dean stuttered.

“I suppose he could, but he won’t.”

“Why not?”

“Why does he allow evil in the first place? You could drive yourself nuts asking questions like that,” the angel shrugged.

“So he’s just going to sit back and watch the world burn?”

“I know how important this was to you, Dean. I’m sorry.”

“Forget it. Just another dead-beat dad with a bunch of excuses, right? I’m used to that. I’ll muddle through,” Dean said.

He was clearly too emotional about this, and that only added onto your guilt. He would have made a great father.

“Except… you don’t know if you can, this time. You can’t kill the Devil, and you’re losing faith in yourself, your brother, even your girlfriend, and now this?” Joshua asked, motioning to Heaven as a whole.

You were shocked at this because this is the first time you realized just how desperate and depressed Dean really is. Sure, he tells you things, but nothing like this. How could you ever tell him this now?

“God was your last hope. I just… I wish I could tell you something different.”

“How do we know you’re telling the truth?” Sam voiced his concerns.

“You think that I would lie?”

“It’s just that… you’re not exactly the first angel we’ve met.”

“I’m rooting for you three! I wish I could do more to help you, I do! But I just… trim the hedges.”

“Then what now?” you asked bitterly.

“You go home again. I’m afraid this time, won’t be like the last. This time, God wants you to remember.”

Joshua lifted his hand to send you three back to Earth, and he did so in a bright light which blinds you so much that you had to close your eyes.

When you open them next, you can’t help but wake with a loud gasp. Shooting out of bed, you noticed you were back in your motel room, the same one in which you died. Sam and Dean are lying lifeless on their beds, and before you could go to them, they awoke in a similar fashion. Both brothers sit up and cough as they tried to get used to being alive again.

“You two alright?” you asked.

“Define alright,” Dean sighed.

He got up and snatched his phone from the bedside table. He dialed a number with his back turned to you, and you could see his back is covered in blood where the hunters shot and killed him. Within a moment, Castiel appeared in the room so that you could update him on what happened. Once finished, he looked lost and without hope. He leans against the divider while Sam and Dean pack up their gear.

“Maybe… maybe Joshua was lying,” the angel said.

“I don’t think he was, Castiel. I’m sorry,” you sighed.

Your bag was already packed since you got it packed before you were killed. Castiel walked into the light, and he was glaring at Dean harshly.

“You son of a bitch. I believed in—”

He stopped short since he couldn’t think of the right words to say. He looked above for any kind of sign, but there is nothing to be seen. He shakes his head in disappointment before pulling out the amulet that he took from Dean.

“I don’t need this anymore,” he scoffed, tossing it to Dean. “It’s worthless.”

“Castiel!” you called out, but the angel was already gone.

Dean stared at the amulet in his hands with anger and regret.

“We’ll find another way. We can still stop all this, Dean,” Sam tried saying.

“How?” the older brother asked, finally looking up.

“I don’t know, but we’ll find it. You, me, and Y/N, we’ll find it.”

Dean clearly doesn’t believe him, and you and Sam both know it. He picked up his packed bag and walks past Sam without a word. As he walks out the door, he drops the amulet in the trash. Your heart broke, but you walked over to the trash to stare at the amulet. With one look at Sam, you reached in and grabbed it since you knew this was too special to throw away.

Wanna get tagged? Add yourself to this document! If your tag doesn’t work, find out why!

@sing4mejensen @essie1876 @gh0stgurl @redsalv20 @superrandomnatural @scarletmeii @babypink224221 @gaveherhearttotheliontattoo @akshi8278 @a--1--1--3 @kendlemariee @miraclesoflove @earthtokace @teamfreewillsstuff @fandom-princess-forevermore @kiwihoee @jennazeise @phantomalchemist @posiemax @22sarah08 @tricksterdean @andi-mendes-barnes @put-my-favorite-record-on @countrygal17a @whit85-blog @sammypotato67 @knowledgefulbutterfly​

[oliveheart-worldbuilding]

Aster, Bee Balm, Daffodil, Dahlia, Laurel, Petunia, Rose, and Violet? I'd also add Gardenia but it's impossible to escape murder cats.

Hi there! Thank you so much for the ask! Once again, I’m sorry for taking so long to answer!

Adding a read more because this one is pretty long.

Aster- Who’s your least favorite character? Why?

This one is a bit difficult for me, I read many of the books a long time ago and I’m sure if I were to read them again my opinion on a lot of characters would be very different. Going only by memory I would say that Bluestar is one of my least favorite characters but then I would have to add many female characters that I now feel were completely mistreated by the authors and whose entire arcs where thrown under the bus in the name of forbidden love or man pain. I never liked Silverstream, but nowadays I know that whom I actually hate is Graystripe. I used to not like Leafpool or Squirrelflight at all, now I don’t. What I’m trying to say is that my opinion changes constantly and a lot. I read the books a long time ago and did so with a completely different mindset (I was 16 when I read Omen of the Stars and oh man was I edgy and stupid back then), most of my opinions nowadays are based on the potential the characters have rather than the actual character. So bearing that in mind:

-Bluestar: I know, I know, a lot of you love her a lot but even after reading people’s opinions on her I just… eh I don’t like her at all. She feels incredibly detached in the first books. To me she always treated Firepaw rather coldly. I know a lot of people talk about Bluestar as if she had become Firepaw’s adoptive mother but I just don’t see it. Reading about her losing her faith was very interesting, so was her crumping mind health but, I just gotta draw the line on how terrible she was to Brightpaw. In this house we love and respect Brightpaw and Bluestar was just very nasty to her. I really didn’t like her novella at all either. Based on her relationship with Whitestorm in The Prophecies Begin I always thought that she might have played an important role in his life after Snowfur died but, it doesn’t seem that way at all? The only moment we see them interact is when she tells Whitekit, in a very distressing way may I add, that her mother is dead and never coming back. To me, she also comes in as selfish and power-hungry, she spends a huge part of the book complaining about Thistleclaw (bear in mind, back then he was only overly ambitious, not a pedophile) and his relationship with her sister, even though she herself is spending time with Oakheart, a tom from another clan. When Goosefeather tells her about the prophecy he never specifies that she must be the one becoming leader, only that Thistleclaw is not meant to become one and yet she goes out of her way to become the leader so much so that she’s willing to risk her kittens’ safety (killing one in the process) just so she can be available for the position. She could have just uuuuhmmmm told Sunstar about the prophecy? Also I’m pretty sure Sunstar assures her that Thistleclaw would not have made a good leader multiple times so… he could have chosen literally anyone else? Rosetail? Thrustpelt? Don’t get me started on the whole Tigerkit dilemma! She chooses to believe Goosefeather prophecies when they strengthen her own personal bias but when she’s told about Tigerkit’s she just goes “aw man Goosefeather sure is crazy hahaha anyway back on me becoming leader”. I don’t know, there’s more to it but this is getting pretty long. Personally she’s just not my favorite.

-Graystripe: He’s a terrible friend, he treats Fireheart like absolute garbage, he chooses a molly he has known for exactly 2 days over his best friend and his entire clan, he leaves Thunderclan to spend more time with his kittens just to abandon them 5 seconds later, and yet the son of a bitch was somehow always meant to become deputy to Firestar??? Just because they are friends??? Dude went against the warrior code, endangered his clan by refusing to fight Riverclan, was incredible close to causing an all-out war with Riverclan, abandoned his clan, refused to see what was wrong about his behavior just because he was in love… How in the f is he a good warrior??? Erins I want answers; this man is garbage. When he gets captured by the humans and comes back to the lake he gets so SO mad at Firestar for not “waiting for him”, my dude you were gone for seasons, you were deputy, you really expect the entire clan to stop working so that you can keep your friendship bracelet position? Everybody thought you were dead Graystripe!! Was everyone supposed to keep vigil forever?? He’s also a terrible father to both his litters, his reaction to being told that Feathertail’s dead is “aw man… she was so beautiful… like her mom…” that’s terribleeee. At some point in Omen of the Stars, after Briarlight broke her spine, Millie complains about Graystripe not helping her at all and then they start fighting about it, Graystripe’s only answer is something along the lines of “yeah whatever dude”. I hate him so much. I stopped reading after The Last Hope, so I can’t talk about the rest but, I’ve seen some parts of Graystripe’s Vows and let me tell I want this man gone for good. He’s lived for too long.

-Lionblaze: He’s the most flavorless character in the history of flavorless characters. What’s his arc? That’s right. He doesn’t have one. I literally have nothing to say about him. How is this character alive and in his way to become leader when Hollyleaf could have been in his place? Disgusting. Also, dreaming about killing your girlfriend and bathing in her blood? Bad. Not showing not even a bit of remorse about after waking up? Terrible. Badly hurting her mentor when you were trying harm her? Just straight up fucked up. He’s badly written, boring and kind of very misogynist at times.

I have many other opinions because I’m a very judgmental person but I’m gonna leave it at that because this is getting very long.

Bee Balm- What’s your favorite novella or super edition?

I’ve only read three! So Crockedstar’s promise I guess.

Daffodil- When did you first start reading the books?

In the summer of 6th grade, that’s when I was… 11-12 years old? I think? So in 2012-2013, I started reading them in Spanish but I read through them super-fast and the translations were super slow to come out so I just started reading the books in English. It actually helped my English level quite a bit! My first English book was The Forest of Secrets I think.

Dahlia- Has any death scene actually made you cry? What was it?

Snowfur’s (Reading about Whitekit screaming at her mother to wake up was super messed up), Yellowfang’s (I loved that old woman. I wish they hadn’t written about her in Starclan, she’s so out of character in later books) and Hollyleaf’s death (yes, first and second time, young me loved her to pieces. I still can’t believe they let her die a second time when Lionblaze’s flavorless ass was right there…).

Laurel- If you could write the books, what changes would you make?

I would contemplate the idea of just, moving forward in time? The warriors’ series feels very stagnant. Young characters die while having no personality at all and older characters from the first series are still alive and very much immortal at this point. We need new fresh blood.

I would just set up a completely new series: maybe the stories of Firestar and his family have been immortalized, maybe they are now revered as gods or something, I would create an actual religion system, one based in nature, the death and rebirth of all things and the need to remember those who have fallen. I would change their entire culture so that elders are more important; medicine cats are not regarded as useless (I’m looking at every character that forced in this position instead of choosing it themselves) and the warrior code actually makes sense.

The setting of this new series would be the lake territories but a long time has passed since the time of Firestar and things have changed a lot. A kittypet joins the clans and through their perspective we see how they work and act, what makes every single one of them different, their culture and laws, etc. It would be a nod to the first series while being completely new. It would also allow to add new characters from the start so they all have personalities and relationships with each other.

I would also contemplate creating one last series set up in the time of the original clans where everything just goes to hell. You guys remember rabies? I want that + Starclan going crazy. A full out massacre of old characters that ends in only a few surviving ones. I want blood, and I want it to be scary. If children can read about Tigerclaw’s horrible death, then they can read what in my opinion would be a zombie/ghost apocalypse. And then I would start anew with this completely new series set up in the future.

I mean, I would rewrite a looooooot of things, but that’s a talk for another day.

Petunia- Which arc is your favorite? Which is your last favorite?

My favorite is The Prophecies Begin when it comes to the plot and the Power of Three when it comes to characters. My least favorite is the New Prophecy.

Rose- Do you prefer traditional naming or creative naming?

Traditional all the way! I like when things have meaning and each name having its own really helps the feeling of there being a pre-established culture! Creative naming just doesn’t make a lot of sense to me in this context but that’s just my personal taste.

Violet- What do you think is the worst trope in the series?

Already answered!

Gardenia- Do you think you’ll ever leave the fandom?

Probs not, I’m in too deep, warriors is always at the back of my mind...

[smolbeandrabbles]

I Think He Knows - Orson Krennic x Reader 1 (Rogue One)

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for the request dearest Anon! This was a lot of fun, and I got to come at the relationship from a different perspective. I genuinely... LOVE writing him like this.

This also includes the original ending to Gratitude that I lost and subsequently found in my notebook... And fits in well here! 😊 (But is not the end!)

Disclaimer: Star Wars Characters not mine / Plot is request / I own nothing! / Slight AU  Premise (As Requested By Anon ❤ ): I have been thinking a lot about an au with a ofc who is outranking Krennic and at first he kinda hates her, but with time he seems to notice the way she looks at him, secretly helps him. And when he accidentally finds that she was trying to promote him, he’s confused and come to her for answers There might be a slight change on the ending you wanted... But I hope you enjoy anyway 😘😘😘💜💙  Words: 5676 Warnings: N/A... Some mild swearing / drinking

__________

I think he knows his hands around A cold glass Make me wanna know that body Like it's mine He got that boyish look that I like in a man I am an architect, I'm drawing up the plans He's so obsessed with me, and boy I understand Boy I understand ...Got that, oh! I mean Wanna see what's under that attitude Like, I want you, bless my soul And I ain't gotta tell him I think he knows I think he knows So where we gonna go? I whisper in the dark Where we gonna go? I think he knows

--- You knew exactly who Orson Callan Krennic was. You’d known all about him since the Futures Programme. Not because you were anywhere near in the same year or class, although, technically you studied the same thing… But because he seemed to show up every so often and flaunt how brilliant he was. Now, you knew the ranking system, so every time you saw him you wondered who exactly he thought he was, and why he’d talk so loud if he was at least as far down the order as he looked. Luckily, you didn’t see him often – but when you’d graduated you’d started working in the same field. Mercifully you didn’t have to work with him, he outranked you and was off in far flung exclusive corners of the galaxy you weren’t going to reach in a hurry, working on projects that at the time you could only dream of being a part of. Only, you didn’t cause problems. You were quiet, you got on with your job and you did it exceptionally well. That earned attention, and luckily the right attention. Because you’d also noticed that every time you heard whispers of Krennic’s name around here it was usually said with distain, and accompanied with all the Galaxy’s gossip about what he was doing to piss someone off this time. The harder you worked, and the more experience you gained – the more niche your skills got, you found yourself becoming indispensable to the Empire. That knowledge swept through your division pretty quick, and soon enough you were stretched to (almost) capacity working on things. People were desperate to have your name attached to anything they could – and now you were a centre of attention that people would back-stab each other to gain on their work. You were careful about that too, and allocated yourself as professionally as possible.   What did all this mean for you? Your rank increased, and kept increasing. And suddenly you were sitting in rooms you weren’t supposed to take information out of. That you weren’t even allowed to take equipment into the projects discussed were so secret. In fact – once you passed from one rank into the next you almost stopped hearing Krennic’s name altogether. Because when you walked into a room people stopped talking rumour; just incase you passed it on and they lost their jobs. At first you missed that, but realised quickly that you’d hear it anyway… only now directly from the source. You were almost free to forget about the man entirely. And the first time you ever had to have face-to-face contact with him, in all those years, came as a shock to you. You were sipping coffee in the elevator to your next meeting about another start up project that this time you were expected to head. No problems, you’d lead projects before and you would be trusted to do so with accuracy and efficiency. This one might be a little bigger, but you were confident you could deliver exactly as you were known for. Your assistant was running through the list of assignees to the team and suddenly you found yourself trying not to spit coffee all over the elevator floor; “Sorry, who!?” “Commander Orson Krennic… He’s uh, architecture, intelligence…” “Oh, I know who he is… Did you say Commander?” “Uh, yes. Th- That’s what it says…” He didn’t like the sudden broad smirk that crossed your face as you tried not to look at your own rank bar. You outranked him. You got to walk into a room and look at him and slam your folder down on a table and tell Orson Krennic what to do? Perfect! He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Sure, Krennic had never met you. But he never forgot a face – and when they introduced the project lead he had to check twice. Because this surely wasn’t happening. He remembered you from the Futures Programme. Maybe you’d been in one or two of the lectures he gave; but you always sat with your arms crossed, looking at him like you didn’t believe a word that came out of his mouth. (That or downright bored; leaning on your hands the way that you did). And now you outranked him!? Outranked him and were about to order him around on this particular project, of all things? He was looking forward to this one before you’d walked into the room with your rank bar displayed like that. Stars, what did I do to deserve THIS-!?  You spotted Krennic straight away, staring at you with absolute distain. That just made you smirk more; you simply couldn’t help yourself. Seems like someone remembers me calling bullsh*t on all the pretentious nonsense he used to tell us in class. And he didn’t even lecture me all that much. You laughed to yourself, stepping up to give the project presentation, you were the only one in the room briefed, so this whole thing rested on you. You could take the pressure, and you were about to enjoy every second of this! Your eyes flicked to his and you simply had to wink; Payback’s a bitch, Orson Krennic. *** He couldn’t think of anything worse. For the most part, in truth, you left him alone to do what you knew he was best at. But you also kept him on a tight schedule, and it didn’t give him nearly enough time to go sneaking around trying to undermine you. (Apparently something you’d caught onto pretty quick that he liked attempting to do. God bless your colleagues for alerting you to this). You liked knowing what he was doing and where he was going (for you’d left him in charge of a pretty good chunk of the sourcing too), on the hour by the hour. Which was good for you, just in case he got the idea you weren’t watching him incredibly closely. But Krennic hated it (though, he hated it anyway) because every chance you got your sweep out of your office and loudly call him into it. Probably to remind him that he didn’t have his own. Probably also to let everyone know you needed to speak with him again. “KRENNIC! A word-!” Orson shot you a look; absolutely not. He was in the middle of a very important calculation, and if he messed it up, or left it, he’d never get back to it. You could damn well wait. Though, you didn’t like waiting, and when you came out of your office 5 minutes later to find him sitting in exactly the same position he was in before, you sighed; “Krennic! SOME time today!” He slammed his stylus down and his turn to you was quick; “I HEARD YOU THE FIRST TIME!” Then immediately regretted it when the floor fell silent, and the look on your face told him that, as usual, every jab you made was to get a rise out of him. And it wasn’t often you weren’t successful. He sighed angrily and was forced to concede, feeling his face burning in the moment – he couldn’t tell quite yet whether in rage or embarrassment; “Can I just finish this?” Your eyes narrowed, and your face was almost stern as you folded your arms, “If you’d had said that five minutes ago, I’d have said yes. Not now, get in here.” Krennic stood, and his footfall into your office let you know how mad he was. “I need you to take care of something for me.” Krennic wanted to get argumentative, more than anything – he’d love to have a one on one screaming match at you if that’s what it took. But the more leash you’d give him the better. So he held his tongue. No matter though, it showed clear enough on his face; “Yes?” “You’re from Lexrul, right?” “Yes.” What would this have to do with his home world? “Good – I need to source something from a respectable trader, only my informants indicate that he pretty much won’t speak to anyone who isn’t from his home planet.” Ah, so she needs me. “He’s from Lexrul?” “Correct.” “...I suppose I can do that, if you give me the contact.” “Well, I’d like to be there.” He sighed internally – not enough of a leash, it seemed. “…So it’s set?” “Thursday, yes.” “Then I would be happy to help.” “Good. Kept those figures in your head?” He hesitated for a minute “Excuse me?” “From your calculation…” “Oh. Yes.” “Good, then I was quick enough – get back to it, I don’t want you to forget them… OH! And Krennic!” He turned before he left, “Yes?” “Your work so far has been incredible. Keep it up.” “…Thank… you?” He stepped back out of your office and then scoffed, yeah right… If she thinks she can kill me with kindness she’s got another thing coming… ** Work continued like this for the entirety of the project. And it only served to get worse. Every time you would put Krennic on something that sounded exciting – or might give him that little bit of power - you’d pull him from something else. Or you’d only let him conduct this one meeting, or sit in on this one deal. He realised you were either keeping him from certain information, or making sure you didn’t have to grant him certain access. No matter what your reasoning was. He’d be glad to see the back of you once this was over. But there was something else about you also. That the only time you’d vocalised that you were impressed with him was that meeting. After that you’d kept silent, but your admiration for his work appeared to be from afar. Like you thought saying words would only cause further conflict. Orson would often look up from his work to see you watching him. And he was worried to find that it unnerved him. Not that you watched him; even with his ill feelings for you, it was your job to make sure he was doing his, but it was the way you watched him. Krennic noticed that at first you seemed to hide it with an inquisitiveness, he worked at the other end of your spectrum – your niche was in another silo of architecture altogether. It would make sense for you to be interested. But he noticed that you never asked him about it. And pretty soon he also noticed that you weren’t watching his work, but him. And it wasn’t with interest, or admiration. If he thought he could do anything about it, Orson Krennic knew he would. That using what he saw would give him power over you. He knew that look, he read that look so often in other people – wasn’t he after all also in the intelligence bureau? And this would be intelligence that he could use. You didn’t look at him like a man working on a part of your project. You looked at him like a man you were falling for. Like the man who would take you down with him if he could… *** 9 months later… The lift slid to a halt about 10 floors before he expected it to an he glared momentarily at the buttons. All he wanted was a nice quite ride alone, Thank You! It only got worse when the doors parted and you were standing on the other side of them. You flicked your eyes up and down him and didn’t even bother with a verbal greeting – he’d likely throw back a snide remark or get all grumpy about it anyway. You stepped in and swept around to the keys; only noticing that the floor you wanted was already pressed. Press something else! Press something else! PLEASE be going anywhere but this meeting!!! If Krennic could get it to happen by sheer will he would have – but you took a step away. NO! You were curious though; “Looks like we could be heading to the same project meeting, Commander.” You noticed his intake of breath, and how his body seemed to rise an inch as he straightened and tensed his shoulders. Oh, now you’d pissed him off by addressing him by rank. He also didn’t answer you, which only confirmed your thought, and it became the longest 10 floor ride of either of your lives. You turned to him as you stepped out of the elevator, and once again he saw that look cross your face the same one you’d left burned into his head after the last project, only now you’d learned to hide it well. It was fleeting. And he cursed himself for wishing he could look at it for longer. “Well, Krennic, I’ll see you in the briefing…” With that you swept into the crowd – no doubt to mingle with those of similar rank. He sighed, looking at the bright red strip of his own. One day, he thought to himself, one day I’ll outrank you… and then you’ll see. * The first strategic meeting was okay (The one where everyone with some kind of stakeholder interest in this was present, beyond the working members of the main team themselves), even though he noticed you were sat over there near the front, being lorded on by the higher ups. Not everyone here would be working on the project and Orson realised that, but still... Why he had to sit all the way back here whilst you got to live it up in direct eye-line of anyone important he felt was insulting. And he found himself glaring at your back for the majority of the presentation. Just you wait until you need me for a niche piece of architecture you can’t figure out on your own...  The first planning meeting, the one with all the real movers and shakers in it, was where it really heated up. Krennic was almost surprised to receive the invite; he expected hand-me-down information from you at a need to know only level from you at best. When he got to the meeting however, he realised why you’d likely wanted him present. He was among the lowest ranking. The only ones around his rank, or lower, were your assistant and the administration team taking the minutes. He also noticed the place holder names around the table put you directly opposite him. And he knew immediately you’d had a hand in that, even if it had meant swapping them around yourself. But the meeting was hell. If you wanted to embarrass him, to belittle him in a public forum, in front of not only his peers, but people he admired and wanted the admiration of then, by the Stars, had you managed to do that here. In fact at the end he felt so utterly defeated he almost slammed his datapad into your chest and spat his feelings bitterly; I want off this project. I can’t work with you. But that would be showing weakness, and proving you’d broken him. And Krennic couldn’t have that. And that feeling of spite (maybe you wanted him off. And he wouldn’t give in to anything you wanted) was the only thing that made him hang on to his role here. There were lots of points in the meeting, before you’d continually shot him down, that Krennic was happy to be here. Even excited, elated that someone would raise something particularly difficult that he could do. And he would (politely!) raise his arm; “I am more than capable of completing such a task. I would certainly be happy to take it on...” Before you’d come in and cut across; “Our team will take it. Though I am happy enough to put Krennic on my team, you can route the work through me and I can decide where it goes.” He hated you, and he’d never hated you more than right then. Because you knew, you knew, he could do it, you know how desperately he wanted to boost himself a rank and you knew he wanted to prove himself to this particular table. The only reason they even swivelled to you and nodded in agreement was because of your damn rank bar.  Without that, in this room, on this subject - that hasten to add, he was an expert on - you would be nothing. Krennic was writing books on this before you were even in the academy and now he had to submit his skills to you. ** There was a bitterness to this project. More so than the last one. And the tension was horiffic – you felt that in the air, and you had to be careful, one foot wrong and it would snap, and you’d be at all out war. Although, you tipped your head surveying him again and biting your lip, when weren’t you putting one foot wrong in his opinion? Krennic spent the project just about acknowledging what you asked him to do, but he gave you no move verbal communication than was absolutely necessary. If he could get away with yes or no then he would. And you hated to admit that it hurt. If he was giving up on snarky sparing matches with you (that you obviously enjoyed) then something was very wrong. You knew he wouldn’t be able to see what you were trying to do for him... but he wasn’t supposed to, you had to go about this correctly. Besides half of the meetings you’d asked him to sit in on for this particular project he wouldn’t be in without you; he had nowhere near the clearance level; and you were giving him that for free. You couldn’t let him simply go off on his own and do it. You needed someone to stare at the magnificent creation and ask you who did it; whose idea, can I work with... “Orson Krennic. Yes.” He’s great. But you knew what Krennic really thought; You wouldn’t let him have any freedom. You didn’t trust him. You’d crush his creativity. There had to be something you could do to show him that wasn’t your aim. After all, that would do neither of you any good...  “Orson?” You tried a different route this time, maybe it was gentler to address him by his first name. You knew that rank didn’t work already(!) “Yes...” Apparently not. “I just received the next part of the project.” “Yes?” “I need you to run lead on it.” “Which part?” “All of it.” He looked to you with slight annoyance in those blue eyes, disbelieving. “Who is in charge?” “You are. We’ll finish up here, you’re wasted on this bit.” You placed the drive on his desk that contained exactly what you needed from him; “Do what you do best. Book a meeting with Commander D’Omnynn; he can brief you.” “I assume you want in on this meeting?” You gave a shrug “No...” and stepped away; “This is all yours... just, keep me regularly updated. Okay?” You walked away without either of you uttering another word, and his eyes fell from your frame walking away from him to the drive sitting in front of him. There’s a catch. Where is the catch? He picked it up. What if there wasn’t one this time? Then that left Krennic with one question. Why? *** Krennic worked so hard. So, so, so hard. And you got to watch this from afar with a smile. And hoped he wouldn’t see it. And it was incredible, the amount of files you got back with; This is excellent! Who is working this? or comments about work they’d seen your project, where you got to give a smile “Oh, that would be Krennic...” And more than once it raised surprised eyebrows that you were happy to see proven wrong. So, by the end of the project cycle he was practically running half of it. And Orson seemed a lot more confident; and on occasion he even wore a smile.   That meant he was present at the end of project drinks reception... but you were surprised to find him standing alone, sipping from a whisky glass. “Impeccable work, Orson.” He never turned that smile on you, not once. But he couldn’t help doing so at that. And that made you happier than you had been at the outcome of the project. Finally, he might trust you enough to give you his smile. “I suppose, without getting the opportunity to project lead...” “Say nothing of it. I knew you would be the right man for the job...” His face clearly read confused; Either she’s already drunk… or she wants something else… “Surprising really that you didn’t have me on a tighter leash the whole time.” “Why would you say that?” You were curious as to his reasoning. Orson gave a nonchalant shrug; “Oh, well...” he breathed, “you like it don’t you. Lording that rank bar of yours over me.” Part of you rebuked that, part of you couldn’t help but think he was right. And you felt a little ashamed; “I just like being in charge. I earned this rank... just like everyone else.” “Yes, but not everyone else sat in my lectures dying for the day that they could prove me wrong, did they?” “I didn’t necessarily want to prove you wrong...” you still held that small smile, “Maybe I did wanna wipe that smug smirk off your face.” But he didn’t really take that as a light hearted joke. In fact he laughed, almost bitterly and tipped his glass to you; that was sarcasm. “Well, congratulations, Y/N. You succeeded.” He finished the glass, set it down, and fixed you with those blue eyes. You’d lost him, you knew, they were hard and cold and nearly grey. “Now if you’ll excuse me...” Krennic turned away from you, then figured he had more to say and turned back; “I would appreciate it if any time I am put on another project with you, you will pass up the chance to work with me.” “Orson I-” he held up his hand not wanting to hear it, and trying to ignore the pains in his chest at saying this. He had his reasons; he knew what the looks you were giving him were doing to him. It was a confusing and he didn’t like it. Krennic’s only option was to cut it before it began. So he did. “Please. I would like to decline any other offer of work. So, simply don’t make them... maybe I’ll see you around the galaxy, Y/N.” It was all well and good him ignoring his own pains... but you gathered your hands to your own chest. He couldn’t help you ignore yours. *** There was a sharp knock at your door, and you thought twice about answering it – you were busy. If it was important they’d come back. Only the knock was persistent, and sounded a little more than just urgent.  When you opened it, you didn’t expect to come face to face with Orson Krennic. Your eyebrows furrowed; oh, now he was actively seeking you out to add another point to his futile argument. Despite the fact you hadn’t seen him for another few months since the Weapons briefing, and also he’d told you he didn’t want to work with you anymore. That left you a little icy with him, if only to try and protect yourself, his words had stung pretty bad; and you’d exchanged pretty sharp glances the entire way through the briefing. You both knew the other one wanted this one badly. Instead of looking angry like he was about to jab accusations at you, he looked perplexed. For a second both of you stood in silence – because you wanted him to admit to you why he was here, and he didn’t want to voice it. So instead you were standing in a silent corridor staring each other down with two equally confused expressions. Krennic conceded, and his eyes lowered from yours as he held up the thick sheet of folded paper; “…I… Don’t understand…” You were glad he wasn’t looking at your face, because for half a second you knew that sheer panic crossed it. He wasn’t supposed to know about it! He at least wasn’t supposed to know it was you who had recommending him – you narrowed your eyes slightly. Bastards-! You couldn’t trust anyone in this Galaxy! You took a moment to compose yourself and spoke; “Why?” His eyes raised, and he looked at least slightly ashamed “…I thought…” “You probably thought right, but I know someone worthy of a promotion when I see one.” Krennic gained a slight squint at your ‘compliment’ – but he wanted more of an answer than that; “That doesn’t explain why…” You nodded to the paper, “You shouldn’t even know it was me. I don’t need to explain anything.” “I don’t have the commendation – I just have your name.” You folded your arms and leant against the door frame; “So, you think I’m just going to let you read it?” “…E… Even if you just give me the highlights.” “No.” “Why?!” “You have no right to information! That’s meant to be anonymous – they’ll probably tell you when they give you your new rank bar. Are we done?” You stepped back but he took a step forward; “Y/N! I’m not leaving until you tell me why.” Narrowing your eyes again, you attempted to push him backwards, but he wasn’t budging. “Orson Callan Krennic! Until you get that new rank, I still out rank you! GET OUT OF MY ROOM!” He sounded both panicked and exasperated as he ran his hands through his hair; “That’s not the point! I thought you wanted this!!!” “The battle station project? – I do. But I still know when someone can do the work better than me. And you can. More importantly, that’s what the Empire needs… and you have the process and resource. You do that right, you’re going to be more than just promoted.” He looked to the paper again; apparently every word out of your mouth was only serving to confuse him more; “…But it’d do the same for you.” “But you want it. So take it. Besides…” You offered a small smile “You know me, I’ll work quietly in the background, and should you fail…” You gave a shrug “Guess it’s mine.” Suddenly your smile transferred to him; “If I fail, you’re in as bad a position as me.” He waved the letter “You promoted me.” “Orson, honey, you can be one in a long line of mistakes I’ve made – the trick is, if you make yourself indispensable. People overlook that – how is it my fault if you don’t live up to expectations.” There was a subtle step back at that, not the sentence. The word. You’d just given him a cute nick-name without a second thought, and he didn’t know if that or the letter was the more confusing thing of the day. And now he was having trouble focusing his thought pattern on where he was previously heading… Krennic was usually quicker than this, and as you had to wait for another retaliation, and he searched your room as if somehow the words he was looking for would be somewhere in here – you sighed. “Orson…” Your voice was soft and it brought his focus back to you “Come here… sit down… If you won’t leave without knowing why, and you’re gonna stand in my doorway looking like that, we might as well get comfortable and talk about this…” He was slightly hesitant at first, but the good intentions look on your face persuaded him to take the offered seat on your couch. “Drink?” He gave a firm nod and you crossed the room; you would assume him a whisky man, and would join him. Why would you drink anything less - by the look on his own face both of you might be in need of this by the time the night was through.  You turned back to him eyeing your living quarters suspiciously, which made you chuckle. “Relax yourself Orson, this should be more of a celebration afterall... you’re not in trouble. When they present you your bar, I’ll hardly even be able to tell you what to do - which I think is what you want, isn’t it?” But that meant you wouldn’t look at him the way you did, or smile at him like that absentmindedly either. Would you work together now? Could you co-head projects. He smiled at his own thought - he might enjoy that a lot, he realised. Equals. It would be a new experience, but he would like to get used to it. You sat up on the couch, curling your legs up under you and handing him his glass; “…I’m not going to repeat the letter. But part of me is surprised you’d actively seek me out to find out why.” “…I…” He tipped his head and took a sip, words were clearly going to be a struggle for a man who didn’t exactly use them sparingly; but knew smarter ways to use them. “…Guess I just wouldn’t expect you to be the one. All you’ve ever done is push me.” “Yes.” “…And it hasn’t exactly ever been nice pushing. Every chance you get you push me down. Our last project you stole everything from me our first meeting and then went ahead and gave it to me anyway once I was assigned to you. Even I know it’s so you can walk around with that rank and…” He paused at the perplexed look on your face “…I’m…wrong?” “A little.” You gave a smile “Yes. I pushed you; and now you’re here. Doing work, no offense, you wouldn’t get to do without me. In meetings you wouldn’t be in without my invite. I didn’t do what I did in the briefing to undermine you – I did it to strengthen your position.” You set your glass down with a sigh; “Think about it. Sure you’re experienced; but even you know you have a reputation in this galaxy Orson. And it’s not the same reputation as me. They trust me to get it done, and they will overlook you. In a room like that the project is going one way even if you’re the smartest man in it.” You pointed to yourself “I’m not even sure it’s rank related; but if you want to use that against me, I suppose you’re more welcome.” It was clear he didn’t like some of the words that came out of your mouth, but he decided to swallow his pride with his whisky instead of argue with you. “You’re telling me you did all of that for my own good.” “Yes.” “Bullsh*t.” “Believe that if you want to. You’re outstanding at what you do. If I have to make people see that I will. Now you have the opportunity to make them see it for themselves. Go do it, don’t squander it.” You narrowed your eyes slightly; “And be respectful that it’s my name on that promotion slip.” He finished his glass and set it down; “Is it really because you think I deserve it?” You scoffed “What else would it be?” When he turned those blue eyes back on you, it was a knowing look. And it saw right through you. Your breath momentarily caught. “…I know, how you look at me.” He shook his head, “And I think I understand that feeling even less.” You bit your lips together, and you couldn’t hold those eyes. Faint pink crossed your cheeks, but it didn’t need to for him to know he was right. “…I can separate personal and professional, Krennic. It has nothing to do with my… feelings.” “So you admit you have them-!?” He was amazed at that, that you would just outright tell him. If your aim was to confound him even more you were certainly succeeding. You sighed, almost sounding defeated, and finally when you looked back to him, it was that look in your eyes he missed so much from the first project you’d worked on together; you weren’t hiding it, and you weren’t holding it back. And you came to a sudden realisation of your own; he already knew. “Y/N… I-” Krennic paused. How could he not know what to say? Maybe there wasn’t anything to say? But how could there not be. There was so much to say – too much to say? And he was as caught between personal feelings, that he’d kept at bay so easily since he’d walked away from you at the celebration, and professional ones; the things he should say at your commendation to lead to his promotion. He’d be a Director now. That was all on you. He’d head a Division of his own. He’d work on the battle station. He would lead that work.  There was a long silence, and when he opened his mouth again you knew why. “Thank you.” Suddenly every feature was sincere “…I don’t think I’ll… say it enough…” It was quiet admittance. And you knew he’d probably never say it again. You smiled, that same small smile that always brought him back to you from a galaxy far, far away. “You don’t need to say it. I know.” Something in his blue eyes stirred and he realised you had no idea, that he would know how you felt from every non-verbal interaction you’d ever given him. That you had no idea he felt similarly. Until right now. Something was so clear about the way he was sitting across from you, that he would even bother coming here to ask questions – and wouldn’t just take the promotion whilst brushing the name aside. You took the initiative. “So, the question…” you nearly smirked, knowing he’d like this; “…Director, is where do we go from here? Because I think for once, I’m pretty unclear…” Krennic leant closer to you, and you realised you weren’t about to back out of this; “…I don’t know…” His lips hovered over yours; “…But we can start here…” 

---

🙏🙏 Thank You For Requesting! 💙🥰

@dennismitchell @happyskywhale @wltz-bby #MendoTagSquad.