#i was tossing up on which part of page 11 i should pick out. but i decided to pick the more exciting one just for you ❤

[jichanxo]

for the senseific ask game: 11, 28, 49 🌚

thank you for walking into the trap i have designed specifically for you ❤ here's your reward

pg 11: Yagami stretched his arms above him, then settled them on the backs of the chairs next to him. It’d rest better like this, though it wouldn’t be half as comfortable as the office sofa. Kitakata jolted and leaned forward so not to let the back of his seat, and hence Yagami’s arm, touch him. He looked up from his work, giving him a dirty look.

pg 28: “What are you doing here?” He would have hit him or shoved him if it wouldn’t have been such a bad example for the students. Despite what Kitakata thought, he did care about that.

pg49: “Putting that aside though,” Amasawa moved on. “The day couldn’t have gone better. We learnt a lot, too.”

“We did?” Kitakata asked, stopping at the building elevators and pressing the button. “I’m still lost.”

[emperor-palpaminty]

Payback

Hi welcome to part 2 of this horny disaster, which could also be called "Minty does not know how to write anything beyond hugging" or “Minty has been watching Oceans 11 too much please take it away”

Also this is rated 18+, go away children, I will give you a juice box, I cannot FUCKING write romantic buildup please don't hurt me, my one-shots are better, I am just a nervous mess, send help

Any great scientist knew to test a hypothesis before they execute it as fact. You were not a scientist, simply looking for revenge for the (finally) faded hickey on your neck. You were, for once, thankful that the body glove went up to your neck.

The Sepratist group affiliated with Farnbec were found to frequent a casino in Canto Bight, where dealings would also often go down among the rich distractions, where enough alcohol and gambling adreneline could turn many a blind eye to illegal activities.

Because Tech was the most knowledgable about (in Wrecker’s words) “fancy high class stuff” and you were (in Hunter’s words) “eye candy” for vulnerable separatists, you were both roped into the next infiltration mission. The whole situation was (in Crosshair’s words) hysterical and laughable. At least, that was what you picked up from his hysterical laughing. 

You glanced sideways at Tech, next to you on the shuttle. He was reading some book on his holopad, eyes skimming it, consuming the information with a hunger you had begun to admire. You watched him for a moment, eyes flickering to his full lips, which were moving slights, perhaps tracing the words or formulas that came to him from the page of the books. 

Those lips could do a lot of damage.

Your head turned quickly and fixated on the window, pressing a hand to your chin, fingers tapping against your lips. Tech, know-it-all and snarky and talkative Tech, had all the swagger of a womanizing God, and he... just didn’t show it. Ever. Until that gala, and now you couldn’t get his lips, his damn hands, off your mind, and you wanted them back on you. 

Subconciously, your hand moved up to your throat, stroking it in thought. Maybe he would do it again, or more. Your throat bobbed in a swallow, thinking of your back to a wall, that same heat in his eyes, hands yanking at your clothes-

You were pulled out of the daydream by Tech’s hand gently laying on your arm. “We should be arriving shortly. The funds went for one of the... higher class locations.”

”It makes sense.” Your arm relaxed under the warmth of his hand, and you risked a glance back him. His lips were pulled into a small smile, which pressed further in a smirk as you glanced at those lips. Your gaze snapped back up to his eyes. “We have to match the whole... fancy role we’re playing.”

Tech bobbed his head in a nod, curly hair bouncing. “Yes. I believe this mission will be easy.” He stood, tucking the holopad under his arm, and smiled back at you, a devilish gleam in his eyes. “Especially if it’s anything like last time.”

You felt your brow press as you grabbed your bag, standing, hurrying out after Tech, snarling at him under your breath. Oh, it would be just like last time.

Maybe this time, the roles would be flipped.

___

You tugged at the clasp on your dress, hand fumbling for the other half of it. "Stupid-" You hissed. You twisted your wrist, trying to catch it, and you groaned, fingers brushing it but never able to grab the clasp. You paused, glancing back into the bedroom, and you popped your tongue in thought. 

You smoothed a hand in your hair, toussling it slightly, and you leaned in the mirror, checking the red lipstick. You stepped away, clearing your throat. “Hey, Tech? I need a hand.”

“Coming,” The trooper called. You heard him shift, standing off the bed, and you leaned over the counter again to pretend to examine your lipstick once more. He entered, pausing at the door, eyes skimming your form momentarily, before he entered, eyes moving to meet yours in the mirror. Yours met his, and you pressed your lips together to set the lipstick, and his eyes- oh, those eyes, they flicked to your rosy mouth, and he ran his tongue along his lips, gaze slowly searing against you. “Nice dress.”

“Thanks.” You straightened up, examining your reflection innocently. “Can you get the clasp?”

He nodded and walked over behind you, softly taking your hair and moving it aside, fingers stroking your neck. You inhaled and glanced down at the counter, pressing your hands against the cool stone quietly. His breath was warm as he leaned close to your back, fanning your bare skin as he took his time clasping the back of the dress behind your neck, which still exposed a majority of your back.

You let his hands smooth down your spine, gingerly, softly, but you moved away from him quickly, flashing a smile at him brightly, tossing the hair he had just moved over your shoulder. “Thanks, Tech,” You purred, swaying as you walked away. Maybe, if you played your cards right, he would be helping you take this dress off, too.

___

The air of the casino was thick with luck and the scent of drinks. Tech had you on his arm, and he exhaled softly. “Alright, darling.” He said gently. “Let’s see where our friends are.”

You smiled and nodded, eyes scanning the high-life around you. “After you, dearest.” You let him lead you, watching his eyes skim the club. You could practically hear the gears twisting in his head. You took his hand, tugging it up and gently kissing the inside of his wrist. His fingers twitched, and you watched in fascination. You parted your lips, gently pressing your hot tongue to his wrist.

Tech’s fist clenched, and he looked at you, lips half-parting. “What was that about?”

“We have to look like a couple.” Your smile turned into a smirk, and you dropped his hand from your lips, gently weaving your arm in his. Tech's gaze flamed, and his lips matched yours, tugging into a smirk.

His gaze was caught by something behind him. "There." He said, interrupting the moment. "I found them."

You glanced back at the table, filled with fine and rich men and women, sitting around, dealing cards and throwing dice, drinking wine that was far more pricey than it should have been. "Do you know how to play?"

Tech nodded, calmly. "It's all math, I believe, and I play with Hunter all the time."

"Yes, because you play with our Sargent, you're fully prepared to go against some of the richest gamblers in the galaxy."

His brow arched, and he began leading you to the table. "Precisely."

You chuckled and shook your head, matching your stride to his. "Of course. I'll be your moral support." Your hand moved up and arched on his back, running it over the fine material of his suit. "You look confident, act the part."

Tech gave a curt nod, his own fingers slipping down to your waist. "Only if you do the same."

"Oh, darling," You whispered, bumping your hip to his. "You couldn't handle me if I went all out."

His fingers left your back as Tech slid into the extra, empty chair. You moved to sit on the arm of the chair, sliding your hand across his shoulders, massaging gently into the flesh- his armor made him look lanky, awkward, and like that word he disdained, cute. You felt his shoulders stiffen as your fingers traced up to his neck, skimming up and down the tanned lines of it up to his jaw.

You leaned down to look at his cards, nails tracing nondescript shapes into his skin. You watched him, his eyes glancing at each one, the ones splayed face-up on the table, and saw his lips moving, tasting each number that came into his head. He lowered his cards and tossed in a few chips, a dangerous calm settling around him as his free hand reached up and caught the one you had on his neck. His thumb began working in circles on your knuckles, and he tugged your hand to his lips and kissed it, slowly, glancing up at you, expression fierce with confidence.

You sat back and watched him, placid faced, until it came his turn to bet again. The process of calculating began once more.

Why was all of this so easy for him? And why should you have made this easy for him?

You leaned down to his ear, gently kissing his lobe, smoothing your hand back towards yourself. "Good hand?" You mumbled, voice low.

"Yes," Tech's voice was steady, but you watched as your hand skimmed around his lower back, and everything below the table was tensed up, stressed. "Very good hand."

"Good." You smoothed your hand gently along his thigh, leaning away from his ear. Your fingers squeezed the tense muscles gently, running down to his knee.

Without a word, Tech tugged you off the arm of the chair and into his lap, still keeping his face level as he looked over his cards again. No one looked twice, too drunk or too wrapped up in gambling. His free hand curled absentmindedly in your hair, and he leaned towards your ear. His lips pressed distractedly pressed to the back of your neck, and he set down his cards, calmly, declaring himself the winner of the round. "You," He huffed, gently squeezing you to him. "Are very, very eager."

You squirmed and his hand lazily drifted up and down your side, lips gently pressed on your ear. You allowed yourself to settle against him (partners and companions were commonplace here, it seemed), and then you swiftly rose, moving away from him, a smirk playing on your lips as he watched you, vague shock on his face as you leaned in, kissing him, and you felt him stiffen and heard him hum.

___

You tugged away, grinning, pressing a final peck to his nose. "I'll be waiting." You whispered, turning and swaggering away, hormones and buildup making your stomach flip.

With how his eyes followed you, and how his eyes seared into your back, the confidence in your hips, you knew you wouldn't have to wait very long for him to join you.

Tags for yall sinners:

@milkytheholy @shuttlelauncher81 @itskeletor @kittykollision​

[softluci]

hello yes can i just say i l o v e d your gen z hcs and may i acquire more

for starters, i am not religious, but i am PRAYING you don’t think i was ignoring your ask. i’ve been thinking about it since i got it, it’s just that i’m a college student with worms for brains, so hopefully you understand. this is something that i’ve had on my mind for a long time [i’ve been at this on and off for months], and it most definitely can be associated with/attributed to gen z. 

for a fleeting, wonderful period of time, there was a trend on tiktok that went, “buss it, buss it…” are you familiar? 

that should be enough of a summary, right? ah—for future reference, “o7” is like a saluting emote, for anyone who might not know. reader is g/n as usual, enjoy!

[a/n: so because this is so long, this part is going to be, like, the lore, and then the actual headcanons will be right here]

trendy 

the two things most corrosive to the human spirit are easily named—capitalism and boredom. while it would be easier and less taxing to explain the former, the latter was the problem at hand. it’s not that there was nothing to do in the devildom—quite the opposite, actually—it was just that you wanted some time to yourself every now and again. the trouble with trying to take time for yourself in a completely new location, the residents of which are always enamored with you in one way or another, is that there isn’t anything to do. the house was full of adventures for you to take—the trap door under the rug in the library, the other trap door under the dining room table, the small door behind the couch in the living room, and whatever other poorly hidden doors your seven roommates thought you didn’t know about. 

trouble was, you didn’t want to leave your room. you, intelligent creature that you are, knew that the chances of you running into mammon or satan or beel or asmo were all too high, and even higher were the chances of you agreeing to spend time with them if they asked, and you knew they would. what were you to do? 

you stared at your ceiling from your bed, d.d.d. resting on your stomach as you let your mind wander. your d.d.d. was full of things for you to do, the devildom’s ethernet at your fingertips, but you weren’t interested in finding new things right now. you wanted something familiar, like—like your phone. 

what was the point of lucifer taking your phone, anyway? it’s not like you could use it—being here rendered it a useless brick of glass and metal, so it wouldn’t have been a big deal if you still had it. it was funny, though, that you couldn’t use your actual phone when it was still possible to access the human internet from down here. 

at least, you assumed so. 

how else would levi be able to keep up with his human idols, get tickets for their shows—the works, you know? luckily, you were fully capable of asking. 

d.d.d. now in your hand, you rolled onto your stomach and found your messages with levi, nails clacking against the glass as you tried to reach him.

hey, you texted, can you help me with something?

his reply came faster than you expected: ?? what do you need 

how do i access human websites and apps, you asked, rolling onto your side. you know how to, right?

lololol, it’s not possible :p

a grunt, more aggravated than you’d care to admit, escaped from the back of your throat.

don’t lie. 

a few minutes passed with no response, and you wondered if you were too harsh. 

“he’s a sensitive guy,” you mumbled, inhaling deeply. “i probably came on too strong or something.” 

just as you started typing out an apology and a, “forget i ever said anything,” you got a response. 

a vpn and a proxy site. 

a smile crept onto your face as air came out of your nose, the closest thing to a laugh you could muster. 

can you set it up for me? 

after another few minutes of no response, you sit up, wondering how you could’ve possibly fucked up a second time, your d.d.d. buzzed. 

levi sent you a file and a link, with a host of instructions. 

click on the file and it’ll take you to the vpn you need to download. don’t worry about bugs or anything, i made it myself. 

you let out a low whistle, flopping onto your back once more. 

“this guy gets up to more than i thought,” you said, eyebrows raised. “someone get this man some physical affection.” 

you continued to read, growing more fond of him with each sentence.

once you install it, pick the country whose network you want access to. from there, you’ll have a list of that country’s most used applications available for you. again, don’t worry about bugs. 

what’s the link for? you asked, excitement getting the better of you. 

for when you download internet applications. it’s added security, paste the link in before you search anything or you’ll trigger the firewall alarm. 

you blinked. 

you’ll trigger the what? 

i’ll trigger the fucking What? 

levi’s response was the fastest one yet: the Fucking Firewall Alarm. barbatos’ design. he has no idea i know how to bypass it. just do what i said. don’t try to solve any potential issues on your own, come to me for everything.

roger that o7, you replied, thanks levi ^_^

yeah, yeah. come to my room for a hxh binge tomorrow night.

you snorted. what a fucking nerd—in the greatest way possible. 

of course bestie :] ily

ily2 normie -_- 

in his room, unbeknownst to you, levi felt like he made a mistake of some kind. it’s not that he didn’t trust you, it’s just that you had a tendency to end up in undesirable situations, even if it wasn’t always on purpose. he was probably just worried over nothing, or so he tried to tell himself, but whatever. this isn’t even about him.

you sat up once more, this time leaning against your pillows as you started setting everything up. everything went so quickly that you barely wondered if all of this—subverting hell’s firewall, personally designed by a man eerily similar to a 2D crush from when you were in middle school—was worth accessing a few silly apps from the human world. 

a few minutes later, your d.d.d. now a much, much cooler copy of your phone, any and all thoughts of regret and hesitation were absent from your mind. 

your first order of business on your upgraded d.d.d. was logging into your tiktok account, however surprising it was that you even remembered the password. you put your headphones in and adjusted your volume, going back into the dumpster fire that is your for-you page with open arms. 

after around half an hour of stifled laughter and small, offended gasps from being targeted by the algorithm, you came across a rare dancing video. the person on your screen was in casual clothes, making minor, silly dance movements as the music dwindled, only for them to drop into a squat in time with the music, suddenly dolled up. you shot forward, taken aback by their transformation and by their dancing post beat drop. did you watch it on a loop for a few minutes? well, that’s nobody’s business but yours. you clicked on the sound in hopes of finding similar videos, and much to your relief, there were plenty. about ten videos in, a smile still on your face, you got an idea. 

you slipped your headphones out, arbitrarily looking around your room, before whispering to yourself, “i could—i could do that. i could totally do that.” 

and you were right. you had nice clothes and makeup from various shopping occasions with asmo. your room had led strips, courtesy of levi ordering the wrong ones and being so kind as to give them to you. you could do it. 

levi was the only person you’d spoken to since you retreated to your room a few hours ago, and the lights have been off the entire time, which meant that if you worked quietly enough, everyone else had reason enough to assume you were asleep. good! how could you possibly explain what you were doing getting all dolled up at, like, 11:00 on a wednesday night? you couldn’t, even a little bit—not in a way that convinced anyone, anyway. 

come midnight, you were sitting cross legged on your bed, watching your final product. not to be vain or anything, but you were looking very respectfully at yourself. since when could you move like that, anyway? the wonders of being alone, you supposed. 

you didn’t post it publicly, electing to save it as a draft just so it would save to your d.d.d. maybe you’d post it once you were back in the human world, when your friends wouldn’t swarm your comments asking where the fuck you were. 

yeah, lucifer told you, “everything was taken care of,” but regardless of whether or not you believed him, you knew it wasn’t a good idea to risk finding out if he missed something. 

boredom creeping up on you again, you elected to go through the messages on your d.d.d. it would be better to make yourself laugh before you were fully bored again, right? you stood up and stretched, opening the group text with the adults. luke doesn’t know about it; he thinks the one with everyone is the main one, and everyone lets him think that so he feels included. 

walking around your room in small circles, you scrolled up to the older conversations and read through them, rolling your eyes and chuckling to yourself. very rarely did they talk about anything of importance. it was mostly diavolo, barbatos, and simeon making quips and jokes at lucifer’s expense for everyone to see. it was gold in its purest form. 

you contemplated sending one of the many cursed things sitting in your camera roll, just to keep them on their toes, but just after opening your gallery, you resigned not to, figuring it would be best to leave him alone. 

you stretched again, the hold on your d.d.d. a bit looser this time. it nearly slipped out of your hands, but you caught it, tossing it onto your bed. as soon as you resigned to start getting ready for bed, you turned back around and picked it up. 

there was no rhyme or reason to your actions; if someone in that moment were to ask you why you did it, you would’ve said, “just ‘cause.”

human intuition is a wonderful thing.

your d.d.d. was still on, still open to the group chat. you’d sent something, evidently a second ago, as indicated by the time stamp. the thumbnail was of you, in casual clothing—the casual clothing you were wearing before you got dolled up, actually. huh. 

huh. 

the weight of your mistake came crashing down on you in full force, a chill sinking into your skin and running up your spine.

you were suddenly acutely aware of the concept of time, how it was of the essence and you had absolutely none to waste.

what were you to do? it wouldn’t be long before your favorite person saw it. you had to do something. 

you could say nothing. you could tell the truth and say it was an accident and that you were embarrassed, but that was even worse than saying nothing because it meant you were set to be the target of teasing you didn’t even wanna try to imagine. you could say it was an accident and be confident about it, telling them, “enjoy!” but that was a dangerous game to play, and you knew it. 

well, i do admire you for taking time to think, but, unfortunately, there was a checkmark next to your message. oh, a number as well—eleven. you just can’t catch a break. what were they all doing up at this time, anyway? it was a school night🤨. 

[bright-eyes-strawberry-lies]

The Weather In PJO (brought to you by gods and demigods)

*alternating colors for ease of reading

**page numbers look weird because they're copied/pasted from ebooks

“Overhead, a huge storm was brewing, with clouds blacker than I’d ever seen over the city. I figured maybe it was global warming or something, because the weather all across New York state had been weird since Christmas. We’d had massive snow storms, flooding, wildfires from lightning strikes. I wouldn’t have been surprised if this was a hurricane blowing in.” - TLT pg 33

“One night, a thunderstorm blew out the windows in my dorm room. A few days later, the biggest tornado ever spotted in the Hudson Valley touched down only fifty miles from Yancy Academy. One of the current events we studied in social studies class was the unusual number of small planes that had gone down in sudden squalls in the Atlantic that year.” - TLT pg 65

“Outside, it really was storming, the kind of storm that cracks trees and blows down houses. There was no horse or eagle on the beach, just lightning making false daylight, and twenty-foot waves pounding the dunes like artillery. [...] Long Island never sees hurricanes this early in the summer. But the ocean seemed to have forgotten.” - TLT pg 156

“There was a blinding flash, a jaw-rattling boom!, and our car exploded.” - TLT pg 176

“I was still in bed in cabin three. My body told me it was morning, but it was dark outside, and thunder rolled across the hills. A storm was brewing. I hadn’t dreamed that.” - TLT pg 491

“It started to rain. Volleyball players stopped their game and stared in stunned silence at the sky.

I had brought this storm to Half-Blood Hill. Zeus was punishing the whole camp because of me.” - TLT pg 520

“BOOOOOM!

The windows of the bus exploded as the passengers ran for cover. Lightning shredded a huge crater in the roof, but an angry wail from inside told me Mrs. Dodds was not yet dead.” - TLT pg 629

“The weather had completely changed. It was stormy, with heat lightning flashing out in the desert.” - TLT pg 988

“In the distance, Los Angeles was on fire, plumes of smoke rising from neighborhoods all over the city. There had been an earthquake, all right, and it was Hades’s fault.” - TLT pg 1191

“I was standing on a deserted street in some little beach town. It was the middle of the night. A storm was blowing. Wind and rain ripped at the palm trees along the sidewalk. Pink and yellow stucco buildings lined the street, their windows boarded up. A block away, past a line of hibiscus bushes, the ocean churned.” - SOM pg 10

“After a few more minutes, the dark splotches ahead of us came into focus. To the north, a huge mass of rock rose out of the sea-an island with cliffs at least a hundred feet tall. About half a mile south of that, the other patch of darkness was a storm brewing. The sky and sea boiled together in a roaring mass.” - SOM pg 598

“A storm raged that night, but it parted around Camp Half-Blood as storms usually did. Lightning flashed against the horizon, waves pounded the shore, but not a drop fell in our valley. We were protected again, thanks to the Fleece, sealed inside our magical borders.” - SOM pg 1045

“Sleet and snow pounded the highway. Annabeth, Thalia, and I hadn’t seen each other in months, but between the blizzard and the thought of what we were about to do, we were too nervous to talk much.” - TTC pg 11

“Old spirits are protecting the bad boat.”

“The Princess Andromeda?” I said. “Luke’s boat?”

“Yes. They make it hard to find. Protect it from Daddy’s storms. Otherwise he would smash it.” - TTC pg 210

“Clouds seemed to be swirling around its peak, as though the mountain was drawing them in, spinning them like a top. “What’s going on up there? A storm?”

Zoë didn’t answer. I got the feeling she knew exactly what the clouds meant, and she didn’t like it.” - TTC pg 751

“I will do my best to destroy his boat with storms, but he is making alliances with my enemies, the older spirits of the ocean. They will fight to protect him.” - TTC pg 886

“We were standing at the dining pavilion, just where we’d last spoken before I went on the quest. The wind was bitter cold, even with the camp’s magical weather protection. Snow fell lightly against the marble steps. I figured outside the camp borders, there must be a blizzard happening.”- TTC pg 915

“The wind whipped cold off the bay. In the south, San Francisco gleamed all white and beautiful, but in the north, over Mount Tamalpais, huge storm clouds swirled. The whole sky seemed like a black top spinning from the mountain where Atlas was imprisoned, and where the Titan palace of Mount Othrys was rising anew. It was hard to believe the tourists couldn’t see the supernatural storm brewing, but they didn’t give any hint that anything was wrong.

“It’s even worse,” Annabeth said, gazing to the north. “The storms have been bad all year, but that—” - BOTL pg 359

“I had no choice. I called to the sea. I reached inside myself and remembered the waves and the currents, the endless power of the ocean. And I let it loose in one horrible scream.

Afterward, I could never describe what happened. An explosion, a tidal wave, a whirlwind of power simultaneously catching me up and blasting me downward into the lava. Fire and water collided, superheated steam, and I shot upward from the heart of the volcano in a huge explosion, just one piece of flotsam thrown free by a million pounds of pressure. The last thing I remember before losing consciousness was flying, flying so high Zeus would never have forgiven me, and then beginning to fall, smoke and fire and water streaming from me. I was a comet hurtling toward the earth.” - BOTL pg 618/619

“Mrs. O’Leary howled. I patted her head, trying to comfort her as best I could. The earth rumbled—an earthquake that could probably be felt in every major city across the country—as the ancient Labyrinth collapsed. Somewhere, I hoped, the remains of the Titan’s strike force had been buried.” - BOTL pg 1005

“I remembered what Tyson had told me at the beginning of the summer. “The old sea gods?”

“Indeed. The battle came first to me, Percy. In fact, I cannot stay long. Even now the ocean is at war with itself. It is all I can do to keep hurricanes and typhoons from destroying your surface world, the fighting is so intense.” - BOTL pg 1066

“Then the entire sea grew dark in front of us, like an inky storm was rolling in. Thunder crackled, which should've been impossible underwater. A huge icy presence was approaching. I sensed a wave of fear roll through the armies below us.” - TLO pg 153

“I saw a bank of storm clouds rolling across the Midwest plains. Lightning flickered. Lines of tornadoes destroyed everything in their path— ripping up houses and trailers, tossing cars around like Matchbox toys. “Monumental floods," an announcer was saying. "Five states declared disaster areas as the freak storm system sweeps east, continuing its path of destruction." The cameras zoomed in on a column of storm bearing down on some Midwest city. I couldn't tell which one. Inside the storm I could see the giant—just small glimpses of his true form: a smoky arm, a dark clawed hand the size of a city block. His angry roar rolled across the plains like a nuclear blast.” - TLO pg 216-218

“Over the city, a thunderstorm boiled—a wall of absolute black with lightning streaking across the sky. A few blocks away, swarms of emergency vehicles gathered with their lights flashing. A column of dust rose from a mound of rubble, which I realized was a collapsed skyscraper. [...] Wind whipped her hair. The temperature was dropping rapidly, like ten degrees just since I'd been standing there.” - TLO pg 468-470

“She faltered as a mighty groan cut through the sky. A blast of lightning hit the center of the darkness. The entire city shook. The air glowed, and every hair on my body stood up. The blast was so powerful I knew it could only be one thing: Zeus's master bolt. It should have vaporized its target, but the dark cloud only staggered backward. A smoky fist appeared out of the clouds. It smashed another tower, and the whole thing collapsed like children's blocks.

The reporter screamed. People ran through the streets. Emergency lights flashed.” - TLO pg 470-471

“Listen to me!" I said. "Kronos's army is invading Manhattan.'"

"Don't you think we know that?" East asked. "I can feel his boats right now. They're almost across."

"Yep," Hudson agreed. "I got some filthy monsters crossing my waters too."

"So stop them," I said. "Drown them. Sink their boats."

"Why should we?" Hudson grumbled. "So they invade Olympus. What do we care?"

"Because I can pay you.” - TLO pg 654

“Water sprayed his face, stinging his eyes. The wind picked up, and Hyperion staggered backward.

"Percy!" Grover called in amazement. "How are you doing that?"

Doing what? I thought.

Then I looked down, and I realized I was standing in the middle of my own personal hurricane. Clouds of water vapor swirled around me, winds so powerful they buffeted Hyperion and flattened the grass in a twenty-yard radius. Enemy warriors threw javelins at me, but the storm knocked them aside.

"Sweet," I muttered. "But a little more!"

Lightning flickered around me. The clouds darkened and the rain swirled faster. I closed in on Hyperion and blew him off his feet.” - TLO pg 903-904

[ladyc0312]

A Jikook Guide to RunBTS: 66-80

Things in this batch start out a little slow, KM-wise, but seriously pick up around the Toronto episodes. It features the episodes where both RM and Jin ask if JK and JM are a couple, so it includes the giggly hand-push game that helped make me a jikook believer! 

As usual, let me know if I’ve missed anything or should take another look at something. :)

Ep 66 "BTS in a Comic Book Cafe Part 1" (Ep: 2 / KM: 1)

The one that I can’t help but feel would be more fun if I was more familiar with the comics involved, but the guys make it cute anyway

3:08 - This is a little hard to see because they use weird angles and cuts, but JK sings a piece of a theme song and JM catches his eye and sings with him.

9:23 - JK leans in over JM's shoulder to see how many people are on the comic book page

10:18 - JM does the same when it's JK's turn

BEHIND 10:29 - JM jokes around with JK and does the playful chest tap thing

Ep 67 "BTS in a Comic Book Cafe Part 2" (Ep: 3 / KM: 1)

None

BEHIND 7:28 - JM asks JK if there's a comic book he wants and says he'll buy it for him if so

Ep 68 "Heart Pang" (Ep: 1 / KM: 0)

The one where I can't for the life of me understand the board game they are playing

None. 

Ep 69 "BTS in Toronto Part 1" (Ep: 4 / KM: 5)

The Toronto one where Jikook wear matching denim shirts while going to Niagara Falls, getting lunch, and playing games

2:36 - RM says there are certain people who will struggle with the wake up challenge. JK and JM readily seem to admit it's them. 

6:29 - JM hangs back (to walk with JK?) when the rest of the group starts heading for the Falls.

8:06 - There's a "teleporting" moment where Jin is in between JM and JK, then the camera cuts away, then it comes back and jikook are next to each other. They stay next to each other as they walk on.

9:52 - You can see jikook interacting in the background.

12:25 - JM takes a photo of JK and gets him to giggle, then they huddle to look at the pic.

13:56 - JM puts his arm around JK and takes a selca in the background, causing RM to ask "what, are you a couple or something? Both wearing denim shirts?" He says it fairly seriously for a line that seems like it's supposed to be a joke and they don't laugh or say anything in response - it looks like JM looks away and flips his hair while JK shifts and awkwardly rubs his forehead. You can also see a quiet exchange after between RM and JM where RM says no to something, then nods at JK. Unclear if it's related, but including it just in case. 

15:25 - JK doesnn't try to distract JM while he did the staring contest like he did with Hobi. When Jimin passes, JK is the only one to clap. 

18:04 - Quick moment where you can see JK start to rub the arm of JM's shirt before the camera cuts away.

18:50 - JM laughs and touches JK's chest after JK loses the rocks paper scissor game, too.

19:53 - When the other five walk away and JK is doing something with his mic, we don't see where JM is.

22:02 - JK appears to help JM with something with his camera in the foreground.

BEHIND 4:12 - After JHope scolds JK for letting Suga pour everyone's water, JK goes to pour JM some water, then puts the pitcher down. JM seemingly tries to help him out by saying it's a new trend for the oldest to pour water. 

Ep 70 "BTS in Toronto Part 2" (Ep: 3 / KM: 5)

The Toronto one where the guys go shopping, pick beds, and play games

1:15 - JK slows down to walk side by side with JM.

2:00 - When JK messes up the game he was confident he'd win, JK laughs and playfully shoves at his chest.

7:23 - When JK loses a game and has to buy the others hoodies, JM sneaks a hat into the pile while JK has his back turned. RM rats him out.

8:01 - JM quietly puts the hat back in the pile, then walks over and hugs JK.

8:40 - JK walks over to Jimin to show him something (sunglasses he wanted?).

20:30 - When they're all joking around about whether they can fit four people on a bed, JK moves JM into an L-shape and then lays down nested with him.

BEHIND 0:09 - JK calls out "Jimin-ssi!" and tosses JM that hat he bought him.

4:49 - When the guys are all stretching and JM is in an inconvenient place, JK calls him "Jimin-ssi" again, essentially feels up his calf, and then pushes his upper thigh, all purportedly to get him to move over.

5:28 - JK kneels down behind JM, who's on all fours, and holds his hips to correct his position (I am literally just describing what happens in the clip, but I kind of feel like I'm writing porn, here...). JK then picks Jimin up to move him over a bit. Both giggle as JK starts to stand up and then the camera cuts away.  I can't even begin to think what exercising looks like for these two when there aren't cameras on them...

6:55 - JK reads out the words on the Jimin shirt they're all wearing, which happen to be, "BTS Park Jimin, I love you! I root for you! I'm ARMY!" with a huge grin on his face. Jimin laughs - no one else does - and then jokes that they should wear the shirts back to Korea, prompting JK to tell him "bye!" and wave while giggling. 

7:37 - Jimin shows the parts of the shirt design he would change by poking JK's chest, and then JK and JM share a fairly steamy look until RM interrupts. 

7:52 - JK folds up the shirt so JM's face looks weird and Jimin points to him doing it and laughs. No one else does.  Man, these two were really in their own world this whole Toronto trip, weren't they?

8:02 - JM tries to give JK some advice on the game he's about to play. Before starting, JK starts what seems like it's going to be a silly pose, but ends up being him dragging his fingers down his face, neck, and chest. Sadly for JK, JM wasn't looking. Happily for us, we can look as much as we want. 

8:18 - When JM wins a game, JK claps for him. You can probably guess by now that he's the only one who does. 

10:09 - JM steals a piece of steak, then JK does some cross-cut teleporting to come over and sink down into a chair next to him. JM overdoes making his eyes look big and innocent (perhaps hoping to get caught and scolded?).

10:35 - JM makes Jin move when he takes JM's seat next to JK I feel like just the Behind for this episode needs it's own jikook rating! And most of it is watching JK lead the guys in a workout. If you're going to watch just one Run Behind, consider making it this one!

Ep 71 "BTS in Toronto Part 3" (Ep: 3 / KM: 3)

The Toronto one where the guys have dinner, have breakfast, and play games

14:28 - Maybe nothing, but just to note it - in this and the next shot, you can see JM heading towards where JK is lying back on the couch after losing a game, then there's an abrupt cut and everyone is in a totally different position. 

29:20 - JK tells JM the "super-pancake" he made is for him since he has to do the penalties. 

BEHIND 6:59 - JM says that he thinks JK will want to eat and calls out for him.

Ep 72 "BTS and Mafia" (Ep: 3 / KM: 2)

The one in which we learn that BTS is so terrible at the Mafia game that it almost comes back around to being impressive 

3:10 - When Jin says JK is suspicious because he isn't talking, JM defends him, saying "you know he doesn't talk much." 

8:34 - JM seems to direct his appeal to be spared to JK.

18:16 - JK compliments how well Jimin is doing at the game.

20:13 - After Jimin says he's ARMY, JK asks, "do you like me that much?" Then there's a quick cut and Jin is doing a Jim Halpert face at the camera.

28:03 - Confusing maybe-moment - let me know if it's clearer to anyone else! - but after JH is sending finger heart guns, JM points gun fingers directly at JK for no apparent reason. 

BEHIND 2:39 - Before they start playing, JK predicts that JM and Jin will be good at the game.

Eps 73-76 “Run BTS Drama Parts 1-4″ (n/a)

The ones where BTS spend four episodes making a “comedic” skit

01:09 - After JK explains that he had a wisdom tooth taken out, Jimin adds the info that they had to take out the whole root.  09:10 - Even though V is the "director" of Jimin's scene, JK speaks up and takes over the role, saying that directors use informal language and repeating twice in informal language "Jimin, let's go!" He continues speaking informally when Jimin messes up and JK scolds him.  11:40 - When it's JK's turn to deliver a line and he gets nervous about remembering it, JM reads it out loud for him. He also says as soon as JK delivers the line that he did the best job and adds to Hobi, "he doesn't get embarassed, I told you."  16:26 - It's a little hard to see for sure, but it looks like Jimin votes for JK when it's time to choose who should be the skit's director. I'm going to be totally honest with you guys - I didn't rewatch these episodes past this. I first saw it months ago and remember being disappointed and fairly bored through most of it past the first half of the first episode - I don't find the skit funny and the behind-the-scenes stuff isn't amusing enough to make a four-part episode about. I’m sure there are others who completely disagree with me and no judgment if you don't share my opinion! But I'm doing this guide for fun and I don't want to spend two hours rewatching them. 

I don't recall a ton of jikook beyond the above - I think there's a moment in part 3 where JK is getting tired and Jimin offers to take over slating for him. So, anyone who is a fan and knows / finds more jikook moments, please let me know and I will update this guide to reflect that. Otherwise, let's happily move along. :)

Ep 77 “Food Guest Part 1″ (Ep: 4 / KM: 5)

The weirdly-named ones that are prob better translated as "food connoisseurs" but the specifics of the foods theme don't really matter because JIKOOK  

07:41 - When Jin says JK and JM will be competing in a palm-push game, JM says he's already lost (because JK is strong).

07:55 - I'm fairly certain that, if you're a jikook-er, you've seen this moment. It's so unabashedly flirty a description can't really do it justice.   JK and JM are supposed to be playing a game where they put their palms together and shove to see who can make the other lose their balance. JM shoves lightly at JK's chest before they even start the game, then both start giggling. Still giggly, JM asks if JK's ready and JK says he is. JM pushes at JK's palms and JK just swings his arms back as they look at each other and smile. Jin interrupts to ask, "are you a dating couple?" (that's the most direct translation - V app translation is "are you two together?"). JK and JM both laugh, the latter so hard that he spins around, thus losing the game. 

17:08 - JK is staring so intently at Jimin on his knees with a blow-pen in his mouth that he completely misses RM trying to give him a high five. Jin has to call for JK to please respond to RM before JK looks away and returns the high five, laughing and apologizing. He looks back immediately after. 

BEHIND 0:58 - JK gives JM a shoulder massage while holding his chest as JM makes satisfied noises. I've seen this clip in compilations before, but hadn't realized it was also from  this episode. It's really the gift that keeps on giving! 

4:29 - Just prior to the above palm-push game, JM reaches out to do something to JK's sleeve (I think?). The camera cuts before we see clearly.  

4:31 - Slightly different angle of JM and JK giggling at the start of the palm-push game.

7:11 - Reveals that RM actually tried to high five JK and was ignored TWICE before Jin called JK's attention away from JM on his knees with a blow-pen in his mouth. 

Ep 78 “Food Guest Part 2″ (Ep: 3 / KM: 3)

15:00 - JK jokingly asks what the answer is and Jimin giggles at him as the on-screen text says, "how adorable." Unsurprisingly, the others are less enamored. (JK's biggest fans = 1. Jimin  2. Run BTS on-screen text writers)

BEHIND 9:56 - JK watches JM dance playfully, then wiggles his own hips, seeming to want JM's attention. Jimin smiles and starts to say something that gets cut off. 

10:03 - JK films JM as JM dances and smiles while looking into the camera. Jimin is doing silly dance, but JK zooms in on his joyful face. He quickly licks his lips as he watches. 

[buckyscrystalqueen]

Too Smart for Your Own Good: Part 3

Pairings: Machine Gun Kelly x Reader, (Past and Future) Henry Cavill x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, one night stand, unprotected sex

Word Count: 5,013

A/N: Doesn’t have a completed end yet, but just giving you more content to try to get myself out of a writing funk.

Part 1 / Part 2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You are receiving a collect call from an inmate at a Los Angeles County Correctional Facility. Would you like to accept these charges?”

“Yes.” You said clearly as you stopped loading your groceries in your blacked out Range Rover to grab your ear bud out of your purse. “Hang on, Daddy. I’m finding my headphone.”

“Take your time.” He said through your car speaker as you dug out the carrier and put the head phone in your ear. You found your phone and switch the bluetooth from your running car to your ear phone and hesitated for a moment.

“You hear me?”

“Crystal fucking clear.” He responded in your ear, which made you nod and drop your phone in the cup holder so it wouldn’t accidentally drop the call in your bag. “Hell are you up to?”

“Grocery store.” You sighed as you went back to your original task. “Was running out of shit at the house to eat. Oh! You will be pleased to know that you are going to be a grandpa, and I think I may have figured out a break in my black hole theory in the pool last night.”

“OK.” Your dad laughed as you walked the cart over to the return. “So I’m a fucking grandparent. Thanks a lot, princess.”

“Any time!” You teased as you got in your cooled down car and buckled your seatbelt.

“You got more on the black whole theory?” He asked, even though he had no idea what you were talking about half the time when you went on one of your ‘space rants’ as he liked to call them.

“Work in progress.” You said with a shrug to spare him the agony of listening to you drone on. “What’s going on in the world of the blue jumpsuits?”

“Fucking parole hearing got bumped up.” The million thoughts that seemed to always run through your brain all simultaneously screeched to a stop, as you stopped behind a car at a red light a few streets from your house.

“You’re coming home?” You whispered as you gripped the steering wheel tight.

“I’m fuckin’ coming home, sweetheart. February 16th. Ten AM.” You nodded your head and continued with the flow of traffic as a couple tears of joy slipped down your cheeks.

“I’ll… I’ll be there.” You choked before clearing your throat. “I’ll be there to get the paperwork through.”

“I’ll need you to get a hold of Simon. I sent you out a letter this morning that’ll need some translating.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for it.” You said as you realized that the car you were following was a familiar purple Lamborghini and it was pulling into your community driveway. “Son of a bitch.”

“What, a fucking letter is inconveniencing you?” He asked sharply, making you shake your head.

“No, fucking sperm donor is back. Hold on.” You stopped your car beside the Lambo and the gate house, rolled down your heavily tinted window and looked at your cousin’s profile and the back of Colson’s shaved head. “Scott! He’s with me, let him in.”

“Run him off the fucking road.” Your father grumbled in your ear as you rolled the window back up and headed through the open side of the gate for home owners.

“In a shiny purple Lambo.” You huffed, jokingly as you hit the button for your driveway gate.

“Fuckin’ really, (Y/N)?! You got knocked up by some puck ass little bitch in a Goddamn purple Lambo?!”

“Shut up.” You grumbled as you drove down the slight hill to your garage and pulled into your spot beside your father’s Harley, his massive Chevy pick-up truck, and a tarp covered Charger that belonged to your ex.

“Goddamn Lambo. Who the fuck are you and what have you done to my fucking daughter?”

“Shut up.” You grumbled again as you got out of the car and pulled open the back door to get your groceries. You startled the slightest bit when a heavily tattooed arm reached in front of you and grabbed your bags before you could even fully open the door. You looked up at Colson as he slowly and carefully moved his body in front of yours, and you rolled your eyes and took a step back with your hands in the air. “So has the prison sent me the paperwork for the hearing?” You asked your dad as you headed toward the door.

“Should have. You’re my lawyer, princess. Check your email when you get a chance. Need me to let you go?”

“No, you’re fine.” You said as you headed past the basement bar and game room to the elevator to take you up to the main floor beside the atrium. “Have you talked to the demon head shrinker cunt yet?” Colson looked at you with his eyebrow raised as he and Ash stepped into the elevator with you, but your cousin simply tapped him on the shoulder, pointed to her ear, and whispered that you were on the phone with your dad.

“Probably won’t have to. Shit’s about over crowding. We’re stuffed three to a fucking cell in some spots. I’m almost at my 80 and I’m the closest parole date. So I’m gettin’ the boot.”

“I’ll take it.” You agreed as you pat the black marble for your bags. “But I am writing a verbally abusive letter for the deplorable conditions they are keeping you in.”

“You do that after I leave this bitch.” He told you as an automated voice let you both know you only had a minute left. “Alright baby girl, I’ll give you a call in a couple days to see if my letter arrived.”

“And I will send you a postcard of your grand blueberry when I go to the doctor on Monday.”

“I will keep my eyes out for it.” He huffed through a smile. “I love you, sweetheart. I’ll be home before you know it.”

“I can’t wait. I love you too, Daddy. Bye.” You waited for him to say good bye and for the click of him hanging up, before you turned off your earbud and looked up at your visitors. “And you’re back in my house because…?”

“OK, we’re not going to start like that.” Ash said quickly as she put her hand on Colson’s arm so he wouldn’t get mad. “We are here to rationally talk like human beings.” You hummed at her and nodded your head as you grabbed some groceries and started putting them away. 

“I brought the family history.” Kels said as he tossed a notebook on the counter beside your bags. “As much as I could figure out from the family I do talk to at least. And some personal shit you should know, too. And I’m having a lawyer draw up a contract…”

“Over my Goddamn dead body!” You roared as you spun on your heel and stormed across the wood floor toward him.

“Wait! Wait!” Ashleigh shouted over you as she stood in front of you and grabbed your wrists before you could start swinging. “It was my idea!”

“And I’ll fucking kill you too.” You threatened as you looked at her with murder in your eyes.

“Look, just breathe, OK? It’s not a custody thing. It’s a contract.”

“Look, I wanna be in my kid’s life.” Colson said over Ash as he stayed firmly parked on the barstool he was sitting in so you would feel less threatened. “And I want my kids to know each other. I wanna make sure you don’t take off and fucking run some day because we obviously can’t fucking stand each other.”

“Wonder who’s fault that is.” You snapped, sarcastically as you pulled out of Ashleigh’s grip to finish putting away your groceries.

“Yea, it’s mine, alright?” He barked. “But I still wanna make sure we both understand that this…” He said as he leaned to purposely catch your eye and gestured between your stomach and himself. “…is our child. And just like with Casie, I will want to spend time with our child on holidays and when I’m in town and not working. And I don’t want to turn around one day to find out that you packed up and moved to fucking Paris or some shit.”

“Paris is a trash covered wasteland.” You retorted under your breath as you folded all of your grocery bags and put them on the end of your counter to put back in your car later. “Probably go to Belfast… maybe Scotland...

“OK, she’s not going to run.” Ashleigh said quickly before Colson could start yelling. “But this is what the contract is going to be for. So what both of you want from the other is set in stone.”

“Yea, well I don’t want shit from him.”

“Then you should get an abortion now, bitch!” Colson roared as he finally jumped to his feet. “Because you made this fucking choice to keep my kid so you’re fucking stuck with me…”

“You better remember who the fuck you are talking to.” You said evenly as you pulled one of your fathers many hand guns out of one of the kitchen drawers. You laid it down on the counter between you with your finger outstretched along the slide where you could quickly pull the trigger if you needed to. Kels stood his ground, but Ashleigh took a few steps back away from you to be on the safe side.

“OK.” She nearly whispered as her hands started to shake at her sides. “(Y/N), let’s put that away…”

“Now it’s time for you to listen, bitch.” You started as you searched his rage filled blue eyes. “You want a contract? Fine. We can spend the next nine months and then some fine tuning a contract to your hearts content. But know this, if you think you’re in charge here, you’re not. You will run by my fucking rules, like it or not. Because if I wanted to disappear, I assure you, not even a private investigator could find me.” The pair of you stood in a stand off for a few moments, waiting for the other one to crack.

“I need a fax number.” He finally said, forfeiting the power to you. You nodded your head as you put your gun back and pulled the notebook toward you. You wrote down your email, your cell, and fax number, and ripped the page out for him.

“Appointment next Monday for the first ultrasound is at 11:15 AM. Be here at 10:30 if you want to go with me. I’ll call down to the gate and tell them you’re coming.” He nodded his head as he folded up the paper and stuck it in his pocket to pass on to his lawyer, while you gestured to the atrium to your left. “You can see yourselves out now.” You looked over at your cousin as Kels simply turned to leave and shook your head. “If you ever, ever pull a stunt like that again, I will disown you.”

“I’m sorry.” She whispered as she finally stepped back over to you. “I just knew you wouldn’t take it very well, and he didn’t give me time to call…”

“You have one warning.” You told her as you kissed her cheek. “And don’t step between Colson and I. Obviously, it’s gunna be a shit show.”

“Well, he’s my boss, so I can’t let you kill him.” You rolled your eyes and shook your head as you gave her a push toward the door.

“Just wait until he meets Negan!” You called out after her with a giant smile. “He’s coming home in a few weeks!” Your cousin came to a dead stop in the atrium and turned around to look at the giant shit eating grin you had on your face.

“Shut up.”

“Hell is about to rain down on LA again!” You laughed as you grabbed the bags off the counter, and turned to head down stairs to put them back in your car. 

——

“You know, I was having a really peaceful morning.” You bitched as you stood at the top of the side stairs the next day and watched Colson get out of his car. “And then here you are.”

“Not fucking fighting.” He said more to himself as he came over and stopped in front of you. He said nothing else, leaving the ball in your court as he put his hands in the pockets of his jeans and waited. You huffed and turned on your heel to head back to your beach chair. 

“Am I going to see you every day for the rest of eternity?” You inquired as you pushed your sunglasses back down your face.

“Until we can get past this bullshit, yea.” You stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned back to look at him as he simply toed off his sneakers. “Casie’s mom and I used to fight all the fucking time.” He started as he pulled off his socks and rolled up his jeans. “But we talked it out. No matter how much we hated each other at the end. We talked, and we fought, and we screamed, and she even got a good kidney shot in once when she pushed me back into a counter. But we got through our shit for our daughter.” He stood up and looked at you with a shrug. “So we’re gunna fight it out. No contract, because that’s kind of a bullshit way to co-parent and we got like nine fucking months. So we’re gunna fucking talk.” You nodded your head slightly and gestured up the steps.

“There’s another beach chair up against the garden wall. And that bedroom has some spare bathing suits in the top dresser drawer and towels in the second. They all have tags and there are a bunch of different sizes.” You shrugged and gestured over your shoulder at your chair. “Sunscreen…” With an internal groan, you turned around and walked away to continue to get some sun. You tossed your phone back in the back pocket of your chair and sat down gently as another wave gently crashed across your lap. “Fucking sunscreen…” You grumbled as you shook your head.

“Alright so we start from the beginning.” Kels said as he set up his chair right next to yours a few minutes later. “How far along are you?”

“Six weeks, two days.” He nodded his head and stretched his legs out as another wave washed up on the shore.

“And we’re keeping it?”

“Despite the fact that we hate each other? Yes.” His head continued to nod as he chose to ignore your annoyance.

“I grew up in Cleveland.” He started as he reached over and grabbed the sunscreen from your cupholder. “For the most part. Lived in Denver for a while, traveled a lot with my dad before that. My mom left for another man when I was nine. She hated my dad that much…” You turned your head to look at him as he covered his tattooed torso with sun block. “I won’t do that to my kids.”

“Born and raised here in LA.” You said in the moment of silence after his declaration. “Mom died during child birth. I was a breech baby and she lost to much blood in an emergency C. I remember her face.” You breathed as you looked down at your lap and connected the drops of water on your thigh before the next wave came in. “I have her eyes. And I remember the light leaving hers as my dad held me in place on her chest.”

“(Y/N)…”

“I don’t wanna keep you from our kid.” You interrupted quickly as you rested your head back against the chair pillow and looked out at the ocean. “I grew up with one parent, and while my dad managed to go above and beyond with me, it was hard on him and me without my mother. I don’t want to do that to my child.”

“So part one of the verbal contract.” He said as he put your sunblock back and settled back in his chair. “No matter what, this child will grow up for the rest of his or her life with both of us in it. Even if we hate each other, and we have to go through a third party like Ashleigh for pick ups and drop offs, we will not keep him or her away from each other.”

“No poisoning him or her.” You said as you grabbed one of the water bottles from your cooler and handed it over to him. “Meaning you don’t trash talk me in front of him and vice versa.”

“Agreed. OK, here’s one my ex and I had issues with. We make decisions together.”

“You and I are going to have to work on that.” You giggled as you finally looked over at him. “Because we’re not very good at that right now.”

“But we will work on it so we can make decisions together.” He repeated as he met your eyes with a small nod. “Agreed?”

“Agreed.” You said with a nod. “I like to travel. I haven’t in a long time because… well… that’s a long story… But I want to start traveling again. And I know you already travel a lot for work. And even though you taking him or her alone is a long way off due to breast feeding and the fact that you kinda live a wild life, I’d like the record to show that should we leave Los Angeles county with our child, we have to let the other person know the intended itinerary.”

“I can absolutely get behind that.” He agreed. “And after he or she is born, I’d like to bring… well both of you to Cleveland so Casie can meet her brother or sister… and so that you can meet Emma, my ex, since y’all have something in common now.” You nodded your head and glanced out at the horizon as you chose your words wisely.

“I’m… um…” You started, before clearing your throat. “Well, technically, I’m engaged.”

“You…” He said harshly, which made you sit forward and hide your face in your hands.

“Look, it’s fucking complicated.” You said as you sat back and looked over at him. “Henry and I were together for years. We got engaged six years ago and he left to join the Army shortly after that. And I haven’t heard from him since. So technically, I am engaged. But my fiancé is gone. And he’s never coming back and I just can’t accept that yet, apparently because... well I just can’t.”

“Jesus.” He breathed as he sat back in his chair. “No wonder you’re such a bitch toward men.”

“No, that’s just you.” You responded as you unscrewed the cap of your water and took a sip.

“And we were making progress, too.”

“What’s next on your list, Kels?” You asked with a laugh as you kicked water in his direction.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next four weeks went by at an almost glacial pace, but at the same time, before you knew it, you were walking though the halls toward the prison’s office, with a stack of paperwork from the parole board in your hand and a giant smile on your face that you didn’t think would ever go away. You had made this walk so many times before, but this was the only time you were actually hopeful. And hopeful wasn’t even the right word. 

“Damn it.” Michael Bishop, who ran the prisons office, grumbled as you walked through the door. “What?”

“Parole board kicked him.” You said with a smile as you rested your arms on the counter and held out the paperwork toward him. “Let him out.”

“Let who out?” A woman you didn’t recognize asked as Mike got up and came over to start the paperwork.

“Negan.” He sighed as he pulled his glasses from his pocket. “They finally let him out, huh?”

“And I didn’t even have to file another petition to get it done.” You teased with a smile.

“OK, well I’ll get these papers started as soon…” The woman started as she stood up from her chair but Mike quickly held them out of her reach before you could even form a reply.

“I got it.” He said as he shot you a nervous smile because he knew the temper you had inherited from your father when it came to his time behind bars. “Putting them through right now.”

“I’ll wait.” You said with a nod as you pulled your phone out of your bag. “How’s the wife?”

“Still kicking my ass.” He muttered as he sat down at his computer. “How’s life treatin’ ya since last time?”

“It’s a revolving door.” You sighed as you pulled up your texts to finally give Simon the go ahead to bring Negan’s Harley down to the prison. “That is finally opening the correct way.”

“Should keep spinning.” The woman muttered under her breath, which made both you and Mike freeze. 

“I’m sorry. Do you have something you wanna fucking say there, sunshine?”

“No! No she didn’t!” Mike tried as you set your phone face down on the counter.

“No, she has the right to speak.” You said with a smile as you folded your hands together on the counter. Mike looked away and scrambled into overdrive to process Negan’s release for you. “What, you don’t like the fact that my father’s joining the real world again? Don’t think that living the last ten years of my life without the only family I have wasn’t enough? What, you don’t think…”

“No, she didn’t!” Mike said quickly as he jumped up and grabbed Negan’s paperwork off his desk and the printer. “Look, he’s good to go. Get him to his parole officer today, OK?” You nodded your head and took the stack of papers out of his hand with a small smile.

“Thanks, Mike. And you can go fuck yourself, bitch.” The officer shouted ‘excuse me’ as you grabbed your phone and turned on your heel to leave the prison for the last time. The roar of motorcycles greeted you as you stepped out the door, and you stopped beside Simon to wait for your father.

“Congrats on the baby, kiddo.” He said as he made sure your father’s bike was stable so that you could lean against it. “When are you due?”

“September 13th.” You sighed as you sat down on the seat and grabbed your sneakers from your bag. “A Friday of all things.”

“Wouldn’t be your kid if it wasn’t.” He huffed.

“More to the story of my life.” You sighed as you dropped your heels in your bag and slung the strap over your shoulder.

“Heard baby daddy is a rock star…”

“Shut up, Simon.” You sighed as you crossed your arms over your chest to wait. It was thankfully only about a half hour wait before the prison door opened and your father walked free. Despite the cheers from the rest of the club, he walked straight over to you.

“Hi Daddy.” You whispered as he lifted you up off the ground in a hug.

“Hi princess. Thank you.” You smile at him as he set you down and nodded his head. “Thank you for getting me outta there.”

“Of course, Daddy.”

“So where we doing lunch?” He asked as he took his kutte from Simon and put it on.

“Boss, we…” The VP tried, but your father shot him the look to end all looks.

“I’m talking… to my daughter.” The VP nodded and took a step back as Negan looked back at you with a smile. “Lunch, sweetheart? Gotta feed the grand baby…”

“Umm… honestly? Right now, I really want a milkshake…”

“Johnny Rockets?” He asked with a smirk. You nodded your head as he held out his hand and snapped his fingers for a helmet. Your smile grew as you tilted your head up and let him close the buckle so he could take care of you like he wished he could have for the past ten years, even if you didn’t need him to. “Let’s go, boys!” You honestly hadn’t realized how much you missed the wind in your hair, but you felt free and more safe than you had in a long while. The thought crossed your mind that it was the first time in six years that you felt completely safe again, but also that Colson had somehow made you start to feel safe with his daily visits to check on you and your child. You were so lost in that idea, that you missed your father parking next to a purple Lamborghini until it was to late.

“Look familiar, princess?”

“Daddy, let’s go.” You said with a shake of your head as your eyes darted toward the restaurant to find the father of your child. “I don’t feel good, let’s go, please…”

“Nope.” He said as he took off your helmet and dropped it on the seat beside his. “I’m fucking starving and a burger is just what I fucking want.”

“Daddy, please. Don’t do this… Damn it…” You quickly tried to get in front of your father and the rest of the club without your small bump being bumped, but you were unsuccessful.

“Colson fucking Baker!” Your father announced, as if he had just won a prize. “Where the fuck are you?”

“Dad, stop it!” You hissed as you were finally able to push in front of him in the thankfully empty restaurant. You looked at Colson’s slightly stunned, slightly shocked, and mostly confused face, and shook your head to hopefully tell him to run… which he didn’t.

“So you’re the prick that knocked up my daughter?” Negan huffed as he sized up your six foot four baby daddy when he stood up from the booth in the corner, where he had apparently just sat down for an early lunch with some woman you didn’t know. You saw her face flush red with embarrassment and rage, and the two of you locked eyes for a moment before you both looked away from different reasons. “Sit down.”

“No, Colson, go back to your lunch.” You tried as you pushed your father toward an open booth on your left. “Daddy, stop, please.”

“Sit the fuck down!” Negan roared when Kels took a step back toward his date. Colson quickly took a seat and you jumped in front of your dad to sit down next to him. You whispered an apology to him as his date got up and walked out angrily, but he simply shook his head and pat your thigh reassuringly.

“Sir, it’s very nice…”

“What kinda fuckin’ shake does my grand child want?” Negan interrupted as he grabbed two menus and handed you one as the rest of the club filed into the booths around you. You sighed loudly and pushed his menu flat on the table with a shake of your head.

“I’m not playing this game. You did it to Henry, you won’t do it to him.” Your father looked up at you with his eyebrow raised and you quickly reach out and squeezed Colson’s wrist before he could interject in the silence. “He’s a human being, and you just cost him his lunch date. So you are going to ask him your questions, and let him go so he can fix the mess you made.” Negan stared at you silently as all the other Saviors went out of their way to avoid looking in even the general vicinity of your booth, waiting to see who was going to win this show down. After a full minute, Negan grabbed a third menu and handed it to Colson without taking his eyes off you.

“What kinda shake does my grand baby want?” Negan asked again as he finally looked away to find your waitress. You visibly relaxed and looked over at your friend with an apologetic look.

“She was boring as fuck anyways.” He muttered under his breath as he bumped your shoulder and looked at the menu. “I think their chocolate is the best…”

“I want them all.” You sighed as your stomach growled loudly. “Baby wants them all.”

“Then baby can have them all.” Negan said as he casually crossed his legs and settled back into the booth a bit more. “And baby better have a great fucking life, with a present father, right?”

“It will.” Colson said with a nod. “And he or she will have a sister, too. One that I’ve managed to keep alive for ten years.”

“Her mother has primary custody?”

“She does.” He confirmed as your dad perused the menu he knew like the back of his hand as if it was the most interesting thing in the whole world.

“So will my daughter.” Negan stated, simply.

“Dad, I swear to God.” You growled as you covered your face with your hands.

“It’s fine.” Colson said as he rubbed your back. “She’d probably do better with primary custody over me any day of the week. I’m on the road to much.”

“And that’s the kinda life you wanna give your child?” Negan asked as he finally looked over at you.

“Because I didn’t have an amazing life with you going out of town all the time?” You asked, honestly. “Because my childhood was so horrible being raised club house to club house, country to country?” He sat silently as you set your menu down and covered your bump with your hand. “Daddy, I had an amazing life. And my child will have an amazing life as well. He or she will travel same as we did. How is this situation any different than ours, other than the missing kutte?”

“Well I still don’t have to fucking like it.” He said stubbornly as he looked back down at the menu. “And I don’t fucking like him. Where is the Goddamn waitress around here?!”

Part 4

[deanstop13billyjoeltraxx]

Superposition

a deancas college roommates AU :)

Chapter 11 is up on AO3! Chapter-by-chapter masterlist here. 

Happiness Feels a Lot Like Sorrow

Present

Dean was doing his best to uphold his end of the scotch-induced bargain of Monday night. At the very least, he told himself, it would make the next week more bearable, with Cas lingering in his apartment at all hours.

He’d still been making himself busy. He spent twelve hours at the shop on both Tuesday and Wednesday, trying to catch up on the work he’d missed while he’d been out. Bobby had saddled him with the worst of the lot; Honda Odysseys and GMC Yukons that needed tire rotations or oil changes before enormous families made their Christmas treks. He’d started on Cas’s car, but hadn’t gotten much further than getting the old timing belt off.

By the end of his shift on Wednesday, he was exhausted. It felt good, though, being back in the shop, music accompanying him (at a decidedly lower volume than normal), his hands constantly occupied, mind numb from the easy work.

As he drove home from work, a sign in a shopping center caught his eye. Before he knew what he was doing, he was pulling into the parking lot of a local bookstore. He turned off the Impala’s engine and walked into the store, not entirely sure what he was looking for.

It was by impulse, really, that he picked up a copy of The Great Gatsby. It was a special edition, with extra content bound up at the end. He remembered Cas saying something about that book once. It seemed like a reasonable gift.

Dean almost put the book back on the shelf three separate times before forcing himself to the checkout counter. He paid for the book in a hurry, tossing it into the back seat when he reached the car. Stupid, he thought to himself. He wasn’t even one-hundred-percent sure that Cas still liked that book. He supposed, if he chickened out, he could just give it to Sam, instead.

When Dean arrived at the apartment, Sam announced that he was picking up Taco Bell for dinner. Dean and Cas replied “crunchwrap” at the same time when Sam asked them what they wanted. He raised his eyebrows and the synchronicity, but didn’t say anything, just made a note in his phone. Cas went bright red. Dean stared resolutely at the ground.

Cas was sitting in the armchair with a book as Dean sunk into the couch, exhausted from two long days in a row. The history channel on. Dean wrinkled his nose and punched in the numbers for the Food Network.

“You watch the history channel? By choice?” Dean asked, feigning disgust.

Cas smirked as he closed his book. “I wasn’t really watching it,” he said, “But on occasion, I do like to listen to the conspiracy theorists on Ancient Aliens.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “That’s what you and Sam do all day? Nerd out over crazy historians?”

“Mostly,” Cas said sarcastically. Dean snorted.

“You sure you don’t want Sam or I to drive you home for Christmas?” Dean said. He’d made the offer the day before, but Cas had refused.

Cas sighed. “I’m sure. I appreciate the gesture, but Christmas with my family is the last disaster I want to saddle with myself after…” He waved his hand generally.

Dean nodded. “You still talk to any of ‘em? Your family.”

“Occasionally,” Cas said. “My father called yesterday to ask your same question. I suspect he suddenly feels quite guilty about his treatment of me, considering accountants make quite a bit more than small-town preachers.”

“He’s worried about his retirement fund?”

“Most likely. I do still talk to Anna, though, on a regular basis.”

Dean felt a memory pull at his brain. “She’s the, uh, the therapist, right?”

Cas smiled to himself. “Indeed.”

“I’m assuming you’re spending Christmas at Bobby’s?” Cas asked after a beat.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean said. “The usual thing. It’s always a good time.”

A smile tugged at Cas’s lips. “I’m glad.”

Dean drummed his fingers against the side of the couch. “You know,” he started, and he was already regretting it, “Sam wants you to come. To Bobby’s. For Christmas.” He cringed. The words sounded lame, like he’d made the whole thing up.

“He does?” Cas asked suspiciously.

“Yeah, but I told him it’d probably be weird, you know,” Dean said with a shrug. “Big crowds aren’t your thing, and all.”

Cas eyed him. “Why didn’t he ask me himself?” He wondered. “We spend a lot of time together.”

Dean stared at the TV. “I dunno, that’s on him.”

Dean could still feel Cas’s eyes on him. “Is this your way of inviting me to spend Christmas with you?” He asked.

Dean nearly fell off the couch. “What? No,” he rushed out. “I mean, it’s not… Not with me. With everyone. I dunno, if you’re gonna be here anyway…” He cleared his throat. “I mean, Christmas alone is kinda shitty. Especially in this shithole,” he added as he gestured at his apartment. “You can come if you want,” he said finally. “Everyone would probably be happy to see you.”

Cas was staring at him, staring through him, like he always did. Dean turned his attention back to the cooking show playing on the television.

“What?” Dean snapped.

“Nothing,” Cas said, tilting his head. “Déjà vu.”

Dean’s chest tightened at that. “Anyway,” he said, clearing his throat. “What d’ya say?”

“Okay,” Cas said eventually. “I’ll come, unless that would make you uncomfortable.”

Dean’s head snapped up. After everything, he hadn’t really expected Cas to say yes. “Uh, no, man, like I said on Monday. New start.”

“Right,” Cas said slowly. “And you don’t think we should talk about why we need a ‘new start’, as you say?”

Dean glowered at the TV. “Nope,” he said. Did he always have to make everything difficult? It had been three years, and Dean truly wanted nothing more than to forget about all of it. He didn’t want closure, he didn’t need closure. Neither of them did, seeing as Cas would go back to his glamorous life in less than a week, anyway.

He could feel Cas’s eyes on the back of his head, but he ignored them. “If that’s what you want,” Cas said, his voice resigned.

Dean sat up, then, finally facing Cas. “Don’t you?” He asked, unsure if that was a question he was ready to hear answered.

“I suppose, in a way,” Cas said.

“What the hell does that mean?”

It was Cas, now, who looked away. “It doesn’t mean anything,” he said. “Nothing important, anyway.”

Dean wanted to pry, but knew he would be a hypocrite if he did. He got up and moved to the kitchen for a glass of water. He brought a second one to the living room for Cas, who uttered his thanks.

“You ever finish that thing you were working on in college?” Dean asked.

Cas raised an eyebrow at him. “I thought we were on a clean slate. ‘Forgetting about everything.’”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Come on, that doesn’t count.”

Cas took a sip of his water. “If you’re referring to the pages that are sitting in your bedroom at the moment —” Dean winced “— then no.”

Dean shot him a confused look. “Why not?”

“I… Lost the inspiration,” Cas said carefully.

“Oh.”

Cas regarded him thoughtfully. “You ask me a lot of questions,” he said. “Am I allowed to do the same?”

“You can do whatever you want,” Dean grumbled.

Cas gave him a sideways grin. “I mean, will you become willfully taciturn if I ask you questions about yourself?”

Dean was ruffled at being called out so bluntly. “No promises,” he muttered.

“What has your life looked like the past three years?”

Dean wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t that. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Not real interesting,” he said. “Working for Bobby during the days, bartending at nights. Saving up money for Sam’s college. Living here.” He shrugged. “Pretty normal, I guess.”

“Do you still bartend?” Cas asked.

“Nah, I quit that when Sam got his scholarship,” Dean replied. “I make enough at the shop to cover what that money won’t.”

Cas smiled. “That’s quite impressive.”

“I’m just a mechanic.”

“I meant paying for Sam’s college.”

Dean felt heat crawl up his neck. “Not a big deal,” he said.

“I would have thought you were on your way to settling down,” Cas said slowly, like he was choosing his words carefully. “But that doesn’t appear to be the case.”

“No,” Dean said, and this conversation was getting dangerously close to acknowledgement of their history. Dean didn’t dare look at Cas. The fact that he thought, after everything, that Dean would be anywhere close to “in a relationship” was downright comical.

Dean, too, chose his words carefully. “I could say the same about you,” he said. “Unless there’s some guy waiting for you in KC,” he added, realizing he couldn’t possibly know otherwise. “Which, if there is, he’s kind of a dick for not —”

“There’s not,” Cas interrupted.

And that was surprising.

Dean hadn’t realized it until that moment, but he had fully expected Cas to be halfway down the road to marriage by now. The fact that he wasn’t erupted feelings that Dean wasn’t entirely ready to face.

“How’s the eye?” He asked, changing the subject.

Cas put three fingers up to the bruise, which was looking less black and more like splotches of blue and green. “Better,” he said decidedly.

“Good,” Dean replied.

They stopped talking, each turning their attention to the program playing on the TV. Dean had a brief moment of disassociation, watching the scene from somewhere beyond himself. It was strange, he thought, to be sitting in his living room with Castiel Novak, two twenty-somethings living vastly different versions of the same life. Inexplicably, he felt the same thing he’d felt when he was eighteen, lying in the dark, talking to Cas across the room. He felt known, he felt seen, like each and every part of him was open for voyeuristic display. It was nothing Cas had said, nothing he had done, it was just him. The way he pushed and pushed against Dean’s shoddy walls while somehow managing to meet him in the middle, every time.

Dean was grateful for the distraction of food when Sam returned. Dean was quiet during dinner, finding comfort in an observatory role. He wondered at Sam and Cas’s closeness, after only a few days spent holed up together. He rolled his eyes when the two of them began communicating in sign language, because of course Cas knew sign language. When Cas’s eyes flicked to Dean after Sam signed something, and the two of them laughed, Dean huffed and gathered the trash to take it out.

It was a frigid night, his breath visible in the low gleam of the floodlights. He tossed the bag over the side of the dumpster and paused. He dug in his pocket, and, finding both his lighter and a pack of cigarettes, lit one up and leaned against the dumpster.

Dean wasn’t sure how long he stood there, taking long drags until the end of the cigarette burned his fingers, and then just standing, staring into the parking lot.

“Dean?” A gruff voice called, and he turned to find Cas standing across from him, a tan trench coat thrown haphazardly over his black t-shirt and jeans. He cocked an eyebrow at Dean. “What are you doing?”

Dean dug the pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket in answer. “Smoke,” he said.

Cas gave a short nod and made his way over to the dumpster. He leaned against it, next to Dean, shoving his hands deep in the pockets of his coat. Dean gave him a sidelong glance, but Cas was looking straight ahead, deep in thought.

“You and Sam seem to be getting along,” Dean said, his voice gruff.

“Your brother is extraordinarily kind,” Cas said in reply, not bothering to look at Dean. “He talks about you often,” he added.

Dean snorted. “Yeah, well,” he said, but didn’t complete the thought. He hadn’t bothered to throw on a jacket, and he shivered as the wind blew straight through his thin flannel. Cas was standing close, their elbows almost touching, and Dean could have been eighteen again. He could feel it, somewhere deep in his stomach, that same bundle of nerves and excitement that had always come when Cas was just a little too close. He almost shut his eyes against the strength of it, but he willed it away, looking at Cas instead.

Cas still wore that intent expression on his face as he stared off into the distance. “Hey,” Dean said, elbowing him in the arm. “You creating world peace over there or something?”

The ghost of a smile. “No,” Cas said. “I’m just thinking.”

That was vague. Dean raised an eyebrow. “’Bout what?”

Cas side-eyed him. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Dean rolled his eyes and made a motion with his hand that said, go on.

“It’s just strange,” Cas started, wrapping the coat tighter around himself, “That I should end up stranded here, in Lawrence, of all places.”

Dean resisted the urge to pull out another cigarette before continuing this conversation. “I guess,” he said.

“Stranger still that your shop should be the one closest to me at the time.”

Dean shrugged. “Yeah, I mean, it’s kinda weird,” he said. “I never expected… Well, that’s why I hit my head, anyway.”

Cas whipped his head around to look at Dean in confusion. “What?”

And, yeah, this was embarrassing, but Dean couldn’t exactly stop now. He rubbed the back of his neck. “When I heard you talking to Bobby,” he explained, “I just kinda… Well, I was pretty friggin’ shocked to hear you, of all people.”

Cas stared at him. “Oh,” was all he said.

“So thanks for this,” Dean said, aiming for levity as he pointed to the soon-to-be scar on his forehead. He smirked.

Cas faced forward again. “I didn’t mean to shock you,” he said. “Actually, I had no idea it was you under that truck.”

Dean furrowed his brow. “What, even after you talked to Bobby, you didn’t figure it out?”

Cas shrugged. “The life I always pictured you might be living was very different than the one you live.”

Dean immediately felt defensive. “Okay, asshole, my life is —”

“I didn’t say ‘better’,” Cas interrupted. “Just different.”

That shut Dean up. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but he asked anyway, “What did you picture? For me?”

Cas narrowed his eyes. “Nothing very specific. I suppose a girlfriend, a good job, doing something you like, in a place that you liked. You used to speak so fondly of Texas, I thought maybe you’d moved there. You told me, once, that you had thought about engineering. I usually pictured you like that, an office job. A stable life.”

Dean was watching Cas paint that picture. An office job, coming home to some faceless girl and planning his life around the possibility of an okay-marriage and two-and-a-half kids, waking up at forty and wondering what exact point in his life had lead him down this road. It looked wildly unsatisfying from where he stood.

He just made a grunt of understanding. “Well, you were way off, pal,” he said.

Another small smile, like it had almost been contained. “Apparently,” Cas said.

“You know,” Dean said, uncomfortable with the attention placed on him, “You didn’t turn out how I thought either.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well after… You know, I read that thing you wrote. And it was good, Cas, it was damn good.” Something lodged itself uncomfortably in the back of his throat as he recalled the nights he spent wondering where Cas had been, what he’d been doing. He coughed. “I guess I just expected that, by now, you’d have published it. Made a shit-ton of money and bought a douchebag-sized house in, like, Ohio, or something.”

“You make it sound like it’s disappointing that that isn’t the case,” Cas said, and, though he was giving Dean a smirk, his eyes looked sad. Dean felt a pang in his chest at having caused unintentional pain.

“No, no,” he said quickly. “Not… I dunno, I guess… I thought that writing stuff made you happy. And…” And you deserve to be happy, even without me. Dean had the words, they were right there, but he couldn’t say them, couldn’t take that first step in bridging the now-unacknowledged divide between them. “Well, it’s not like I pictured you depressed or anything,” he said instead.

Cas turned to look at him. “Are you happy, Dean?”

The gravity of the question, the look in Cas’s eyes, curious and almost pleading, sucked the air right out of Dean’s lungs. And there was something screaming at the back of his brain, that no, he wasn’t, that he hadn’t been, that he could never be, because the one key ingredient to that happiness was —

“Yeah,” Dean replied in a small voice. “I guess so.”

Cas stared at him for a moment longer, still searching, before dropping his head and turning away.

“Are you?” Dean asked, almost defiantly, as if the question had been a test that now he was forcing Cas to take.

“I’m very fortunate,” Cas said carefully. “If I am unhappy, it is of my own doing.”

And that totally wasn’t an answer, but Dean let it slide. It was cold, and his back hurt, and he was tired from a long day at work. Silently, he pushed off the dumpster and began to make his way back to the apartment. Cas joined him, settling into a comfortable gait by his side. The air was languid between them, like it was too heavy to move.

Dean let both of them back inside and Cas excused himself to take a shower. Sam was watching something on TV and raised his eyebrows at Dean’s re-entrance. Dean just ignored him, settling onto the couch, thinking about fate and happiness and whether or not the two might be connected.

---------------

taglist! let me know if you want to be added/removed :)

@nguyenxtrang @castielsbeeslippers @fortiusnitius 

[n3rdybird]

Blue Blood is No Guarantee

Hey guys, man this idea has been percolating in my mind for like two years.  And I finally got some written.  Hope you enjoy! Please comment, reblog, give kudos! Also if you’d like to be tagged, just let me know in a comment/ask/message! :D

Taglist!

@sofiao12​

-------------------------------------------------------

WWE Shield!Bodyguard AU fanfic

Dean Ambrose x FMcMahon!Heiress

Rating: M (for safety)

Warnings: Nothing too graphic, but someone is beaten, predatory behavior towards women, main character has anxiety/panic etc. (But again, nothing too graphic)

The midmorning sun was hiding behind gloomy clouds, which reflected Dean’s mood at having to be awake.  He was definitely more of a night owl and wasn’t excited at the prospect of being up and about before noon.  Mornings were for sleeping in.  But when he got a call from a blast from his past, he was intrigued enough to leave his bed instead of catching a few extra z’s.

 Dean jogged across the street, flinging his hand up when a car honked at him.  When he reached his destination, he felt a wave of nostalgia wash over him.  Police Precinct number 11.  It had been years since he’d been inside, but it looked and felt exactly the same.  Cops chatting over shitty coffee, belligerent yelling coming from the holding cells.

 A voice cut through the din and drew his attention.

 “Ambrose, I didn’t think you got my message,” a large man with tan skin called out, waving him over.  Detective Dave Bautista, while up in years, still looked formidable.  When he raised his hand, his wrinkled button-up looked like it was straining to stay in one piece.

 “Detective, you look like shit,” Dean responded, taking in his disheveled attire and dark circles under his eyes.

 The detective rolled his eyes and muttered a curse under his breath.

 “And here I thought you might have grown up, follow me.”

 Dean gave his old friend a ‘who me?’ look before following the man to his office.

 The office was cluttered, filled with boxes and papers strewn about. Dean peeked into one of the boxes, seeing a framed photo of Bautista accepting a commendation from the police chief and the mayor.

 “Are ya feng shui’ing in here?” Dean asked, using the framed photo to gesture to the half-full boxes.

 “It’s what I called you here for,” Bautista said, shutting the door and closing the blinds.  He walked back over to his desk and pulled a thick folder from his desk.  Dean put the frame back in the box and crossed his arms.  He sauntered over to the desk and stared at the folder on the desk.  The folder looked like it had been through a war, creased and taped to hell and back.

 “Is that what I think it is?”

 The detective sighed and sat in his chair.

 “It is.  Also the reason for the boxes.  I’ve been put on suspension to ‘get with the program and leave ghosts in the past,” he muttered.

 Dean sucked air through his teeth and shook his head.  For as long as he knew him, Detective Dave Bautista had a lifelong mission.  Bring down the McMahon family.  On the surface, the family seemed normal, aside from the millions of dollars in the bank.  The family ran several businesses, did the requisite charities and ribbon-cutting ceremonies.  But there was a dark layer underneath the gilt facade. There were rumors of backroom deals, protection rackets, drug running, fraud, embezzlement, bought cops, the whole nine yards. The family was untouchable though, brushing off the suspicion and accusations like water off a duck.    

 “Damn man, that’s gotta sting.  But why am I here?”

 Bautista leaned forward to flip open the folder and slide it across the desk.  The top paper was a full-page photo of the McMahon family. Patriarch Vince McMahon in the center flanked by his family; Stephanie McMahon-Helmsley, Shane McMahon, and the youngest Elizabeth McMahon.  Elizabeth’s face was circled in red ink.

 “Elizabeth McMahon, the youngest of Vince’s kids.”

 Dean nodded.

 “Yeah, I know.  She’s been in the news a lot this year, for charity events.”

 “She’s become the new face of the McMahon family, fresh out of grad school.  She’s the key Ambrose.  I think I can flip her,” Bautista informed the younger man.  Dean’s eyes widened.

 “That’s ambitious,” the younger man muttered, flipping through the top photos, all of Elizabeth at various events.

 “I was getting so close, and bam! I had upstairs up my ass, telling me to leave it alone.  Before I knew it, I got hit with a suspension.”

 Dean tossed the photo of the pretty brunette back into the pile.

 “Still not hearing why I’m here though.”

 Bautista rifled through his papers, pulling a photo of Elizabeth with a large suited man following at her elbow.  Dean whistled.

 “That is a big man.”

 “This was Elizabeth McMahon’s bodyguard, Paul Wight aka Big Show.”

 “Was?”

 Another photo was tossed across the desk, this time showing an autopsy photo of said man, beaten to a pulp.

 “Jesus, what the hell happened to him?”

 “A week ago, I think Elizabeth tried to make a run for it.  Mr. Wight may have tried to help her.  When she was recovered by some of her father’s men, he said he lost track of her temporarily,” he added when Dean’s eyebrow rose.

 “Something tells me Mr. McMahon wasn’t pleased,” he said, tapping the photo.

 “No, he wasn’t.  Which brings me to you.  I’ve been keeping my ear to the ground, and Elizabeth still hasn’t been assigned a new bodyguard.”

 Dean froze, knowing exactly where he was going.

 “Oh no no no.  I’m out.”

 “Dean, come on.  I’m so close to putting that family away for good.  You’ve got the credentials.  Elizabeth wants out and even though she’s Vince’s daughter, I don’t think he’s gonna let her go.  Not if she talks.”

 The blonde ran his hand through his hair.  He felt guilty. Detective Dave Bautista might have been a hard-ass when he was younger, but he helped Dean, bailed him out too many times to count.  It was thanks to him that Dean was able to be where he was now.  The best friends, no brothers, he could ask for and a career he loved.  He looked around the office, and at the detective at his desk. 

 Bautista looked tired but he still had hope.  Hope that he’d be able to take down the family that caused so much death in his city.  Dean picked up a photo of Elizabeth, she was smiling and talking to a young patient in a hospital.  Her smile was genuine and he felt a pang of guilt when he realized she wouldn’t be able to leave her family without help.  She’d either be beaten down until she has no willpower left, becoming a cog in the bloody McMahon machine, or she would be killed.

 Dean groaned.

 “If I agree to this, what makes you think they’d hire me anyway?”

 Bautista smiled a grin that seemed to take years off the older man’s face.

 “I have a plan.”

 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 A crowd applauded as Elizabeth McMahon presented an oversized check to an after-school program.  She shook hands with some of the kids, giving a few high fives or hugs.  She made her way back to the podium.

 “This is just one of the many charities that my family believes in, and we appreciate all the support you’ve given us.  Together we can help make a difference for our community. Thank you again and please enjoy yourselves,” she concluded to another round of applause.

 The crowd dispersed to mingle and get drinks.  Elizabeth chatted with the charity directors before stepping off the stage.  She made small talk with some of the attendees when a manicured hand gripped her elbow.

 “I’m gonna borrow my sister for a moment, please excuse us,” Stephanie apologized. The group released Elizabeth from their chatter, complementing the older sister on their family’s success and generosity.  Stephanie smiled wide and nodded her thanks before ushering her sister to the side.

 Elizabeth kept up her smile, even though her sister’s nails dug into her skin.  She racked her mind, trying to figure out why Stephanie might be angry with her.  The duo ducked into an unused room.

 The younger sister pulled her arm away, flexing her muscles.

 “Good thing I brought a cardigan.  I’m sure the interview this evening will go well with bruises on my arm,” she snapped, staring at the redness of her skin.

 Stephanie rolled her eyes at her sister’s dramatics.

 “Change of plans, Father dearest wants you to meet him.  I’ll be speaking on your behalf.”

 Elizabeth narrowed her eyes.

 “It’s an interview I’ve been preparing for weeks.  You aren’t even a part of the board for the charity.”

 The elder sister smirked and waved her hand dismissively.

 “Please, as if I couldn’t handle some local news junket. Blah blah blah money for the less fortunate, blah blah we are so blessed to be able to help, blah blah blah, the children are our future.  Finish with a big smile and handshake.  See, not too hard,” she mimed with a schooled professional face.

 “So what does Dad need me for?” Elizabeth sighed, knowing she didn’t have a leg to stand on against her older sister.

 “You need a new bodyguard after the last one ‘left’.”  The smile on Stephanie’s face caused her sister to internally shudder.

 Elizabeth liked her old bodyguard, Paul aka Big Show. He was a gentle giant with her, and his massive size proved to be a formidable deterrent to anyone who would do her wrong.  And her father had him killed for one mistake.  Her mistake.  But this could be her chance.  Stephanie would be busy with the interview, and her husband, Hunter, would stay by her side.  That left her driver, she could persuade him to stop somewhere, and she’d make a break for it.

 “Orton will be escorting you,” her sister said, breaking her reverie.

 “Oh, surely that isn’t necessary.  My driver can take me.  Mr. Orton should be here, keeping an eye on you two.  He is after all assigned to you,” Elizabeth protested.

 “He’s going with you.  No discussion.”  Stephanie raised a brow at her sister’s refusal.  “This defiance lately needs to stop.  Remember, all this-” she said, motioning to the event down the hall, “Is for the family.  Not you.”

 Elizabeth bit her tongue.  It was the truth.  All the charities, all the speeches, all the donations.  It was just a way for her family to mask their crimes.  And she was the smiling face, the front.  And she’d never get out.

 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Elizabeth hated being alone with Randy Orton.  Known as the Viper, he had worked for her family for almost twenty years, longer than most.  Ever since she was a child, the Viper was always around, watching, waiting.  Her older brother had used stories of Orton to frighten her into compliance when she was younger.  They had frightened her and when she grew up, she realized they weren’t exaggerated tales to keep her in bed at night. Randy Orton was a dangerous man, a fact she learned when she saw him standing over one of her father’s business partners, covered in blood.

 It was late, and an 8-year-old Elizabeth McMahon was tired of her father’s party.  They were never fun, just a bunch of her father’s friends.  There were rarely any children her age, and her siblings were much older than her. However, her father instructed the two older McMahon children to keep an eye on their sister, no matter how much they complained. Elizabeth was hovering around her older brother Shane when he grew annoyed at her presence. She didn’t remember what she had done but he told her that Father had gotten her a special present and it was in one of the unused rooms in the basement.  (To keep her from finding it, Shane explained when she looked skeptical.)  After all, the basement was off-limits to Elizabeth, citing it was only for the adults. But Shane cajoled and spun an elaborate tale of the fantastic present waiting for her, that he couldn’t believe his little sister wouldn’t want to go find it.

 Feeling emboldened by the attention she was receiving from her older brother and his friends, she agreed to his plan.  With Shane leading the way, Elizabeth followed. Looking back, she should have noticed the way Shane’s friends were holding in their laughter, but she was so excited at the prospect of a gift and wondering what it could be, she didn’t see the signs until it was too late.

 The dark room was mostly empty, with a few tables and some chairs stacked in the corner.  By the time she had realized there was no present, Shane had shut the door and locked her in.  Far away from the party and anyone that could hear her, Elizabeth was alone and trapped.  She pulled on the doorknob, shaking it relentlessly, banging on the solid door to no avail.  What felt like hours later, but probably only 15 minutes later, she was exhausted from panic.  The child curled up in a pile of unused tablecloths, the musty smell tickling her nose.  She didn’t remember falling asleep, but only waking up when she heard a voice.  Instead of being relieved, she immediately panicked.  Rather than the stern voice of her father, it was the Viper.  She hid under a pile of heavy fabric, rearranging the folds of the fabric to disguise her form.

 The door opened with a bang, and fluorescent light exploded throughout the room.  Through a gap in the fabric, Elizabeth watched as Randy pushed one of her father’s associates into the room.  His hands were bound behind his back, and he already sported a wicked bruise on his face.  The man was pleading, begging the Viper to let him go.  But the man was silent, and just shook his head, leading the man to the chair in the center of the room. 

 With practiced ease, the Viper hooked his leg behind the man’s leg, forcing him to sit in the bolted chair.  He was restrained quickly as he watched the Viper circle him.  If there were questions asked, Elizabeth didn’t remember them. After the first muffled thud of flesh hitting flesh and the grunt of pain that followed, Elizabeth ducked her head, burrowing deeper into the pile of fabric.  Mouth pressed closed, not even wanting to breathe deeply, she could hear each blow as it landed.  The cries of pain reverberated around the empty room, but could not be heard beyond the door.

 Eventually, the screams lessened to subdued gasps and groans.  Elizabeth brought her eyes up and dared to look into the room once more.  The man’s back was to her, but his body was limp, sagging forward.  Randy was in front of him, surveying the damage he did.  His hands were dripping with blood, his crisp white shirt spattered with red.  He paused, as if feeling her eyes on him, and he slowly surveyed the room before coming to a stop on the pile of drop cloths.  Elizabeth let out a raspy breath, which came out like a squeak.  She clamped her hands over her mouth. At that moment, the Viper smiled, his blue eyes like ice as he lifted a bloodstained finger to his lips in a shushing motion.

 “Be quiet Little Mouse.”

 The rest of that night was a blur.  All Elizabeth remembered was one of her father’s men, William Regal, picking her up and carrying her to her room.  His accented voice lulled her to sleep as she refused to let go of his hand.  The next few days drifted in a haze of nightmares, panic attacks, and a battery of medical tests. The aftermath of that night included a prescription for anti-anxiety medicine for Elizabeth and Shane received the harshest tongue-lashing that ever came out of the McMahon family patriarch.  He was kicked out of the main house and demoted in the family business.

 And the Viper?  Well, he was kept out of sight until Elizabeth was old enough to understand the world she lived in.  And now he was sitting less than a foot away.  He wore black button-ups under his crisp suit now.  Less visible bloodstains, she mused internally.  She tapped her nails against her clutch.  Being this close to the Viper made her skin crawl.  Stephanie did this on purpose, she was sure of it.  Punishment for her behavior as of late, or just because she wanted her sister to squirm.

 “Still quiet as ever,” Randy observed, his voice tinted with smugness.

 Elizabeth pointedly looked out the window, ignoring him.

 “Aw Mouse, you don’t want to talk to me?”

 She stiffened at the nickname.

 He reached out and trailed his hand down her bare arm.  Elizabeth darted her eyes to the front of the car.  The driver caught her eye in the window and looked away.  Coward.  She tried to wrench her arm away, but he grabbed her upper arm where Stephanie had earlier, making her hiss.

 He slid across the bench seat, invading her space.  Elizabeth’s heart started to pound.  Too close, too close.  He reached toward her face and she closed her eyes, unwilling to see his cold blue gaze.  One beat, two beats, three.  She opened her eyes at the sound of the door opening.  He had reached across her to open the door.  She hadn’t even realized the car was stopped.  They were at one of her father’s properties in the industrial district.

 Elizabeth steeled herself, she had only been here once before and had no desire to be here again.  Regal waited on the sidewalk for her, guiding her with a hand on her back.  He turned back to Orton, who had a shit-eating grin on his face.

 “Go back to your charges, I’ll take over,” he ordered in a clipped tone.  Regal ushered Elizabeth inside the nondescript warehouse.  As soon as she was away from the gaze of Orton, she sagged against the British man’s side, breathing heavily.

 “Are you alright my dear?”  He saw the beginning of a bruise blooming on her fair skin. Elizabeth took in deep lungfuls of air, trying to calm herself, anchoring her mind to the firm touch of Regal’s hand on her back.  Calming her nerves, she straightened, patting the older man’s arm in reassurance.

 “I’m fine, thank you, William.”

 When he went to retort, she shook her head.

 “I’m fine.  Let’s get this over with.”

 He nodded albeit reluctantly.

 “Of course, this way please.”

 She allowed Regal to guide her through a labyrinth of pallets, all filled to the brim with ill-gotten goods.  She heard shouting jeers and the sounds of fighting she paused to steady herself.

 “Deep breaths,” William murmured against her hair and she nodded.  The door ahead of them was flanked by two guards, who opened the door for the pair.

 Her father, the patriarch of the McMahon crime family, stood next to a railing.  Vince McMahon, millionaire, businessman, philanthropist, and criminal.  Although up in years, he still had a commanding aura.  Whatever Vince says, goes.  No discussions.  No mistakes.  No forgiveness. 

 Down below, men were bare-knuckle fighting.  Elizabeth stood to the side as Regal announced her arrival to her father.  She glanced down at the fighters and immediately wished she hadn’t.  Several men were off to the side, having lost their respective fights.  Most if not all sustained several wounds, black eyes, gashes to the forehead, broken noses. Some looked scarcely older than eighteen, throwing themselves in the meat grinder for her ‘family’.  Others were older, gruff, the weight of the world showing on the lines of their faces.

 William motioned for Elizabeth to join him and her father at the railing.

 “How did the event go?” her father asked, not taking his eyes off the fights below.

 “The charity event went well, though I wish I could have stayed to do the interview,” Elizabeth said, keeping her tone even.  It would do no good to start a fight with her father.

 Vince barely registered what his daughter said, waving it off like a piece of lint on his expensive suits.

 “Stephanie can handle it.  I wanted you here,” he said.  The current fight ended, yells and jeers reverberating through the metal warehouse.  Though all Elizabeth could hear was the dull thud as one of the fighters hit the ground.  She swallowed the revulsion, schooling her face into one of cool indifference.

 “In order for you to understand the severity of your previous bodyguard’s mistake, I invited you here.”

 He gestured for his daughter to join him at the railing, as the next fight took place.  Elizabeth chanced a look at Regal, who nodded.  She made her way to the railing, standing next to her father.

 “I will do anything to protect this family, my legacy,” he started.  Elizabeth nodded along with his words.

 “When Mr. Wight grew lax in his responsibilities, he became a liability to you, to this family, and to me.”

 Elizabeth almost jumped when her father’s hand dropped on top of hers.  It was rare for the McMahon patriarch to show any sort of affection, especially when not in front of the cameras.

 “I don’t like liabilities Elizabeth,” he said, turning his gaze from the men downstairs to her eyes.  “Liabilities cause chaos.”

 The youngest McMahon could only nod, as his hand tightened on hers, facing the carnage below.

[generaldisdainn]

Housewarming

whoops who ordered a multi-chapter smut fic???

AO3 link

Pairing: kristanna 

Rating: MA (this is pure smut lol)

Summary: Anna and Kristoff move into a house together and make it their mission to have sex in as many places in their new home as possible.

Feel free to send me suggestions or requests for smut positions, scenarios, locations, kinks, etc.!!! <3 

Chapter 1

Together for 4 years and married for almost one, Anna and Kristoff bought their first house together. It wasn’t much- just a single-story home in a quiet neighborhood. There was a small backyard perfect for a garden and a little porch with two rocking chairs leftover from the house’s previous owners. The first time Anna saw the house she gushed about how she could imagine them spending early mornings on their front porch, sipping coffee or tea and watching the world come to life. Kristoff had smiled at the idea. It didn’t take long for them to settle on the place. The house was in great condition, it was well within their price range, and it was near both of their jobs. There wasn’t really any reason for them to say no. So Kristoff and Anna Bjorgman signed the papers, and the place was theirs.

“That’s the last of them,” Kristoff said as he dropped a particularly heavy box onto the floor of their living room.

They had spent the better part of the last hour unloading boxes from the moving truck they had rented.

Anna looked around the space before them. It was occupied by a lonely couch and a bookshelf, both of which were surrounded by box upon box upon box.

Fuck, Anna thought to herself. It’s going to take forever to unpack and sort everything. This place is small and cramped and I know we’re going to have to get rid of some stuff and - she stopped mid-thought as she felt two arms snake around her waist and pull her close. She looked up as Kristoff rested his head on top of hers and smiled down at her. She sighed. It was perfect. It was home.

“Do you want to put on some music and start going through this stuff?” Kristoff asked. Anna missed the warmth of his arms around her as he made his way over to a box and tentatively peeked at its contents.

“Yeah, definitely. First one to find something embarrassing wins?”

Kristoff cocked his head inquisitively and looked back at her. “Wins what?”

“I don’t know, they just win. At life I guess.” Anna motioned around with her hands, unable to come up with anything interesting to offer up as a prize.

Kristoff took a step closer to her and ran a hand across her cheek. “How about I make things a little more interesting?”

“Okay,” Anna replied meekly. She was used to this side of Kristoff by this point- the teasing, yet dominating side of him that came out when he wanted her- but she still found it fun to play the caught-off-guard submissive for him.

“If I win, I get to take you anywhere and in any way that I want. If you win, I still get to take you however I want.”

Anna scrunched up her eyebrows in confusion. “That doesn’t make any sense. You’re saying that either way you take me however you want?”

Kristoff chuckled. “I feel like that’s a win-win either way.”

He was right. It was. “Alright- you��re on.”

The two rummaged through their boxes of memories, pushing past blankets and books to uncover pictures and stationery. They set up their Switches where their TV would eventually go and placed some pillows on the couch. Anna grabbed her box of scrapbooking materials and placed it in what would eventually be their office space.

Anna played Taylor Swift and musical soundtracks. She sang and danced more than she unpacked, but Kristoff wouldn’t have had it any other way. At the beginning of their relationship, she would always suppress the bubbly, enthusiastic side of herself in fear that she would scare him off, but as they grew closer, she’d learned to let go. The way that she sang and danced around him without second-guessing herself made his heart swell with pride. He loved seeing her in her element.

“What color scheme should we go for in the bedroom?” Anna asked after she emerged from placing some items in their new master bedroom.

“We’re doing a color scheme?”

“This is our home! I want it to look nice!” Anna said, hands on her hips in mock frustration.

“Whatever you say, princess,” he said with an equally facetious eye roll.

“Hey!” Anna grabbed one of her pillows from the couch, reeled back, and hit him square in the back.

Kristoff looked up from where he was leaning into one of their larger boxes, the hint of a smirk crossing his face. “Did you just hit me?”

Anna placed her hands behind her back and tucked her bottom lip between her teeth. She nodded devilishly. “What are you going to do about it?”

Kristoff made a sudden lunge for her, capturing her in his strong grasp and carrying her over to their couch. The cushions sunk beneath them as he pressed on top of her, tickling her sides and pressing kisses over her face.

Anna laughed uncontrollably and batted his hands away. “Kristoff! Stop it!”

In one smooth motion he had her hands pinned above her head, her wrists pressed into the fabric beneath them. He paused above her, regarding her with a playful smile and hungry eyes.

“You told me to stop,” he purred.

The sudden change in mood made Anna’s stomach drop. “Kris-” she huffed, bucking her hips up a bit at his words. She could already feel the first tender, urging wave of arousal coursing through her body as he held her there, eyes daring her to make a move. It didn’t take much for him to get her to a place of dripping need and stuttering breaths. “That’s not fair- you haven’t found anything embarrassing yet.”

Kristoff cocked an eyebrow before clambering off of her and returning to the boxes on the floor. Anna almost whined at the loss of contact. No matter how many times he held her she could never get enough of the feeling of being engulfed in him.

Anna raised her gaze to Kristoff as he triumphantly handed her a book labeled 'Anna’s Diary'. “I found it right before you so rudely attacked me with a pillow.”

“There’s nothing embarrassing about having a diary,” Anna asserted, arms crossed in opposition. “That one’s from when I was like 11!”

“I know, but there’s gotta be something embarrassing in here somewhere,” he said, opening the book and flipping through the pages. “Here we go- ‘dear diary, I think I’m in love with Freddie from iCarly.’”

Anna let out a sigh of defeat. “Alright, you win.” She sat up and gazed at him, praying that the look on her face was sultry enough to convey what she suddenly so desperately needed. “So- where do you want to take me?”

Kristoff straddled her again and Anna quivered. She could feel his smile against her ear as he whispered to her.

“I want to take you right here.”

“Then do it,” Anna challenged.

The music hummed in the background as they kissed. Anna pulled him by his collar into her, her other hand quickly snaking under his shirt to feel the warm softness of his stomach. She ran her fingers through the hair there as his lips danced across hers, hot breath mixing together.

Kristoff cupped her chin with his hand, his thumb brushing against her cheek as they kissed. He ground into her slightly from his position above her and smiled as Anna moaned into his mouth. His kisses trailed their way down her neck and Anna’s breath hitched as he sucked at a spot that he knew made her knees weak.

Anna’s hands left his stomach and danced over the hem of his t-shirt. Her breath traced the stubble of his jaw as she lifted the shirt up over his head and let her hands graze over the exposed skin. He was so soft- folds and mounds creating beautiful hills and valleys that Anna had come to know by heart. The contour of his body was something that never ceased to amaze her.

Kristoff lifted Anna’s shirt and tossed it aside to be found later amidst the boxes. He wasted no time in unclasping her bra with a practiced hand. Anna’s nipples hardened at the sudden exposure, and she keened as his mouth took hold of one and his fingers rolled the other.

“Can I ride you?” Anna asked. She had been overtaken with desire for him. She felt it intensely, deeply, down to her core.

“I won the contest- I thought I got to pick,” he said, nudging her head to the side and whispering the words into her neck.

“I know, but I need you.”

“I need you too.” He got off of Anna, standing on the floor in front of them and shedding his pants and boxers. Passion and frantic need overpowered any desire either of them had to take things slow.

Anna dropped her pants and panties and smiled as she watched the way Kristoff marveled at her exposed thighs- all creamy and freckled.

Kristoff wanted to lose himself within them, but that would be for another day. He sat back on the couch and guided Anna to his lap, willing her to take her seat and grind into him. He loved the view this position offered. It left his hands free to hold her body and touch her in ways that brought little noises out of her mouth.

Anna dragged her glistening folds up the length of Kristoff’s cock and held onto his shoulders as she moved, getting him slick so he could slide in with practiced ease.

“Anna, please,” he huffed.

Anna conceded, sliding onto Kristoff’s length with a shout. Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment as the warmth of being filled by him washed over her body, but she quickly opened them again as a calloused hand held her cheek. They locked eyes and smiled, the faintest hint of a giggle leaving Kristoff’s mouth as she began to rock her hips back and forth.

Her rhythm was practiced. Her motions were smooth and fluid, the arch of her back rolling to allow herself to rock on his cock. His hands took hold on her hips and guided her up and down, her ass touching the soft skin of his thighs with each downward motion.

“You know, I was thinking,” Anna began as she rode him. She loved teasing him like this- starting conversations while she was on top and watching him sputter and fumble over his words as he tried to reply while she rocked her hips. “We really should break this place in.”

“What do you mean?” he said with a slight grunt.

“We should try to do stuff on every surface in this house.”

“Like this kind of stuff?” he asked, motioning to them as Anna sank back onto his cock.

“Yes, this kind of stuff. Make the place ours, you know? Claim the walls, the counters, and the bed obviously.”

“Fuck, Anna.” Kristoff threw his head back against the neck of the couch, his hair splayed out behind him like a blonde halo.

“Is that a good fuck or a bad fuck?”

“It’s a ‘if you don’t slow down I’m going to cum soon’ fuck.”

“Oh, sorry,” Anna said with a giggle.

“Don’t be sorry. You feel so good.” Kristoff pulled her closer into him as he complimented her. Her hips were still now and he appreciated the feeling of his cock simply resting in her heat. He could feel her all around him. He pressed kisses onto her breasts as he felt her, hands finding purchase on her sides and holding her tight. His mouth moved to a nipple and he lapped delicately there, feeling himself get impossibly harder inside of her as a delicious mewl left her mouth.

“Turn around,” he commanded. Kristoff wasn’t usually so blunt, but making love to Anna had a habit of bringing out this primal, lusty side of him. He wasn’t one for dancing around things when he needed to taste her or fuck her.

“Alright, Mr. Bossy,” Anna teased. She eased herself up off of him and found herself moaning with the sensation of him sliding out of her. She was so wet. Perhaps with someone else she would be embarrassed by or apologize about just how wet she was- how it always made its way to her thighs or through her underwear when Kristoff spent an evening teasing her particularly relentlessly- but this was Kristoff, and she knew that he loved how wet she got for him.

Kristoff’s hands guided Anna until she was bent over the couch. Her chest was pressed into the cushion and her ass was raised in display. Kristoff grabbed it and dragged his cock lazily over it.

“Kristoff-” Anna’s words were cut off by a sharp cry as Kristoff pressed inside of her. There wasn’t any need to be careful- she was plenty wet and ready at this point. There was something so deeply satisfying about the first thrust that made Anna’s knees go weak. She knew Kristoff felt it too as she heard the moan that escaped his lips.

“You feel so good,” he said between pants as he began to take up a steady rhythm in and out of her.

Anna pressed herself flush against the couch, letting Kristoff pound her into the surface. His thighs slapped deliciously against her ass as he thrust into her, his hands holding onto her hips to guide her towards him in the way he knew she liked. She let her hand slip almost subconsciously below her waist and she circled her clit with a practiced touch. She could feel herself getting close.

“Anna I’m-” His thrusts grew more frantic, his pace driving Anna into the cushions and hitting a spot inside of her that made her cry out. She knew he was getting close. She could feel it in his breaths and the way he grabbed at her to steady himself while he fucked her.

“Oh god,” she choked out. “Fuck- come for me, Kris,” she commanded. She could tell he was holding himself back and she wanted to feel him let go.

Kristoff only let out a moan in response. He slammed into her with the last of his energy as he built them both up to their orgasms.

Anna knew there would be marks on her sides tomorrow from where his hands dug into her skin, but she didn’t care. She ground her ass into his thighs as Kristoff buried himself within her and came with a shuddering cry.

Anna touched herself as Kristoff filled her with his warmth. The way his cock twitched within her brought her over the edge and Anna rocked her ass against him as they rode out their orgasms together.

“Fuck,” Kristoff sighed. He withdrew after a moment of just basking in her and fell back onto the floor to catch his breath. He was hot and sweaty and spent, but he was utterly satisfied.

Anna giggled and collapsed on top of him, finger drawing lazy circles on his chest as he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

It was almost as if they were in a tiny city. The boxes and various objects were like buildings billowing around them from where they laid on the floor of their living room.

“So how do you like my idea?” Anna asked, peering at him with playful eyes from where her head was rested on his bare chest.

“Hm?”

“The sex on every surface idea. So we can, you know, break in our house.”

Kristoff smiled and placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head, breathing her in and trying his best to pull her impossibly closer to his chest. “I love it. Let’s do it.”

[bush-viper-cutie]

“Final Exams Week” || YEAR 3 – Ch.33 (HP au)

                              Chapter List

<-- Last Chapter                          Next Chapter -->

Day posted: 12/4/2020

Word count: 3, 416

Relationship: EVENTUAL severus X oc (slow burn)

Rating: E for everyone

Warnings: none

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A/N: This is my first fan fic I’m writing mainly as a way to practice. This is a retelling of the hp books with an inserted character. Although most every character will be written about, this is mostly for the pro snape fandom. Please do not fear, although this is a severus x oc story, it is an incredibly slow burn as I do not intend for them to get together at all until after the final book events. Chapters will be posted twice a week.

This derivative work follows the events of the Harry Potter books by Jk Rowling and is intended as a fun way to practice my writing. Thank you for reading :D

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Heather ran her tongue against her front teeth and squinted at the words on the page. The sun was shining down on her stolen potions book and no matter how she moved her head to block it, the glossy ink kept blinding her. She sighed and let her head fall back against the rough bark of the tree she was leaning on.

“Angelina said she’d work all summer to afford a firebolt – ”

“The team would be unstoppable then!”

Heather quickly stuffed the potions book in her bag and stood to face Harry and Ron as they approached. “Won’t you act the least bit disappointed you lost the Quidditch Cup? For me? Just for show.”

Ron nearly tripped and slid down the small hill in his attempt to suppress a laugh. “Just face it Heather. You saw how fast Harry was. Next year Gryffindor will win every match, the Quidditch Cup, and the House Cup. And the year after that, and the one after that. There’s no stopping the firebolt!”

“As if.”

“Catch!” Harry tossed a can of iced pumpkin juice at her. “We’ll get you a firebolt over the summer and then maybe Slytherin might be able to keep up.”

Heather caught it and dropped back onto her spot facing the lake. “You know we can’t afford it. And since we can’t, I think a week of gloating is quite enough from you two. You’ve only won a measly match.”

“Says the losing team,” Ron laughed.

Harry and Ron sat beside her and took out their textbooks.

“I can’t believe it’s almost June.” Harry flipped through the pages of his textbook lazily.

“How’re we supposed to study for our exams with all this homework?” Ron turned the pages one by one while staring at the giant squid as it propelled itself out of the water, twirled, and splashed back down.

Tiny waves crashed on the lake shore as laughter could be heard from the other students basking in the sun on the grassy castle grounds.

Heather picked at the can of ice cold pumpkin juice with her nail, wedged it underneath the tab, and plucked it up hearing the tantalizing fizz. She smiled and pressed the opening to her lips.

“WHAT are you three doing!”

Ron, Harry, and Heather screamed as Hermione came out from behind their tree.

“You should be studying for exams!” Hermione handed them each a paper with their study schedules along with their exam times.

Harry waved his textbook in her face. “We’re already doing that.”

Hermione pushed the book away and placed a single hand on her hip. “Not out here. There’s too much distraction.” She dragged the three of them into the castle and forced them to sit down in the much quieter Great Hall during study hour. “Now you can ask the Professors any questions you have.”

Heather, Harry, and Ron grumbled as the summer air blew through the doors.

Heather glanced at Hermione’s exam times and frowned.

‘Monday:

9 o’clock, Arithmancy

9 o’clock Transfigurations

Lunch

1 o’clock, Charms

5 o’clock, Care of MC

11 o’clock, Astronomy

Wednesday:

10 o’clock, Herbology

Lunch

1 o’clock, Defense Against DA

1 o’clock, Ancient Runes

3 o’clock, History of Magic

5 o’clock, Potions

5 o’clock, Muggle Studies’

“Hermione. I don’t think Snape will let you leave early to take your Muggle Studies exam or arrive late from it.” Heather watched Hermione stuff the paper in her bag and push her hair behind her ears.

“Of course not. That’s silly.”

Ron pulled a face. “Then you’ve copied the times wrong.”

“No.” Hermione snapped. “And might I remind you, you’ve got two essays due tomorrow. Now… I NEED to study so no more interruptions – Where’s my copy of ‘Numerology and Grammatica’? Have you seen it?”

“Yeah, I used it for a bit of bedtime reading last night,” Ron mumbled.

Heather pulled the book out from under a stack of five and slid it roughly across the table to her. How could Hermione not trust them? After everything they’d been through? What. Was she afraid of spilling her punctuality secrets?

Hedwig flew down and landed on the large stack of books besides Heather. She pulled the letter out of her beak and handed it to Harry to read while she smoothed down Hedwig’s fluffy white feathers.

“From Hagrid.” He turned the note over and flipped it open. “Buckbeak’s appeal… Its set for the sixth of June. That’s next month…”

“That’s the last day of exams,” Hermione said from behind her book.

“Well they’re coming up to the school for it with a Ministry official… and an executioner.”

Hermione gasped.

Ron took the note out of Harry’s hand and turned it around to read for himself. “That’s not bloody fair!”

“Mr. Weasley!” Professor McGonagall gave them menacing eyes from the High Table.

“It doesn’t sound like they’ll be very willing to hear Hagrid out.” Heather gripped her quill tight and poked holes into her parchment. “Not fair at all. Poor Buckbeak.”

“It’s Malfoy’s fault.” Harry looked around for him, ready to stare daggers.

“Yeah, and I’ve got a stack of handwritten Hippogriff research scrolls to shove down his throat. Where is he?” Ron stood, searching with Harry for their target.

“Do not make things worse with him,” Heather warned.

Although she managed to settle them down to study that day, she could not help the growing hostility between them for the next several days. However subdued Draco had been after the Slytherin Gryffindor match loss was all in the past now. Draco had regained his confidence after hearing from his father about Buckbeak’s scheduled beheading, thinking it was all thanks to him, and was now parading around the castle with Lockhart’s same pompous attitude.

After his daily dose of bragging, gloating, and boasting he took extra time from his busy schedule to sneer at them from afar, whisper rude comments about it in the corridors, and even pass taunting notes to Harry and Ron during classes.

‘Ignore him’ was all Heather and Hermione were saying until exam week began, and an unusual silence fell upon the castle. Even Percy was going around shushing anyone who disturbed the quiet of the corridors.

“People are studying!” he hissed at a group of second years before going back to soundlessly reciting charms and spells on his way up to the Gryffindor common room.

“He’s almost as bad as Hermione,” Ron noted, turning around to watch Hermione bump into student after student from behind a leather-bound book so large it hid even her bushy hair.

Harry eyed Heather as she doodled in her art journal as they walked. “How are you managing to not have a mental collapse like them?”

Heather scoffed. “For the same reason the Slytherins and Ravenclaws never worry over exams. Slytherins are always studying and Ravenclaws are always OVER studying – It’s not impressive they could pass next year’s exams, it’s annoying. They should stop bragging.”

They sat all of Monday’s exams and by late dinner the whole school was spent and puffy eyed. Heather sat with Pansy and her friends who were all talking about the tasks for Transfigurations, particularly the one that involved turning a brick into a crow.

“Yours looked like a raven.”

“Did you see Cindy’s magpie?”

“I heard Neville’s was still red – ”

“I heard Neville’s was still a brick.”

Heather rolled her eyes and turned away. Almost everyone at the table was bragging about their results, which would be fine if she wasn’t a little insecure about her transfiguration and charm skills. As much as she tried, Hermione was always better and got the spells faster than Heather did. The only reason she wasn’t more worried about her skills on those subjects were mostly due to Ron and Harry and their consistently horrible attempts.

Draco turned to Heather and smiled. “Know what I Saw in the crystal ball?”

“Was it Hermione smacking you again?”

He frowned and stabbed his fork into his potato salad. “No. That pigeons head rolling around those pumpkins. Got perfect marks for that too.”

“That’s funny. I saw YOUR head rolling around the boy’s urinals. Perfect marks on that prediction as well.”

Draco set down his fork and slid his wand out of his sleeve and pointed it at her, hidden from view of the High Table. “Is that a threat, Potter?”

Heather scoffed and leaned forward. “It is if you don’t stop talking about murdering that poor creature.”

He laughed and nudged Goyle beside him. “Hear that? She thinks she can take me.”

Heather had better things to do than sit around the table entertaining Draco and the two goons beside him. She still had Astronomy to study for and got up to join the several other students who were gathering at the astronomy tower to go over star charts and planet paths.

The test was on the last century only and as much as she hated when Harry cheated, even she knew he’d need her answers to pass. What star constellation was visible during the mountain troll attack of Hogsmeade in 1901? What planetary alignment led to the invention of self-tying brogues? The easiest part was the final question which asked what the current visible stars, constellations, and planets were.

After the test Professor Sinistra collected their telescopes and let them hang around for a few minutes while she put them away.

Ron’s hair danced in the wind as he leaned over the stone half-wall and squinted through the darkness at the grounds. “Er… Harry? Did YOU remember to put our Salamander away after the exam?”

Harry pulled him back and leaned over the wall, holding his glasses securely to his face as he looked down. “I’m sure Hagrid will notice the small fire…”

Heather looked down and saw tiny flames growing in the bushes on the outskirt of the forbidden forest. “Is there ever a year where you two WON’T damage the school in some way?”

“What did we do first year?” Harry pulled them back and together headed down the tower stairs.

If they still had their invisibility cloak Heather would have suggested going down to tell Hagrid about it and also taken the opportunity to check in on him – which they hadn’t been able to do for several weeks due to the strict rules on Harry and her because of Sirius Black. The strict rules wouldn’t be much of a problem, except the cloak was still down in the one-eyed witch’s tunnel which was under constant guard of Snape, Filch, and Mrs. Norris after their last talk and Heather’s outburst in Snape’s office.

She didn’t think there was anyone as naturally suspicious and distrustful as Snape was. The way he could smell out trouble and deceit and stay on his intuition was impressive in some ways and just downright annoying now that she disliked him.

The next day was spent studying for Wednesday’s exams in the common room during the morning – since Harry and Ron had stayed up late and were fast asleep during valuable studying hours – and the library and study hall in the afternoon with Hermione as frantic as ever.

“Oh! Why is there so much to know!” Hermione gathered all her notes and pulled at her hair. “I-I’m going to go splash water on my face.” She stood with a thick pile of notes in her hand and walked away from their table towards the large Great Hall doors.

Heather bit her lip and ran to catch up to her. “I’ll go with you. I could quiz you with those notes while you dunked your whole face in water if you wanted.”

Hermione stopped her and shook her head. “Oh, no, that’s alright Heather.” She stood waiting for Heather to turn around and march back to Harry and Ron.

“I don’t mind.” Heather crossed her arms.

Hermione nodded slowly and handed her the stack of notes. “Wonderful.” She walked out of the Great Hall and down the corridor towards the girl’s bathroom.

Heather looked through the notes and found the ones for Ancient Runes. “What’s – er – the symbol with the bug and two lines mean?”

“Too easy. It’s the letter ‘B’. Give me actual sentences.” Hermione turned the cold water on and ran her hands under.

“Hermione. How are you going to take this exam at the same time as Defense Against Dark Arts? In fact, how have you been attending this class at all?” Heather stared at Hermione reflection and watched her look around the sink.

She frowned and turned off the running water. “I – well – You’re supposed to be quizzing me. I have six exams tomorrow – ”

“You’re keeping a secret. I know it Hermione. I can understand why you wouldn’t tell Harry and Ron… but me? Last year you got upset that – ”

“Yes I know! But… I’m sorry, I’m just not allowed to tell. I swore I wouldn’t.” Hermione took back her notes and looked down at her shoes. “You can go back. I’m staying here for a minute.”

Heather clenched her jaw and ignored the tightness in her chest that made her want to tear up. Before she had friends she’d always found it easy to hold back tears. Now it was hard to not show her emotions around them, even when she was hurt and sad. “Just tell me. Please? You’ve hardly been around while somehow being around and if it’s because of this secret so why not just let me know? We’re best friends.”

Hermione looked up with watery eyes. “Then why don’t you share your secret first?”

Heather looked around at the dirty tiled floor and up at the streaky mirror. Should she come clean about the raskovnik growing in her charmed pot? She’d have to explain then about the stolen library books as well…

“I know you and Draco hung out over the summer. You went to his house. I overheard it.” Hermione wiped at her eyes and huffed. “He’s always using the word mudblood, always fighting with Ron and Harry, and now he’ll be responsible for Buckbeak’s death… and you’re friends with him. Harry doesn’t even know you’ve been INSIDE his house.”

“It was only a few days! I swear! I hated it there but I NEEDED to. You don’t understand how it is in Slytherin. Flint doesn’t even want me on the team for being a girl. I have to keep up the drills and beat all those stupid boys who are all so much stronger than me! I don’t even know what I’ll do next year if Flint doesn’t get held back again and some other idiot becomes team captain.” Heather pressed her palms to her eyes and sniffed. “I have to prove I’m not weak because I’m a girl. I have to prove I’m not weak because I’m a half-blood. I have to prove I’m not a house traitor because of Harry.” Heather wiped her nose on her sweater sleeve and sighed. “I don’t get to relax comfortably in a house that just accepts me… Everyone’s always watching me, waiting to see me trip up and prove them all right… And then I’m stuck all summer in a house that forbids magic? I’m sorry Hermione… please understand? I know how horrible he is to us. But I needed his help.”

“I… do. I’m sorry I know it must be hard not being in Gryffindor with us. But who cares what they think? They’re all just a bunch of blood-purists. You have us aleways. And we don’t judge you or anyone else like that.” Hermione hugged her and pulled away.

Heather nodded and wiped the few tears that had escaped. She was relieved Hermione forgave her. Maybe if Harry found out, would he too? Although it might be harder after Buckbeak’s appeal depending on the outcome. “What’s your secret then?”

Hermione sighed and hugged her arms. “I really can’t say… yet… Look, I swear I’ll tell you on the train. But you can’t tell Harry or Ron… ESPECIALLY not Ron. He could mess up the whole world and even worse, get me expelled.”

Heather nodded and they sealed the deal with a hand shake. She walked back into the Great Hall and a minute later Hermione followed and was back to her usual frantic self.

The next morning was the Herbology exam which had them out in the sun baking to crisps in the greenhouses. Defense Against the Dark Arts exam was after lunch and Professor Lupin had made them some sort of obstacle course outside.

“Oh no…” Heather’s eyes swept across the transformed grounds closest to the lake at the small pool labeled ‘Grindylows’, the field of potholes labeled ‘Red Caps’, and the patch of marsh labeled ‘Hinkypunks’.

“The end of the exam is hidden. Full marks to those who come out the right tree.” Professor Lupin smiled and signaled the start of the exam.

They waded through the pool – holding their socks and shoes in one hand and their wands in the other – then jumped over the Red caps, squished through the marsh while Hinkypunks shouted misleading directions, and headed into the trees. Heather stayed on the marked path and tried to figure out the correct tree. There was a large tree the width of Hagrid’s shack with a large hole carved out the side. It looked hungry, with its gaping mouth showing the darkness that would engulf anyone who entered.

Harry was the first to crawl in with Hermione, Heather, and Ron following in right after. With wands up they fought the new boggart that was shoved into a hollowed branch. For her turn, Heather swallowed as it slithered out from its hole in the darkness and dropped to the ground just beyond the light of her wand.

“Riddikulus!” Heather shouted, before it could manifest into anything. A bouncing red and gold ball rolled into the light. She shot a simple spell at it and it shot back into its hole, wedging in tight.

Almost everyone had received full marks, except poor Neville who had to face his grandmother telling him Snape would be his new grandfather. He was so shaken up several students had to help walk him up to their next exam, History of Magic.

Heather was fairly certain she’d passed all her exams so far, and was now worried about potions.

“After this we’re free!” Ron skipped down the corridor. “The last exam of the year!”

Heather could still hear herself shouting at Snape to shut up and the look of pure rage on his face. She was going to fail. She knew it. He hadn’t even given her detention for that – nothing. He was waiting for this exam to get back at her and Harry.

“We’re going to fail this one.” Heather shook Harry’s arm as they walked down the dungeon stairs. “He’s going to give us low marks out of vengeance!”

Harry pushed her away. “What’s new?”

“He’s never done that to me! You, I understand, but I always get high grades! Second to Malfoy – ”

Hermione huffed. “I thought you were second to me.”

They took their seats near the back of the classroom.

“No… Second to Malfoy but I’d be first if he’d just let me ‘study’ with him – ”

“Silence.” Professor Snape stood from his desk and began explaining the exam.

They were afforded two whole hours to brew a Confusing Concoction which turned into the biggest, messiest disaster Heather had yet seen. Cauldrons were erupting with goo, over spilling with sticky liquid, or hardening into chunks that melted out the cauldron bottoms.

It took Heather almost the full two hours to complete the potion and in the end she wasn’t sure if it was supposed to look like yellow cake batter in there. Snape peered in and grinned before marking his notes and tisking vindictively. He then stepped over to Harry’s cauldron and waited as Harry desperately tried to thicken his up enough. Snape stood tapping his notes with his fingers and the second the bells tolled, scribbled something suspiciously like a zero and walked away.

They left the dungeons feeling empty and relieved that everything was over. Heather and Hermione were starting to poke fun at Ron and Harry’s attempts when their attention was caught by the two men waiting at the bottom of the Entrance Hall stairs.

Cornelius Fudge and a black-hooded man with a large blade stood looking at all the students as they ran to the Great Hall for late dinner.

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

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[rightnowyoucanttell]

Malibu, Next To You

Title: Malibu, Next To You 

Summary: Is it supposed to this hot all summer long? Or is it just him? A very fluffy date with some minor molehills between Veronica and Grayson on a Malibu beach. Just because the sun is down, the night is still young, and so are they. But which way does it go...

Warnings: Fluff, implied smut (I don’t write smut, sorry guys), talks of anxiety 

A/N: When this idea came to mind, i say that because i have a roughly planned full series timeline in my head it started with just the first part as a blurb but then I was like hey let's make a series, it was originally to be a reader insert (Y/N, Y/L/N, ect.) but i always have problems doing that as they feel too weird to write so I came up with Veronica and added it to the plot/timeline whatever you'd call it. so you can do that or appreciate it for the beauty it is with Veronica and Grayson. 

Tags: @dzoint ​ @graysavant @blindedbythelightt ​ @tadadolan @heartofalionxo ​ @beatement-l ​  @grayswhore ​@saggitariusagirl @tattoogray @onlyangels-world @dxlxnbby

Part one 

Series Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You know..” Ronnie drifted as she walked kicking the sand beneath her feet forward in a rhythmic pattern,” I’ve never enjoyed going to the beach..” Veronica glanced up from the sand and over to Grayson who gazed down to the ground before making eye contact.

The smell of saltwater brushed their noses, seagulls cawed in the distance as the water crashed closer and closer and then pulled itself back out. The pair, Ronnie and Gray watched the sunset as they walked barefoot as the tide came in and set back out, like both of their hearts, coming to a calm stop and then flooding back in a rampage of fluttering butterflies, beating in there chest.

He explained the currents and she just gawked in a secretive manner, so he didn’t notice, the dumbfounded look his body gave her. 

    “Really? You don’t say, I mean I figured that much, for someone who has a fear of seagulls and drowning…” he pondered the thought as his feet stopped the wallow in the incoming tide that was just far enough from Ronnie who was in the dry portion of sand.

She giggled shaking her head continuing down the shore all while facing Grayson,”..are you saying you’re not enjoying yourself?” he shouted over the crashing waves that he ran from to catch up to her. 

“You remembered…,” Ronnie’s heart fluttered. Grayson knew about her anxiety.  Ronnie explained to Grayson that night in Starbucks, her fears, in return for him doing the same.  There was a semi prolix list. Seagulls, birds, circus clowns, large crowds, heights, and significantly Drowning.

She shook herself from the bliss and continued, “but, no. No no, no.. of course not. You brought me here!” she exclaimed twirling with open arms, the wind catching her grey wool shawl that covered her white strapless sundress with bright red roses.

Her damp dark brown hair caught in the breeze flew gently, her eyelids covered her vibrant green eyes. Grayson’s eyes followed Veronica in awe as she twirled in the sand and breeze all the way as she ran back to him and nearly ran into him. 

   The two laughed and turned around to walk back to the there picnic blanket, both inaudible deciding it was time to eat,” Your something else, you know that?” he offered up to the conversation. His hand brushed against gently against Ronnie’s. 

   Ronnie just smiled letting silence sit between then,”..Something good I hope…” the entirety of the walk back to the picnic blanket and the food was silence, blissful and incentive for Grayson, but nervous and nerve wracking for Veronica. She hastily wondered if she had said the wrong thing, or turned him off or away and that’s why he hadn’t said anything, but she tried telling herself it was just the anxiety and the nerves this Italian boy from New Jersey stirred up. 

  Veronica Chandler likely always would be anxiety-ridden. After all, Fears my life, Ronnie had the words tattooed on and wrapping around her wrist. The black ink still had water droplets from when she had been swimming and wading in the water with Grayson. Veronica left the fishing on her stepfather’s, Darren,  boat to him and her older brother Noah, even all the while, an excelling science student, she never got how they were floating.  

    However, if tonight, if Grayson asked her, Ronnie probably would step foot on a boat.  She never willing went to the beach, even though living in Miami with private beach access growing up at her home, and certainly did not stand by the ocean. But on this evening, Grayson brought her there, and she was happy that he did.

So here they were. 

  The sunset warmed Veronica the pinks and blues entangling themselves, like the hopes of how Veronica undeniably wanted to be entangled with Grayson later that night. Something in Grayson hoped it too.

On a picnic blankets, following a stroll along with the tide on the now rather deserted from the public eye, on a beach in Malibu. Munching on what Ronnie’s mom would call “Rabbit Food”. 

  “This is one of the best wraps I’ve ever tasted,” Ronnie added as she quietly finished chewing her toes in the sand below and surrounding the blanket. 

"Its from.." Grayson paused to chew," this stand in downtown LA, Marty's I think, they're delicious." They made eye contact, Ronnie smiled with her eyes, covering her mouth as she was chewing.

"We should go together sometime,"Ronnie offered nervously.

��"Defiently...,"Grayson brushed his hands above the wrap on a clear piece of plastic wrap beefy ass salad chickpea wrap sat on, in between final swallows of his bites of food he started, "so... care to explain why you ignored me for a week, 'ronica?"

   That's when the evening went south.

What Grayson didn't know, that the week Veronica avoided him..one week desperate Gray was left with no sign she was alive, no text, calls, and no DM’S except the confirmation seen from the first night. 

 That week the week she ignored him, the week he was referring too, Veronica,  was in Miami visiting her mother. Veronica had deep-rooted feelings for Grayson.. but, again, like a record used, the last had left a few scratches, and overtime... they scarred.

But it was nothing, Gianna, Mama Chandler couldn't fix...

   Ronnie sighed heavily,"Why does everyone I love settle for someone so low of them?" She pondered the thought in silence as she finished her rant of the night she met Grayson.

 “..well, he sounds like a keeper..and handsome....,” her mother drifted. Ronnie wasn’t paying attention fondling with the small strands that belonged to the blue and white polka-dotted beach towel her mother and herself were tanning on. Within seconds her attention was grabbed by an incoming frisbee, that landed...perfectly in one of the white polka dots. Ronnies eyes widened when she caught its sight, she gazed curiously and then picked it up examine it, before tossing it to the wind aimlessly,”-Veronica! You could have hit someone!” Gianna gently smacked the four-arm of her daughter’s right hand with the back of her hand. 

    “Mom!? What the fuck? Did you not see that it landed in the circle, that’s not a coincidence...that’s a fucking conspiracy. Like how a cartoon predicted 9/11 and then moon landing was faked...," Ronnie slumped back so her back rested against the beach chair set up behind her. 

"It was an accidental coincidence..dear," her mother licked the tip of her finger pulling the pages apart. Her sun hat covers her sunglasses covered eyes, and held her brown hair in place around her shoulders, she was paler than Ronnie, she and noah got there skin from her absentee father, he was the Brazilian in her jeans.

"Yeah well, accidents don't just happen, accidentally, mother," Veronica huffed and crossed her arms leaning back farther and closing her eyes, enjoying momental peace before the woman started up again.

"When you head back to Los Angeles, you better text that boy, I'll be damned if you pass up a chance with someone like that. He's a good one that Grayson, I can tell. You cant let your life wither away to nothing and give up on love because of one bad drinker and a beater bad apple.. theres good people out there.. you just gotta look in front of you."

The memory on the beach faded, she hadn't realized she had been gazing into Grayson's hazel eyes the entire time the flashback played out in her head like a scene from a movie,"do you, uh. Really want to know? Is it fundamentally necessary.." she drifted off leaving a tenacious gap of silence. Just the wind and the waves to be heard.

Grayson scoffed a chuckle,"..well, no, but, I'd like to know."

Ronnie thought for a few moments, if she didnt tell him, he'd be suspicious, if she told him he might doubt the feelings she had if they were legitament,"I was in Miami. With my mom, i needed advice. A break. I was worried you were..a player. And now I know, I know that your not. Your kind, cute, hot, sexyyy, and-"Veronica's ramble was cut off by Graysons hands wrapping and cupping her head into his hands and pressing his lips to hers.

Internal fire works went off, if it were a movie they would be exploding over the water between there heads just visable to camera shot. Both hearts beat against there respective rib cages, not knowingly they both had been wating for this moment the entirety of the night.

Ronnie's hand came to touch Grays chest shortly before she came up to breath in the salty air,"that.." she panted,"was hot. But, I dont know.. if this'll work. I'm lonely and broken.. and can barely take care of myself, just, Grayson-"

"I like that your broken, and lonely" he grasped her face one hand still behind her head his thumb caressing her cheek,"not like in a kinky sort of way," they both laughed for a few seconds, Ronnie looked down. He placed his pointer fingern underneath her chin, tilting it up,"I could be lonely with you.."

"My place or yours?" She smirked. Hoping that night of entanglement would happen after all.

"Mine, definetly mine." He breathed there chins pressed together.

Ronnie had never run faster than she didn that night, all the way back to the porsche.

[elysianrey]

Because of Julie

a/n: Basically Julie and Luke spend the evening alone talking about life, love, and some sparkly vampires in her bedroom.

Word Count: 1,483

Pairing: Julie/Luke

8:46 pm

Julie giggled as she tossed another piece of popcorn into the air and watched as an open mouthed Luke dove chin first to catch it, clumsily rolling off her bed in his attempt, and landing with an ungraceful ‘thump’ on the floor. The girl quickly slapped a hand over her mouth to contain the laughter that was about to burst forth from deep inside her chest.

All of a sudden, the too-familiar sound of her tia rang up the stairs, “Julie! Julie what was that?”

She looked around in alarm, wishing nothing more than for him to poof out at this exact moment, but she only heard his light chuckle.

Typical Luke. Infuriatingly delightful. Charmingly annoying.

“Uhhhh nothing Tia! Just--dropped my book. Studying you know.” Julie eyed the door in anticipation. No knock. Phew.

“Alright, mija! Try being more careful. We don’t want you hurting those dancing toes.”

“Yep! I’ll just get back to it then.”

She paused for a reply, however, she received only silence, and a sigh of relief she didn’t realize she was holding in came rushing out all at once.

The culprit of the noise continued to remain silent enough for alarm.

“Luuuuuke,” she hissed his name, crawling over the bed to peer at the human heap on her floor. “Just because you have gained some sense of--errr---solidity--doesn’t mean you need to announce it to my whole fam---”

Her desire to let him have a piece of her mind only multiplied times one thousand when she caught sight of him rolling back in forth, doubled over in soundless laughter.

“Lukas Peter---” she began, unable to contain a smile that was threatening to ruin her attempt at reprimanding him. Her hand reached for a pillow on her bed.

The weapon did nothing to disarm the flawless grin flashing back at her as he caught it.

9:51 pm

“What does he mean, he’s leaving?” Luke whispered loudly, throwing a piece of popcorn at her laptop screen. The kernel landed on Edward Cullen’s face as the vampire dramatically turned away from Bella Swan and disappeared into the darkness of the forest.

Julie picked up the forsaken kernel and popped it into her mouth as she turned to him. “He has to keep her safe, remember? He’s afraid he’s endangering her life.”

He scoffed and she watched as he bit his lip in thought. Her heart skipped a violent beat in her chest when he seemed to take notice of her gaze.

“Julie.” He said her name so softly she practically had to lean into him to catch the rest of his words. “If he really had wanted to keep her safe--,” he continued slowly, “--he would have stayed.”

The girl was almost certain that besides ghosts existing, magic did too, because everything about the moment was enchanting in a way she couldn’t fully make sense of in her brain.

A pounding on the door broke the two out of their reverie and they jolted feet apart.

“Julie! Dad’s home! G’night!” Carlos called from the other side.

Julie and Luke looked at each other nervously. He started doing that thing where he bit his lip again and she knew that she wasn’t ready to kick him out to the garage just yet.

“Jules--I should--” Luke started, motioning toward the window.

“No---” came her quick response, surprising both of them. It sounded a little too demanding in her opinion so she swiftly backtracked by adding, “I mean--if you have to--”

“C’mere,” he grinned, grabbing her laptop and readjusting the pillows on her bed where they had been sharing---something---minutes ago.

11:30 pm

“Did I ever tell you about the time Alex, Reggie, and I ditched school and sang down at the metro?” Luke asked, staring up at the LED lights along the edges of her bedroom ceiling. The colors flickered between blue, to red, to yellow. His hands rested gently atop his chest.

Julie laid next to him on her stomach, her arms on either side of her head. The curly mess of a halo sprawled out in an uncontainable way around her. She was close enough to him that pieces tickled his exposed bicep. The times the ghost boy actually wore a long-sleeved shirt were few and far between.

“I don’t think so.”

She listened closely as he quietly recanted the tale from his former life, laughing at the part where they were almost caught by the police for skipping school, but getting out of trouble with their fake IDs.

“Such a rebel,” she affirmed, reaching to poke him.

He caught her eye just as she was about to touch him.

Touch.

Such a foreign concept to both of them. An area she purposely tried to avoid if she could help it. Intentionally hurting herself, but what else was she supposed to do?

Despite Flynn approving of their ‘relationship’, she also made certain to remind Julie of the reality of her situation at least once every day.

Luke was still dead.

The less they crossed that bridge, the less heartbreak she would feel when this whole thing ended. Which it would someday, right?

She slowly retracted her hand and her heart twinged as he turned to look back at her ceiling lights.

1:00 am

“Were you ever in love?” Julie had suppressed the question for long enough, and at this point in the night, her prime brain functionality was beginning to dwindle. She sat above him now, peering down at his face to try and catch his reaction.

Luke gazed back at her, a sense of vulnerability creeping into his expression. “Nah. I dated a couple of girls back in the day. I wouldn’t say I was really in love with any of them though.”

Relief selfishly flooded her chest. She decided to press on. “How many of them did you kiss?” she teased, inching down toward him ever so slightly.

He smiled, his perfect dazzling white gleam, and she was sure that he would be her cause of death if he kept making her stomach feel like it was drowning in butterflies.

“Jules, I’m a gentleman. I don’t kiss and tell,” came his equally devilish reply, his head craning to close the gap between them.

One second.

Three seconds.

Ten seconds.

An eternity.

“Please Julie,” he practically begged, sensing her hesitation to give into the culmination of every little thing that had been building up between them since they met.

His plea was enough to break her into a million little pieces and her lips suddenly met his with an unexpected fervor.

She loved Luke.

God---she loved, loved Luke. She loved the taste of his lips--cold with a hint of butter from the popcorn. She loved how her curls felt intertwined between his fingers---pulling her even closer to him---if that was possible. She loved how easy it was to talk to him, to be herself with him. She loved his passion and loyalty to his friends and to her.

As she was easing back into reality, she really loved the way he was peppering gentle kisses all over her face that made her nose crinkle in pure happiness.

Julie couldn’t bear the thought of parting from him tonight.

Or ever.

4:50 am

As she breathed almost a melodious rhythm, Luke watched the steady rise and fall of her chest, his hand loosening the grip of the pencil between his fingers. She was mesmerizing to him. A work of art. Everything he didn’t know he needed, however, knew he could no longer live without. Is live even the right word to use?

Julie was his oxygen. His lifeline. The blood that refused to flow through his veins these days.

He knew that he should let her continue her slumber without him. In fact, his mind reminded him of that scene in the vampire movie they watched together earlier where Edward would creepily watch over Bella every night. He physically shivered in disgust.

But the words were flowing at rapid pace from his brain onto the pages of their songwriting book and Luke could only imagine how disappointed Julie would be if he told her he stopped writing right when the song was turning into a new hit ballad.

Julie was somehow making him feel more alive than he had even felt before the hotdog. He could now touch her with ease, he was able to eat certain foods, and if he wasn’t mistaken, as the sun rose, he could have sworn his eyes were growing heavy with sleep. He had not slept for 25 years.

His head fell against the pillow next to the sleepy girl and the book slowly slipped from his grasp onto the carpeted floor.

Ghosts didn’t sleep.

But he wasn’t certain if he was fully a ghost anymore.

Because of Julie.

find it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26573689

[valkyrieofsmut]

Captive Love   11

UF!Sans x Reader (or Frisk if you wanna)

Summary: Sweetheart's escape! Sans's anxiety... Sweetheart has anxiety, too.

A/N: So... Here's one of the parts I've been really excited to put out! I must be messed up, though, because... Sweetheart has flashbacks and an anxiety attack... I'll put the ~~~ so you can avoid the triggering stuff. Sans pretty much sums it up, but I also put a sum up in the end notes. Also, tumblr is a bitch to edit on, which is why it’s taking me so long to update! Sometimes I kinda just feel like posting a link to the chapter on Ao3... kinda feel torn, though, since you won’t get to see the words or anything if it’s reblogged or whatever. What d’ya think? 

Masterlist      Series Masterlist

Story

The great escape.

The door downstairs closed loudly, waking (Y/n) with a jolt.

She looked around, seeing a blanket over herself. She didn’t remember that being there before she fell asleep.

There was a soft, muffled snoring above her and she looked up, Sans’ body stretched out before her in the puddle of his coat, the book he’d been reading laying open on his face.

(Y/n) tried to sit up, but an arm tightened around her ribs. She looked down and noticed that  while she’d thought that his arm was just laying down on the bed, it was draped over her, hand tightening at her shirt and holding her close. The other seemed to be tangled in a mess of her hair.

Holy crap, how did this even happen? She wondered.

She decided that it didn’t matter. Nothing about it mattered. It didn’t mean anything, and it didn’t change her plans to get out.

She could hear Papyrus getting closer from the sound of his stomping footsteps coming down the hallway. He seemed to pause outside Sans’ door, and she wondered what he was doing for the moments before he opened the door.

“SANS, WAKE UP, YOU LAZY PILE OF BONES!” He called, taking in the sight in front of him as his brother stirred. “SANS, WHAT IS THAT TRASH ON YOUR FACE?”

(Y/n) looked up as Sans swiped the book away so it hit the floor on the other side of his bed a bit violently. “nothin’ paps, jus’ somethin’ i’s readin’ ta sweetheart,” he assured. Hastily.

That didn’t sound suspicious at all…

Was particle theory some secretly sexy thing? Was there something in there that she didn’t realize was dirty? Was he- was he reading her porn without her realizing it?!

She knew that monsters supposedly turned to dust when they died, which lent itself to a theory that monsters were made of particles instead of cells, so… was it some weird sexual thing?!

(Y/n) felt her cheeks heating, and she made sure to keep her face hidden from the two skeletons.

.

Another night of awful dinner, though she was able to eat some salad and bread to fill herself and avoid much of the lasagna, thanks to Sans’ shopping trip, out of the way, and they all retired to their rooms, Papyrus to practice battle strategy and study traps, (Y/n) and Sans to his room.

(Y/n) got the book from the floor where it had landed and brought it to Sans where he was kicked back on the bed.

“ya- ya want me ta read ya more a that?” He asked nervously.

(Y/n) shook her head, putting the book on the bed and making the motions for writing on paper.

“s-sorry, sweetheart, i told ya; i can’t read human writin’, yet.” She scowled at him and slapped the bed before making the writing sign again. Sans jumped back in surprise at her actions, standing and going to his desk. “shit, doll, a’right-! ya planning ta take notes or some shit?” He asked a bit roughly as he tossed the pad of paper and pencil on the bed at her. She seemed pleased, so he sat back on the bed.

She waited for him to get comfortable before handing him the pad and pencil. He looked at them in confusion, then watched her open the book and point at the words, then pointed at him and signed writing again.

“doll, i’m tellin’ ya; i can’t write anythin’ y’re gonna understand,” he told her.

She held the book open and tapped at the page to get his attention there before pointing to each individual letter.

“i’m not holdin’ anythin’ back from ya, doll, i sw-” he insisted, cut off as she slapped the bed again with a scowl.

She jabbed her fingers at the letters and nearly growled, “uhl-fuhb…t!”

“ya- ya want me ta write th’ alphabet?” He asked in surprise.

“Yehs!” She declared with a slight, adorable, squeak, thrusting her arms in the air and falling back on the bed in obvious frustration.

Sans’ grin widened at the sight before he was over her, his face pressed to her collarbone, his arms wrapping around her to give a squeeze. “y’re jus’ so fuckin’ cute, ya know that, sweetheart?” He asked, nuzzling her as he hid his blush. (Y/n) was frozen in surprise, but was about to push him away when he continued, “an’ smart. but, if we’re gonna do that, let’s get one that ain’t so technical.” Sans climbed from the bed, taking the book with him, stuffed it on the shelf behind some other books and pulled off a different one.

He’d been glad that she couldn’t read the old school, common monster print, so he could make up whatever he wanted the book to ‘say’, but now that she was trying to learn to read it… the thought of her learning that he read books focused the relationships of the characters, that was a bit soft for the tough image he kept up, it’d embarrass him very badly, and if it got out that he read that kind of stuff- he’d be attacked, not only verbally, by most monsters, but physically by some of them as well; the ones who thought they were going to look big and strong by killing the brother of one of the Royal Guard’s Commanders.

Sans wrote all of the characters of the monster’s common alphabet, leaving space around each one, then his name at her insistence.

“sans,” he read it to her, making the sound of each letter as she pointed to it, then watched as she made some weird kind of notes underneath. “ss. aa. nn. ss.”

(Y/n) nodded as she looked at her work. Well, now she knew how to spell his name. She pointed to the corresponding letters of his name in the alphabet that he’d written, and, getting the same sounds, wrote the letters under them.

She found words in the book, starting with the short ones, having him read the whole sentence, then the words one at a time, to check the grammar, and then the individual letters of her chosen words until she had a letter for almost all of the symbols. There seemed to be a symbol for the sounds ‘ch’ ‘sh’ and something she could only figure as ‘cs’ which was like a soft c, almost s sound.

Sans scratched the back of his skull before reaching down and tossing his shoes off. “flower. sweetheart, ya done, yet? ‘cause i’m done being treated like a fuckin’ speak’n spell fer th’ night. got shit ta do in th’ mornin’,” he told her, sounding tired as he got comfy on the bed.

(Y/n) wrote a couple more notes, then closed the book, took the paper from the pad and stuck it where she wouldn’t forget to take it with her when she left; it would come in handy to read any signs.

She was as stubborn as the previous nights, taking her pillow and laying on the floor, much to Sans’ irritation.

Another night of falling asleep on the floor, Sans wrapping his body around her, and waking up on the bed. She wasn’t surprised at this point, though she wondered how he got her up on the bed without waking her.

.

Come on, she thought at them, particularly Sans, as she stared at the book she was again studying, I was still here yesterday when you went shopping- I didn’t leave, you can trust me. Go to work, or whatever it is you do…

Sans was shooting hesitant looks at her, but did leave her alone in the room with a reminder of how dangerous monsters could be to humans. She would have thought that he was threatening her, but the way he looked so nervous, it was definitely that he was warning her to stay safe. Inside.

.

(Y/n) waited.

She ate some of the salad and bread for breakfast, not wanting to make herself sick right before her trip, and continued to wait.

After two and a half hours, she felt like if either of the skeletons had been worried about her sneaking out, they would have given up and either come to check on her, or gone off to the next thing by then and she should be ok to go.

She dressed in the most covering black clothing she’d found in the bag to help her blend into the shadows, ending up in a tight pair of leggings and a loose, off the shoulder shirt landing in a very flattering cut at almost mid thigh.

It did leave her neck a bit exposed, but she was going to use her sneaking ability to the best of her, well, ability, mostly staying hidden for protection.

She stuffed her feet into her shoes, glad that she had sensible, comfortable, black shoes as required for work, though they looked a little clunky paired with the skin tight leggings.

Pfft. Not like I’m trying to win any fashion awards or anything, anyway, she chided herself as she looked all over through the fields around the outside of the door before slowly making her way out.

She kept her back to the house as she slowly navigated her way around it to the side with the city in the far distance.

Sans felt a bead of sweat run down his skull as he hurried toward the house, pausing under the tree sheltering the echo flowers he’d brought up, the ground muddy and wet from how much water they needed.

Something was not sitting right in his nonexistent gut. Something was too strange about the way his sweetheart had been acting, and he felt the need to go check on her, if only to ease his own worries.

If she was fine, he could pop back to work, no problem, if not- he would fix it.

As Sans started forward again, he saw the gleaming silver of spun webs.

His eyes focused more, sweeping the field to pick out more of the webbing, seeing a trap set, and he could guess who it was meant for.

fuckin’ spider bitch can’t keep ta her own fuckin’ business… he cursed, crouching to conceal himself as his eyes moved over the area to gather all the information he could.

He saw the hint of a strange shadow at the edge of the grass, the fuzzy body of a spider about half the size of the annoying dog; one of Muffet’s minions, and one that wasn’t the type to travel alone.

He cursed silently again, his eyes sweeping over the place it was heading, obviously on the hunt, tracking their prey.

There- he saw a flash of skin, a hand steadying its owner so as to not trip, just at the corner, on the other side of the house.

Sans used a shortcut to the grass just past her, still crouching to stay hidden.

Just as he could see her about to break away from the house and head out into the open field, a glance showing him that the spiders were poised and ready to scurry into action chasing after her, Sans shot out of the grass silently, grabbing (Y/n)’s arm and jerking her around the  next corner, out of the line of sight of the spiders.

(Y/n)’s back was once again slammed into a wall, Sans in front of her, his hand over her mouth as he caged her in, his eyes studying the side of the house she’d just been on as he quietly growled, “what th’ fuck ya thinkin’?!”

She was too surprised to react for a moment, and when he was satisfied that whatever he was looking for wasn’t there, his angry eyelights turned to meet her eyes.

“huh?! what don’t ya get ‘bout it bein’ dangerous fer ya ta be out here?!” His voice was soft, as though he didn’t want to alert someone to their position, but (Y/n) still didn’t see anyone around.

He was playing it up for her benefit, trying to trick her, she knew it…

“how th’ fuck’d ya even survive this long?! ya run ’round defenseless an’ soft, kissin’ strange, scary fuckin’ monsters an’ passin’ out ‘n front a ‘em, try'n wander through fields fulla monsters that wanna cat’cha an’ eat'cha- what th’ fuck did ya think ya were gonna do- skip yer way through th’ fuckin’ town fulla monsters an’ get through wit th’ power’a kindness or some shit?!” He hissed at her.

(Y/n) had thought Papyrus was the intimidating brother, but Sans was pretty intimidating himself when his eyelights were missing from his sockets, his anger twisting his face as he held her motionless against the wall of the house, bony hand over her mouth.

He looked around the house again before dragging her with him as he went down to the other corner, peeking around to check it before dragging her with him again, into the house and tossing her toward the couch, making her stumble back and fall onto it awkwardly, her eyes glued to him as he locked the locks on the door and stormed down over to the couch.

Sans’ red magic yanked her feet to him and he ripped her shoes from her feet, taking them with him as he stormed down a hall, then made his way back, her shoes missing, though she’d heard the sounds of more locks.

He stopped next to the couch, grabbing her to drag with him again, but stopping at the bottom of the stairs, holding her with one hand while the other smacked at the wall until he found what he was looking for and pulled a hidden door open.

(Y/n) only got to see a sliver of what was inside, lights flickering before filling the space with harsh, fluorescent brightness. There were a couple of strange machines that kicked to life, but none of them were what Sans was going for, apparently, as he grabbed whatever he was looking for from the wall near the door and walked back out, flicking the lights off and slamming the door closed before again dragging her, this time up the stairs to his room.

His door shut with a loud bang, Sans stopping and holding the item in his fist up as he pushed her forward so she fell on the bed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/n) quickly turned and rightened herself enough that she could fling herself into motion if she needed to. Her eyes went up to watch Sans, attentive to find any clues from his behavior that she’d need to survive.

His eyelights were trained on the thing in his fist, which was glowing a little with his red magic, but the expression on his face was torn.

“i didn’t wanna do this,” he murmured. “i was tryna spare ya from it, but…” Sans’ eyelights turned back to her, sadness hidden behind his anger as he advanced on her, keeping her trapped between him and the bed. “but ya fuckin’ hada make me. ya took the decision outta my hands, sweetheart. ‘f i’m gonna keep ya safe, i have ta be able to…”

(Y/n) felt the fear growing in her belly as she shrank down away from him, her eyes unable to look away from his.

It was a bad ending.

Punishment.

He was pissed off and was going to punish her to assert his dominance, to keep her under his control, show her what happened when she displeased him.

No… no, please, her mind begged, unable to get the words out, though her mouth had been trained not to let any sounds out. Please- help… I’m sorry-!  

Her eyes slammed shut as he stepped closer, her whole body flinching away, her face flinching again as she tried to keep the panic in her system down. Her arms flinched, stopping themselves as they started to move up to defend herself as he leaned over her.

Something soft but sturdy wrapped around her neck.

Oh god- don’t strangle me- oh god, please don’t strangle me-! She heard the sound of a buckle and her fear was instantly doubled. No biting, no biting, no biting, she tried to prepare herself, fighting the tears stinging at her ducts. Biting will make it worse- worse might be accidentally killing you…  

Suddenly, light was shining through her eyelids and she heard the door slam closed again.

(Y/n) opened her eyes, finding herself alone in Sans’ room. She quickly looked around to take stock of the situation, making sure she was actually alone, before getting up and grabbing the chair from near the window, using it to jam the door closed before she took the blanket off the bed and huddled on the other side of it from the door.

The tears started washing down her face as she wrapped herself around a pillow, her body rocking slightly as she fought the panic that had taken hold of her gut.

I’m ok, she told herself. I’m ok, he didn’t do anything. He didn’t hurt me. Didn’t even rip my clothes. I’ll still get out- just… just gotta wait for the right opportunity… I’ll make it. I’ve survived before, I can do it again.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sans sat in the hall with his back against his door, draining large gulps from a nearly empty bottle of cheap whiskey and chasing it with gulps of mustard.

He could feel his sins crawling on his back.

He felt fucking disgusting.

The look of fear in her eyes as he got closer to her, the full body tremble- the way she looked like she’d rather fall down and dust than let him touch her as he put the collar on her and buckled it…

He should be comforting her- he wanted to be in there comforting her, telling her that it was ok, he wasn’t going to hurt her- that he’d never hurt her! But he was the one that had caused this state of fear, and he could only hope that she’d calm down enough that he could comfort her soon.

stars, sweetheart, ‘m sorry, he thought miserably as he took another long gulp, finishing the bottle in his hand and squirting mustard between his teeth, ignoring the tears and soul tearing pain in his chest before he buried his skull against his knees, his humeri pressing around it, wrists dangling from the top of his knees, mustard in one hand, the empty bottle in the other. ‘m so fuckin’ sorry…  

A/N: SAFE RECAP That thing Sans got out of the secret room was a collar, and when he went to put it on her, she had a flashback of punishment from her abusive ex. Of course, Sans couldn't stand to see her like that, hated himself for causing it, and left to go be self destructive on his own. Also... heh, the book that Sans was reading to Sweetheart... not a textbook. More a romance novel. lol.

[ziotsu]

time to write out literally all my thoughts as someone who can’t read Japanese!

I actually saw the first few pages when people were posting them because apparently the first half of the chapter comes out the second week? I didn’t post my thoughts cause I wanted to do them all at the same time

Page 1! Well this is fun, I absolutely love the expressions in this manga (I feel like me going on about the art in this manga is going to be a theme lol). But the subtle differences between how Ashiya looks and how he looks when Sakae is controlling him are amazing. And it isn’t just the eye color, but just everything with how Sakae acts and carries himself (face included) really is awesome. And it doesn’t feel like just slapping a new face on Ashiya’s body, I genuinely can see Ashiya making this expression when Sakae isn’t possessing him (if he wasn’t such a cinnamon roll). Also the shock on Abeno’s face is not something we see too often. He has his normal shocked face but this feels more raw than in the past? Like his eyes seem wider and the way his hair is makes it seem like he basically just did a double take. MMMMMMMMMM this is good shit. But story wise, I assume this page is just restating the fact that you really don’t wanna use influence on a parasitic shrub possessed demon.

Page 2 and 3! Abeno know’s what’s up, or at least it seems so. It would be more surprising if he didn’t tbh. Also I wonder if Sakae kind of knew this was going to happen? Considering he was trying to keep them away, I assume he did. At the very least he does not seem shocked at all to see Aoi like that at all. Speaking of Aoi, they are def trapped where they are at. That whole is well large enough for them to get through and attack them again, but they are still on the ground it seems. I am guessing it has to do with the tree we saw coming from their tail last chapter. They are still 110% mad though.

3-4! It looks like it isn’t just the trees that are keeping Aoi down, I thought the roots attaching the main body to the ground had been ripped up but it looks like there are some remaining. Sakae is as gentle as ever, yes just toss away his injured arm, great idea. Now Abeno is in even more pain. The wound though is really deep, looks like two large gashes, which Sakae actually starts to dress (rest in peace, kimono sleeve) (also while abeno is trying to get his arm out of the inner kimono (idk what is is called), we can see the medicine Abeno always carries around! I love the attention to detail in this manga)

5-6! Yup, page 5 doesn't do it justice, but page six really shows the extent of the damage one of the gashes did. Super nasty scar going to go there. We see some more of Aoi though, and do they chirp? Like what cats do? Cause murder cat looks super cute on page 5 and I don’t know how to feel about this.

They look like baby here and I want to protect them. Abeno seems to be bringing up the medicine, though I really don’t know what this would do to Aoi other than basically kill them. Which honestly, may be for the best? I know it’s a bit messed up, but it has been stated before that they are obviously past the point of getting them help, and leaving them there would be super dangerous.

7-8! I am making another assumption that Sakae doesn’t know what the medicine does. Which I have a current theory that the medicine is a new development for the underworld. (if such a medicine existed before Aoi left, why wouldn’t they use it on them?) Which would also mean that Sakae wouldn’t know about it either. My guess from the last pages seem to be correct as there is a panel showing Aoi burning, which seems pretty deathy to me. I honestly don’t know what they are going to do, though I think for now, they should be getting back, reporting the situation and getting help for themselves. Aoi seems really stuck here so I don’t think they are a direct threat to the underworld immediately. (Unless Aoi manages to escape the island and oh boy that would not be good) Abeno seems pretty determined, though, so regardless Aoi is most likely going to meet their actual end.

9-10! Aoi is starting to go to sleep here, Sakae seems really good at first aid (wonder where/why he learned that ;) Maybe a certain lady who often gets sick?) Not a whole lot happens, I think these are mostly showing the passage of time, and it seems Abeno is putting away the medicine for now. Which good move, my boy. Come back to take care of murder cat later. Also I wonder if all those trees are from Aoi’s parasitic shrub. That would be terrifying if that is the case. It could really show how long they have been there, trapped and going mad because of the shrub.

11-12! Good lord all of them are looking super cute this chapter. Sakae you can’t do this to me, just all your movements and facial expressions are justlasdkhjg;lakshjdg. Ashiya is cute in his own right, but this is a different type of cute. Why are all these characters like this and please don’t stop making all these characters like this. We get a good look at Aoi’s spine and it makes me sad (though also could give more insight to how the shrub basically takes over? Using the spinal cord to get to the brain seems like a good path to take if the shrub’s goal is to spread like any other parasite (which also makes sense with the going mad thing, kind of like rabies almost) I am glad Abeno’s arm is being supported and held still with what they had on hand. Still looks super painful though.

13-14! And they are out! At least out of the pit where they can really easily run if they need to. Sakae is starting to get tired, so I wonder how much longer he can go on? I hope he can stay awake long enough to get back to the mononokean because I highly doubt Abeno can carry an unconscious Ashiya back. He would most likely have to wait for Ashiya to wake back up before moving on and who knows how long that will take. Part of page 13 made me go back to see the last few pages, but it looks like Aoi’s front right paw is stuck in the ground :( good cause they are most likely really stuck there and probably wont be able to escape easy but it makes me sad to see the previous master of the mononokean in such a state.

15-16! Oof the tiredness is really showing in the first panel. Get out of there quick so you both can rest! I am guessing Abeno is asking about why Sakae said those things in the flower field.Like how Aoi is dead and such, and honestly did Sakae lie? Aoi, as they were in the past, is dead. They are completely over taken and do not recognize even the child they basically raised.

17-18! Oh boy Sakae is getting more and more tired, Abeno is asking about the golden butterfly and can you two just get going? Ya’ll have limited time here!!!!! Though I wonder if Sakae used his influence on one of the butterflies to communicate to Ashiya? it seems very similar? Or a butterfly made from pure influence? Which would explain how it disappeared when Ashiya grabbed it?

I am going to stop the page format because uh.... WHAT. First off Abeno was def asking about the influence/parasitic shrub thing that Sakae brought up. And WE ACTUALLY LEARN ABOUT IT NEXT CHAPTER. This is huge cause oml this feels like a rare moment. Normally mysteries like this linger for a few chapters, simmer and make us suffer. BUT WE GOT A NEW BRAND OF SUFFERING TODAY FOLKS! Like I theorized it a bit on why I didn’t think Aoi was the one Sakae used his influence on, due to thinking that Aoi being infected years before picking up Abeno seemed super dangerous and didn’t feel like something they would do. I DIDN’T KNOW YOU CAN USE INFLUENCE TO CURE THE PARASITIC SHRUB THOUGH! PAGE 22 IS SUFFERING! PAGE 22 HAS ALL THE ANSWERS! Like we now know what happened, or at least have enough facts to be able to piece it together! Aoi and Sakae went out for a job, either they find out that the demon is infected or know and are going to try to help them out. Aoi somehow gets infected by this demon and Sakae uses his influence to get rid of the growing infection only to die himself as the parasitic shrub is not meant to live in the human body. This explains why Aoi was so beat up over his death, because IT WAS THEIR FAULT. It explains why Sakae would use his influence on a demon that is infected, because it is Aoi, their employer and friend. He probably wasn’t meaning to die at all, just thinking that ‘hey let’s just get rid of this shrub from Aoi so they don’t die because they are an important part of the Underworld (though AU where Sakae can’t do this and has to become the next master of the mononokean ;) )

We also see the aftermath, it is almost like he becomes some form of demon himself, and actually looks infected with the shrub. I doubt it is the same sort of situation because he doesn’t become a tree? I am honestly unsure on how this affected him. He does go and meet his son a few months later, (wait or was that Aoi because between the two pages we see a sort of continuation with the hand on the left (aoi’s hand) but we also see the ‘veins’ of the shrub which hints towards Sakae? I like to think that Sakae visited baby Ashiya, so I am going to go with the assumption it is Sakae visiting till I am proven otherwise) and smol Ashiya is always cute. Ashiya does seem to ‘notice’ something? or he is just a baby and babies cry A LOT. We see Sakae ‘infect’ the butterfly he uses to communicate with Ashiya in the flower field. Wonder if he tried doing the same in the past with Abeno, only Abeno cannot hear his words.

ALSO GUYS I TOLD YOU TO GET OUT OF THERE NOW WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO? Ashiya is now completely passed out, Abeno cannot carry him back and now they gotta just chill there till Ashiya wakes back up. I know it is awesome to have questions answered, but please. 

Though I guess somehow they managed cause Ashiya wakes up in what I can only assume is the Legeslator’s place? It is def not the mononokean (too large and im sure we would be hearing a bell the moment Ashiya woke up) but it could be Korou’s place. Not sure how Abeno managed, but he probably found a way to get them out of there. Rip golden eyes, though :( Guess they were just either the side effect to using that much influence or a hint that Sakae was just kind of hanging around in case shit hits the fan. 

There is incense burning, making a guess this is either a preventative measure against the shrub or something to help wake Ashiya up faster. Ashiya is alone and it seems he is shaken because of what Sakae explained (I am guessing it was similar to his dreams when he subconsciously used his influence and he was dreaming about Sakae’s past)

This chapter was amazing, answered so many things and saw enough cute to really counter balance the ‘what the actual fuck’ this chapter brought along with it.

[thepotionbat]

Moon’s Writing Challenge

Hello all! I’m back with another entry into @moonlight-thestral‘s writing challenge, this time I hope with the correct format (LOL).

Link to the challenge and dialogue prompts here.

My prompt: 13.) “You’re such a distraction!”

Pairing: Severus x Reader

Word count: 1,851

Summary: Between the summer of your fourth and fifth year at Hogwarts, you haven’t much to occupy you except the pile of summer assignments you need to complete -- oh, and Severus, who lives only a few houses away.

Warnings: None.

I hope you all enjoy!

It was a quiet night on the street of Spinner’s End.

It was around 11:00 and you were sitting at your desk, attempting to complete some of your summer homework; next year’s term was quickly approaching, and you still had a lot to get done.

Rain was falling outside, the drops splattering against your window gently; the warm cup of peppermint tea beside you emitted a nice aroma, adding to the overall cozy ambience that had settled in your room. You were writing an essay for Transfiguration; McGonagall wanted everyone to review on some of the spells they had learned last year, including color-changing and the fundamentals of vanishing spells. You were getting quite far into it, too, hitting your stride and feeling as though you would finish soon, should you keep going at the pace you were—

That was, until the calm drizzle of rain was interrupted by a scuff sounding outside of your window.

You turned to the sound, squinting at your window uneasily. The scuff repeated, this time a bit louder, and just before you became thoroughly spooked, it suddenly occurred to you what — or, rather, who — it might be. Grumpily, you made your way to the window, just as you heard a familiar rapping on the glass. You pulled back your curtains to reveal the face of Severus Snape; his black hair was all wet, sticking to his pale cheeks.

You opened the window.

“Let me in,” he said.

You stepped aside, allowing him to clamber in; afterwards, you closed the window quickly, then turned to him with crossed arms. He was wearing a long raincoat, which allowed his clothes to have escaped with minimal rain exposure; however, the hood had obviously blown away from his head, leaving his hair and shoulders wet, as were his shoes; water dripped off of him and onto the floor below. He shrugged off his coat.

“What are you doing here?” you asked. “Also, you’re getting my carpet wet.”

“Sorry,” he said immediately.

You tried to frown at him, but of course you couldn’t really be angry; your lips betrayed you, pulling up in a small smile. You watched him fold up his coat neatly and put it to the side, and then you snagged a blanket from your bed and tossed it at him. “There,” you said.

He wrapped it around his shoulders, pushing his wet hair from his face. “I thought you would be happy to see me,” he said with mock offense, sitting himself on the wooden chest at the end of your bed.

“I am,” you insisted. “I was just in the middle of writing my Transfiguration essay.”

“Oh,” he said, suddenly serious as he peered over at your desk curiously. “Do you want me to leave?”

“Of course not,” you said, returning to your desk but sitting to face him. “Just sit there and dry off and get rainwater all over my stuff, I don’t mind.”

His lips quirked up at your sarcasm. “Certainly,” he said. In one quick movement, he reached over to your desk, snagging one of your hairbands that you had taken off earlier; with deft fingers, he used it to tie up his own sopping hair into a bun.

“You never answered my question,” you pointed out.

“I’m here because I couldn’t sleep,” he said. “And, I saw the light on in your room.” “Stalker,” you teased.

“Shut up,” he shot back with smirk, leaning back onto your bed-frame. “You’re acting like you didn’t come up to my room just the other day.”

You rolled your eyes. “Listen, I’ve got to try and finish this, Severus,” you said. “So be quiet, if you please.”

“Fine,” he sighed. You turned back to your work, took a sip of your tea, and tried to get back into the productive mindset you had been in before Severus interrupted you. You had just picked up your quill, your mind allowing your hand to sputter back to writing competent descriptions when you heard the familiar creaking sound your floor made when someone walked across it. You glanced up at Severus from the corner of your eye to see he was at your bookcase, browsing through the spines of the novels; if it hadn’t been for the floor, you would never had known he moved, for he always was so quiet.

“Did you ever finish reading Jane Eyre?” you asked.

“No.” He spoke without looking at you, his fingers brushing against the spines of the book, not yet lingering on one long enough to indicate that he had made a selection. “Almost. And I thought you were supposed to be writing your essay.”

You scowled at him, but he still wasn’t looking at you to see, so you turned back to your parchment. You heard the floor creak once more, announcing that Severus was walking across it once again. Stop, just focus.

You managed to crank out another several inches of writing before you realized you hadn’t heard anymore from Severus in a long while.

Curiously, you sat up away from your parchment and allowed your gaze to flit around, landing on where he ended up, which so happened to be sitting cross-legged on the floor, propping his back against the wooden chest at the end of your bed; the blanket you had thrown at him was draped across his lap while he turned the pages of a book he’d borrowed from your shelf (One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest).

“Why are you on the floor?”

He finished the page he was reading and flipped to the next one before looking at you to answer. “I was afraid I’d drip water on your sheets,” he explained. “And you’re sitting in the only chair in here.”

“I don’t care about my sheets,” you said with a light, fond laugh. “It’d be more comfortable to you than where you’re at now.”

He shrugged, as if it didn’t matter to him, yet after a second’s consideration he closed his book made a move to get up, obviously going to take you up on the offer. Satisfied, you turned back to your essay. Just a little more, and I’ll finally be done. You began flipping through your textbook, making notes and writing a few more sentences.

It wasn’t until you shifted your position in your chair that your head turned slightly and you caught a glimpse of someone standing very close to you from the corner of your eye— abrupt fear washing over you, you jumped in surprise.

Turning fully, you looked up at Severus, who was peering over your shoulder at what you were writing.

“You scared me,” you protested.

He smirked, looking away from your paper. “Sorry.”

You shook your head at him, turning back to your parchment. “Does it sound good?”

“It’s not bad,” he allowed. You felt his presence retreat away from your back.

“‘Not bad?’” you repeated, spinning yet again to look at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He was settling onto your bed, throwing the blanket over your pillows before he laid down and rest his head on them. “Exactly what it sounds like,” he replied smoothly, shifting until he was comfortable where he lay and then opening his book back up again.

You laughed, rolling your eyes good-naturedly. “You’re ridiculous. How much have you done of yours, then?”

“I’m already done with mine, actually,” he said, flipping a page.

“Show off,” you said. “Such a show off.”

Another faint smirk ghosted his lips. “You asked,” he pointed out.

You tried to be cross, but you couldn’t help but grin at him. “Well, I’m almost done.” You returned your attention to your paper. If you could write down just four more inches, you would be finished, at long last.

Several moments passed by in silence.

“Do you think McMurphy was actually crazy?” Severus spoke, causing the silence to be broken once again. He was looking at the pages of his book thoughtfully when you turned to look.

“You’re such a distraction!” you exclaimed, exasperated at all of the interruptions you’d suffered. He met your gaze, amusement glittering in his eyes.

“Well, do you?” he asked.

You sighed. “I don’t know… Objectively, yes, I think there was a part of him that was very dark. But he compensated for it with a general disdain for rules.” Severus nodded.

You turned back to the words you’d written, silently contemplating picking up your quill again. After a moment longer of consideration, you decided to abandon your essay -- it was only a few inches, anyway; you could do it tomorrow. You left your desk, flopping into the bed next to Severus, who scooted over to give you some more room; still, your arm brushed against his.

“Finish your essay?” he asked.

“No, I can do it tomorrow,” you said dismissively. “I can’t focus with you around.”

He smiled slightly; if you didn’t know better, you would think you saw his cheeks flush.

Before anything else could be said, the wind gusted outside with sudden force, and after only a brief pause, the rain began to pour down hard, now slashing against the window and effectively ending the calmness of the drizzle it had been earlier.

Severus dropped the book, still open, onto his chest, and looked towards the window disdainfully. “That will certainly be fun to walk home in,” he remarked.

You glanced at the window, too. Wind gusted once more, and rain was thrown harshly onto the glass; distantly, you thought you heard a rumble of thunder.

“Why don’t you just stay here?” you suggested, after a moment’s thought. “Just leave early in the morning, before my mum finds you.”

He blinked at you in surprise. “You wouldn’t mind?”

“Of course not, Sev,” you said. “As long as you don’t think your parents would notice you’re gone and freak out, or something.”

He let out a note of humorless laughter.

“They wouldn’t notice if I’d been missing for a week,” he stated with certainty.

This caused you to look at him sadly; you saw the way some of his dark hair — despite it being tied up — still managed to fall into his face; the way his pensive eyes were staring at the ceiling, churning with some complicated emotion; the way one of his delicate hands still rested on the back of your copy of One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest.

“I would notice,” you told him.

He looked at you in surprise, then smiled, one of his rare, genuine ones. You smiled back softly, and he picked up the book again, which told you he was agreeing to stay. You reached over to the nightstand next to you to grab the book you had been reading the night before, and the two of you fell into a comfortable silence; it was still raining hard outside, bouts of thunder sounding through the air, and yet the cozy atmosphere from earlier was not gone; somehow, as you two read in silence, breaking it often to make comments or conversation, the coziness was even more prevalent.

[emptymanuscript]

(CNN Business)--If President Trump comes out and prematurely claims victory on Election Night, what will television networks and social media websites do? The scenario -- undemocratic and unthinkable in the past but a very real possibility with Trump seeking to stay in power -- is causing media and tech executives to debate potential responses

https://www.fark.com/goto/11007245/www.cnn.com/2020/11/02/media/tv-networks-election-night-victory/index.html%3Futm_source%3Dfark%26utm

As much as Fox News and Breitbart style propaganda gives me the red hot rage fury, this propaganda gives me the cold seething anger fury.

Because this is propaganda. Insidious, difficult to catch propaganda, that most people, even Breitbart loyalists would just let fly. The left will say yes, Trump is unprecedented. The right will say this is evil and trying to portray Trump as bad. And both sides will ignore the actual propaganda statement that CNN just issued on behalf of itself, Fox, and all the rest of journalism as a whole that this scenario was “unthinkable in the past.”

Bullshit.

That scenario literally happened in 2000. Fox did it instead of Bush Jr. but that absolutely did happen. The election was a tossup and everyone was calling it as a toss up until Fox declared Bush the winner. At which point, to not be scooped, everyone else called for Bush as well. And because AT THAT TIME is was unthinkable, Gore assumed they knew what they were talking about and and conceded. When it then quickly became clear that the result was not in fact clear, he took it back. And the disaster rolled on. In the years that have followed, it has become clear that if Gore had refused to concede for another 24 hours he would have won without the recount and all the other troubles. It was close but not that close, he won the popular election by enough that he would have won the electoral college. But even he admitted by the time what actually happened got going he wouldn’t have been able to govern because the numbers were less important than the perception.

There were a lot of thoughts and prayers, I’m sorry: “soul searching,” well there were pundits talking about soul searching anyway. Because the media realized what happened. They had picked the president. Not the voters. Unthinkable and undemocratic. And everybody but Fox vowed to do better.

Fast forward to right now and it is still undemocratic. But to portray it as unthinkable is straight out pardoning themselves retroactively for the crime they already committed. For institutions like CNN, it was the equivalent of manslaughter. I think it is a completely fair conclusion that they had zero intention to do any of it. They just didn’t want to lose the ratings. It’s not a good reason but it is extremely different than what was most likely Fox’s murder one version. Fox absolutely knew what everyone else knew, absolutely favored Bush over Gore, and just when the poll results started to tip toward Gore instead of way too close to even dream of calling, Roger Ailes and George W. Bush’s cousin who was in charge of election coverage for Fox (not at all a conflict of interest), decided that Fox should announce Bush had won. It is not possible to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that they were trying to shift the election results but the circumstantial evidence is pretty good. Which is why they get hot anger and CNN gets cold anger from me. Fox tries to commit crimes. CNN tries to escape culpability.

And that’s exactly what this tiny, little, insignificant phrase is doing. It’s escaping culpability. It’s escaping culpability in a way that everyone will brush over and have an easy time agreeing with, while it cements itself in thought that that is the way it really is. When nothing could be further from the truth. CNN has had 20 years, 20 YEARS!, to wrestle with this problem. To figure out what to do, to come to terms with the role it played, to institute reforms to make sure they are equipped to handle this. And the truth is, they probably spent a work week worth’s of effort and called it good enough. Until the problem came up again this year.

The real reason I favor reading 538 instead of most other news outlets for numbers and election results is because if you actually READ the stuff instead of just snatching the headlines and quotes is because they’re the only institution I know of that actually does grapple with this problem regularly and with vigor. They are it. This year, with the problem come round again, they made a special page just to try and specifically explicate that you CANNOT call an election before the votes are actually counted. Everything they do is an estimation with variables and margins of error. Because they actually see it as their job to give information, and make sense of that information, instead of just following some narrative.

I love Nate Silver’s currently favored explanation of it being like roiling a die. Right now, it’s 1d10. Being as I played a whole lot of Vampire the Masquerade, and other WoD rpgs, that works real well for me. I know the feel of a d10. I know how it feels to crit fail and roll that 1 even though the odds are that I shouldn’t. I had one game where I rolled 7 critical fails in a row. Which was ok because I was GMing and not a player but it happens. That Trump is unlikely to win doesn’t mean he can’t win. You can always crit fail. When you’re only rolling 1d10 the chances aren’t even that low. And if you play a lot of any rpg, you know that. This metaphor is new because 538 is very aware of the problems from the 2016 election and has actually gone the extra mile to make sure they fix what wasn’t even their mistake.

Because I remember my friends (we were all political junkies) apologizing to me because I was actually deep reading 538 and kept worrying that Trump was going to win, while they were all, nah. They have always been good about stating that what they are dealing with are probabilities and uncertainties, it’s just that people don’t like that. They want answers and narratives.

Which is often where the real propaganda happens. It’s not the pretty posters I love. It’s the grand statements from the bully pulpit. The propaganda that digs deep is the plain language of “factualness.” What is stated so that it cannot be disagreed with in a way that the audience will just accept it and move on. Until it is simply part of how we all think because it’s not an elephant you have to swallow whole, it’s the poison fed to you one mL at a time until you’re inured to it and then it is a part of you and then you’re spitting it out on others. One mL at a time.

That Trump will do anything he has to to win is not unthinkable. We’ve known that for years. Longer than he has president. That he is a liar is the same. That he does not care for the rule of law is the same. That the right wing media will aid and abet him in all that is not unthinkable because we have watched it unfold. That elections can be shifted by the judicious use of media is well known. As undemocratic as all of this may be, the idea that it is unthinkable is just a way to say either A) we weren’t paying attention or B) it’s not our fault.

CNN shouldn’t be allowed to say either of those things.

/rant