#he has to intercept every package that comes to the house to check it’s not a microphone with a pop guard

[themefromtwinpeaks]

i think something miles edgeworth doesn’t get enough credit for is how often he probably has to talk phoenix out of starting a podcast

[lilydalexf]

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with tatooedlaura (Laura Sprys)

Laura has 28 fics at Gossamer, but the big treasure trove of her stories is at AO3, where she has 193 fics. Thank goodness for the richness of the X-Files and for talented, creative people like Laura who can find so many interesting ways to tell tales in the show’s universe. Big thanks to Laura for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

Maybe reading mine but reading older fic in general is something I still do and something I still find entertaining. I do wish i could get into my old fics and post a warning that some of those were written before the author: ever had a drink, ever had sex, ever had a boyfriend, ever lived on her own, ever had a real job, or ever experienced much of anything in the real world.

Then again, fanfic is a perfect time capsule for the age and it’s always fun to see where the originals started and how they’ve grown.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

Back in the day and up and through today, it has always been a fun experience. From it, I’ve learned to love writing. I’ve learned that fans are crazy, weird, wonderful, generous, talented, committed, passionate, and imaginative. In a fandom, you can think whatever you wish and write about anything you like and because I’ve been around so long, I’ve gotten to watch the storylines shift and the relationships change ...

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

Originally, I never had much interaction with people other than ones who sent emails commenting on my fanfic … the internet at my parents house was dial-up and I had to access through the AOL free disks that arrived in the mail so, for the most part, I didn’t have the bandwidth or the connection speed to do more than upload stories and download episode guides.

Good lord, I remember submitting a story and having to wait upwards of two days to two weeks before the new batch of stories was posted ... then ephemeral came around and you could actually have your story up in under a day ... all ya'll who started on tumblr and ao3, you have it great, let me tell you :)

One thing that stands out in my mind still (and I’m still friends with her on Facebook) was a woman from western Canada who I stumbled across somewhere while looking for the blooper reels. She offered to send me her copies on VHS for my collection. I don’t think she asked for payment and one day, a package arrived from a lovely woman near Lethbridge, bloopers playable, tapes labeled in clear printing. I still appreciate that 20 some odd years later :)

What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

Fandoms are crazy places. Tread lightly at first but enjoy what you want, ignore what you don’t, rewrite what you hate, and write what you love. Don’t be an asshole when you don’t agree with someone … when you do, tell them …

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

I was on board from the first episode. It was a show about two people who you felt were destined to be together but weren’t, and wouldn’t be for years. It was a cop show about aliens and a monster show with cops. I was in the right place at the right time in the right frame of mind and there was just something that clicked and I never looked back. Friends were not allowed to call me on Friday night and once it switched to Sunday, I made sure that my parents got us on early evening bowling league so we’d be home in time to watch. Even my boyfriend (eventual husband) knew to shut the hell up from 9-10pm, even if he was sitting next to me on the couch (with my parents in their chairs watching as well)

Also, my 56-year-old dad had a crush on Scully from the start so that was entertaining as hell as well

What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

I have been writing stories in my head for literally as long as I can remember. Watching some episode, I honestly don’t remember which one, I suddenly had an idea for a story about Mulder and Scully. I had never written a story with pre-existing characters before and it was totally foreign to me. How do you write a character with a current storyline. It was weird, it was difficult, it was some of the most fun I’d had writing up to that point.

Suddenly, I didn’t have to explain or describe the characters, think of jobs and mundane things … they already had those … and it was great.

Honest-to-God, my first fic was written, in pencil, on a yellow legal pad by flashlight while lying with my head at the foot of my bed so I could see my parents coming down the hall if they happened to wake up at midnight to go to the bathroom. Later fics were written by the light of an 10” TV/VCR combo with me still lying with my head at the foot of the bed. I still have those old legal pads somewhere and I remember having to type them in secret, having to wait until the house was empty for 20 minutes to an hour at a time. Uploading them was always unnerving because of the slow dial-up and the fact that I didn’t have my own email address, but had to use my dad’s. I’d have to make sure to check it whenever I could, intercept the feedback I’d get off gossamer.

I was such a damn rebel.

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

Well, I now know how to interact with people given tumblr and AO3 but it hasn’t changed much. I contribute a little more now that I understand posting on social media but mostly, I still just write like a fiend and post, read voraciously and give kudos and likes often, comment some and reblog.

Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

I dabbled and have a favorite ‘Fringe’ fic … I tried to read a Harry Potter fic once … I type ‘West Wing’ occasionally in ao3 and tumblr ...

And nothing, absolutely nothing, has ever caught me like the X-Files did in regards to the fandom experience.

I have shows I watch and re-watch and re-watch but no two characters have ever had me writing and thinking and planning like Mulder and Scully. No other combo has ever made me write upwards of 300,000 or more total and still have plenty of stories to tell.

I’m okay with this.

Who are some of your favorite fictional characters? Why?

Aside from Mulder and Scully and the gentlemen three of Frohike, Langley, and Byers … I love all Scully’s nieces and nephews in my ‘Life’ series … I also love Corduroy (picture books), Harold (purple crayon fame), Neville Longbottom, the characters from my own novels, Katniss (book not movie), Anne Shirley, Elnora (from the Limberlost), Will Stanton/Merriman/Barney/Jane from ‘Dark is Rising’ and 10,459 others …

I’m a children’s librarian so most of my favorite books are those written for the younger and YA crowd. I like my job :)

Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully?

I watch this show all the damn time. I will think about Mulder and Scully when I have nothing else to think about, normally writing and editing whatever story I may have in the hopper at the time about them.

My husband laughs when I have the show on. He knows all the episodes with me and it’s one of my comfort shows that I don’t have to pay attention to when it’s on. During it, I have edited books, decorated cookies, been sick, been recovering, simply wasted a perfectly good day because I could.

My 17-year-old daughter keeps it on while she does homework and works out.

It’s a staple at our house and no one is allowed to make fun of it, even though we all know that parts are completely ‘make fun-able’

Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom?

I read fic all the time … I have worked my way through AO3 starting from the beginning and if it was more easily readable on a phone, I’d work my way, once again, through gossamer.

Restated from above: I dabbled and have a favorite ‘Fringe’ fic … I tried to read a Harry Potter fic once … I type ‘West Wing’ occasionally in ao3 and tumblr ...

Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors?

I have all kinds of favorites on tumblr but right now, I honestly don’t remember most of the names … I pretty much read everything that comes through my dashboard and every few days, i read through the newest posts on AO3 … I love you all!!

What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

Of X-Files fics, I love my newer stuff … I read “Life” and its sequels every few months … ‘Your Place or Mine’ is another one I will read … actually, I’ll just say it .... I read all my own fic over and over again …

With fic, you get to write the characters as you want to see them and write situations that you want to see … I write for myself most of all and I love to read what I wrote :)

Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online?

I write them all the damn time. I have tons of snippets and half-finished that I occasionally glean things from but while sometimes, old stuff morphs into new, sometimes, it just needs to gather that dust and live a quiet little forgotten life in some backhand folder on my dropbox account ...

Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

First question is answered above.

As for other creative work, I have published two YA novels, have the third in that series in editing … I have five other novels in the hopper in various stages of ‘good lord this needs an edit or twelve’ …

I am writing things constantly in my head or on my laptop … most is crap … stome sticks … some turns into fic and some turns into books …

But the point is, I am writing, in some form, at all time :)

Where do you get ideas for stories?

Some two sentence conversation will spark an idea … the line of a song will inspire an idea … a word will start a sentence which will turn into a paragraph which will tumble straight into a story … and sometimes, stuff just pops in my head for no damn reason at all ...

What's the story behind your pen name?

On gossamer, I am L. Sprys because that was my name at the time :)

On tumblr and AO3, I’m tatooedlaura because my name is Laura and I have, now, six tattoos (yes, I spelled it wrong in my handle but that’s life) … when I decided on the name, I think I only had two

Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions?

They do now … it took me years to crack and tell them … my husband has never read them, nor have any of the people I have told (as far as I know)

Now, I don’t really care who knows … I’ll tell them I write smutty X-Files fanfiction and family-friendly X-Files fanfiction …

I am too old at this point to be embarrassed by what I like to do. If they laugh at me, I tell them they only get to laugh when they’ve published a book and I pull up my books on Amazon … I’ve only had to do that once and it shut them right the hell up …

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

Gossamer: L. Sprys

Tumblr and AO3: tatooedlaura

Is there anything else you'd like to share with fans of X-Files fic?

I love you! I see you! I appreciate you! I hope you enjoy! Don’t judge me for my grammar issues! I will never be able to spell the word ‘excersize’!

(Posted by Lilydale on April 27, 2021)

[ichigo-daifuku]

Harbor

Obey Me! Fanfiction [Read on AO3]

Leviathan/Female!MC

In true normie fashion, she convinces Leviathan to be her date on the anniversary celebration in honor of the Hell's Navy.

Explicit | Fluff and Smut, Clothed Sex, Cosplay (...Kind Of), Uniform Kink

It's Leviathan Loving Hours, what else can I say? 💙

Word Count: 5.2k

If there was one thing she has learned over her multiple playthroughs of Dogi✩Magi✩Memorium with her boyfriend, it would be the importance of setting the mood when asking someone for a favor. Once the target was locked, every interaction with them bore a significant weight, including physical touch, if there should be any. Words uttered to them must be chosen with utmost care. Gifts, when presented to the target, in particular, those items in line with their preferences, would give higher chances of a positive outcome: intimacy up.

The front door clicked shut. She navigated through the hallways of the House of Lamentation with a purpose. An opportunity presented itself to her, and she was on her way to seize it. Once she reached the location of her target, who was none other than Leviathan, she halted, raised her occupied hand carefully, and knocked three times on his door.

“It is I,” she announced. “I come bearing gifts.”

There was a shuffling sound from the inside. After a few seconds, Leviathan answered, his voice in proximity, just behind the wood. “What’s the secret phrase?”

Three options flashed inside her mind, and though the secret phrase changed from one to another every single time she dropped by, she has been in the same situation numerous times. It was easy to decide which option was the correct one: the catchphrase in the transformation sequence of The Magical Mysterious Jane: Peony Phantom, one of Leviathan’s most recent anime obsessions. She began, “‘Lunaria.’”

“‘Wisteria.’”

“‘Primrose.’ ”

“‘Peony.’ ”

“‘Through the power of the flower, I’m as pretty as I can be.’”

“‘I’m the magical, mysterious Levi!’ Secret phrase authenticated. You may enter.” Leviathan unlocked the door and revealed himself. He wore a grave expression as he nodded and continued, “Welcome to Castle Leviathan.”

“Hold on, there’s a final line. ‘And I might just steal your heart, so watch out!’ There!” She laughed, stood on her tiptoes, and gave him a kiss on the cheek as a greeting. “Hi, Levi. I missed you.” 

Leviathan froze, the brief brush of her lips causing his skin to redden, but he shook his head and intercepted her entrance with his body when she moved to enter the room. “Where are those gifts you speak of?”

“Oh, my apologies.” She chuckled and cleared her throat, showing him the packages she was carrying with her two hands. “I present to you… Spicy Rainbow Pizza and Café Lament’s Bufo Egg Milk Tea!”

“OMG! Sweet! I was just getting hungry,” he enthused but regained his composure in a second. After shifting his facial expression and tone of voice back into serious mode, he continued, “I mean, your humble offerings are most appreciated.”

With the first phase of her plan successful, she entered Leviathan’s room, one of the most unique living spaces she has ever visited. An eclectic assortment of posters and merchandise of Ruri-chan and Sucre Frenzy decorating the walls and shelves welcomed her inside. A bathtub served as his bed, which she found odd during the first time she noticed it. The gigantic aquariums inside reminded her of oceanariums in the human world. The floor was cluttered with a few empty sports drink bottles and the like, but everything else he prized—from his books, manga, CDs, anime figurines—were organized in their rightful areas.

Light radiated from his computer screens as Leviathan made his way to the nearby table and set the pizza box down. He poked the straw through the cap of the Bufo Egg Milk Tea, grabbed a slice from the box, and strode to the direction of his computer while indulging in his snacks. In a good mood, he plopped down on his gaming chair and spun it in the opposite direction of his set-up.

Meanwhile, she had gone to the fishbowl where Leviathan’s beloved goldfish took his residence. “How are you doing, Henry?”

Henry circled the space, leaving bubbles in his wake, and bumped onto the glass as if to say hi.

She concluded that things were going swimmingly with Henry and turned to Leviathan. “Have you fed him yet?”

Leviathan observed the interaction with curiosity and finished his slice of pizza, grabbing a sheet of tissue paper from his desk and wiping his hand with it before throwing it into the wastebasket. He took a long sip of his Bufo Egg Milk Tea and replied, “Nope. It’s almost time for his meal, though. Do you wanna do the honors?”

“Sure,” she responded with a smile and took the goldfish food container near the fishbowl. Henry chased after the pellets she sprinkled inside, delighted. Once she was satisfied with the amount of food she had given Henry, she dusted her hands and strode to Leviathan’s direction. 

Although they had been in the same position many times before, the moment she sat on his lap, Leviathan looked away and blushed, taking the straw away from his lips and coughing. “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?”

“Nothing…” she answered coyly and turned the gaming chair toward the screen. “So, what were you doing before I got here?”

“Uh, nothing.”

True enough, the screen indicated an open tab on Deviltube, an adorable cat video on pause. She clicked play and watched the clip of a cat kneading its paws against a soft blanket. When it ended, Deviltube offered more cat videos as recommendations, but she found no interest in them at the moment, her gut telling her that it was the right time to broach the subject she had been itching to ask him since yesterday. “By the way, I got invited to a party a few days ago. It’s going to be in two weeks... Can we please come together?”

“Is that social interaction I hear? No, thanks.”

She pouted and turned to him. “But Levi…”

“Besides, I have to attend something in two weeks as well. Too much social interaction for a shut-in like me is unhealthy.”

“Aww, okay.” She let out a dramatic sigh and revealed her trump card. “I guess I’ll have to extend an invitation to someone else to be my plus-one, after all… because the Grand Admiral refused to be my date on the anniversary of the Hell’s Navy.”

There was a moment of silence as he put two and two together. “What the—? Let me guess, you received an invitation from Lord Diavolo?”

“Yeah,” she replied. “He was the one who told me I can bring a plus-one.”

“I can, too, but I didn’t think you’d be interested.” Leviathan averted his eyes and took another sip of his drink. “It’s not a super big deal, you know? And it can get kinda boring. Like, really boring.”

“I’m definitely interested. I already said that I’d go, so… do you wanna go together?”

“You really mean that? Um, like a date?”

“That’s right!”

“Ugh, fine...” he sighed in resignation, the blush coloring his face growing fiercer. “It’s not like I wanna go or anything—I have to, either way. Don’t say I didn’t warn you about how boring it is, okay?”

“Yay!” She threw her arms around him, making him yelp. “If the event ends early, let’s go home right away and check out the newest update of Mononoke Land. Just the two of us.”

Though caught off-guard, his hand that had been resting on the armrest snaked around the curve of her waist to pull her closer. He shook his head. “I should’ve known you were up to something the moment you walked in with those snacks. I can’t believe I fell for your normie tactics.”

Mission accomplished! “Normie - 1, Leviachan - 0.”

“I’ll get you next time!”

“Best of luck with that,” she replied and blinked at him suggestively. “Now, how about we watch something more... interesting?”

Alarm and anticipation caused his eyes to widen and flicker from her face to the screen, his throat bobbing as he gulped. “Huh? L-Like what?”

“Hmm…” She turned away from him, clicked on the search bar, and pressed a certain letter on the keyboard: H.

Leviathan’s lips parted to say something, yet even the sound of the letter, its implications and all, failed to escape from them.

She leaned in and whispered in his ear, “That’s right, Levi. It begins with the letter H, do you know what it is?”

The tip of his tongue darted to wet his lips, and his fingers stiffened around his drink, slightly tremulous. A silent groan escaped his mouth as he fidgeted in his seat and halted the movement a second after, becoming extremely conscious that she was perched on his lap. With the space between them close to none, she could feel every detail of the rising tension in his body. Between ragged breaths, he murmured, “Y-Yes…”

Victoriously, she smiled and leaned back, turning away to finish typing the rest of the title while announcing it to him, “Harrison Porter and the World of Wizards!”

The anniversary celebration of the Hell’s Navy would be held at the Demon Lord’s Castle. Being the only two humans currently in the Devildom, Diavolo decided that it would be great as part of the cultural exchange to introduce her and Solomon to a branch of the Devildom’s military. According to the invitation, the Hell’s Navy would be presenting its newest members which not only included demons but also sea monsters joining the fleet in its endeavors. Everyone invited was instructed to adhere to the nautical dress code, and so the day after she convinced Leviathan to be her date, she visited Majolish and searched for something suitable for the event.

After making final adjustments to her ensemble, she stared at her reflection in the mirror, happy that she was able to find something in line with the theme. Her navy blue dress sported a sailor collar, a white necktie, and a skirt adorned with two stripes at the bottom. On top of her head, a matching sailor hat rested while her footwear consisted of plain white ankle boots. 

Satisfied, she sent Leviathan a text message to inform him that she would be making a stop at his room. When she received a reply that he would leave his door unlocked for her, she opened her bedroom door and peeked outside, not wanting to risk running into the other brothers in the hallway. As silly as it was, she wanted Leviathan to be the first one to see her in this outfit. The coast was clear. She stealthily made her way to Leviathan’s room, knocked, and entered, making sure to shut the door as quickly as she could.

Leviathan stood near his closet, facing away from her. She figured out that her entrance had gone unnoticed as he continued fumbling over his sleeve and adjusting his collar.

“This could’ve been the perfect time to show off my skills and cosplay a sea spirit from Mononoke Land, but no, I have to be in this uniform,” he whispered to himself and sighed. “Henry’s going to be there with the other sea monsters. I’m so proud of him… I wish Lotan was present as well. He’d have so much fun…”

“Levi?” she called.

“Oh, hey,” he said and turned around, the words dying in his throat as he took in her appearance. “You’re… here…”

The sight of Leviathan in his Hell’s Navy uniform rendered her speechless. Even though he has yet to wear his cap and gloves, he looked entirely formal and professional, a stark contrast to the image of him she viewed every day. His uniform suited him, and he looked stunning. Her heart hammering in her chest at the heat of his gaze, she gave him a twirl and asked him with a nervous smile, “Ta-da! Is it okay?”

For a while, he didn’t speak. He only gave her a wide-eyed stare before blurting out, “Are you… real?”

“Huh? Of course, I am.”

“3D…?”

“Um, yes.”

He gulped. “If you’re telling the truth, what was the item you borrowed from me after we made a pact?”

“What’s with the pop quiz?” she fired back. “Anyway, it was the cursed vinyl edition of The Tale of the Seven Lords soundtrack. How could I forget?”

“Easy enough,” he said. “How about this? Do you remember the first phone call we had?”

“Yeah, I do. You told me that you dialed the wrong number, right?”

His cheeks pinked. “I didn’t just tell you that—I actually did, okay? Who was I trying to call, then?”

“Ultrawitch✩Rainbow-chan. Luminous-chan.”

“That’s right.” He nodded. “What was the last movie we watched together when we were in this room?”

“The one which begins with the letter H,” she responded with an amused giggle, remembering the way he squirmed in his seat. “Harrison Porter and the World of Wizards. Seriously, Levi, what is going on?”

“WHOA! It really IS you,” he confirmed enthusiastically. “I can only imagine you doing all the magical girl transformation poses! I... I never thought—I mean, okay, yeah, I’ve thought about it—but I never thought the day would come when my fantasy would turn into reality… I can’t even look—it’s too much for my heart to take! I-I think I’m going to have a heart attack!”

Sure, Leviathan adored two-dimensional girls dressed in schoolgirl uniforms which were mostly in the style of a sailor’s, but what she wore right now wasn’t that; this was as close as she could get to the human world’s navy uniform which, from the details of Leviathan’s current attire, was similar to the Devildom’s. “So, it’s alright? You like it?”

“Do I like it? I love it! Of course, I love it…” He blushed and averted his gaze with a frown. “Those other guys in the navy, they’re going to approach you like a school of fish… I can’t have that… but how am I going to keep you in sight and stay away from you at the same time?”

She took a moment to process what he said and cocked her head in confusion. “Huh? What are you talking about? Why would you do that?”

“Look at me! Look at you! You’re so cute and perfect… I’m just a gross and icky shut-in otaku with zero social skills. I’m not worthy to stand beside you…”

“What? No!”

“Why did I have to be like this? A loser! It’s so not fair!” he cried out and covered his face with his hands, his shoulders slumped in sadness, on the verge of bursting into tears. 

Self-deprecation rolled off him in waves, and though the declaration he made about himself was the most ridiculous thing she has ever heard, she understood where he was coming from. This was Leviathan, after all. A lot of times, he didn’t give himself enough credit. He was unaware of it, but he was popular with the Devildom community, especially to the succubi. There was an instance when Mammon sneaked a photo of a freshly bathed Leviathan coming out of the shower and sold it online, much to the succubi’s delight. Too bad for them, though, she was already dating him.

“Levi.”

“Maybe it’s better for me not to go…”

“Levi.”

“I guess I can try to fake sickness or something…”

“Leviathan.”

The resolute tone of her voice as she called him by his full name drew his attention. He removed his hands from his face, turned his gaze on her for a second with difficulty, and looked away again. “Um, what?”

“Change into your demon form.”

“Huh? But why…?”

“Do it, please.”

“O-Okay… If you say so…”

Leviathan shifted into his demon form. Her footsteps echoed through the silence as she made her way to him, and though he still refused to look at her, she didn’t hesitate and wrapped him in her embrace. “I didn’t slip and hug you by accident, just so you know.”

It took him by surprise, but he held his tears back and sniffled, placing his arms around her waist in return. The calming fragrance of the sea enveloped her, making her close her eyes and sigh contentedly. 

They remained in the same position until, slowly, she led them to the giant aquarium that served as a wall in his room. Her back turned from the glass, she stood on her tiptoes, skimmed his horn soothingly with a fingertip, and whispered in his ear, “Do you see that? Look at him… That’s Leviathan, the Avatar of Envy, one of the Seven Rulers of Hell, one of the most powerful demons in the Devildom.”

She kissed the visible markings on his neck one by one and lingered her lips on his collarbone, waiting for the tension caused by his moment of insecurity to alleviate, even fractionally. Once he calmed down, she looked behind her and found him staring at their reflection, a sense of shyness and wonder within his gaze. Determined, she faced him again and tugged his sleeve. “Will you change back for me, please?”

Wordlessly, he did as she requested. Light surrounded his body for a second, and he returned into his human-like form, still staring at their figures on the glass, entranced. 

“And, right there, is no ordinary demon. That’s Leviathan, the Grand Admiral of the Hell’s Navy, the one who wields power over a multitude of sea monsters.” Softly, she traced the badges embroidered on his uniform, the pins indicating his rank and power, and the stripes on his sleeves. She took his hands in hers and squeezed them before continuing, “Anyone would be jealous of whoever is standing beside him. In fact, am I—a human and a normie at that—worthy of being his date?”

His eyes flitted from their reflection to her face, worry making his brows furrow. He grabbed her by the shoulders and answered without an ounce of hesitation, “Of course, you are! There’s no one else who can keep up with me as you do... You’re my True Friend as well as... m-my… g-g-girlfriend! You’re the only one for me!”

This was supposed to be her reminding him of his worth, but how the tides had turned. Overcome with deep affection for him, her eyes watered, but she blinked her tears away with a serene smile and touched his cheek. “And this… This is Leviathan: an otaku, a gamer, the biggest TSL nerd there is, a Ruri-chan and Sucre Frenzy fanboy—he’s passionate about many things. On top of it all, he’s so handsome and amazing… but he doesn’t seem to know that. Not on my watch, though, I’ll remind him of those as many times as I have to.”

“Why are you telling me these?”

“Because they’re true,” she told him. “All of those incredible qualities, they’re you, Levi, and I love you.”

He buried his face on her shoulder, his voice muffled as he replied, “I love you, too.”

She chuckled and gently nudged him, loosening herself from his embrace and facing forward. Hand in hand, the two of them stared at their reflection contrasted by the aquamarine water beyond the glass. “See? We look perfect for each other, don’t we? Actually, scratch that, we are perfect for each other, aren’t we?”

“Yes… Yes, we are,” Leviathan agreed with a bashful nod and turned to her. “GAH! How do you always know just what to say? What are you doing to me?”

“It’s one of my normie tactics, nothing new about that.” She laughed and expected him to tease her about being a normie like he always did.

Instead, he stared at her seriously and exclaimed, “I can’t take it anymore!”

“What do you mean?”

“How could you show up looking so cute, say cute things like those, and expect me not to get all… UGH!”

The next thing she knew, her back leaned against the cool glass, her hat falling to the floor at the suddenness of the motion. A faint thud resounded from Leviathan’s hands as he placed them beside her head. He bent down and captured her lips in a hungry kiss, shifting closer to her until she was flush against his torso—until they could feel the warmth emanating from each other’s bodies. His tongue lapped at the seam of her lips and slid inside, meeting hers and exploring her mouth. The rapid succession of events caused her mind to go hazy, but she found her bearings and reciprocated his advances eagerly, the desire for him thrumming through her body in clarity.

When they parted to breathe, she bent her leg upward to confirm her suspicion. “You… Are you excited right now?”

“Yeah, totally. So, you’ve noticed.” He hovered over her throat, softly kissed the sensitive skin, and pressed his forehead on the crook of her neck. “I can’t help it. Is it okay if I… I-I mean, can we…?”

She swallowed hard and brushed his hair with her fingers. “Of course, Levi. I’m all yours.”

He lifted his head and met her gaze. “All mine...”

“But we have to be quick about it, okay? We can’t have you being late.”

She grasped Leviathan’s shoulders, tilted her head, and initiated the kiss this time. It started as a tender brushing of their lips and turned into deep, lingering caresses as he responded heatedly, neither of them requiring any form of coaxing. While one of his hands moved to cup her cheek, the other grazed her shoulder and made its way downward, fondling her breast along the way and making her moan. He teased the hem of her skirt and slowly made his way underneath it, stroking her thighs and squeezing lightly at the flesh. Groans fell past his lips in between kisses, his hand wandering dangerously close to the apex of her thighs. In a surge of boldness, he cupped her sex and hooked the fabric covering it aside. She leaned back with her eyes closed and parted her legs to give him further access, the back of her head resting against the glass. Her breath hitched, and her body quivered as he began teasing her entrance, the pad of his thumb stroking her clit before his forefinger glided in and out of her in shallow and languid motions, providing relief to the aching emptiness inside of her.

“That feels so good, Levi,” she murmured and moaned. He stared as he added another finger, eager to memorize every detail of her reaction. She admired the way the light and reflection of the water from the aquarium illuminated his face and whispered, “You’re the only one who can make me feel this way.”

“R-Really?”

“Really.” She captured his lips in a quick kiss. “Only you, Levi. Only you.”

The expression on her face, the pleasured noises coming from her lips, and the way she bit back another moan led his ministrations to grow more frenzied by the second, his dexterous fingers plunging in and out of her entrance relentlessly. Eager to please him in the same way, her hand shifted from clutching his shoulder to seeking the button and fly of his pants. She tugged on his waistband and slipped her hand inside. Fingers closing around his stiffening length, she released him from the confines of his underwear and stroked him from base to tip. 

“Ah, fuck,” Leviathan hissed and grit his teeth. He pressed his forehead on hers and shut his eyes, the steady pace of his fingers growing erratic as hers found her rhythm. Despite this, her legs grew unsteady, and her knees threatened to buckle, her climax in reach. This didn’t escape him, and he responded to her need by pumping his digits in and out of her entrance frantically, determined to make her come undone.

“Open your eyes, Levi,” she breathed. “Look what you do to me.” 

Leviathan’s eyes fluttered open and watched as the pleasure building up in her abdomen uncoiled. Her body trembled, and her muscles clenched around his fingers as he let her ride out her climax. Warm puffs of her breath teased the skin underneath the fabric of his uniform as she collapsed against him and panted. 

He withdrew his fingers from her folds, and with his other hand, he grabbed her wrist and released his length from her grasp. Firmly, he wrapped her arms around his neck and slid a palm down to her thigh, hooking her leg around his waist. The head of his cock brushed her clit, and she shuddered, still sensitive from her previous climax. “I’m going to put it in, okay? I wanna see that expression on your face again, the one when you come for me.”

Still breathing heavily, she nodded against him and said, “Y-Yes.”

He eased himself inside her, stilling halfway through to allow her to adjust to him. To his astonishment and gratification, it was she who inclined her hips and took all of him the next second, impatient. Inhaling sharply, he unsheathed himself and pushed inside her again, searching for any discomfort on her end but finding nothing.

“Faster,” she urged.

Leviathan was more than happy to oblige. One of his hands gripped her hip while the other clutched the leg around his waist, holding her steady as he sank inside her in one fluid motion, the movement followed by a series of equally desperate thrusts. The strands of his hair swayed at the swiftness and steadiness of the pounding of his hips. Her fingers carded through his hair and nudged his head down, connecting her lips to his in a feverish kiss. Leviathan poured his need for her through every stroke of his tongue and only broke away once he sensed her tensing, her walls squeezing around his length.

The heat of his embrace, the need in his voice as he groaned in pleasure, the feeling of him inside her—at that moment, everything in her world revolved around Leviathan. Although she had climaxed only moments ago, it didn’t take long for her back to arch and for tremors to ripple all over her body again. A thin sheen of sweat coated her forehead, her eyebrows knit in pleasure, and she closed her eyes and parted her lips, her voice echoing across the room as she cried out, “Levi!”

As she drowned in bliss, he continued thrusting into her, chasing the powerful current of pleasure sweeping over every part of his body. He chanted her name in the same way she did with his, his cock throbbing inside her with his release.

Leviathan’s breathing came out in heavy huffs, exhausted. Still, he stood and held her, his tone laced with concern as he murmured, “Your dress… I ruined it, didn’t I? Sorry.”

Aside from the skirt of her dress being a little rumpled, her attire looked fine. It was nothing compared to the happiness that bubbled in her heart at that moment. She shook her head with a shy smile. “No, you didn’t. Definitely not.”

“Oh, okay…” After a moment of hesitation, he continued, “It was good for you, too, right? Because it was, for me.”

She nodded with a laugh. Dressing up was always fun with Leviathan, and needless to say, she loved it as much as he did. “Of course, it was. In fact, I think we should try that again sometime… and you know, do more.”

“So do I.” A spark of excitement laced his tone as he suggested, “Like, later?”

“Later.”

After making themselves presentable again, Leviathan accompanied her to her bedroom where she remedied the rumpled state of her dress. True to her assurance that everything was fine, the matter required a few minutes, and then, her outfit was as good as new. A while ago, on the way out of his room, she had almost forgotten to bring her hat, but to her surprise, Leviathan already picked it up and held it out to her. That made her smile. She set her hat back on her head, turned from the mirror, and began making her way to Leviathan, who was sitting on the sofa and fiddling with his D.D.D.. As she opened her mouth to ask him if he was ready to leave, a thought struck her and made her stop in her tracks. She strode to her desk and rummaged inside her school backpack. “I can’t believe I almost forgot!”

“Forgot what?” Leviathan lifted his head and watched her with interest.

She waltzed to his direction, sat beside him, and handed him a tiny box. “Here’s a little gift. Happy anniversary to the Hell’s Navy!”

“F-For me?”

“Yes.”

Leviathan opened the box, starry-eyed at the unexpected item inside: a metallic goldfish pin resting on the velvet cushion. “NO WAY? IT’S HENRY?”

“Yes! Isn’t he cute? I have one, too. See?” She outstretched her hand and showed him an identical goldfish pin in the hollow of her palm. On the day when she went shopping for an outfit in Majolish, she happened to pass by an accessories boutique that offered customized items. As soon as she could, she entered the establishment and placed an order with the thought that it would be right up Leviathan’s alley. She was worried that her gift wouldn’t make it in time, but fortunately, she was able to pick up her order yesterday. From the joyful look on his face right now, it was worth the wait.

“Whoa! It’s like Henry fan merch!” he said excitedly. Without preamble, he placed the Henry pin in its rightful spot next to his badges. “T-Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You should wear yours, too,” he told her. “Here, I’ll put it.”

“Okay,” she replied and handed him the pin.

Leviathan placed it on the fabric of her tie and leaned backward to have a better look, blushing at the realization. “Huh. We match.”

“We do.”

He paused, contemplating on something. With a genuine, earnest look on his face, he said, “I have something to tell you.”

“What is it?”

“I love you more than anyone else in the world.”

His statement reminded her of a fond memory when Belphegor sent those exact words as a message for her using Leviathan’s phone. She had to admit that it was nice hearing it in person, and even nicer that she knew the words truly came from him this time. She stifled a laugh and teased, “Hey, is that supposed to be cheesy or funny?”

He covered his face with his hands, embarrassed. “I tried, okay? Come to think of it, I sounded like a normie. Yikes.”

“That’s okay.” She removed his hands from his face and looked him in the eyes. “I love you more than anyone else in the three worlds.”

“Ugh… Must you really one-up me every single time?”

“Normie - 100, Leviachan - 0.” She smiled and stood, righting her hat that had become askew before holding out a hand for him to take. “You ready?”

“Yep.” Leviathan nodded and took her hand in his. “Let’s go!”

And so, together, like two ships sailing across the vast and endless seas, another adventure awaited them.

(⋆❛ ہ ❛⋆)⊃▂✫⌒*･ﾟ✲

Thank you for reading! ♡

Obey Me! Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[vitiatasxinficit]

Extraction

Sebastian sat back, cross legged, rolling his apple between nimble fingers. One would think that being on a ‘permanent vacation’ on a beach in Seychelles (with a name he couldn’t even pronounce), that there would be more margaritas and less violence. 

Then again he wasn’t a mercenary for the tropical trees and sweet fruits. 

The Winchester’s stood off to his right. One of the deadliest duos when it came to the hunting game, next to him. Sam and Dean Winchester had done quite alot of hunting in their time and had perfected it. But what they’re best at is disappearing. They could do it anywhere. Everywhere. Off the grid within a moments notice. They were professional ghosts. Behind him stood a man simply known as Gabriel. A lively man with a sweet tooth. Dripped charisma every second of every day. A professional liar, Gabriel could honestly talk his way into the White House if he wanted to (and he has). A master of deception Gabriel could take less than 6 hours and give anyone a new life complete with every document known to man. You could go from a sixth grade school teacher to a French Ambassador in less than a day, no questions asked.  To his right stood a familiar face. Ciel Phantomhive was a man native to London. He’d come into the business having impeccable knowledge of the underground. The drug rings, the software. His brain was a hard drive of rare and damn near unobtainable knowledge. He knew his way around a set of knives and a computer almost better than himself. To Ciel’s left was his wife. Odd to think you’d bring your spouse into this line of work but Elizabeth Middleford was perhaps one of the most dangerous female mercenaries alive, next to the owner of the voice that crackled to life over the speakers in the abandoned warehouse.

       “Good evening Gentlemen. Lovely day isn’t it?” The voice was honey smooth, laced with charm. Not a woman of his liking but a voice that brought a smile to his lips. 

       “Hey Vee,” he called to his sister, sitting up. The screen in front of him crackled to life, a map of the United States now visible. “What do we got?” 

His sister was not in the life before him. In fact she’d come into the business if only to protect her older brother. Sebastian was legendary at what he did but growing up together as close as they were, no one could handle Sebastian better than his own sister. 

And so she put down the stethoscope and took off her scrubs and switched them out for combat boots and a Barrett M82 sniper rifle. 

       “Don’t get to looking so excited. We’ve got an extraction. Pay out? $50 million dollars.” 

The room fell still. If there’s one thing they learned in the business was that the higher the payday didn’t mean the harder the job, but the more liable that they’d get double crossed. 

The screen flickered again, displaying a picture of a beautiful man. Messy black hair. Blue eyes. Thick dark lashes wearing a simple suit with a tan trenchcoat. It zoomed out, it was a photo taken of him crossing the street in gleeful chatter with a red headed woman. 

     “Meet Castiel Novak. Resident of Queens New York. Graduated Valedictorian from highschool.  Summa cum laude from Yale Law School. Currently on his way to partner position Shurley and Associates law firm. He’s worked his way into the highest court in the land. This man is a master in the court room. He’s put away drug lords, rapists, serial killers, you name it? He’s booked it. A real hero without the cape type you know? Type you only read about in the books or see in the movies.” 

Sebastian could feel his stomach dropping. They always did when they did a briefing. Sometimes it’s a diplomats son. Once it was to pick up and return the President’s daughter from a frat party and drop her off into her disappointed parents arms on the front lawn of the White House. 

But these types of things? There was always something else.

       “Who’d he put away?” 

      “Mexican drug cartel leader, Javier Cortez.” 

       “What’s he in Brazil?” 

Sebastian’s head turned and looked at Ciel who was now hunched over his tablet. “Why would he be in New York?” 

       “He was passing,” his sister’s voice said. “Passing off packages.” 

       “That makes sense. But that’s bad, especially if he’s trafficking that pure cocaine crap into the New York pipeline of people. Christ, imagine if they get their hands on that, what type of mess that’ll make.” 

     “It’s not just cocaine.” There’s a beat of silence. “He was passing off humans too. he struck a deal with the Black Dahlia group.”

Sebastian bristled, sitting up. “And that man there, caught him?” 

     “Court barely had to decide. The case was air tight. Put him away for life. But that was just Javier. The rest of his gang never booked any flights out of the US. I’ve been in touch with every carrier in and out of the New York border, both legal and illegal. None of them show up on the passenger manifests.”

      “They’re still there, huh?” Gabriel mused, popping his cherry sucker out of his mouth.

       “They’re gonna take him,” Sam Winchester spoke up, a frown settled deep in his face but his brother’s face looked darker. “Nah, they already took ‘im, didn’t they?” 

       “Indeed. Castiel was taken from his home at 0235 this morning.” 

       “So now I have to ask,” Sebastian spoke, “Who the hell is paying the 50 million for his extraction.” 

       “He goes by Morningstar. That’s all. Drop point will be off the dock in New Rochelle. Port number 9. He’s sent the initial 10 million to engage our services. The 20 million upon proof of life. Then the last 20 million upon the drop. Interception will occur here--” 

The screen before them seemed to travel through the streets until the face of a small cafe came into view. 

       “Silk Road Cafe. They’re exchanging the package to move him out of state. They want him in Central America guys where they plan to publically execute him. He changes hands every 48 hours so no one group knows where he is at any given moment. Right now? You have 40 until he’s swapped and we might lose him. 8 hours after that before he’s most likely dead, understood? Let’s make this nice and neat and no lose ends. You hear me Gabriel?” 

      “What? I liked that little blonde haired girl. She was reallly nice to me--”

     “And that’s why you shot her point blank range in the piazza and Vinice?” 

Gabriel grimaced. “Well you know....I didn’t know she was the one who put out the hit on you.”

Vittoria’s disapproving ‘mmmhmm’ made them all chuckle.

       “You guys listen up. I’m your eyes and ears on this one. This is one hell of a payday but we have to play it smart. And be careful. Get airborn. I’ll check in with you guys when you touch down in New York. Eagle signing off.” 

     “So,” Dean spoke up, “Who’s ready to save the day?” 

Sebastian leaned forward, the screen of the display in front of him flickering back to the photo of their package. Castiel Novak. Sebastian stared, memorizing his face, the crinkle in his eyes while he smiled. Just looked at him. 

       “Let’s do this.” 

[fierypen37]

The Oasis: Chapter 5

Writing juices have been flowing! Another chapter up!

His stepmother Catelyn Stark was a devoted follower of the Seven. The septas had read Jon and his siblings The Seven Pointed Star as children, and he’d learned all about the seven heavens and the seven hells. This was surely one of the latter, trapped in a loop of humiliation and embarrassment for eternity.

It had been fifteen minutes standing wooden beside Dany’s security guard guy, listening as a relationship was ground to powder. Dany’s relationship. Jon listened to every excruciating second as Dany verbally disemboweled the guy. The girl had scurried out, half-dressed and in tears. There was no amount of masculine camaraderie that could get Jon to sympathize with the bastard. He had Dany, walking spitfire and epitome of female perfection, promised to him. And he gets his jollies with the secretary? It was a cliché. An embarrassing one. The security guy, Selmy, he tapped on his cell. A blessed distraction, a veneer of privacy. Jon had no such shield.

He couldn’t put a finger on why he hung around, other than he wanted to see how it resolved. He’d stuck it out this far. The horndog in his head pointed out she might need a little cuddling and comforting once she dropped The Asshole Fiancé like a bad habit. His thinking brain shot down the idea, but that hopeful, starving hound waited, ready to trot around after her, tail wagging, ready to pant and beg for a scratch behind the ears.  

“To think I actually spent energy worrying about you. When you were here getting your wick dipped by a--”

“Where have you been, huh? All night I’ve tried calling, texting. I thought about calling the Watch!”

“Oh thanks for the consideration. So glad I crossed your mind in between blow jobs, you son of a bitch! I was almost killed tonight!”

“Killed? Don’t be dramatic, Dany!”

“Dramatic? I’m being dramatic when a guy puts a gun to my head?”

“I’m sure it wasn’t--”

“I thought all the gossip was just that. Cheating with an assistant? How could you do this to me? You know what, forget it. Obviously, the wedding is off. Go fuck yourself. Humph, I guess you already are.”

With that parting salvo, Dany emerged from the office. Ramrod straight, though there was the slightest quiver of rage in her hands as she combed her flyaway strands of her dried cloud of hair behind her ear. No ring. She’d flung it at the idiot’s eye in minute seven. The Asshole had the presence of mind to not chase after her.

Daenerys glided past them. Jon shared a glance with the security guy before trailing along in her wake.

“Miss--”

“Save it, Barry. I can’t stomach another lie.”  

Daenerys stopped short in the hall. Her violet gaze raked over Jon. In that gaze, he felt like an ant under a magnifying glass. Exposed. Naked. Damn, even that turned him on. What was wrong with him? A sucker for this one, lad.  

“Would you like to get dinner?”

“Uh . . . yeah. Sounds good.” In answer, she gave a curt nod, like a battle commander accepting their due.

The elevator chimed and the three of them piled in.

“Miss, we have to discuss the strategy moving forward,” Selmy said, to fill the thick silence.

“Agreed. Send a message to Mr. Lannister. He is acting manager until I return. Where is safe lodging? My apartment is now a crime scene,” Daenerys said frostily.

“The perpetrators knew your location and gained access your apartment. That means they have a geotag on your cell, and a bug in your electronics,” Selmy said. All the fierce energy bled away, leaving her looking drained and miserable. Jon checked the impulse to hug her just in time. He stumbled like he’d lost his balance. Yikes. He was in deep. But the deep water didn’t scare him. Nope, not even a little.

“So Vis’s apartment and the safe houses aren’t options either.”

“No, Miss,” Selmy said gently.

“You can stay with me,” Jon blurted.

Two pairs of eyes swiveled to him. One blue, one violet, both wearing identical expressions of disbelief.

“You said you need someplace safe nobody knows about. I’m the perfect nobody.” Nobody, guard, roommate, bedslave, whatever you want. Selmy had his number, Jon could tell by his narrow look. Who knew he got off on being a hero—particularly Dany’s hero? Daenerys laid a hand on his arm.

“Jon, I couldn’t ask you to--” Jon mustered a weak lopsided grin.

“It’s ok. I want to help. Stay with me as long as you need.” To his horror, her eyes filled with tears.

“Thank you,” she said soggily.

She didn’t hug him so much as collapse against him. Jon’s arms closed around her with a mental aah. Such fucking relief. Her strong, slender body, her face tucked under his chin, quivering lips pressed against his neck. Like a kiss. Swamped by the smell of her hair, guzzling up all that delicious contact . . . uh oh.

The elevator lurched to a stop and Daenerys peeled back. Jon’s happy bubble popped with an audible sound as soon as Dany left touching distance. Selmy’s scathing glance at his lower half almost made Jon yelp. The accusation in the older man’s face said he was an opportunistic asshole. And he was. Luring Dany to his apartment with even a faint desire to seduce her, after attempted murder and seconds after she broke up with her fiancé . . . yep, there was no other way to describe it.

Jon exhaled a heavy breath, reining in his libido which lunged on its chain like the slavering dog it was. He would be the perfect gentleman. He could do it.    

The three of them filed off the elevator. Two other guys in suits waited in the darkened lobby, both with long black braids. The streetlight filtered through the windows, creating a bluish, milky glow on the marble tiles.

“Miss, I’m sure we can come up with a better alternative. Mr. Snow has done quite enough.”

Daenerys rounded on Selmy, drilling an accusing finger into his chest.

“As have you, Mr. Selmy. How long did you know about it?” “Miss?” Selmy rubbed his chest, blinking in confusion.

“Daario. He has been in the same security circulation as I. You heard him say he’s been fucking Jeyne for three fucking weeks. One of you, my sharp security team, must have seen something.” Their sheepish expressions said it all. Daenerys made a derisive sound.

“Typical.” Her flashing violet eyes raked over the assembled men.

“If you value your employment, I want you three to see to security of The Oasis’s proprietor, Shae. I was there for over an hour earlier tonight. Missy too. If they geotagged by location, they could be in danger.”

“Yes, Miss,” Selmy mumbled, looking like a kid scolded by his teacher.

A fourth security guy crossed the lobby, laden with parcels.

“I got burgers from Hot Pie’s, some cash, a burner phone, a couple changes of clothes the goldcoats let me take, my wife walked me through the toiletry bit, but I think I got everything,” he said, with a thick northern accent.

Daenerys moved to take the parcels, Jon smoothly intercepted. Beneath the leaden disbelief was a giddy rush. Was this really happening? Dany in his apartment. Dany in her pajamas. Dany after showers. Dany sipping tea. Hell yes, sign him up.  

“Thank you, Jory. I’ll call you in the morning. Dismissed,” she said, with a scathing glare at her team. Laden with packages, Jon offered his elbow.

“Shall we?” he asked.

“Snow,” Selmy’s iron voice brought him up short. Daenerys narrowed a look at him.

“I’ll hail a cab,” she said, clicking away.

Jon squared off against the older man, meeting the challenge in his stare.

“The authorities would like to look at the weapon involved in the incident earlier tonight. May I see it?” Selmy said.

Frankly, Jon had forgotten about it, nestled against the base of his spine. Jon set down the bags and pulled it out. He dropped it into the proffered evidence bag.

“For what it’s worth, I would have done the same thing had I been there,” one of the other security guy said, the taller one with the long braid.

“Thanks,” Jon said.

“Do you have your own gun?” Selmy asked. Jon hid a wince, and shook his head.

“I’m a good fighter, and I have a big dog. That’s all I’ve needed so far.”

“I’ll let you borrow my backup weapon. We will come tomorrow evening to collect Miss Targaryen,” Selmy said, offering Jon a sleek semi-automatic pistol with two extra magazines. Jon accepted the weapon, releasing the magazine to check the number of rounds. Satisfied, he tamped it back in and checked the chamber to show them he knew what he was doing. Having passed a temporary muster, Selmy nodded.

“Tomorrow then, Snow.”    

                                                         ~

 It was close to one in the morning by the time the cab dropped them off at Jon’s apartment complex. Together they’d polished off the burgers, greasy chips, and soft drinks Jory bought. Hot Pie’s were the best in town. Daenerys managed one burger, but Jon tore through three.

“You don’t mind dogs, do you? I have a big furry mutt, Ghost. He’s a sweet dog, but protective. That’s good, right?” Jon sounded as nervous as she felt, and that put her at ease.

“I love dogs. My apartment complex wouldn’t allow pets, otherwise I’d adopt one,” Daenerys said, dabbing her mouth with a paper napkin.

“Here you are, m’lady, ser,” the cabbie said with a round Landinger accent.

Daenerys shelled off several bills and followed Jon out into the pissing rain.

“It’s nicer than it looks,” Jon said, gathering her bags on one arm as he buzzed the code to open his door. Daenerys thought it was serviceable building of weathered brick. Dated, but well-kept.

“I like it.”

Her heart rate kicked up a notch as the elevator doors closed. She was staying at Jon’s apartment. She would see him shirtless, tousled, sipping tea or brushing his teeth. Sleep in sheets that smelled like him.

The fantasy of pinning him to wall and having her wicked way with him—while to no end appealing—felt impossible. Daario had been cheating on her for weeks. It wasn’t just tabloid drivel; it was gut-wrenchingly real. Their relationship was over. Knowing Daario, she wouldn’t put it past him to scuttle to the press and release a statement for a wad of crowns. It was a kick in teeth after a long and spectacularly bad day. She and Daario hadn’t been intimate in a while, either. The only thing even remotely close to sexual energy had been massages at The Oasis with Jon. Mm, she savored the memory of his hands on her. The hug at Stormcrow had blown on those embers. Best to snatch at the lovely magic heat before it fizzled, as her sexuality inevitably did.

Daenerys drew a steadying breath in through her nose, and stabbed the STOP button on the elevator. A shrill bell pealed for an ear-splitting second as the brakes settled.

“Dany? What are you--” Jon asked.

Daenerys sidled close, edging him against the wall.

“I haven’t thanked you properly for what you did tonight,” she whispered, hoarse and soft. Daenerys flicked her gaze to his lips, full and smooth. Her mouth watered. She probably looked like a wreck, bloodshot eyes and ruined makeup and tangled hair. By force of will, Daenerys wrestled that nagging voice into a locked box in her mind.

Bracing her hands flat on his heaving chest, she leaned closer. Jon dropped the parcels, his dark eyes wide.

“Dany,” he whispered.

The first touch of her lips to his was shy, tentative. Electricity seemed to arc between them, a tingling jolt. She felt the sharp intake of breath, felt the sudden hot grip of his hands on her hips. Mm, there it was, that delicious melting feeling. A pulse deep at her core. She kissed him again, a deeper press. His hum vibrated against her lips. Jon angled his chin, deepening the kiss with unhurried pecks, easing in to taste her. Heat and hunger, nervousness and passion.

It spun and twisted. Oh. Oh, yes. Mm, she loved the stroke of his tongue, the syrupy taste of soda in his mouth, the prickle of his beard. One hand curled in the curly hair at his nape, the other burrowed beneath his shirt to stroke the hot, hard planes of chest and belly. His hand cupped her hip, the other tenderly cradling the weight of her breast through the lace of her bra. Slow, careful touches that left her nipples hard and her core slick and aching. Daenerys moaned, arching for more. He pinched her nipple, ever so gently, and the sensation sent pleasure arrowing south.

“Jon,” she whispered. In his name, she heard raw, shaky need. No time to embarrassed about it.      

Then suddenly, he pushed back, holding her at arm’s length. Daenerys wanted to cry or howl. Panting, she gulped down air, trying to master herself. Gods, he looked edible. Mouth red and ripe, hair in a curly snarl, a prominent erection strained against the cruel prison of his jeans.

“Be sure,” he said emphatically. Daenerys frowned, the words distant static compared to hot, towering hunger.

When she understood, she nearly did cry. Be sure she wanted him. Be sure it was real for her. Daenerys touched her forehead to his and in the humid, panting space between them, she whispered: “I’m sure.”

The world spun and she had her back against the wall, pinned by Jon’s warm, hard body.

“Ok?” Jon asked, nuzzling her cheek with his nose. The tenderness of it broke her heart. Daenerys nodded, leaning close to kiss him again.

The kiss took on a demented life of its own. A delicious, feverish blur. She didn’t recognize herself. Twined around him, kissing madly. Frantic heat. Flooded and needy, clawing for more. Jon lifted her against the wall, grinding his trapped cock against her core. Gods. Even that blunt pressure through their clothes was good. So good.

“Jon. Jon . . .” she whimpered, clinging to him. Fumbling with her shirt, he nuzzled the lacy cups of her bra, teasing one tender nipple with his tongue. Helpless mewling whimpers leaving her with each sharp jut of his hips. The tension gathered, building to the sweet-sharp tipping point . . . Daenerys clenched her eyes shut as the world blasted into a throbbing red, shot through with gold.

Jon.

                                                        ~

 Jon set her on her feet, pressing his face to her throat. Her pulse leapt against his lips, he lapped up the salt of her sweat, blazing a path to her sweet mouth. Clouded violet eyes looked at him like . . . fuck. She looked at him like he was her own personal god. Jon kissed her, ravenous. Puffy, kiss-bruised lips were soft and open, gentle hands petting his hair. Fucking hell, if this was how intense it was when they were both fully clothed, it would kill him if he was ever inside her. Gods, lodged deep in her sweet pussy, every inch of him kissed and loved, drinking in her face, her eyes as she fell apart . . . Jon broke away, panting.

“Jon?” Her voice was sex incarnate, husky and sweet. An adorable frown marred the pleasure-muddled look.

“You didn’t . . .” she trailed off. Jon shook his head.

“No,” he rasped, vaguely impressed he sounded human. His cock was achingly hard and throbbed along with his heartbeat. Daenerys Targaryen would be the death of him. Jon tilted his chin to give her a parting kiss, but it surged into greedy, clinging life. After a while, Jon peeled back with some effort, gulping in air. Mm, the floral scent of her hair, mixed with sweat and the musky fragrance of her pleasure . . . Jon uttered a frustrated sound.

“Let’s get inside,” he said.

On rubbery legs, he led the rest of the journey from the elevator to his apartment, laden with her bags. Ghost barked and wagged around both of them as he shouldered open the door.

“Shh, boy! Down! You got to be quiet!” Jon hissed. He kicked the door shut behind him, setting Dany’s bags down on the tea table. Jon grunted as Ghost’s front paws struck him in the gut. Ghost slobbered on his face, then immediately dismissed him to sniff and nuzzle at Daenerys. She giggled, ginger hands patting his thick ruff. Jon’s heart gave a lurch at the sight of her in his sparse living room. Daenerys Targaryen. The mind boggled.

The mood was definitely broken. Jon’s mouth twisted. That was for the best. He didn’t want to fuck this up. He wanted Dany to feel safe, to feel comfortable. The best way to ruin that was with sex. Incendiary and mind-altering as their petting had been, boundaries had to be locked down, etched in steel. No more slip ups. He had to be the perfect host. His body howled in denial. The silence between them felt excruciatingly awkward.  

A note fluttered in his key bowl beside the door. Grateful for the distraction, he picked it up. In Sam’s neat hand, he read: ‘Little Sam took Ghost on a walk up the stairs. He did his business on Mr. Glover’s welcome rug. We left a note. Call us back!!’ Beneath it in Little Sam’s heavy-handed scrawl, it read: ‘I gave Ghost a treat. Mr. Glover is mean.’ Jon chuckled.

“My neighbor, telling me he took Ghost for a walk,” Jon explained.

The mutt in question was on his back, squirming in delight as Dany rubbed his belly. You and me both, buddy. Daenerys giggled and cooed at Ghost before she straightened, dusting white dog fluff off her hands. She slung her bag over her arm.

“Um, I think I’ll take a shower, if that’s ok.” Jon bobbed his head in a frantic nod.

“Sure, help yourself. The only full bath is in the master, around the corner.” Jon trailed after her, as if connected by a string. His large bed was unmade, dirty clothes littering the floor. Face aflame, he snatched a pair of plaid boxer-briefs from the square bedpost.

“Sorry. I wasn’t . . . ah, expecting company.” The bathroom was little better, cluttered and messy. Daenerys’ smile loosened the knot in his gut.

“Don’t worry. It’s fine.”

Dany shut the door with a quiet click. When the hiss of the shower bled through the door, Jon burst into a frenzy of activity. He stripped the bed and wadded the sheets and dirty clothes into the hamper. Digging in his cramped linen cupboard, he found fresh sheets, silvery grey worn to downy softness. His summer blanket, a cheap black microfiber thing, looked too thin. She might get cold. He hauled out his down comforter too. The hefty flop of it releasing a faint musty odor. He remade the bed and tucked the curtains tight over the windows. He shucked off his damp clothes and peeled off soaked socks with a moue of distaste. The faint clean scent and dry chafe of a pair of drawstring sweatpants and white undershirt felt great.    

Jon snagged his favorite pillow and tossed it and an extra blanket on his squat suede couch. That would be his post. Guarding the door. Seized by inspiration, he checked the deadbolt, and wedged a dining room chair under the knob, just in case. The door was a solid, concrete-filled fire door. Hanging them was a bitch of a job. A quick sweep of the apartment found all the windows locked. They were high up and small, typical of the age of the building. The fire escape was at the end of the hall. A good little fortress against any of the fuckers who wanted to mess with Dany. Ghost trotted after him, jumping up on the couch and resting his head on a throw pillow.

“Thanks a lot, buddy,” Jon said, scratching one tufted ear, “she’s pretty great, huh? We got to keep her safe.”

Jon bent and tugged his waterlogged phone out of his jeans pocket. What was it the internet said to do? Rice? A hot lamp? He chose his desk lamp in the living room, a squat thing with a blinding white bulb. He sat, too exhausted to try the TV, too jittery to doze. Selmy’s pistol he laid on the tea table within easy reach, along with the extra magazines.

After what seemed like an eternity, the door to his bedroom clicked open, revealing Dany in all her heat-flushed glory. Jon shot to his feet. That was what she slept in? A powder blue nightgown that fell to mid-thigh, trimmed in white lace clung to her body, those perfect breasts untethered. Predictably, his cock had some very definite opinions about how she looked. No protection in sweatpants. Jon shoved his hand in the pocket, tenting his pants in a hopefully casual gesture.  The air between them felt thick enough to cut.

On impulse, he took her hand and kissed her knuckles. A schmoozy move, but it felt appropriate. A princess and her bodyguard. He liked the vibe. Her cheeks blushed a charming rosy pink.

“The bed’s all made up for you. I’ll take my turn in the shower,” Jon said.

“Ok. Than--”

Jon stopped the words with a fingertip over her lips. So soft. A smile stretched her lips beneath his finger. Jon gulped, overwhelmed by the sparkle her clear violet eyes. She was in his blood now, lodged in his chest.

“I want to keep you safe. You don’t have to thank me for the bleeding shower.” His voice came out all wrong. Harsh, almost angry. Dany didn’t bat an eye. Her posture straightened, defiant.

“I know I don’t have to. But I will. Often and repeatedly, because you deserve to be appreciated.” Given the encounter in the elevator with her ‘thanking’ him, his damned horndog brain ran with the imagery. Well, fuck.

“Suit yourself. Try and get some rest,” he said, ducking for the safety of the bathroom.  

[suga-angel]

A Crossroad Deal (6)

Summary: After getting out of a long term relationship, you try to move on with your life. However, having spent the last three years unavailable, you are not sure you know how to get back out there again, let alone if you even want to. That is, until you meet Jeon Jungkook, the barista at your college coffee shop. He is more than happy to help you wet your toes in the dating scene again, but at what cost?

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter (Coming Soon)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: A little of everything

Word Count: 5k

College!Jungkook, somewhat FuckBoy!Jungkook

A/N: Happy Holidays! Hope you enjoy!

Chop chop chop.

The sharpened metal sliced through its target with mastered ease. Every slice produced was cut with nearly impossible uniformity, with only the bare minimal going to waste. With each downwards glide of the knife, sharp aromas burst into the air, stimulating the senses. The smell alone encouraged the blade to move faster to the point that it waltzed along its wooden dance floor in a blur of vibrant red, green, and sterling silver. The experience was mesmerizing in itself; the outcome all the greater.

“Look at them.” A nearby voice sneered, judgment rolling from it in waves. The sound drew your thoughts away from your task long enough for your concentration to slip. The knife you had been skillfully wielding to chop up the peppers missed its target and instead kissed the side of your finger. A sharp hiss passed your lips from the sting, but your roommate continued to glare into the living room ignorantly. “Longing around the living room with a beer in hand while us women slave away in the kitchen. What are we, freakin’ house wives?”

“Yes,” You spat with as little condescension as could be managed while using your other hand to rummage through the junk drawer blindly for the bandage box. “Because the division of labor between us two women is split so evenly.”

“What?” She had the nerve to raise the pitch of her voice as she averted her gaze away from the boys. “I’ve helped!”

Using your teeth you tore at the bandage wrapping, all while leveling Minjin with an even stare. “Namjoon has been more of a help and his only job is to not break anything.”

“And a wonderful job I’ve been doing.” Namjoon sauntered in, raising his beer in a silent cheer. “Plus, me and Minho hyung carried everything up here and set up the living room while somebody fussed about their make-up.”

Your roommate’s cheeks tinged pink. “He was early! I had to hurry and get ready!”

“Actually, I was on time.” A pair of arms slithered around the woman’s waist from behind, eliciting a small yelp from her. “You were running late.”

“Again.” Namjoon accentuated your guest’s statement while sipping at his bear. “Plus, how long have you two been together? Does it even matter if he sees you without make up anymore?”

The couple both responded in contradicting fashions, much to your amusement. However, with a quick glance at the time, it faded quickly. With new fervor, you quickly went back to preparing your concoction. “Two minutes ‘til game time guys.”

That quickly woke everyone up. Namjoon sat down his beer and stepped up. “Okay, less than a hundred and twenty seconds on the clock guys. Y/N, finish up your salsa and cheese dip, hyung, check the bean dip in the oven, Minjin, grab the alcohol and shot classes, I’ll get the sliders and hot dogs, meet in the living room in sixty seconds. Break!”

With a clap of the hands, the kitchen broke out into frenzy. Right off the bat Namjoon started moving before the play was called, starting the desperate college students off badly with a false start.  The game then picked up with Minjin racing to the liquor cabinets only to be blocked by Minho approaching from her left. Meanwhile, Namjoon scrambled around them and headed for his target. Entrees in hand, he set his eyes on the end zone. However, first step in that direction and he’s fumbling the play. He frantically let out a desperate cry as he lunged to reclaim it, but Minho stealthily intercepts it.

“Check the bean dip!” he shouted over his shoulder as he scrambles around Minjin, who was struggling with her position as drink handler. To his right, you did your best to pull a hail Mary with your concoctions in the middle of this broken play.

“Done!” Namjoon let out a victorious shout as he reached in the oven bare handed to pull out the dip. Spotting her teammates error in judgment, Minjin cried out towards him but it is too late. With an anguish filled yelp, Namjoon stumbled back, cradling his burnt hand to his chest.

“Oppa, get to the living room, I got this!” you ordered to Minho, piling your prized recipes in your injured roommates arms before shoving him towards the end zone. “Go, go, go!”

His injury quickly forgotten, he hugged the bowls in his arms and rans down the field. You’re just about to get back to your task when you spot it; Minjin forgot the packet of shot glasses. “Oppa! Heads up!” You tossed the package to Minho, affectively passing them into the end zone. All that is left now is the dip.

“Y/N, hurry, the games about to start!” Minjin warned as she hurries to tear open the package Minho passed to her.

“Ten seconds!” Namjoon added, checking the time on his phone.

With speed you did not know you possessed, you shoved on the oven mitts and dived in to pull out the dip before making a sharp one eighty-degree turn and rushed for the final touchdown.

Ten feet…

Six feet…

Two and a Half…

Two…

One and three-quarters…

With an ear busting cheer from your teammates, you dove for the spot between Minjin and Namjoon backside first just in time to see the kick-off.

Minjin leans away from you with a small yelp. “Watch where you’re swinging that. I don’t want to end up like Joonie.”

“Joonie did that to himself,” you defended, setting the dip on the small section of empty space in the vast feast before you. Someone had managed to add small packaged pastries to the assortment without you realizing it. You were entirely grateful for it too. “Anyways, is it going to be me and Namjoon for the home team?”

“Hey!” Minjin protested, sitting up straight with a scowl. “Why do I have to play for the enemy?”

From behind her Minho watched his lover argue with a fond smile forming in the corner of his lips, as if he truly found even her disgust to be associated with his school team to be cute. It was not something you could quite wrap your head around.  

“Because you’re dating the enemy.” Your teammate remarked as he readied two shot glasses. “Sorry hyung.”

Being acknowledged snapped Minho out of whatever daze he had fallen into. His once love-sick smile was now replaced with a grin filled with mischief. “Where is your sense of loyalty to the love of your life, babe?”

She pursed her lips. “Fine. But only because our school teams sucks anyways.”

“Ha!” you exclaimed, moving to sit at the edge of your seat as your favorite defender sacked the opposing team. The impact was so forceful you couldn’t help but wince a bit in sympathy for the victim. Nonetheless, you didn’t let it deter you from thrusting the liquid punishment towards your roommate. “Karmas a bitch. Now drink up traitor.”

She accepted the shot glass with a scowl. “Competitions is ugly on you, you know.”

“That’s not very fair,” Minho defended, downing his shot in a quick tilt of his head. “I think it just brings out her inner colors.”

“More like her inner ugly.” Your roommate grumbled around the shot glass before downing it in much the same fashion as her teammate. With a small grimace she slammed the glass back down on the table. “Fill it up, slut. The next round will be for your losing ass.”

“Aren’t men supposed to be the overly competitive sex?” Namjoon inquired from beside you. His eyes drifted from between you and Minjin with half a smile starting to form on his perplexed face.

Minjin sneered. “That’s sexist.”

“Keep it up, Joonie.” Your eyes never left the screen as you spoke. “Keep goading her, we’ll have this game in the bag.”

That got her attention. “Hey, you still have to take a drink whether or not we spot it or not.”

You shook your head as you spoke. “If a tree farts and no one is around to hear it, does it leave a smell? No. And since no one smelt it, it’s like no one dealt it. Therefore, I don’t have to drink.”

The room fell into a silence as all eyes turned in your direction. Some, like Minjin, didn’t seem like she knew if she wanted to argue with your reasoning or give it to you for your creativity. Others, such as the male population, looked as if they had bitten into a lemon.

“That’s not how that saying goes,” Namjoon finally spoke up, looking you up and down with a slightly scrunched up nose.

“And I’m pretty sure what you’re talking about is cheating.” The older man added, a smile starting to tug at his lips despite himself.

“Honey, honey.” Minjin interjected, patting her boyfriend’s knee gently. “Give her that one, she earned it.”

Raising your bottle of beer in the air, you tilted it in her direction. “Damn straight I did.”

“Plus,” A small smirk formed on the other woman’s face. “By her own reasoning, we don’t have to take a shot for that penalty.”

“What?” Your head snapped in the direction of the screen just in time to see the referee calling the move. “Bullshit, take your drink you hoe!”

The bickering that followed would be one of many that would break out in the following hours. Sometime between the argument of what is considered a victory dance and the chip incident where Namjoon somehow managed to trip over the table at just the right angle to send the chip bowl flying back into the room it came from, the snacks that were once in plenty of supply had dried up to a few bits and pieces scattered between wrappers and used up napkins. By the time halftime came around, there was only breadcrumbs and what was left of the liquor standing proudly upon the ravaged table.

“Wow.” Minjin eyed the disaster that laid before her with wide eyes. “We’re pigs.”

“Excuse me?” Namjoon raised an eyebrow at his roommate. “This was all you two. I barely got one chip in before they were all gone.”

“Maybe if you hadn’t of kicked the chips off to Neverland you would’ve gotten some.” She countered, tilting her head towards the kitchen. Off in the distance the once clean floor was now a graveyard for the forgotten sliced potatoes who were whisked away before they could’ve fulfilled their crunchy destiny. Now they lay crumbled and defeated on the tile flooring, abandoned by their owner but never forgotten. The reminder pulled a hearty sigh from you as you looked on at the tragic sight.

“Speaking of which…” Oppa spoke up, glancing in the same direction as you. “Are we really not going to go pick that up?”

“Leave it.” Gloom took root in your voice as you spoke. “They are a reminder of what was lost.”

“Hyung is right, we’re going to get ants.”

The doubt was clear in the look you shot him. “We’re on the second floor.”

He merely gave a shrug. “Bugs don’t discriminate.”

“I don’t do bugs.” With a small shiver, Minjin stood up. “You guys clean that up, I’m heading to the market to grab a few snacks for the rest of the game.”

Minho perked up at the mention of food. “Oh, get those cute sugar cookies while you’re out. You know, with the sprinkles.”

That got Namjoon’s attention. “Oh, and those gummies. The one’s shaped like the Minions, not those fake Ninja Turtle shits they sell.”

A smirk slowly formed as she leaned down to grab her purse. “I’m dating a child.”

“Hey, we’re manly.” The offense that took form in the older mans tone was matched by the slight puffing of his chest.

Your roommate nodded in agreement. “Our manliness is so great we’re not even threatened by your attempt to emasculate us.” Despite his noble words, you didn’t miss the way his muscles flexed against the fabric of his sleeves.

“Right. My mistake.” Her teeth flashed the group as her lips spread out into a brilliant smile. “I’ll be back in ten.”

“Don’t forget my cookies!” Minho called after her.

“And chips!” You added hastily after glancing at the graveyard once more.

With a roll of her eyes, she said her final goodbye before closing the door after her. Minho stared after her for a few moments, seeming to be counting down to something in his head. Soon after he sat up straighter, turning his full attention to the remaining of the group. “I need to talk to you guys.”

His statement caught you as you were scooping the remaining fudge that clung to the pastry wrapper with your finger. The delectable chocolate had barely passed your lips when he had turned in your direction. With the wide eyes of someone who had been caught in the act, you reply with an startled, “What?”

The older graduate paid you no mind, already used to your shameless behavior. “Our anniversary is coming up. Mine and MinMin’s.”

Joonie visibly cringed from the nickname. “We’re very much aware.”

“Yeah, well I want to make it special.” Minho continued on. “And as you know, your apartment is the first place we met…”

This time it was your turn to scrunch up your face. “Please, we are all very much aware of your rom-com worthy love story.”

Namjoon nodded vigorously. “Painfully so.”

Minho had the decency to smile sheepishly. “Well, I was thinking I could re-enact it here. You know, buy her favorite pizza, put on my old uniform, come and surprise her with dinner and a bunch of other cheesy memory lane stuff. But it would kind of be ruined if her two roommates were in the apartment to reminisce with us…”

You blinked a couple of times. “He’s trying to kick us out of our apartment.”

“Minjin would love that though.” To your horror, you noticed the smile that was forming on your friend’s face. “You know how into that cringy romantic shit she is.”

“But…” you stammered, buying yourself time to think up an excuse. “But where would I go?”

“You’d be more than welcome to stay at my place.” Minho offered helpfully, blinding you with his annoyingly hopeful smile.

It did nothing to stop the taste of bile that rose to your throat. “With Jinho? Yeah, that definitely isn’t going to happen.”

Namjoon shrugged. “I’m going to go stay with Hoseok, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

“I can hear Yoongi oppa complaining now.” Just one look at the doe eyed man in front of you had a sigh being extracted from you. “Fine, I’ll brave Jihyun’s couch.”

Before you could comprehend what was happened, a pair of strong arms was encircling you in a tight hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

A chuckle escaped your lips despite yourself. “Yeah, well, you guys are too cute to stand in your way anyways.”

“Sickeningly so.” A smile broke on Namjoon’s lips at his words.

Minho’s grin lit up his face. “Really, thank you. Minjin will love it. I just know it.”

“Just don’t love it on any surface that is communal.” Namjoon’s nose crinkled as he spoke. Your head quickly nodded along with his statement. No one wanted to relive what happened last time the lovebirds had the apartment to themselves. Some thing could not be unseen.

He older man ducked his head with a sheepish grin. “Will do.”

“Well, we might as well get to cleaning up the kitchen,” you stated grimly. “Minjin will not let us live it down if she finds a bug in the apartment.”

“Nose goes!” Minho had his finger flying to the tip of his nose before the words even passed his lips. You were quick to follow fashion, staring wide eyed at the bewildered graduate beside you.

“How old are you two again?”

“Old enough to know that this,” Minho motioned with his free hand between yourself and Min-ho while his finger remained attached to his nose, “means that we don’t have to do shit.”

A victorious grin split your cheeks. “So get to work, you slow fucker.”

With a smug sense of pleasure, you watched your grumbling friend stand to his feet and make his way to clean up his disaster. Beside you, Minho gave a good-natured chuckle as he started to pick up some of the wrappers that had been carelessly thrown around the room. You bend over to help him out when you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket.

Must be Jihyun, you thought as you pull out your phone. Your obnoxious friend had been upset all week about not being able to make the traditional game day drinking game today. You wouldn’t put it past her to bitch about it some more over texts. To your surprise though, it was not Jihyun who had messaged you.

Mickey: Come over [2:47p.m.]

Mickey: Plz? [2:47p.m.]

Mickey: I’m sick of studying [2:48p.m.]

Mickey: I have pizza? [2:49p.m.]

The corners of your mouth tugged upwards as your eyes scanned your screen. Within seconds, your fingers were flying across your keyboard.

You: Pineapple? [2:50p.m.]

Mickey: Duh. [2:51p.m.]

Mickey: U in? [2:51p.m.]

Your index finger tapped against the side of your phone as you glanced up at your surroundings. If you were being honest, the game thus far had left your head a little more tipsy than you would like to admit. It would probably be a bad idea to go anywhere at this point. Plus, you and Namjoon were sure to win this time. You couldn’t call it quits now. And anyways, the other boy really had some studying to get done if he hoped to pass his class.

You: Save me some, I’ll stop by tomorrow [2:55p.m.]

With your mind made up, you set your phone on the table to get back to cleaning up. Tomorrow you’d have to put up with his complaints but it was for his own good. To your surprise, your phone vibrated not long after.

Mickey: Fine, but only a slice of the cheese one [2:58p.m.]

Mickey: Late comers don’t deserve pineapple [2:59p.m.]

A head suddenly appeared over your shoulder. “What are you smiling at?” The sound of his voice startled you enough to look up from your phone. Quickly, you pressed the power button to shut down your screen, but it was too late; a smirk was already forming on the older man’s lips. “Mickey? Is that the guy Minmin was telling me about?”

Your shoulder lifted in a careless shrug as you pocketed your phone. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Right.” The tone of his voice portrayed his true thoughts on the matter. “Is he who you’ve been sneaking out at night to go see the past few weeks?”

“I’m a grown ass women and this is my damn apartment, I do not have to sneak out of it.” You huff indignantly; making sure your voice was low enough so that it couldn’t be heard from the kitchen. “And anyways, why is your girlfriend gossiping about me?”

“She’s excited.” He stated simply. “She says it’s about time you got out of your dry spell.”

A red tinge settled on the apples of your cheeks. “I am not going through a dry spell!” You hissed desperately under your breath.

Minho raised his trash filled hands in surrender. “Hey, I don’t judge.”

“There’s nothing to judge!”

“What are we judging?” Namjoon questioned, walking back into the room. Traces of the chip disaster were evident on his socked feet. You jumped at the opportunity given to you.

“The fact that you’re trailing crumbs all over the floor with your dirty socks.” You jabbed a finger in the offending party’s direction, affectively drawing everyone’s attention towards them. “Minjin will throw a bitch fit if she comes back to see that.”

“At least I’ve been cleaning, what have you two been doing?” Even though his voice was laced with indignation, he toed at his socks to rid them of any evidence.

“Cleaning up after your ass, like usual.” You quickly interjected when you spotted Minho opening his mouth to reply. “You two boys are slobs, honestly.”

There it was, the perfect thing to distract both of your possible attackers. Both of their attentions were instantly focused on you in different stages of offense. Minho was the first to object.

“Did she just speak to me informally?”

“You and Minjin are the one’s who destroy the apartment!” Namjoon soon followed with.

“Excuse me?” At that instance, the sound of a door slamming shut echoed through the room. Standing in the doorway was Minjin, her arms being loaded with various bags of groceries. It was clear she was implementing her one trip only policy by how her arms were being weighed down with more bags than she could comfortably carry, but she seemed to have forgotten all about them as she set a deadly glare on your roommate. “You want to pass that by me again Namjoon, you clumsy shit?”

As expected, the apartment was soon filled with various forms of blame aversion and cases made in defense. It did not take long for your nightly where about and mysterious messenger to easily fall from everyone’s memory.

“Order up!”

The sharp ringing of the bell attempted to cut through the rambunctious chatter of the rush hour crowd. Despite its obnoxious pitch and quick, incessant rhythm, none of the buzzing customers seemed to take much notice to it; instead, they continued their conversations eagerly, paying no attention to the steaming barista behind the counter. The poor boy could not be older than sixteen, but the irritation that was coming off of him in waves said that if he was kept waiting much longer, he would lose it. Right when you were certain that his grip on the caffeinated drink would certainly crush the cup in his grasps, a customer lazily strolled up to the counter to claim the beverage from its tragic fate. With more force than was needed, the teenager shoved the drink into the college student’s hand, walking away with no more than a glare in the customer’s direction.

Part of you felt bad for the poor barista as you watched him prepare the next order over the view of your coffee cup. If you were being honest, the customers were grating on your own nerves with their excessive volume. There was absolutely no need to be talking that enthusiastically in such small quarters as the café. However, you found that the levels of your annoyance were steadily lowering with each sip of your drink that you took. So instead of dwelling on the repercussions of flinging the muffin you bought Jihyun at a neighboring group of girls’ (who obviously weren’t taught about inside voices), you took a deep breath and continued to watch the aggravated barista lose his temper over the espresso maker.  

The only thing that brought your attention away from the oncoming tantrum was the vibration of your phone. The suddenness of it had you jumping a bit in your seat, causing a bit of coffee to dribble down your chin. With a quick swipe of the back of your hand, you pulled out the offending party with your free hand to check the screen.

Mickey: remind me again [7:12p.m.]

Mickey: why am I here? [7:12p.m.]

Your eyes rolled back into your skull as you read over the messages. Leave it to him to be so dramatic over something so routine.

You: I ask myself that question about you everyday, honestly [7:14p.m.]

You: I mean, do we really need another shameless flirt on this earth? [7:14p.m.]

You: seems a bit last season, don’t you think? [7:15p.m.]

You typed out your message single handedly, using your other one to bring your warm coffee to your lips. You didn’t have to wait long for a reply.

Mickey: We all know what my purpose on this earth is, sweetcheeks {7:18p.m.]

Mickey: I am a gift to women everywhere. [7:19p.m.]

An involuntary snort came of you. You could just feel the smugness rolling off of him through the phone. He needed to be knocked down a few pegs. Squaring your shoulders a bit, you set your cup down on the table so that you could turn your complete attention to your phone.

You: More like punishment. [7:22 p.m.]

Mickey: You seem tense, baby girl [7:24 p.m.]

Mickey: Bet I could make you feel better with just one touch ;) [7:25 p.m.]

Heat rose to the apple of your cheeks despite yourself. You convinced yourself it was from the stuffiness of the room, not from your own imagination of course.

You: Case and point [7:29 p.m.]

You: You’re shameless [7:30 p.m.]

Mickey: It’s a gift really [7:36 p.m.]

“What are you smiling at?” Your co-worker sat across from you suddenly, eyeing you almost distastefully. “You look like you’re about to giggle and puke rainbows or something. It’s gross.”

It was only then that you noticed the way your lips split into an involuntary smile. You quickly wiped it from your face, replacing it with a scowl. “Shut up. You’re late.”

She sighed bristly at that, taking the extra cup of coffee and muffin from you. “Yeah, well, not all of us were able to get off early, Miss Over Achiever. God, I almost miss when you were in your slum so that we were failures together. Now you’re back to being ahead of schedule and responsible and shit.”

You couldn’t help the small tug of your lips. “Yeah well, you owe this over achiever ten bucks. The coffee and muffin aren’t free.”

In that moment, you felt your phone vibrate in your hand again.

Mickey: Come baaaack [7:47p.m.]

Mickey: I’m about to die from boredom in this class [7:47 p.m.]

You: Suck it up, frat boy [7:49 p.m.]

You: It’s called getting an education [7:50 p.m.]

“Whatever,” she grumbled around her muffin. “Anyways, who are you texting? Is it Jimin again?”

“Becoming possessive already?” you teased, smirking around your cup of coffee. “How un-Jihyun like.”

The woman across from you merely stuffs another large chunk of muffin into her mouth. “You two text constantly. And plot. I know he didn’t come up with the idea to send me those singing telegrams on his own, asshole.”

“That was actually his idea. The boy is committed.”

A rather un-ladylike like snort escaped her. “Jimin doesn’t have a committed bone in his body.”

From the corner of your eye you saw your phone light up with a notification. “What about that proposition he made you?”

Mickey: It’s called a snooze fest [8:04 p.m.]

Mickey: Anyways, what kind of lame activity are you up to? [8:05 p.m.]

Mickey: Wait, let me guess [8:06 p.m.]

Mickey: Watching descendants of the sun [8:07 p.m.]

Mickey: Again. [8:07]

“Fine, the only commitment he has is to his dick.” The harshness of her words has you pulling your gaze from your screen. “I mean, when was the last time an arrangement like that ever worked out, anyways? It’s stupid.”

“I don’t know, I don’t think so.” You gave a shrug at the doubtful look she shot you. “I mean, he’s attractive. From what you said he knows what he’s doing. What could it hurt?”

“Please.” The tone of her voice was if she was explaining the obvious. “Men are fragile little things, Y/N. They have too many grown up feelings for their small testosterone brains to take. Things never stay as simple as they say they will.”

The corner of your lips twitched as you averted your attention back to your screen. “I’m pretty sure that’s not how that stereotype is applied.”

You: you’re offensive tone is ruining the taste of my muffin [8:12 p.m.]

“That’s because men tried to cover up for their neediness by putting it on us. It’s a big cover up, I tell you.” If it weren’t for the fact that you weren’t entirely convinced she wasn’t being serious, you would find her conspiracy theories somewhat comical. It was Jihyun, after all.

“I’m sure it is.” Setting your phone aside for the last time, you turn your full attention back to your coworker. “Anyways, I need a favor.”

Jihyun tilted her head to the side as she studied you. “Waive the ten bucks for this stuff and you got it.”

“What?” You blinked a couple of times. “Fuck that bitch, pay up.”

“Do you want my help or not?”

“You don’t even know what it is!” Your voice started to rise as you spoke, but you paid it no mind. If everyone else can be noisy in this shack so could you.

She gave a short sigh. “Fine, what is it?”

“I need to borrow your couch this coming Saturday.” Sensing the argument rising in her, you added more hastily, “Minho is pulling some grand romantic gesture for their anniversary and is kicking me and Namjoon out.”

“Couples. I swear, they’re so entitled.” The last bit of muffin she was holding was quickly flung onto her napkin in disgust. “I would revolt. You pay rent, you have rights.”

“Jihyun.” The tone of your voice was fighting between amusement and exasperation. “Your bitch is showing.”

You watched as your friend proceeded to dump enough sugar to create a small tower into her drink, unbothered by your words. “Good. Let the bitch flag fly, she needed some air after being suffocated under all that sugarcoated pleasantry bullshits.”

“Just play nice, Minho is being a gentleman. It’s sweet and romantic.”

“Sweet my ass,” the woman across from you grumbles, reaching to a neighboring table beside you to grab the sugar packets as she had used up all of your own. The couple sitting there shot her judgmental glares, but if she noticed it she made no sign of it. “Anyways, you can’t spend the night. My brothers coming to town and is occupying the couch this weekend.”

An obnoxious groan was born in your throat, drawing a few startled glances your way. “Where the fuck am I supposed to go now?”

“I’m telling you, you have rights.” Her eyes glanced up at you from her coffee cup. The White Mountain had nearly doubled in size, but she showed no sign of stopping. “Fuck the system, fight the couples.”

“I prefer fuck the couples, fight the system,” a deeper voice interjected. The screeching of chair legs against the laminate floor soon followed as your uninvited guest made himself at home at the table, his cheeky smile being full of insinuations. “It opens a lot more interesting doors that way.”

Your coworker’s faced screwed up in disgust. “Is everyone in your fraternity as perverse as you and the duo?”

“No… but they’re not nearly as much fun either.” Jungkook replied with his signature smirk before turning to face you. “And you, do you not know how to answer your phone?”

“I didn’t know you texted.” As you spoke, you reached back over for your phone, thumbing over the main key to bring the phone to life. Your eyes widened a bit when you spotted how many missed texts you had. Quickly, you tried to shut off your screen again but it was too late.

“Mickey?” Jungkook reached out and plucked your phone out of your hands indignantly. “Who the fuck is Mickey? And why is your phone password protected?”

“It’s Jimin.”  Jihyun piped up, stirring the white grains into her coffee. “I don’t know why she calls him Mickey though.”

“Is that a codename? Jimin has a codename and I don’t?” The look of betrayal that washed over Jungkook’s face was more than unjustified in your opinion.

“It is none of your business who it is.” Huffing, you reached out and snatched your phone out of the younger boy’s grasps. “And my phone is password protected because of nosy people like you trying to get on and snoop.”

“Whatever.” With a small shrug, he tore off a piece of your muffin. He eyed the crowded café as he pushed the moist pastry past his lips. His eyes zeroed in on the barista behind the counter. “It’s busy at this time. Poor sap.”

“You could always offer to help him,” you offer, unbothered by the theft as you take a sip of your drink. “You know, be a good coworker and all that stuff.”

“Fuck that shit.” Jihyun eyes the barista. Despite her harsh words, there were traces of sympathy in her voice. “Jungkook’s off. Let the kid sweat.”

The younger man leaned back in his chair with a broad grin. “Couldn’t have put it better myself.”

Shaking your head, you cracked a smile at them around the rim of your cup. “You two are despicable.”

“Thank you.” They both spoke in unison, drawing a chuckle from you.

“Anyways, I just stopped by for some muffin.” He leaned over to grab another rather sizable piece of your muffin as he got to his feet. When he spoke, it was around a mouthful of bread. “I have another class I need to get to.”

“You better hurry,” you comment, glancing at the time on your phone. “You have three minutes before your class starts.”

“Shit.” With quick drink from your cup, he dashed out of the café, calling back a greeting of some kind as he clumsily ran into a group of unsuspecting customers on his way out. The absurdness of it drew a chuckle from your lips as you brought your cup up for another drink.

“You know…” Jihyun began, watching after his retreating form through glass window. “He’s not at all what I expected.”

A more natural smile tugged at your lips. “Believe me, I know.”

Once again you heard more than felt your phone buzz against the wooden table. Glancing down at it, you noticed you had quite a bit of missed messages. Scanning over them, you zeroed in on the newest one.

Mickey: Stop by my place later? [8:29p.m.]

Under the watchful eye of your friend, you didn’t care let your lips stretch anymore than they were already. However, you could not help the burst of joy you felt as you quickly typed out your response.

You: Always do. [8:30p.m.]

A/N: I am so so sorry that this took so long! Uni has been crazy. Anyways, I apologize if I completely butchered the sports terminologies in the beginning of the chapter. I know close to nothing about sports and I don’t think the hours of research I tried to do on football really fixed that... Anyways, I hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you though =)

[socialjusticeartshare]

‘I Have No Idea Where My Daughter Is’: Migrant Parents Are Desperate for News

With a record 20,000 migrant children in shelters and detention facilities, many parents have waited weeks to learn what happened to their children after they crossed the border.

When Maria Ana Mendez left Honduras a decade ago to earn money in the United States, her daughter Cindy was still in pigtails and playing with dolls.

But settled now with a job and an apartment in upstate New York, Ms. Mendez was ready to bring Cindy to live with her. Because she is still undocumented and could not legally bring her into the country, she paid a guide $8,000 in February to take Cindy, now 16, across thousands of miles to the doorstep of the United States.

Three weeks later, Ms. Mendez heard from her daughter for the first time: She had crossed the Rio Grande on a raft and was being held in a temporary U.S. border camp in Donna, Texas. She had not showered in five days, and was sleeping on the ground. She did not feel well.

Days without news turned into weeks of anguish as Ms. Mendez made repeated phone calls to a U.S. government hotline to learn her daughter’s whereabouts. On April 3, Cindy was able to call — from a hospital in San Diego. She was “very sick” with Covid-19, she told her mother.

“I can’t take this anymore,” said Ms. Mendez, who booked a flight to San Diego.

A surge of arrivals on the border has put nearly 20,000 migrant children in government custody — the largest number in recent memory — creating chaos and confusion as immigration authorities scramble to care for them, contact their parents and process them for release.

The Biden administration has rushed to open emergency intake sites at convention centers in San Diego and Dallas, a coliseum and expo center in San Antonio, a former oil camp in Midland, Texas, and at the Army base at Fort Bliss, Texas. Other sites, including a convention center in Long Beach, Calif., are expected to accommodate children soon.

But the government is still struggling to bring in people to staff them, and immigrant parents across the country, who often have no idea what happened to their children after they entered the United States, are growing increasingly desperate.

Some children have gone weeks or longer without being able to contact their parents.

In Austin, Texas, a Honduran woman is waiting for news of her two children, 6 and 9, who were brought to the border in March by a family member but then separated from the adult relative and taken to an unknown destination.

A Honduran father said he had been told that his 14-year-old son, who arrived in March, is one of 2,000 migrant boys being housed at the convention center in Dallas. But he has yet to speak with him.

Keep up with the new Washington — get live updates on politics.

A Guatemalan woman living in Iowa City has filled out two packages of paperwork to try to reunite with her 16-year-old sister, who has been in government custody since crossing the border on March 4. She recently learned that the teenager had been moved from a shelter in Texas to another in Pennsylvania.

“I am very worried about her,” said the woman, Juana Cuyuch Brito, 32. “I don’t know why they transferred her or what is going on.”

Lidia Cuyuch Brito, the 16-year-old sister of Juana Cuyuch Brito, photographed in Guatemala before leaving for the United States.

The problem appears to be one of sheer numbers, as the new administration struggles to hire enough people to staff the temporary shelters, make contact with parents and verify that children can be safely released to them.

Administration officials say they are doing the best they can to handle the latest rush to the border, trying to provide safe housing and secure placements for children who have already faced substantial dangers traveling through Mexico and crossing the border, often with no adult guardian.

“I can say quite clearly: Don’t come over,” Mr. Biden said last month. “Don’t leave your town or city or community.”

Yet hundreds of children continue to be intercepted and transported to processing centers each day. In the Rio Grande Valley of Texas, border facilities were operating at 743 percent capacity last month. A tent structure in Donna was at 1,707 percent capacity.

About half the children arriving at the border are coming to reunify with a parent, like Ms. Mendez, who has been residing in the United States for many years.

Often the children were raised by grandmothers and other close relatives who are now aging and can no longer care for them. Like their parents, many are teenagers who do not see a future in their home countries.

Because the parents lack legal status or have asylum cases stuck in immigration court backlogs, most are unable to sponsor their children to immigrate legally to the United States; they resort to smuggling networks to transport them.

Nearly 16,500 migrant teenagers and children who crossed the border without a parent are being housed in Department of Health and Human Services facilities until they have met the requirements for release. Roughly 4,000 more are stranded in Border Patrol stations waiting for beds in those shelters to open.

The emergency facilities provide clean sleeping quarters, meals, toiletries, laundry and access to medical care, including coronavirus screening. Services are provided by a combination of contractors and federal staff.

But there is still a severe shortage of case managers to handle the bureaucracy. It is these social workers who contact parents and request documents to start the process of releasing their children to them.

Once a parent has submitted the paperwork and passed a background check, the child’s placement must be approved by a specially designated officer, to ensure that a child will be safe.

The dearth of staff at every level, according to child-welfare experts, is one of the main reasons that, on average, only about 300 minors a day are being released, creating a frantic race for new bed space as more children cross the border.

Migrant children last month in a pod at the U.S. Customs and Border Protection facility in Donna, Texas, the main detention center for unaccompanied children in the Rio Grande Valley.Pool photo by Dario Lopez-Mills

Leecia Welch, a lawyer whose team interviewed about 20 children in several intake facilities in Texas on March 29 and 30, said none of the children had been assigned a case manager by that time.

The lawyers found that many children were waiting several weeks before being permitted to speak with family members.

“What these kids want first and foremost is to be reunited with their families,” Ms. Welch said. “They were desperate to hear their parents’ voices.”

One child she interviewed in Dallas, she said, teared up as he told her that he had gone three months without contact with his family and that he had made his first call the day before.

Many parents already had undergone weeks of anxiety as their children undertook the dangerous journey through Mexico, often in the hands of smugglers. Customs and Border Protection officials this week released a video of a sobbing 10-year-old Nicaraguan boy who had been found wandering in a remote area of Texas after he was abandoned by the group he was traveling with.

“The inhumane way smugglers abuse children while profiting off parents’ desperation is criminal and morally reprehensible,” the secretary of homeland security, Alejandro N. Mayorkas, said in a statement in March. “Just this month, a young girl died by drowning, a 6-month-old was thrown into the river, and two young children were dropped from a wall and left in the desert alone.”

Since arriving in the United States a decade ago, Ms. Mendez, 42, has juggled jobs as a housekeeper, a packer at a seafood processing plant and a chef’s assistant at a diner, sending $200 to $300 every two weeks back to her family.

Last year, Ms. Mendez watched her daughter graduate from high school by video. Cindy wanted to fulfill her dream of becoming a computer programmer, and the time to do that was now, she said.

As she headed north toward the border, Cindy checked in with her mother every few days.

To prepare for her arrival, Ms. Mendez painted her room pink, furnishing it with a new bed and a colorful princess spread. She hung helium balloons to make it festive.

Cindy reached Texas in early March and was intercepted by the Border Patrol, which took her to a processing center.

After an initial phone call from her daughter, Ms. Mendez waited anxiously for more news.

But weeks went by, and every time Ms. Mendez phoned a call center at the Office of Refugee Resettlement, which is responsible for sheltering migrant children, she heard that her daughter’s case was “pending.”

“I have no idea where my daughter is,” Ms. Mendez said in an interview on March 26. “No one is telling me anything at all.”

Ms. Mendez hired a guide to bring Cindy from Guatemala, entering the United States via the Rio Grande.Adrees Latif/Reuters

The agency has not responded to questions about staffing and reunification procedures, though it has said generally that children are being carefully accounted for and put in touch with their parents as quickly as possible. Rushing the process risks the possibility of releasing children into unsafe conditions, officials say.

When Ms. Mendez could learn nothing of her daughter’s whereabouts, she contacted an immigration lawyer, Kate Lincoln-Goldfinch, who filed a complaint with the inspector general for the Department of Health and Human Services. The handling of Cindy’s case, it said, represented a “gross deviation” from the Biden administration’s stated policy of reuniting unaccompanied minors with their parents as swiftly as possible.

“We fear that the child has either been lost or unaccounted for by the agency,” the letter concluded.

Nothing happened.

Then, last Saturday, Ms. Mendez’s cellphone buzzed. It was Cindy.

“Mami, I am in the hospital in San Diego. I have Covid,” she told her mother, her voice feeble.

She said that she had been staying at the convention center in San Diego before she began feeling very sick and was transferred by ambulance to the hospital.

“How could they leave her alone in the hospital and not advise me?” Ms. Mendez said.

It took a day before she would receive an update about her child’s condition. Ms. Lincoln-Goldfinch called the hospital, but a charge nurse and social worker initially refused to release any information, referring her to the Border Patrol, she said.

In an interview from the hospital on Monday, Cindy said she had been isolating in a room at the convention center, which holds about 1,400 girls, with 20 others who had tested positive for the coronavirus.

Finally, on Tuesday, Ms. Mendez learned that Cindy had recovered from her illness and would be discharged soon. The government had approved her release from custody, she was told.

Ms. Mendez immediately flew to San Diego, and went straight from the airport to the convention center late on Wednesday.

Mother and daughter emerged 15 minutes later, holding each other in tears.

Ariana Drehsler for The New York Times

Article Source

[milliebeeweasel]

I read Cassie Clare’s Draco Dormiens, so you don’t have to

So Cassie Claire.

She’s a world-famous author, an Internet-famous plagiariser, and I am a little nobody with a masochistic streak a mile wide and too much curiosity for my own good.  So I decided to read Draco Dormiens: the early-2000s fanfic that propelled Cassie into her writing career, and turned a shitload of people against her because plagiarism.

Cassie was 27 when she wrote this.  It made her a BNF.  It was huge.  So it has to be good, right?

Um.

Well.

Let me take you on a sporkful journey.  A journey into OOC weirdness, Hermione yo-yo-knickers, gentle canon divergence and blatant canon destruction.  We’ll come out haggard and exhausted and wondering what the hell we just saw, but then we can all sit together and laugh soullessly about it over beers.

Also, since Cassie mercilessly rips off funnier people than her, I’m going to do the same.  It’s a theme.

Draco Dormiens, it goeth thusly.

The basic premise is a Harry-Draco bodyswap fic.  Since this was written before the release of Order of the Phoenix, it starts with a fifth year potions lesson.  Snape is teaching the class about polyjuice potions, and forces everyone to temporarily swap bodies so they can see its affects.  He pairs Harry and Draco, which is in-character because he’s making Harry suffer, but also wildly out of character, because he’s making Draco suffer, too.

Anyway, Harry and Draco chug their polyjuice potions and bitch for a while about how awful it is to be each other.  Draco particularly whinges about Harry’s bitten nails, because his own are like, professionally manicured by house elves.

Take a moment to let that sink in.  Dobby the nail technician.

I digress.  When the class turns back, Harry and Draco don’t. Draco checks his Rolex—and my brain does a spit-take because why the fuck is Draco wearing Muggle apparel?—and says they should be back to normal now.  Harry, thinking Draco’s spiked the potion, starts throwing punches.  I mean, he never threw a punch in a lifetime of Dudley’s bullying, but I guess now’s a fine time to start?  The fight ends with Draco knocking Harry the fuck out, and then realising he’s still stuck in Harry’s body.  Harry (still looking like Draco) is taken to the Hospital Wing, where Madam Pomfrey’s like, ‘No problem, Dracey-poo will be out cold for the night and all better in the morning!’

She um.  She doesn’t use magic to heal him or anything.

This is a recurring theme in Draco Dormiens.  Magical healing is mostly ignored for plot purposes, and suddenly pops up when it’s convenient.

At this point, you’d think Draco would point out he’s Draco, and the unconscious Draco is actually Harry, but he … doesn’t?  Draco essentially says to himself, ‘I AM THE GREETEST, I WILL BE HARRY POTTER NOW, FOR NO RAISINS!’ and continues to follow Harry’s timetable and never inform anyone of what happened.

So we get some bumbling comedy while Draco tries to be Harry, including him being exceptionally nasty to Cho Chang, revealing that Goyle wears ladies’ underwear, and eventually snogging Hermione.  You know, the Mudblood he loathes.

If your brain just slammed on the brakes, don’t worry.  That’s normal.

Meanwhile, Harry wakes up in the Hospital Wing screaming he’s not Draco Malfoy.  Rather than gently calming him and getting an explanation so this whole contrived plot can be repaired, Madam Pomfrey knocks him the fuck out again and calls for Lucius Malfoy to take him home.

Harry, buddy, you might want to get a CAT Scan when you wake up.  I hear being unconscious is super bad for you.

So Draco finds out Harry’s been carted off by his dad and understandably flips out, because he thinks Lucius is going to realise he’s basically got Harry captive and murder him, leaving Draco stuck as Harry forever.  If you’re thinking a) polyjuice potion doesn’t work like that, or b) if it did, Lucius would be smart enough to not just murder Harry and ruin Draco’s life, your mind is in the wrong place for this fanfic.

Hermione catches Draco in the library, being swooned over by Cho Chang because apparently all she really wanted was a bad boy.  You know, like Cedric Diggory.  That real bad boy Hufflepuff she dated.  (Speaking of which, Cedric Diggory is not mentioned once in this fic.  Ever. Voldemort’s return is barely referenced until halfway through.)

BRB, rolling my eyes to space.

When they’re alone, Draco finally, finally admits to Hermione that he’s not Harry Potter.

And she punches him.

A lot.

I mean, I guess it’s technically more in-character for Hermione, but still.  They’re in a library.  Respect for the books, yo.

When she’s eventually got all the punching out, Draco uses a truth spell on himself to prove he didn’t fuck this up on purpose.  Now. This was another brain-stop moment, because I know that veritaserum was in Goblet of Fire, and the spell Draco uses is ‘veritas’.  But Hermione freaks because it’s DARK MAGIC and BAD and YOU SHOULDN’T DO THAT, even though good characters use veritaserum in Goblet of Fire with no problem.  On the other hand, Hermione recovers enough to ask Draco if he’s ever had sex in order to humiliate him (he hasn’t).  How heroic.

Draco does point out around now that he and Harry have a kind of mental link, and it’s making him do all kinds of nice stuff like saving Hermione from bludgers and Neville from bullies.  Character development?  Eh.

Hermione and Draco decide to go to Malfoy Manor and rescue Harry, leaving Ron behind because they’d have to explain everything to him, and that’s just such a bother.

Don’t worry, Ron.  You’re actually getting off lightly, tbh.

Harry, in the meantime, wakes up in Malfoy Manor and plays along as Draco so he won’t get out-and-out murderkilled by Lucius.  Now, Lucius in the books was implied to be cold with Draco, but still fond of him.  Lucius in Draco Dormiens is full on, no holds barred abusive to both Draco and Narcissa, and also a total sex fiend who repeatedly cheats on Narcissa and attempts to assault Hermione.

But we’ll get to that later.

After some hilarious banter with McNair, where Lucius reveals Dumbledore straight-up cold-blooded killed a man ("And when Zabini tried to send the boy an exploding broom, Dumbledore intercepted it and sent it right back in a different package. They had to bury Zabini in a matchbox!"), Harry discovers the Death Eaters have captured Sirius.  Narcissa faints; Harry tries to deck Lucius to get to Sirius; Lucius locks Harry in Draco’s room, and saunters off to stick Sirius in the dungeon and, presumably, gloat him to death.

At this point, Hermione and Draco make it to Malfoy Manor and Draco does a few spells to get them inside. I want to make a point of that. Draco performs a few spells.  It takes up maybe a page, at a push.  This is important later.

(This, also, is the first time I spotted a quote definitely lifted from Blackadder, when Draco dives in the way of an arrow to save Hermione and gets it in the leg, and she comments, ‘Six inches to the left and grandchildren would’ve been out of the question.’)

They burst into the bedroom where Harry’s locked up, and Harry proceeds to get irrationally angry because Hermione and Draco were holding each other for dear life as they crashed wildly through the window.  It turns out this irrational anger is contagious, as the three of them continue to pointlessly argue for the rest of the fic, mostly about which of the two boys Hermione wants to bang most.  It’s a wonder Harry manages to actually tell them Sirius is in the dungeon, smh.

Lucius arrives and Draco and Hermione hide in the wardrobe.  Only after Harry’s walked off to the dungeons with Lucius does Draco point out the wardrobe locks from the outside, so they’re now stuck.  This, of course, is a perfect opportunity for them to get drunk on butterbeer and make out.  Because why not?

Harry gets to Sirius and is miraculously left alone with him.  Sirius can smell that he’s really Harry, and this makes perfect sense because he’s a dog half the time.  What doesn’t make sense is Hermione’s constant musings that she can also smell the difference between Harry and Draco, who smell like a variety of painfully fanficcy nonsense, from coffee to maple syrup to lime and I cringed every time.

Anyhoo, Sirius tells Harry that it’s super weird Narcissa married Lucius because Narcissa was totes a nice girl at school and I started going cross-eyed at this point because I couldn’t believe I was watching a Sirius/Narcissa plotline emerge.

Harry nances back up to the bedroom to enlist Draco and Hermione’s help in saving Sirius, and goes apeshit when he catches them snogging.  Not at Draco—no, no, no.  Entirely at Hermione.

You know, if I left my female friend locked in a wardrobe with a guy I didn’t trust further than I could throw him, and then opened the wardrobe and found them all over each other, I’d kind of … assume it was the guy’s fault?  Like, my first instinct would be to push him off and check the girl’s all right, that he wasn’t assaulting her.

Not Harry.

Nope.

This is all definitely Hermione’s fault.

And I’d judge Harry for this, but Hermione’s actions over the next few chapters kind of explain his response.  I lost count of how many times she kissed Harry, then Draco, then Harry, then Draco, and got angry with both of them if they dared be upset at her constant cheating. Bella Swan was positively decisive compared to DD!Hermione.

After more mind-numbing bickering, they stick Draco under the invisibility cloak, what with him looking like Harry and all, and all head back to the dungeon to save Sirius. However, they’re caught by Lucius Malfoy, who somehow completely doesn’t recognise Hermione, who Harry introduces as his—Draco’s—girlfriend, a Ravenclaw and totally not a muggleborn at all.  Nope.

Also he kisses her.

Because you know. Hermione hasn’t done enough kissing yet. Not by a wide margin.

Lucius sends Harry away, and the instant he’s alone with Hermione he proceeds to pounce on her like a sexually starved dog attacking someone’s leg.  I’m a damn strong advocate for not censoring sexual violence in fiction, but this scene doesn’t further the plot in the least and has basically no emotional effect on Hermione after the fact.  It’s pointless.  Deeply uncomfortable, and pointless.

Welp, Draco chases his dad off Hermione by throwing shit at him from under the cloak, kinda like Harry throwing mud at Draco in Prisoner of Azkaban, and before Lucius runs off Hermione notices he’s clutching some ugly-ass necklace with a tooth in it.

Hmm.  I’m sure that’s not plot relevant at all!

A bunch of shenanigans happen that I don’t remember all too well because I read this whole fic in one evening at midnight, but eventually another Death Eater recognises Hermione, and Lucius gets right down to torturing her so she’ll tell him where Harry is, because he sent an owl to Hogwarts to lure Harry in to save Sirius so they could capture him and—

Wow.  Déjà vu.  This, um. This was actually written before Order of the Phoenix.

Huh.

Anyway, eventually Draco can’t stand it anymore and bursts out from under the cloak all, ‘TIS I, HAROLD POTTERSON, PLEASE DESIST!’ and Lucius totally desists so he can capture Draco and toss Hermione in the dungeon with Sirius.  I think Harry gets sent to Draco’s room again.  I think?

But basically he gets out and goes to save Sirius and Hermione, but you can’t get into the dungeon unless you’ve got Malfoy blood in your veins, so he sneaks to Draco, who’s now locked in a sparkly magic cage.  Harry decides to take the phrase ‘Malfoy blood in your veins’ 100% literally, and just straight up steal a bunch of Draco’s blood.  So of course they painstakingly set up a magical blood transfusion and—

Hahaha, just kidding! Harry slices their palms open with a knife and they hold hands until probably he’s got some Malfoy blood in him.

At this point, you may be wondering why the polyjuice potion hasn’t automatically turned Harry’s blood into Draco’s, since it turned the rest of him into Draco.  If so, stop thinking.  You’re not allowed to do that.

Also, what I haven’t mentioned until now is that this fanfic comes with artwork.  Wall-eyed anime Draco holding a black rose is the cover art, and it’s peppered throughout with crappy pencil sketches, mostly of Hermione swooning over either Harry or Draco.  It’s honesly worth reading the fic just to cringe at the illustrations.

Anywhoo, Harry runs back to the dungeons to release Sirius and Hermione, and then they meet Narcissa Malfoy, who tells them a) Voldemort is totes here already to kill Harry (Draco), and b) that ugly necklace of Lucius’s is actually a curse on Draco, so if the necklace breaks, he dies.  This is the only reason she’s stayed with Lucius all this time.  Poor battered wife Narcissa.

Boo.

They also learn that Voldemort isn’t going to kill Harry—instead he’s going to do some ridiculously convoluted magic to give Harry a magic metal arm that kills Muggles and Muggleborns, and then set him out with the Imperius Curse to kill people.  Why he wouldn’t just … give Harry a knife and send him out under the Imperius Curse to kill people is never explained.

Whatever.  Voldemort arrives and Draco makes some cutting remarks about him being ugly, because that’s a smart move?  Voldy realises pretty sharpish that Draco isn’t Harry, because Draco doesn’t scream bloody murder when Voldy pokes him in the face.  Then Voldemort removes the spell from polyjuice potion.

With two words.

He uses finite incantatem.

I’m serious, that’s it. Other characters have used finite incantatem several times throughout the fic, but apparently none of them thought to check if it would reverse the polyjuice potion.  This does get elaborated on later, but still, none of the characters questioned it. None of them said, ‘Oh duh, we should totally have tried that!’  I may have screamed into a pillow a little.

Anyway, Draco turns back to Draco and Harry turns back to Harry, and Harry possibly makes out with Hermione again.  Everything at this point is pretty fuzzy because it was getting late and I was on the brink of wishing for death.

EDIT: Because I can’t believe I forgot to add this before: Draco’s full name in this fic is Draco Thomas Malfoy.  Thomas.  After Tom Riddle.  He’s named after his Uncle Voldy.  Yes, that in an actual tear on my cheek.

Harry decides he can’t just leave Draco behind, so Hermione messes with the metal arm gadget and he whacks it on and storms in on the Death Eaters.  Voldemort starts monologuing, saying the instant Draco turned back to himself he told Voldy everything and totes betrayed Harry and Hermione.  Because you know, without the magical link to Harry, Draco’s just plain evil.

Then Voldy puts Harry under the Imperius Curse and … Harry just kinda tosses it off?  He throws out a line like, ‘You know the Imperius Curse doesn’t work on me!’ as if it’d been foreshadowed in any way at all, and I narrowed my eyes and sighed and moved on.

Harry uses the metal hand to fire lasers at all the Death Eaters, which doesn’t kill them since Hermione tinkered with it, but sends them all super far away.  That should be helpful … for like three minutes.  They’re adult wizards.  They can apparate.  Ugh.

Well, they don’t apparate. Harry takes off the metal arm and he, Hermione and Sirius march out of Malfoy Manor together.

This ought to be the end of the fic, right?  Harry and Draco are back to normal.  Voldemort was faced and defeated.  Just gotta wrap up the loose ends and all done, surely?

So imagine my surprise when I glance up at the top of my PDF and realise I’ve got over half the fic to go.

O-okay?

The crew grab Draco before he can scarper, because they want his help getting out of the Manor, since it’s all cursed and shit.  Now, remember when I said that getting in took a couple of spells and maybe a page?

Getting out takes ten times as long.

Yeah, suddenly Malfoy’s garden is full of hexes and booby traps and really, painfully obviously-stolen-from-Blackadder lines that Draco has to lead them all through.  (And yes, at this point I’d noticed several plagiarised lines, most of them cited half-arsedly at the end of their chapter.)

The whole way, Harry and Hermione are sulking because they think Draco betrayed them, Draco’s sulking because he didn’t betray them but they think he did, and Sirius is essentially me, face-palming at the idiot teenagers the whole way.

Eventually they get to this chasm, and Draco makes a magic path for them to cross.  Harry falls off, screaming ‘I LOVE YOU’ at Hermione, who is so dense she immediately convinces herself he couldn’t possibly have said that. Draco legs it back towards the manor alone, because I guess he’s still a prick.

Harry has some weird fever dream about Hermione in a yellow dress as he’s falling, and then he’s suddenly in the back of Arthur Weasley’s flying car with Ron and Fred and George, and honestly it took me half a page to realise the flying car wasn’t part of the fever dream.  Turns out Ron got the owl from Lucius Malfoy and came flying to the rescue with Fred and George, and they saw Harry fall and caught him.

They fly Harry back up to Hermione, who cries a lot, and while Sirius runs off to get Draco, Ron suddenly becomes Harry’s Life Coach is all like, ‘Harry, my man, my bud, pls tell Hermione how you feel about her now, we literally cannot stand this love triangle for another page.’

So Harry goes off to do just that, and Hermione.  Hermione. Hermione.  Twists everything he says, cries again, says she can never be with him because she loves him too much and it scares her, says she’s safer with Draco who can’t hurt her, and runs off sobbing.

Have I mentioned Hermione is kind of the worst?

Yeah.

Cassie broke Hermione. Thanks, Cassie.

Meanwhile, Sirius finds Draco and has a heart-to-heart with him, essentially saying that Draco reminds him of him, what with the Death Eater parents and the shitty home life, and that he learned to be friends with James and that was cool, so why not be friends with Harry?  Draco grumbles but comes with him, and I check the numbers at the top and still like, 100 A4 pages to go, what the fuck?

As Sirius and Draco return, Lucius Malfoy apparently remembers how to apparate and does so, right in front of them all.  He tries to kill Harry but Draco’s like ‘DADDY NO!’ and jumps in the way in an elegant and moving rendition of the climax from Pocahontas.

Lucius decides fuck it, he can make more babies, and goes to crush the necklace.  But Hizzle P. and da Crew dive in to stop him, and shove him in the trunk of the Ford Anglia.  Draco, however, is now basically dying from a dent in the necklace, so they rush him to Hogwarts.

There’s a lot of wrapping up at this point, but basically Draco goes to the Hospital Wing to get fixed up, Lucius Malfoy gets thrown to the Aurors, Narcissa agrees to testify against him.  It’s all looking like we’re heading for a happy ending.

And I look up.

Ninety.  Fucking.  Pages. Left.

‘Everything’s done!’ I’m screaming.  ‘What more is left to discuss!?’

Well, two things. First of all, Dumbledore has to sweep in and explain how Super Special both Harry and Draco are.  Apparently they’re both Magids, a stupid word Cassie made up for this fic, which basically makes them … super wizards?  I guess? It’s not terribly clear.  Either way, Dumbledore also says this is why Voldemort wanted to kill Harry as a baby and I cackled wildly because hindsight is 50/50 when you’ve read all seven books.  He also says Draco is a Magid, and Draco accidentally made the polyjuice potion permanent, and Voldemort is a Magid, and that’s why his finite incantatem stopped the spell.

Oh, you may be thinking, that’s nice.  At least that got explained.

Except.

EXCEPT.

ANY ONE OF THEM COULD HAVE AT LEAST TRIED FINITE INCANTATEM. DRACO COULD EVEN HAVE JUST ASKED SNAPE FOR HELP.  BUT NO. THIS WHOLE MESS JUST HAD TO HAPPEN.

MAGIDS IS A TERRIBLE EXPLANATION.

Well fine.  Draco also kind of hand-waves a half-arsed reason for wanting to be Harry—because apparently Harry is just so popular and well-liked, and poor woobie Draco isn’t.  At this point I think my eyes start melting out their sockets, because Harry is regularly despised by his classmates throughout the books, but fine. Whatever.  I just want this trainwreck finished.

But wait.

There’s still so, so much more.

What follows is pages and pages of Hermione humming and harring over Draco and Harry.  It’s dumb.  It’s agony.  I wanted to shake her, shake the author, shake the whole world, as I skimmed this drivel.  I wanted Harry and Draco to say fuck her, to admit they were each gayer than a rainbow parade and fly away together in the Ford Anglia like the end of Grease.

But no.  Finally, fucking finally, Harry finds the Mirror of Erised, hereafter to be known as the Mirror of Plot Convenience, and Hermione sees herself standing with Harry.  She decides he must be the one for her, and I’m put out of my fucking misery.

Siiiigh.

Draco Dormiens ends with a letter from Sirius to say that Narcissa’s getting divorced from mean old nasty Lucius, and she’s going to marry Sirius instead—and with hysterical screaming laughter from me.

  So that’s Draco Dormiens.

I’ll give Cassie Claire this: she’s good at creating hooks to propel you through the plot.  Even as I shook my head and tutted and rolled my eyes and screamed into pillows at the stupidity, I never stopped reading.  Each chapter gave me another hook—okay, so what’s Harry going to do; what about that necklace; how do they free Draco?

But oh my god, it was stupid.

Every character did something that felt just plain wrong at least once. Especially Hermione.  Hermione was the most painfully out of character: bitchy, selfish, hysterical, utterly awful.  A few times in the fic, Cassie mentions that Hermione doesn’t cry often. But that’s not true.  Hermione cries all the way through this fic.  If she’s not sobbing, she’s on the verge of tears.

I’m an absolute sucker for redemption arcs, but making Draco a poor, abused woobie in order to turn him good felt cheap and unrewarding.

And, of course, the plagiarism.  Jesus Christ.

Other people have covered this much better than me, but yes, I spotted several pinched or reworded lines in the fic.  This wouldn’t usually bother me in a not-for-profit fanfic, but Cassie did profit from her fanfic, in more ways than one (please, please read the exposé, it’s fascinating).  It also meant that, every time I saw a witty or well-written line I didn’t recognise, my instinct was to wonder where she’d stolen it from.  It’s really awkward to read with that level of paranoia hanging over you.

It’s not the worst fanfic I’ve ever read.  It’s not My Immortal level ridiculous or Master of the Universe level offensive.  If you’ve got nothing to do of an evening, it’s amusing enough for a few hours to laugh at the missteps—I honestly can’t believe a 27-year-old wrote DD; her craft is terrible—and it’s got enough plot to keep you relatively interested between the what-the-fuckery.

Just … have some paracetamol handy for when you’re done.  And a stiff drink.

[insecwrites]

Mail-Order Conjunx

Dedicated to @harutemu

Word Count: 3890 Pairing: Cyclonus/Tailgate Fandom: Transformers AO3 link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9723002 Summary: 

Cyclonus' function is a taxing, unrewarding, and draining ordeal. His entire function has been working towards alt-mode exemption, or a different escape from serving under a mad tyrant. The Senate sends him a gift to try and keep him complacent; he gets to build his own dream-mech. A build-order Conjunx, tailored to his every wish.

Galvatron intercepts it, and Cyclonus is left with the aftermath.

From the very first moment that Cyclonus had powered up, he had been exposed to the caprices of his superior.

Officially, his squadron had been built to become Galvatron’s most trusted and valued team of warriors – the backstrut to his army. A great gift of elite newsparks, ready to be groomed and formed into whatever Galvatron desired. Unofficially, the council hoped that one of the newsparks would learn to withstand Galvatron’s everchanging moods and violent tendencies so that there was a soldier that could handle the more sensitive documents.

Their plan B, Cyclonus suspected, had been a quiet assassination during Galvatron’s recharge.

If you asked Cyclonus, it wasn’t yet too late to set that plan into motion. Better late than never, after all. Maybe then he would finally have a full recharge cycle without interruptions. He stared up at the ceiling of his suite, and cursed the ringing from his console.

He grunted as he stepped off his berth, and he had to swallow a wave anger as one of the recharge cables snagged on a plate of armour. His console was still insistently ringing, and Cyclonus clenched his jaws together so that they didn’t show just how tired he was. It would be a mistake not to pick up. Even if Scourge often took his duties during Cyclonus’ recharge, Galvatron would be enraged if Cyclonus didn’t respond to his every beck and call.

He accepted the call, and watched the screen flicker through security checks. Surprisingly enough, the contact information was not Galvatron’s – but… a commercial number? How odd.

“Hello, am I in contact with Commander Cyclonus of Tetrahex military? Hi!” A mech on the other side of the screen greeted him, sitting primly behind a desk that looked like it had never been used for actual office work. The logo at the front of the desk was from one of the factories respondible for harvesting sparks and building frames. A newspark factory. Strangely enough, it did not appear to be a factory that specialised in warbuilds, or even any type of military-fit mech at all.

“...Hello.” Cyclonus said. He couldn’t remember contacting this factory – perhaps Galvatron had commissioned something from them without his knowing. Or, Primus forbid, he had been woken up in the middle of his recharge for an ad . “How did you access this number? This is an encrypted frequency.”

The mech on the other side of the camera blinked, clearly taken aback. “I’m sorry sir! This was the encryption that was filled into the contact-forms in your specifications document.”

“What kind of document.” If there was anything that Cyclonus knew, it was that documents and signatures were life’s worst traps. Especially ones that showed up out of nowhere.

“Your specially constructed-for-you conjunx enduera?” The mech on the other side had lost much of his confidence. “We- I called you to let you know that it’s been finished and shipped to you. You had some… unique choices, I should say, and I wanted to let you know we were able to fulfil them regardless of some minor issues.”

Cyclonus was dumbstruck. Of all the things to… – a mail-order Conjunx?!

He had heard of this practice, of course. In richer circles, people occasionally contacted a specialised bureau that would allow them to construct the mech of their dreams. Custom designs, custom optic-colours, custom personality cores, custom SPARKS even! Cyclonus found it a distasteful affair – mostly because of the name that had been given to it. A Conjunx was not someone you bought, and modified to suit your tastes. Most likely, the name ‘disposable frag toy’didn’t sound quite as glamorous and expensive.

There was only one bureau on all of Cybertron that handled mail-order mecha, simply for how outrageously expensive it was. One had to buy a spark from one of the hot spots, buy a frame design or commission a team of artists to make one, pick out bits of programming and personality traits - … And of course, a certified alt-mode exemption. Even though it could be argued that being someone’s personal shareware was a function, the laws said otherwise.

“I never ordered a conjunx.” Cyclonus said, and there was a flash of cold fear as he thought about the cost of the service. Was this some elaborate scam?! “Where did you send it to! I want you to cancel it!”

“Military base Tetrahex, sir!” The mech scrambled to reply. “It has been packaged in such a way that it can only be opened by you, or by an employee in case there was a defect. I- I am afraid I cannot cancel it- Did - was it not you who filled in the forms?”

“No. I have no credits for these kinds of luxuries!” Cyclonus replied, even as he checked into his credits account. It was an insane relief to find his funds still intact. The numbers ticked high for a mech of his caste and position, but he was still saving up for caste-exemption. A build-order conjunx would easily be ten times as much. “I never purchased a build-order conjunx. Show me the documents.”

“Yes sir!” The mech on the other side nodded quickly, and he lifted another datapad to his face. “It says right here that it was all paid for in advance by the Council. With, and I quote: “…a maximum credit use of 10.000.000, to be distributed by the receiver of the contract. Any unused credit will return to Council accounts.””

“The Council-?” Cyclonus blinked. Well, that explained. It wouldn’t be the first gift that he’d been given by the Council, but they had never gifted him something so expensive, nor had they ever failed to contact him just to have him repeat over and over how grateful and happy he was with his new gift. “The Council paid for everything.” Cyclonus mumbled, more to himself than to the mech on the other side of the screen.

“The frame, spark, and personality you requested were all paid for, yes. I will forward the necessary papers so you can see for yourself.” The factory mech said, and his fingers began to skitter over his console. His easy sales-mecha persona was starting to come back up, now that he could continue his usual spiel.“It was a surprisingly difficult mech to assemble, but we really hope to have pleased you, sir. We hope that your custom order Conjunx will bring you a lifetime of joy! I’m here to help answer any questions you might have about your custom built-” Cyclonus tuned the mech out, and quickly skimmed the document that the mech had forwarded. Indeed, everything was official. The right marks and ecryptions were in all the right places, and every bills had been paid - to the last shanix.

“- countless other options still available to you! There are still plenty of funds allotted for you to mod your conjunx in any way that you’d like. We offer a great range of interface mods, from enhanced silicone structures to additional ‘parts’, to-”

“Thank you.” Cyclonus interrupted the mech. “But I have urgent business to attend to. Please do not call this frequency again.”

“Oh, I-!”

The vidscreen blinked off, and Cyclonus took a moment to savor the silence before he closed his optics and let his head roll back. Time for yet another call to the Senate. Better get it over with right now, as opposed to adding it to his ever growing list.

He opened his most used contacts, and let his commlink dial directly to Senator Shockwave’s personal line. He needed the mech’s service and advice so often that they had long since decided to leave out Shockwave’s secretary. “Ah. Hello Commander Cyclonus.” Senator Shockwave practically sighed his greeting, and Cyclonus was tempted to do the same. “Is there a problem with lord Galvatron?”

When wasn’t there a problem with lord Galvatron? Cyclonus didn’t have the luxury of making a simple house call, unless it was to warn someone of what Galvatron was ABOUT to do. “Just now I got a call from a mech- factory. The service mech on the other side of the line told me that my custom-built mech was finished, and that the Council has paid for it.”

“What-? Oh! That is quite fast!” Senator Shockwave’s exhaustion lifted, and his optics seemed to light up as he looked into the camera. “I hadn’t expected to hear back from you so soon, or at all, really. I am happy to hear that it is not a crisis for once.”

“I suppose that means it is not a scam then.” Cyclonus replied dryly.

“It is all fully legal.” The Senator said jovially. “I know how much your work weighs on you, so I lobbyed for a fitting reward to be sent to you! I will say that I’ve been very curious as to what kind of frame you’d pick – though I wish I could have helped you with selecting a paintjob… It didn’t take you very long to decide on what you wanted if it is already being shipped!”

“Actually,” Cyclonus growled. “I was unaware that this gift had been sent to me, up until a few moments ago. I never received a form. Or a confirmation of any order.”

“You didn’t know we sent?…” Shockwave blinked slowly. “…Something must have gone wrong-… Your personal commlink is MIL.C-SND-987.08764.0993, isn’t it?”

It was his military commlink. Cyclonus offlined his optics again, and forcefully kept his venting slow and deep. “No. It is my military commlink code.”

Senator Shockwave furrowed his brows, the lighting playing off his polished faceplate. “I -… Forgive me if this is an ignorant question, but isn’t that much the same as your personal frequency?”

“Lord Galvatron’s senses are honed to sense any and all threats of betrayal.” Cyclonus replied stiffly. He would not swear, but the name of his commander served as a curse in itself. “Loyal as I might be, I am not excluded from his inspections.”

“He accesses your military commlink!?” Senator Shockwave said. He looked truly surprised, though it could have been an act. Shockwave was one of the nicer Senate-dwellers, but he was just as sly and slimy as his fellows.

“You cannot tell me you are surprised, Senator.”

“…I suppose I should have expected that he would do something like that, but surely he wouldn’t try to take your reward as his own…?”

Cyclonus felt like his silence was enough of an answer.

The Senator sighed, and brought up a hand to massage his short filials. “I am very sorry about this, Cyclonus. I’ll do what I can, but I suspect that the Senate will be unwilling to compensate for your lost gift. It was… well, let’s just say that we meant for this gift to be extraordinary, and it had a price to match. I will make sure you are still rewarded for your service.”

“You know what I wish for the most.” Cyclonus replied.

“Yes, yes I know.” Shockwave murmured. “And you will have your alt-mode exemption, as soon as it is possible.”

Cyclonus might have put more faith into that answer, if it hadn’t been given to him so many times before. The only one he trusted to help him with his future was himself. “Thank you for your time, Senator, but I have a recharge cycle to finish.”

Senator Shockwave heaved a sigh on the other side of the screen. He did not mention the time of day. Most mecha were wide awake at this time, but Galvatron kept odd schedules. “Of course. Please contact me again if there’s anything I can do. You are very overdue for a gift, after all your dedicated service.”

Cyclonus could not agree more, but he kept his lips pressed together. The senate’s gratitude was about as valuable as a gilded trophy. If they truly wanted to reward him, they would allow him to leave the military and take up a different function. As kind as Senator Shockwave was, even he didn’t feel much for allowing Cyclonus his freedom. Galvatron was hard to control, and Cyclonus was one of the few mecha that could do it.

Galvatron’s power was nothing to underestimate. If he wanted to, he could destroy entire planets, and decimate star systems. He had a talent for destruction He was a terrific double edged blade, and Cyclonus had been handed the honour of trying to wield it without cutting off his own hands..

“I will keep that in mind.” He replied stiffly. Once he had his alt-mode exemption, he would milk them for favours for all that they were worth.

He ended the video call, and marched back to his berth, lying down with as much spite as his pride allowed him.

Of all the rewards they could have chosen, they picked a live interface toy. As if that could convince him to keep his job as Galvatron’s damage control! As if it wouldn’t be a potential source for Galvatron’s jealousy, and another burden on his day-to-day life!

Cyclonus slowed down his vents and kept himself perfectly still and relaxed on his berth. There was no reason to get needlessly angry. Everything had turned out for the better. His ‘gift’ had been intercepted by Galvatron, and it was no longer Cyclonus’ responsibility. Hopefully it would keep Galvatron busy for a while so that Cyclonus would be able to get some work done without frantically asserting damage control behind his Lord’s aft.

Yes. It was a blessing that this ‘gift’ had made it to Galvatron’s hands instead of his own. Very unfortunate to the bot in question, most assuredly, but useful for Cyclonus.

Cyclonus turned onto his side, and searched for the recharge cables of his berth.

What a cruel fate for a mech; harvested from the fertile fields of Cybertron, already sold to someone before the sentio metallico had formed, surgically manipulated to satisfy someone’s bodily preferences… And then dumped with a mech like Galvatron!

Cyclonus shuddered, and fit the last of his recharge cables into place. He could only be grateful that he had been spared that fate.

-

In the days following the vidcall, Cyclonus’s life went on as it always had. Galvatron made no mention of the build-order mech, and Cyclonus did not mind that at all. The less he heard about Galvatron’s inclinations, the better.

It was at the end of a long, unplanned shift, that Cyclonus found a large pristine box blocking the doorway to his habsuite. Minimalistic, tasteful, and decorated with thin lines of ununtrium, there was no doubt that it contained something obscenely lavish. Cyclonus offlined his optics, took a long invent, and initiated his commlink to Galvatron.

“What is it!” Galvatron growled on the other side of the line. “I am busy !”

“My excuses, Lord Galvatron, but I believe a package for you has been mis-delivered to my habsuite.” Cyclonus replied.

“A package?” Galvatron’s answered. His inflection immediately changed from annoyance to excitement. “How typical – the servants of this world are so lazy and stupid – misdelivery! What is it!”

“A mail-order Conjunx, my Lord.” – So please just order me to bring it to you so I can forget about all of this and take a rest. Cyclonus added mentally.

“A-… Oh. That thing.” Galvatron said. Obvious disappointment at the lack of a gift and disgust sounded through in his voice. “Such filth isn’t for me.”

Cyclonus shuttered his optics off, and then on again. “…What is its purpose then, my Lord?”

“Why, it’s yours of course.” Galvatron said, and Cyclonus could practically taste the condescending smile in his voice.“A fitting reward for your great service.”

“I see.” Cyclonus knew that Galvatron couldn’t see his face, but he still angled his wings down, and kept his optics to the floor. “Thank you, my lord.”

“I made sure it would be useful beyond just acting as a warm hole and a spike, but of course, it is capable of interface.” Galvatron said. “Why mecha would desire something like that is beyond me, but do enjoy it. ”

“Of course. Thank you, my lord.” Cyclonus said.

“Hm, yes.” Galvatron said distractedly. Sometimes he played games while on the comms – sometimes he was in the middle of a meeting. Judging by the lack of nervous background chatter, Cyclonus guessed that it was the former. “Do keep the thing busy. I don’t want to see it lazing around and fuelling on our energon supplies. It’s your responsibility to keep it in check, am I clear?!”

“Yes, Lord Galvatron.” Cyclonus replied dully.

“Good.” Galvatron said, and the commlink cut off.

Cyclonus offlined his optics, and took a slow invent. He was tired. Another duty was packaged up inside of that box, and he barely knew if it was going to be anything he could enjoy. Cyclonus’ tastes were specific in that he did not desire intercourse with mechanisms he didn’t know. Knowing Galvatron, he was using this ‘conjunx’ as a creative insult.

Out of duty rather than excitement, Cyclonus dragged the box into of his habsuite.

The datapad on top was an informational packet. A bit of a misnomer in Cyclonus’ opinion, as most of it was about the benefits of a build-order Conjunx, and how absolutely amazing their brand-company was. There was a list of additional mods that could be installed, a giftcard to get a discount on his ‘next purchase’, a ‘suggested names’ folder… and of course, a single page that contained all the more important specs, model-details, legalities and warranties, written in the tiniest font that Cyberton had to offer. Of course.

Cyclonus skimmed through the ‘first onlining’ instructions, and then put the datapad away. Reluctantly he hooked his claws into the gaps on the sides, and triggered the unlocking sequence. The box whirred, and dramatic puffs of steam began to flow from the opening panels. Smooth and satisfying, the packaging folded open, small lights initialising to further draw attention to the polished form lying inside of a velvet cushioned inside.

… It was a waste-disposal groundframe. A disposable.

Cyclonus stared. There was nothing special about the bot in front of him. Cyclonus must have seen this same featureless face a thousand times on the street. A plain visor, with a white metal cap over a the rudimentary fuel-intake. No nasal ridge, no custom colours or designs – it wasn’t even a flyer! The body was no better. It had been posed to look enticing and to show off the shiny panelling, but it looked laughable on the thick little bot. The grounder’s tires were bulky and had thick profiles to help traverse the garbage dumps, and the mech’s seams were filled with rubber to keep trash and filth out. The words “WASTE DISPOSAL” were proudly etched into the mech’s arm.

The only thing that separated this mech from a million others of exact same build was the quality of his metal. At the very least, the factory had opted to use high-quality metals instead of the molten slag that other disposables were made from.

Cyclonus’s jaws were clenched tightly together. Well, that explained what Galvatron had meant when he’d said that the mech would be useful. Galvatron had quite the pronounced opinion on cleanliness and soldiers. Where any sane commander would require soldiers to clean their own base and berth, Galvatron thought that all cleaning had to be done by cleaning drones and disposables. It was still an issue that cropped up whenever Galvatron was given the opportunity to speak to the Senate, but they had never buckled.

Soldiers had nothing to do during peacetime, so why not have them perform the basic upkeep for their own weaponry, medibay, launchpads and barracks? Military drills could only fill up so much time of the day… Apparently this was how Galvatron intended to rebel.

The box chimed, and a singular gleaming button was unveiled. On top of it, beautiful gleaming letters shone up at Cyclonus.

~‘Initiate your new life’~

Cyclonus was sure it was meant to be taken in a positive manner. He pressed the button.

The box whirred, and there were soft clicks and clacks as vital parts were slotted into place. Cyclonus could even hear the pressurised gurgle of energon being injected into the frame, and the electric whine as everything booted for the first time.

The blue visor flickered to life, and Cyclonus stood by as the newspark began to move. Small testing movements began in the tips of its fingerjoints, ended in the soft roll of its head. The bot’s movements were jittery, and its – his? - visor flickered through all data packets that had been installed into it’s cortex before sendoff.

Cyclonus had no idea what had been installed on the bot. There had to be some options there – mods to create a more desired personality, or to eliminate any need to teaching, but he hadn’t checked if they had been installed on this bot. It wasn’t a far fetched idea that the bot’s programs would match up with its frame. A waste disposal drone was, after all, completely worthless unless it knew how to function.

“I-….” The little bot still seemed disoriented, and he looked around like he was completely lost before finally addressing Cyclonus. “Is is this the waste disposal plant? S-sir?”

“No.” Cyclonus responded. “This is military base Iacon.”

“Oh.” A silence fell between them as the disposable took in the new information and situation. “…Is… is this where I’m supposed to work then? My files say that I’m supposed to work at… um – Iacon waste disposal centre. I – are you my supervisor?”

Had there really been no other info-packets installed on him? Nothing outside of what he’d need for his function?

Cyclonus took in a deep breath, and let it flow out of his vents. “I suppose I am.” He replied. It wasn’t the drone’s fault that he had ended up here, intended as a gift and turned into a burden. If Cyclonus was in luck, the little bot would turn out to be obedient. Cyclonus bent forward, and undid the last few restraints that were keeping the mech’s legs inside of his packaging.

The waste disposal drone almost tripped over his own pedes when he tried stepping out of his box, and CYclonus watched him stumble around as he tried to find his balance. “Waste disposal Unit GT-5598 is ready to be assigned to a squadron and receive orders Sir!”

“What do you need in order to perform your function?” Cyclonus said.

The bot’s visor flickered slightly as he accessed his information packets. “Ah- er, a task list, a recharge-refuel berth, and the location of cleaning item storage rooms.”

It was do-able. Cyclonus supposed that waste drones wouldn’t be so plentiful if they were a chore to maintain. The only nuisance was having to assign it a room. Undoubtedly Galvatron would not want a berth to be occupied by a cleaner drone, so maybe Cyclonus would stick a recharge cable in his closet and keep the little bot there. It would have to work.

He began setting up a list of tasks for the small mech, purposely placing his own chores at the top of the priority list. Galvatron had mentioned that he could do with his ‘present’ as he pleased, and Cyclonus was going to use the disposable for his own gain for as long as possible.

[barbrabatman36-blog]

Lease A Cars and truck Online.

While many OWL resources encourage a longer writing procedure (start early, revise commonly, perform detailed research study, etc.), at times you simply must write quickly in exam situations. Actually, the much-touted boosted success of numerous auto firms is actually not accordinged to incomes off producing or even offering the lorries yet from charging enthusiasm to those acquiring them. The book does a really good project explaining the grow older of algorithm execution that has actually generated through the modern technology boom. The most effective time of the year for me to market a car is near completion from summer months when yearly rates are higher; and get 2 months eventually, when the market is actually swamped with new autos and also utilized auto rates go to their annual reduced. As an example, a solitary 25-year-old male driver will just pay an average of 4 percent much more for automotive insurance policy than his women equivalent. 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However, this was the 3rd jog where the auto suffered some warmth saturate from being actually stressed with nothing but a big blower ventilator as its resource of cold air. For that reason that would certainly have met its own responsibilities, and there will be actually no legal reason for which they would certainly must buy back the autos. The pedals are actually effectively weighted, also, which makes it a very easy automobile to drive easily, while the hand-operated transmission uses a slicker shift activity in comparison to other Hyundais. This happened years after the show - as well as after significant outside work - yet one car burst into blazes. We are actually ONE HUNDRED% over the air pollution limits yet encouraging individuals certainly not to utilize their automobiles is hard," he claimed. So, supposing a power car will not work with you, deciding exactly what to purchase upcoming is actually a case from working out the lower from two miseries. An additional reason why people are actually currently securing electricity cars is actually to relish the income tax breaks and various other perks that the federal government as well as state government are offering. A good size opening tool is also offered, best for those spaces in between the seat and door-pillars, but there is no on board storage for this. That has been actually changed 17 times, including one change to make alcohol unlawful (1917) and yet another to allow its purchase again (1933). To pass as well as make points to auto upgrades, you need to trump the intended rating. Firstly, this form of a transaction assists the shopper receive a really good very first palm knowledge concerning your house, since you understand the rate from your home just when you start living in this. Slight concerns that are actually certainly not apparent from the outside, for example dripping pipes, repaint falling off and so on That doesn't sound like much, yet like the BMW i3 this is a vehicle designed as a metropolitan run-around instead of far away cruiser. On October 17, 2016, Bloomberg posted a document advising that the Apple Car may never observe the illumination of day, defining just how Apple has 'dramatically scaled back its vehicle passions'. If you possess the capacity to han In my brief life I have discovered that brief novels must be read for just as long as they may be. Then the good ones ought to be reread. This can result in head-aches, back-aches, as well as neck-aches (in addition to certainly not appearing comparable to our experts can). The majority of automobile customers will not possibly see the distinction anyways, as the Genesis car just had pair of Hyundai symbols - on the trunk cover and plastic engine cover. GDDR5 possesses incredibly higher latency, thats the complication great for delivering gigantic pieces from records gradually down that yet bad for small bits that have to go very quickly, i do not indicate 100GB/s fast i suggest like 1ms fast rather than 10ms quickly sort of package and thats eSRAM stamina. This's likely that our team'll get require a lawful interception functionality in self-driving autos: the energy for the cops to send a signal to your auto to compel that to stopped. The Mercedes E300 is my best selection for a high-end car if I were actually purchasing a cars and truck that reduces my daily commute, yet is still pleasurable to own on the weekend breaks. The good news is for Rickey Pearce, he understood only where to go to seek cars and trucks online to make his selection easy.

[tbsbookclub-blog]

Diaries of a Hopeless Romantic - Firas Aouinet

Her: What would you do if you were bestowed with a million dollars? Him: *inhaling deeply, exhaling slowly, running a hand through his hair* well... That would be the peak of generosity. I've so much in my mind that I don't know where to start. Her: Don't think. Be spontaneous. Say the things that come straight to your mind. Him: Gym equipment. No no. I'd buy a big house with a gym that's equipped with the tools I need. It shouldn't be much, I'd need a bench, a set of dumbbells, a set of resistance bands, a pull-up bar, a couple of MMA gloves, a punching bag and yoga mats. I don't need the fancy machines. 

I'd get my driving licence. I'd pay my parents’ debts. I'd buy my parents nice new clothes, take care of my mom's health problems, get her the treatments she needs. I'd invest some of the money in a profitable project, so I could have a stable income. I'd buy lots of books, the ones I've always wanted like the 4 remaining volumes of "series of unfortunate events" , the 4 remaining volumes of "The dragon chronicles" and the whole "The vampire diaries" books set. I'd buy all the healthy food I've always dreamed of eating and all the supplements I need to build my muscles and burn all that stubborn belly fat. And how can I forget about shopping? I may be a male, but I love shopping for new clothes. Vests, boots, oxfords, monk straps, wingtips, designer shirts and *raising his voice in excitement* NIKE MERCHANDISE. I might invest in a gym. If I'm to make money out of something, I might as well invest in something that I'm passionate about. Throw in dancing lessons over here, cross-fitness classes over there, some cardio kickboxing sessions, weight lifting,the whole package. I'd be my own boss and to top it, I'd be a trainer as well. I'd be able to buy watches, suits, shades, ties. I'd have a a whole room just for my clothes. I'd buy a new performance computer with all the gadgets that come along. I'd get the grooming kit  I've always wanted. I'd get the fancy facial care stuff. It sounds girly, but it's of paramount importance that I take care of my body. But what I'm mostly looking forward to is... *looking her dead in the eyes with flooding affection and overwhelming awe* buying a plane ticket to Romania to fly over there and spend my holidays with you. *so casually* Oh and a wedding ring.

Her: *staring at him, silent* Him: babe what is it? her: *eyes filling up with tears* what if I said that you only get to have 500 dollars out of the million? Him: *as fast as a thunderbolt* buy a plane ticket to Romania. The rest of the money will be pocket money for our daily dates for my whole staying. her: *tears of joy* I love you. Him: *hugging her* I love you more. *he sighs* all this day-dreaming stirred up some upsetting emotions. Money would solve most of my problems. The general statement about money is that it can't buy you happiness. Money can't buy you permanent happiness because it can definitely buy you a few minutes, hours, sometimes even days of happiness. And let's be honest, there's nothing in the whole vast universe that can give you constant, unending happiness. Hear me out: Even love has its ups and downs. There are break ups, needing space, arguments, quarrels and constant bickering. Even if there were such a thing as a perfect relationship where all those negative factors are taken down to their minimum level, DEATH would kill that happiness. Pun intended *he takes his tongue out at her*. Howbeit, I'll admit to this: love's happiness has to be better than money's, and you're the only example I need for that *he grins at her and she launches herself at him, bear-hugging the life out of him* Would you like to hear about my date ideas? Her: *sniffling* I do babe. Tell me. Him: *putting his index over his pursed lips* hmmmm.... Let's see.. For our first night, you'll be taking me to your favorite restaurant. NO SUSHI though! Just thinking about eating raw fish makes my skin crawl and I want none of that. We'll go for a walk afterwards, maybe we'd check the park you're always telling me about. And if it happens and we find ourselves alone there, we might end up having some fun and we'd finish our fun back at your bedroom. No need to go for the details now or it might spoil the surprise. I've got some new moves that I'm dying to show you.. We'd sleep until late morning the next day, I'd make you breakfast in bed, I'd cook you some of the recipes I learned through an awesome youtube channel called "5-minutes craft", which reminds me that you should definitely check it out, it has extra awesome hacks in about whatever domain that's involved in our daily lives. Since you'll probably have school, I'll sit at home, read a book, write something Or... *a light bulb flashes on top of his head* I'd sneak in class with you, have a taste of what you deal with 5 days a week. Maybe I'll get the chance to prank that pervert Analytical Chemistry professor. Boy do I want to teach him a lesson not to hit on you again. Oh I'll definitely kick Braun in the balls though for ordering you that alcoholic drink the other night. As for Armand... *he narrows his eyes thoughtfully* I'll cook something up especially for him. I might put Cyanide in one of his drinks, or maybe itching powder in his clothes OR I could simply beat the shit out of him, who knows, I'm unpredictable. her: *nudging him in the stomach* Would you stop it? Why do you have to be so mean? Him: *wicked smirk covers his devious face* You wouldn't call me Lucifer if I wasn't, now would you? Besides, it should be fun and thrilling for me since I don't want neither of them to be my friends, nor will I encounter them again. Don't even try to think of one of those almost-impossible-to-happen scenarios where I end up working for one of them or even the both of them because I'd quit my job immediately. Did I say quit? I wouldn't even apply. If anything, I'll have them both work for me and I'll make their lives a living hell just for trying to mess with what's MINE. Her: OH MY GOD I'm dating a sociopath! Him: *faking surprise* Why would you say that? What could I have possibly said that would indicate ME being a sociopath? Her: Your tone. You were so casual about it, no high pitched voices or anything that would imply that you're angry. Him: My self-control training is fruitful! Fantastic! Her: You? Self-control? You've the emotional intelligence of a child! Him: You and me both honey *he kisses her neck*. Now would you please let me get back to my fantasy trip? Thank you! Now where was I? AHA! I was making their lives a living hell. I've taken the liberty to look up tourist sightseeing locations and I landed on a couple that I'd love for us to inspect. Inspect? Why would I use inspect? I guess I couldn't find another synonym for visit. Anyway, Romania is crawling with castles and I'd love to pay a visit to each and everyone of them, have that Dracula experience in the Bran Castle. Maybe if we're lucky, one of us will get bitten and turn the other and we'll live happily ever after feasting on people's blood. Her: My god you're insane. Let me check *she knocks on the back of his skull with her knuckles* No, it's empty. You officially don't have a brain. It's just a hollow empty space in your crane. Him: *completely disregarding what she just said* We'd have to get daylight rings though. Do you know any witches? No? It's okay. There must be a couple lurking around that castle. We'd pay one of them to construct us a 2 for each of us, you know in case we lose one, we'd have the second. If we have enough cash, we'd have 3 made for each of us. Mine will have to look like Stephan's from The vampire diaries. I call dibs on that. Well those castle visits would probably cost us 4 days minimum. We'd spread them across the whole week and in-between we'd go bowling and I won't let you win because I'm competitive as hell. Her: *intercepting his words* As if I need you to win by myself. I've been practicing with Armand... *She suddenly stops mid-sentence and slowly looks up at him all puppy-eyed and apologetic* Him: *his facial features change, jaws clenching, stare hardening piercing through her wide eyes* *in a voice that's calm and almost a whisper* You.are.going.down. As for him, I'll be inflicting the worst of penalties upon him. *a shadow of a grinch-ish grin appears on his face* Now how about we make a bet? Her: *confused* What bet? Him: If I win, you'll be paying for dinner every single night. Hold up, my terms aren't over yet. You'll have to kick him in the balls as hard as you can while telling him not to bother you again with no option of apologizing to him afterwards EVER. If you win, I'll literally do anything you ask of me. You can ask me to be your slave, you can ask me to give up video games, ANYTHING. But mark my words babe: I've a huge appetite in the evening. Her: Why are you this evil? How could I have allowed myself to fall in love with someone as devilish as you? It's like satan went "hmmm I'd like to walk among humans and see what all the fuss god has made is about! Alright I'll shapeshift into one of them and walk amongst them" And TADA here you are. Him: *holding her with both hands by the cheeks* I don't think satan is able to be vulnerable with the only human being he's in love with! *he kisses her* And I'm totally defenseless against you. Her: *sarcastically* Satan is THE master of lies, deception and deceit. You could be doing that just now! Him: *tickling her* you think you're so smug, don't you? Nevertheless, I'm kicking your glorious behind in bowling and that's that because I said so! I'm looking forward to the day where I'm offered 500 bucks babe. *he gawks at her* I love you Her: I love you too!