#stop it with the “we won” “they lost” rhetoric because no one won shit

[i-dont-know-how-this-site-works]

Look, I've been a Wowki shipper since trailer number fucking 1 came out all those years ago, but all this talk about "Lokius nation, we won", "Sylki kiss was retconned", "They are still pining for each other", etc. doesn't matter shit because no one won. Sylkis didn't win and Lokius shippers didn't win either, because Loki ends up alone, miserable, and fulfilling his glorious purpose which is not glorious at all.

No one won. Stop treating the finale as if it confirmed Lokius' canonical status or threw away what happened between Loki and Sylvie last season. This is the MCU we are talking about- Lokius was never meant to be, even if the hints were there. And Sylki didn't turn out to be either, because in the end, it was about Loki's purpose in the grand scheme of the saga. Not his romantic life.

On that note, I will be off to write my 50k sad Wowki fic.

[soulc-hilde]

Game Shakers / Ch. 03

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

Pairing: Eminem x OFC!

Warning(s): Cursing, Drug Abuse, Racial Discrimination, Sexual Assault, more may be on the way as the story progresses

Summary: 2000s is quite the highlight between the fashion and rise of pop culture. Seemingly the new faces of shock value, rapper Marshall Mathers and rockstar King Woods finds a common ground amongst the unnecessary bullshit.

2019

“When I say that Marshall is a charmin’ son’f a bitch, I fucking mean it,” King laughs, shaking her head.

“Why is that?”

“So, after the VMAs, there was an after party, right?” She rhetorically asks. “I hate those damn things with my soul, but we had to stick it out until we were allowed to go home.”

A huge smile begins to grow across her face, “Matteo had made a deal with me that day and it was, if I could stay there for like… half an hour, I could leave early and Marshall walks into the party…”

1999

Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, N*SYNC, and whoever the fuck else crowded surrounded the venue on top of the heaping bodies of their plus ones and management teams, maybe even sneaky fan and paparazzi here and there.

Sitting in a section on the 2nd, per King’s request, the sixtet drank and made jokes about… well, they made not so nice jokes. They people watched from the balcony, amused at how such televised royalties could act so trashy under the influence. It was so stupid. This entire shit-tick was stupid.

Nursing her beer, she added the occasional hums into the conversation as her friends actively talked. “Fuck, work,” Matteo smiled, “we can talk about it later. Iris, Tink, how’s your lovers?”

The two laughed, shaking their heads at the mocking sounds of kissing. Tink spoke first, “Carson’s doing fine. I’m sure he lost his mind when we won our awards and performed. He’s like our #1 fan, he just needs the fucking styrofoam finger.”

They laughed, picturing the 6’7” sized man jumping with that damn finger on his hand - that is, if there was one big enough for his hands. Irish then chimed in, “Terrance is good, too. We’ve been hustling about, getting our shit in order for the wedding.”

“Speaking of which,” Maliyah trailed, “did you guys speak on making your relationship public or keeping it private?” Iris nodded, “we want to go public, but we’re thinking about doing it after the wedding.”

Everyone nodded before continuing. King glanced over the balcony to meet a pair of cerulean eyes staring up at her. Paired with such beautiful features was bleach blond hair and slightly chapped lips that sat in a natural pout. A small smile stretched across her face and before she could stop herself, she waved him up.

With a small smile of his own, he sent a nod her way and made his way to the stairs with Dre and Proof following behind. He weaved around the crowd, never leaving her own. Just footsteps away from her table, he nearly started speed walking to sit beside her.

“Uh, hey,” he greeted softly, chubby cheeks pulled back to reveal a small smile and hidden dimple.

Charmed, King leaned against the booth, smiling. “Howdy,” she laughed, sipping her drink. "How'd you like your first award show?" He shrugs, eyes bouncing around the venue to avoid her dark ones.

"It's a'ight," he answered, "it's crowded and the whole carpet thing is stupid as hell." King snorted, "you ain't say nothin' but a word. At our first event, journalists were calling me a bitch all because I couldn't be bothered to play stupid."

The two shared a laugh. Marshall fumbled with a loose thread on his button up, debating on his next move when he suddenly blurted: "Just like how that reporter tried to get you slandering my name, huh?"

Instantly, the two perk up, waiting for the other to make their move. King made her's first, setting her drink down with a sigh. "I'm guessing she then snitched away? If there's one thing not alot are warned when signing their life away, these industry folks are snakes."

"From your colleagues in the business down to the reporters," she continued, shaking her head, "you never know who's willing to switch up at the drop of dime."

He added on, "but you and the others didn't. Y'all could've written me off as every name in the headlines and walked off, stirring shit just to stir shit, but you didn't. Why?"

King bit her lip, memories of her own encounters with the phonies of Hollywood came flooding in. "I've had my fair share of sellouts and backstabbers. I mean, look at the genre I mainly partake in... it's a field of white men projecting their lies and deceit onto us because we're women who aren't afraid to strum a guitar."

"I 'ppreciate it," he hummed, "truly. Speaking of you strummin' a guitar, how'd you even get into all of this anyways? Not to sound like those who wish on my downfall, but wouldn't rock be considered a 'white genre'?" His fingers quoted around the ridiculous phrase.

King smirked, "not really. the genre was created off of blues and jazz, much like country. Hearing us on the radio was far better than Chuck Berry or Little Richard on stage all because they were black and then Elvis came along. Now, flash forward to right now."

Marshall nodded, smirking, "don't tell me you're a country girl. I could handle the whole rock look, you look fine as hell, but country? Like, yeehaw? Oh, nah." King fell into a guffaw, her head falling back against the booth as he watched with satisfaction.

"You're goofy as hell, man," she wiped her eyes. "First off, your yeehaw was off. Secondly, so what if I'm a country girl? Don't tell me that a little accen' can easily push ye' away."

He bit his lip, eyeing her down with a charming side grin. "Mhm," he nodded, "never mind." She raised an eyebrow, "wha'chu mean? I already got'chu thinkin', huh?" She laughed, "regardless, I'm not a country girl, I was raised more in the city than the countryside unlike my parents."

"What'a'bout you? I know, fo'so you're a city boy," she giggled. Marshall playfully smacked his lips, "shut up. I'm from, uh, Detroit. I lived in the trailer park, mostly." King nods, listening closely.

He shrugged, "I mean, I have family in the south. They're from Missouri, I've lived back and forth, but spent most of my time in Detroit." She raised an eyebrow, leaning back, "Missouri roots? I've never been with a Missouri boy before."

"Oh?" Marshall playfully leaned back, his hand laying flat on his heart. "So, I'm takin' you want'a piece of me?" King snickered, bitting the inside of her cheek as a desperate measure to hide her smile. "Never said that. You're just new to me."

He raised an eyebrow now, "oh, so white boys being nice to you is new? Tell me more." King silently side-eyes the younger man, cheesing. Breaking their staredown, Matteo nodded his head at King with a soft smile. "30 minutes is up, King, you can head for the hotel, if you want to."

She nodded, sending him a silent thanks. "What does that mean?" Marshall asked. "Is that an escape plan or somethin'?" She laughed, "yeah. Somethin' like that. Matteo and I usually agree that I stick around this bullshit for 30 minutes and then I can head home."

"You're really not a fan of these things, are you?" He acknowledged her truth. She shaked her head, "if I could hate people, I would. If you want, we can hang out somewhere else. I don't have to go back to the hotel."

Marshall sent a small smile her way, "I'm not gonna bother you or anything like that?" King smiled back, "you couldn't, even if you tried." He nodded, "lead the way, then. I'm not picky." The two leave, sending quick waves while ignoring the joking catcalls.

He couldn't believe it, women was a sore topic for him as he tended to lay all the trauma from his mother and the inherited toxicity of Kim onto every other woman in the world, but King gifted him a different perspective. There was an obvious edge to her, it was like some puzzled code, but she didn't allow it to live life through her.

2019

"I don't publicly speak on much when it comes to King and I, and for a reason," Marshall sighs, speaking with every thought. "But, that night was probably the best night of my life back then."

"Since your overdose, you've stated before that there's a number of things from the past you just can't remember. Would say that it's the same for all of your memories with King?"

Marshall nods, "every moment I had with her in the start, I remember. From our good moments to our bad ones, I can think of them and smile. That may be because I always associated her with happiness and relief, or uh, a sense of comfort. I've never had that as a child and I never felt that with Kim."

"Would you say that night, is the night that you fell in love with her?'

"Surprisingly," he pauses, "no. No, that wasn't the night that I fell in love with her."

Taglist: @slytherinroyalty16

Series Masterlist

[redorich]

I literally woke up, checked tumblr and was like oh shit...that cliffhanger was terrible and I need to know what happens next!

Anonymous said to redorich: Ther Hermitcraft vs Dreamsmp war really is just gonna be a 2 hour long Dreamsmp cringe moment compilation huh. Also I like what you wrote! That fight fic was EPIC, but I do wonder why tf does Dream want Tommy back rn? I guess to solidify his status? Like, look at me I’m the righteous son! I’ve saved this infant child!

Anonymous said to redorich:

how could you end in a cliffhanger my day is ruined- /j /lh (but in all seriousness, HOLY SHIT DUDE IM SO HYPED UP FOR THIS YOU HAVE NO IDEA - Art Anon (the one who asked if you liked art of your work and such :>)

-------

The dreamon whispers in his mind. He can’t tell which thoughts are his own. His fingers twitch on the handle of his axe, whether he’s faced with friend or foe. Dream wants to be this insidious person he’s become. He can’t remember why he was ever kind.

Tommy, that obnoxious prick. He’s the only one that ever consistently said no to Dream. It infuriates him. He loves it. He wants that again, for someone to tell him no, you’re wrong, you’re being a dick. The dreamon doesn’t like it, but it does like breaking Tommy’s spirit. Dream has to have Tommy back.

In the end, the kid makes it easy on him: he comes to Dream. Philza’s there too, which is a complication, but Dream knows he’s better than Philza. He can kill him if he needs to. Tommy won’t forgive him for it, though. The thought is delicious.

They face each other on the balcony of the HEP tower. Dream killed all the snipers hiding up here. No doubt they’ve respawned.

“They don’t really care about you, Tommy,” Dream smiles indulgently. Stupid child. “They think you’re a novelty. They pity you, because you know blood like I do. Don’t you miss it? These ‘hermit’ assholes-- they go on and on about how everyone is equal, but it’s bullshit. Where’s your admin?”

Philza shifts uncomfortably from his position behind Tommy, swayed by Dream’s rhetoric but unwilling to compromise on his son’s wellbeing. Tommy snarls. He doesn’t know where Xisuma is, but he knows exactly what the admin is doing.

Dream barks out a nasty laugh. “If the hermits really liked you, if your admin really cared, he’d be here. But I’m here, Tommy. I fight alongside my men. Look around. All the death, all the destruction? I did it all for you.”

Dream slithers closer, still smiling. Phil raises his sword minutely, and Dream stops approaching but doesn’t back away.

“I’m your only friend, Tommy. I visited you every day in exile. Remember the trident I gave you? We had good times together.” Dream’s voice grows hard. “Then you lied to me. You turned your back on me. I have been nothing but patient with you. I’ve given you so many second chances. This is your last one. Come back home with me.”

Tommy meets his father’s gaze. He can barely see past the water in his eyes. His breath catches in his throat as he holds his arms up, silently asking Dream for a hug. Tommy needs this, he needs this to happen.

Knowing that he’s won, Dream grins triumphantly. He wraps his arms around the young man, then chokes. Philza meets the possessed man’s shocked gaze over Tommy’s shoulder as blood flows freely down the blade of his sword, seeps into Philza’s palms as he yanks out the sword that he’s buried in Dream’s chest through his son.

“What--” Dream rasps, trying to pull away from Tommy. The boy’s hands around his back are suddenly a vise grip, nails like claws digging into his shoulderblades.

The hermit admin, unseen til now, swoops down with his elytra and shouts in a language that Dream doesn’t understand. The dreamon knows it, though. As the tall, armored admin flicks through debug screens, the floor glows purple with Aurebesh runes. Dream’s skin feels like it’s melting.

The sky goes black, then white. Consciousness returns to Dream in patches. A short woman with flowers in her brown hair is splashing the two of them with healing potions-- Tommy is still holding him up. All at once, the gravity of the situation hits him.

“Hold your fire!” he roars. Half of his men are dead anyway.

He grips desperately at his hair. “Oh God, what have I done?” He feels physically ill. “Tommy, kill me. I only have one canon life, it’ll stick, I deserve it for what I did to you.”

Tommy hears Philza suck in a sharp breath. The man that he once loved like another brother, the man he’d fought wars both with and against, the man who took everything from him, is laid out in his arms and begging for Tommy to take his revenge. It would be so easy. Tommy wouldn’t even need a sword. Technoblade wouldn’t have hesitated, if it was him here instead of Tommy. Even Tubbo would feel enough pity to put Dream out of his misery.

Tommy remembers when he lost his first canon life to Dream in a duel for his nation. He remembers seeing Wilbur’s unstable features light up when Dream gave him eleven and a half stacks of TNT. He remembers exile, and everything that came before it.

Tommy also remembers when False caught him stealing her cobblestone, and she gave him a shulker box full of it. He remembers when Impulse saw Tommy’s war room, and wept for Tommy’s childhood. He remembers the proud look on Grian’s face when they pranked Doc together. He remembers, at every turn, expecting rejection, and receiving kindness.

“No,” he says, and is taken aback by the firmness in his own voice.

Dream’s face twists in an ugly sneer, more inwardly directed than a jab at Tommy. “So that’s what I get, huh? You’re going to leave me alive to suffer?”

“No,” Tommy repeats. “We’re going to fix things. We’ll make them better.”

“That’s impossible,” Dream says incredulously.

Tommy smiles. “Not impossible-- just hard. You’re up for a challenge, yeah? I believe in you.”

The sun sets on dead bodies and rubble. The moon rises with a gleam of hope.

[miaclemeverett]

Was c!Wilbur worse than c!Dream? c!Wilbur, Conflict, & Manipulation

I made a thread responding to this tweet about how people have begun to paint Wilbur’s early actions in terms of his actions during Pogtopia. 

The original tweet:

/rp /dsmp can we talk abt how wilbur was literally the absolute worst and we all just let it slide because “ghostbur cute ah hah ” like. holy shit he is arguably worse than dream in terms of manipulation and deserves that prison just as much and yall just forgot abt it

My response:

I think people need to realize that in the Dream SMP canon, Tommy and Tubbo pretty much view Wilbur as 2-3 different people. And I don't mean Ghostbur and Alivebur. Tommy and Tubbo still truly admire and miss the "old Wilbur" - he was their friend and hero.

The "Old Wilbur" led the boys against Dream and his words ("SUCK IT GREEN BOY") are literally their driving motivation in the disc war finale. The "Old Wilbur" acted tough and said "Revolution or death" but when they all died in the control room & when Tommy decided to duel Dream, Wilbur was SCARED for them and immediately wanted to end the revolution so that they'd be safe. 

The "Old Wilbur" was a leader who just wanted to lead a peaceful nation using words rather than violence, who only made Tommy his right-hand man when Tommy learned that he shouldn't continue a cycle of griefing and violence against Dream (i.e., Dream griefed Tommy's house but Tommy shouldn't grief Dream's). I think Niki and Fundy feel the same way in that they miss the man Wilbur USED to be.

I would argue, quite controversially, that people overestimate the extent to which Wilbur manipulated Tommy. Wilbur did not want to go to war against Dream. Dream is the one who declared war, and Wilbur was the one who wanted to end the war the minute that they died in the control room and their safety was under threat. Before Pogtopia, Wilbur and Tommy were pretty much brothers. 

But when Wilbur lost the election, that's when he started to lose everything and distrust everyone around him. I absolutely see Wilbur's "are we the bad guys" speech as Wilbur manipulating Tommy to get him onto his side, because at that point Wilbur felt that the only person he could rely on was Tommy. Everyone else (in his mind) was either -

1) Secretly betraying him/had betrayed him (Tubbo, Quackity, Niki, Fundy) or  2) Using him (Dream, Techno). 

I do think near the end, though, that Wilbur let go of Tommy & stopped caring about getting him on his side. He had decided on going out alone to do what "needed" to be done.

In summary: I hate when people use the drug van & the war as evidence of Wilbur manipulating Tommy. The drug van is literally a meme and they both were having fun with it. Tommy was literally fighting wars BEFORE WILBUR WAS ON THE SERVER. And Wilbur did not want a war.

So it makes sense why some characters - Tommy & Tubbo for the most part - view Wilbur as a heroic sort of figure, because they miss the Wilbur he "used" to be. They don't want to remember what Wilbur became as power corrupted him, from the election to Nov 16. But pretty much all the other characters hate Wilbur lmao they don't even remember his history! He's a villain! They call him crazy and bad! Tommy is scared to bring Wilbur back because he might get the “other Wilbur” who “turned” bad!

They responded with a great point about Wilbur shaping the perception of Dream as a villain: 

i think tho that wilbur had a real hand in shaping the way dream was perceived, like, forever. wilbur painted dream as a villain from l’manburg’s birth and dream just. embraced it lol. wilbur def started to change around the election arc tho. 

i think he got paranoid that his position of power would be questioned and instead of staying calm he rushed to strengthen his claim to rule by holding an election. he immediately went wrong tho because the moment he rigged it, his claim that l’manburg was a “people’s nation” seemed disingenuous and effectively delegitimized the foundation l’manburg was built on, which was freedom. i think that’s when the “old wilbur” began to kinda. crack.

And my response: 

People really miss the mark on L'Manburg's founding. They often see that as Wilbur manipulating Tommy from the start & casting Dream as a villain unjustifiably, when in reality it's more complicated. People act like Wilbur & Tommy wanting to claim a few 100 blocks as their own was reason for Dream to declare war (against a country that didn't even wear armor or use weapons in its walls) and Wilbur himself had quite mixed feelings about Dream (he literally said after they won independence that he could get used to living alongside Dream as an independent country & that he hated Eret more than Dream lol). 

It's only when Wilbur saw that he had no power that he started emphasizing the country's anti-Dream rhetoric to try and win votes. 

I feel like people forget that *Tommy* villainized Dream from the beginning, before Wilbur was even on the server, while Wilbur had much more mixed emotions & motivations towards Dream.

[sunflowergirl522]

Runaway: Their Journey Begins

Pairing: Tiefling!Bucky x Elf!Reader

Summary: Bucky takes a lot of jobs to make a living and this one was no different. Except for the fact that it’s for an elf prince and elves tend to avoid him in general. He accepts and with Sam and Steve they start their journey to find the elf prince’s runaway bride.

Word Count: 2,551

Warnings: Language (if there’s anything else let me know)

Bucky and Steve sit in a dark corner of the crowded tavern drinking from their mugs of beer. They decided to come for some drinks to celebrate the mission they just successfully completed.

“How mad do you think Sam is since we had to trade away his lute for the jewel?” Steve chuckles as he asks Bucky the question.

“Seeing that he separated from us as soon as we got in here he’s gotta be fuming. I bet steam is coming out of his little ears just thinking about it. Where is he anyway?” As if on cue a table falls over and their heads turn in the direction to see Sam standing where it once was in front of an orc who’s just realizing what happened. You can tell just looking at Sam that he’s both very drunk and angry. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out Sam pushed the table over.

“Watch where you’re walking, you big oaf! You almost trampled me!” Sam kicks the orcs legs while he speaks. Bucky and Steve both look at each other knowing what’s about to happen.

“You spilled my drink on me. Who do you think you are?” The orc lifts Sam up by the collar of his shirt and yells at him.

“It’s your turn to save him. I did it last time.” Steve sips from his mug nonchalantly as he reminds Bucky.

“For such a small guy he sure causes a shit load of problems.” Steve laughs as Bucky hesitantly gets up to help their friend. “Hey buddy! Why don’t you pick on someone closer to your size?”

“Get out of here handle head. I have no issues with you.”

“Yeah well now you do.” Bucky gives a punch to the orcs stomach and he drops Sam. 

“Okay devil man you asked for it.” That’s when the tavern erupts into chaos. Bucky’s quicker than the orc and dodges his punch while landing a blow to his crotch and knocks him back onto a table. He climbs on top of the orc to land blow after blow to his face.

The tavern doors open and everyone freezes as elven guards walk into the building. It’s rare to see elves in the tavern and you never even see sun elves anywhere. Sun elves normally just stuck to their own areas. So seeing a bunch of royal guards coming into the tavern was enough to stop Bucky mid punch to figure out what’s going on. A hush falls over the tavern and the people who were muttering to each other go silent as an elf prince walks in. He stops in the doorway and scans through the building before his eyes land on Bucky. The prince makes his way over to him stopping just in front of the table. He makes a face of disgust looking at the bloody orc before speaking.

“I’m in need of your services.” Bucky’s eyes go wide for a second in shock before throwing one last punch to the orcs face and motioning for the prince to follow him back to Steve and Sam. The prince grimaces at the sight of Sam so drunk he’s barely conscious and very hesitantly takes a seat across from the human and tiefling.

“What can we do for you?” 

“I need you to find someone for me. My bride to be has disappeared under my watch. As of this morning she was missing from her room and she’s not in my kingdom. It’s preferable that you find her before her father finds out that she’s gone. I believe that she was kidnapped though we have very few enemies and none were aware that she was visiting.”

“What does she look like?”

“She’s a moon elf, that’s pretty self explanatory.”

“I assure you, your majesty, that we don’t see a lot of moon elves in our profession. We need a description to find the right girl.” A moment of silence as the prince tries to find the words to say and something clicks in Bucky’s head. “You’ve never even seen her have you?” The annoyance in his voice wasn’t well hidden and Steve’s quick to but in.

“Where was she last?”

“The last any of my guards or her guards saw her was in the room she was using during her visit.”

“Can I assume you won’t let us in said kingdom?”

“You can and you’d be correct.”

“So you expect me to be able to find some lost princess, who may or may not have just left on her own, with no description, no reason for someone to take her, and without being able to track her from the last place she was. You must be out-”

“We can help.” Steve is quick to interject and cut Bucky off from insulting the prince. Bucky shoots Steve a glare while crossing his arms. “Do you have any suggestions on where we should start looking?”

“There’s a town not too far from the kingdom, I believe it’s called Tavin, I’d start there.” He motions a finger for a guard to come over and he drops a bag of coins onto the table. You’ll get the rest after you return her safely.” The prince then gets up swiftly and leaves the tavern with his guards following close behind him. Steve grabs the coins before Sam can get just sober enough to get his hands on them.

“What an entitled fucking weed eater! We’re never gonna find this damned princess!” Bucky slams his fist onto the table causing Sam to grumble slightly at the noise.

“Are you the best at what you do?”

“Of course I am.” Bucky scoffs at the thought of someone being better than him.

“Then we shouldn’t have a problem finding her.” Steve smirks at Bucky knowing he won whatever argument they could’ve had. “Now let’s go sober up Sam and pack up.” He tosses Sam over his shoulder and starts to make his way out of the tavern. Bucky follows while grumbling to himself in Infernal.

***

It took them an hour of dunking Sam's head in cold water and slapping him to get him mostly sobered up. It was a system of Steve pulling his head out of the bucket and Bucky slapping him before Steve dunks his head back in. It’s a system they had to create because Sam always insists that he can drink as much as them and not get drunk when he does every time. 

“So what exactly are we doing again?” Sam speaks from atop Steve’s shoulders where he climbed up due to getting tired from walking.

“We have to find some elf broad for some prince.” Bucky’s fists haven’t really unclenched since they left town. His annoyance at how little they had to work with was amusing to Steve because he knew that as soon as they got a hint at where the princess could be, Bucky would get the job done in no time.

“Bucky’s still upset with how little we know about her or where she could be.” Steve looks up at Sam to explain the hostility in their friends' voice.

“An elf gal huh? I know the perfect song for this!”

“No!” Bucky doesn’t even have to turn around to know that Sam’s about to reach behind him to grab his new lute that he made them stop to buy on their way out. 

The trio eventually comes to a crossroads and according to the map they have both paths will eventually lead to Tavin. 

“I’ve been to Tavin before if we go right we’ll be able to get there faster.” Bucky looks at Steve while pointing to the path he believes to be right.

“Buck, I’ve gone to Tavin a hundred times if we go left it will take longer, yes but, there’s a small village in between us and Tavin.”

“Steve if I wanted to stop at a town I would’ve picked that one. The prince said that he would prefer we find her before daddy dearest finds out so we should take the quicker path.”

Their bickering continues for a few more minutes before Sam gets annoyed and looks at the map himself.  Taking into consideration what both his friends said he starts walking one way while bringing his lute around his shoulder.

“Where are you going?” Steve yells out to Sam while Bucky smirks at Steve knowing that Sam had just made their decision and he chose the right path.

“I’m gonna go find me an elf lover!” Ater speaking he begins to strum the strings and sing a song about the love between an elf and a halfling. Steve shoots one of his own smirks at Bucky knowing how annoyed he’s about to get and Bucky groans before they both follow close behind Sam.

“Why did I have to befriend a bard?”

“Because said bard saved your life, on more than one occasion.” Sam answers the rhetorical question still strumming away.

“Shut it shortstack, you were only able to help because no one can see you coming.”

“Can we just all agree that you’re both idiots and move on with our lives? I’d rather not spend the whole trip listening to the two of you argue.” Steve can’t speak without letting out a chuckle at how ridiculous they are.

“Alright.” Sam goes back to his song.

“Fine.”

The trio walks on for hours with Sam playing songs here and there and with them all cracking jokes at each other. They walk till after sundown and well into the night. Thanks to the stash of food Sam always has they didn’t need to stop to hunt for anything.

“Can we stop walking now? It’s almost too dark to see the path.” Sam asks.

“Maybe for you but that’s why I’m here.”

“He’s right Bucky. We should set up camp for the night, we could all use some sleep.”

“Alright c’mon, I see a clearing off the path up ahead. We can set up there, I’ll start a fire.” Bucky leads them up the path a little longer before turning just off of it. He takes his pack off and heads off to find wood, leaving Sam and Steve to set up the tent. When he gets back Steve is sitting outside the tent and Sam already went to sleep.

“Do you think we really need a fire?”

“You’re telling me this now? After I went out to find and get wood.” Bucky drops all the wood he’s holding at Steve’s feet.

“I thought you could use some time to yourself to calm down.” Bucky just nods at him and sits next to him, leaning back on his hands.

“Do you really think we’re gonna find the girl Steve?” Bucky asks after a moment of silence between them.

“Of course I do. As soon as we get a hint of where she is you’ll be able to find her in no time.”

“I’ve been thinking, the prince said that no one knew that she was there right? She could have just run away, I mean it’s clearly an arranged marriage and he isn’t much of a catch?”

“I don’t know Buck, from what I’ve heard arranged marriages are rare even among elves. I’m sure if they were getting married they knew each other. I’m gonna head to bed, you should too.”

“Yeah I will in a bit.” Steve heads into the tent and Bucky looks up at the moon. He can’t help but think that Steve’s wrong. He sits there looking up at the moon for a while before following Steve into the tent.

***

“Wake up devil boy! It’s time to get this show on the road! Shit!” Sam whines as Bucky flicks him with his tail. “You’re so fucking grumpy when you wake up.”

“It’s only when it’s to your voice.” Bucky sits up and leaves the tent yawning in the process.

“Morning Buck. It looks like we should make it to Tavin today.” Steve is sat with the map spread out in front of him.

“Morning.” A strand of hair falls over Bucky’s forehead and he runs a hand through the hair in between his horns. “Do I still have food left Sam or should I go hunt something down?”

“It’s gone but Steve already hunted you down some rabbits.” Steve was always an early riser while Bucky was an all-nighter. Sam just liked to sleep, it’s dangerous to even let him rest in a sunbeam.

Bucky looks to Steve and he pulls Bucky’s food pack from behind him to show him the already cooked rabbits inside. “Thanks Steve. Sam come help me pack up the tent.”

Once the tent is packed up the trio starts continuing their journey to Tavin.

***

Tavin is a lively town with merchants and musicians littering the streets. Bucky puts his hood up to hide his horns the best he can. He does this often when they go to a town because he doesn’t know how people will react to a tiefling being among them.

“We should stop at the tavern first.” Steve suggests to Bucky while Sam follows close behind them.

“Well what are we waiting for let’s go!” Sam speeds up hearing the word tavern ready to eat and drink. They follow Sam to the tavern, La Luna, and Bucky grabs the back of Sam's shirt to stop him when they enter.

“We’re not here to drink, got it?”

“Yeah yeah, just here to get information, you’re no fun.”

Steve and Bucky make their way up to the bartender while Sam gets distracted by a pretty dwarf.

“Hey there newcomers, can I get you anything?”

“No thanks, we're just wondering if you can help us find someone.” Steve leans against the counter.

“Barely a soul comes through here that I don’t know.”

“We’re looking for a moon elf princess, you seen her?”

“I may have, my memory may need jogged though.” Bucky slides some coins on the counter knowing how this process works. “I’ve seen her, she comes here often when she’s off adventuring. Pops actually named this place in honor of her.”

“Has she been here recently?”

“Was here just yesterday, she left with a clan of dwarves that are frequent customers.”

“Do you know where we can find those dwarves?” Bucky slides him a few more coins over to him.

“You got a map?”

Meanwhile Sam is trying to shoot his shot with the dwarf maiden he spotted.

“Hey sweet thing, my friends and I are in town looking for someone and I think I may be who you’re looking for.”

“That depends on who you're looking for.” She sends a seductive smirk to Sam and boy is he weak to attractive women.

“Some elf princess, I’m sure you’re much more attractive than her though.”

“Where are your friends now and do they care if we disappear from here for a bit?” Sam points over to Steve and Bucky who’re talking to the bar tender and she looks over.

“Over there, I just have to let them know i’m leaving with a pretty lady-”

“Actually I gotta go.” She cuts Sam off and leaves the tavern in a hurry. 

“Her loss.” Sam shrugs and makes his way over to his friends.

“C’mon Sam, we’ve got a lead.”

Permanent Taglist: @starbxcks

Taglist: @poppunkdork @sourpatchspinster (If you guys don’t want to be tagged let me know you were just the ones that got me back into this)

[jooniperhun]

The End of the Rainbow | ot7 (1)

pairing: tall!black!reader x bts, poc!reader x bts, woc!reader x bts, black!reader x bts

genre: fluff, strangers to friends to (maybe) lovers [later], romance [later], comedy, misunderstandings [later], (slight) angst [later], smut (maybe??) [later], idol!au

rating: PG-14

wc: 2.3k

warnings: swearing

notes: the boys won’t make an appearance until chapter 2 but there is some foreshadowing in there (hint hint); pretend that corona never happened; most of the geographical locations/distances will either be made up or not named because I’ve never been to Korea lol whoops; this reads more like a reader-insert sorry that’s my default writing setting; and the boys’ backstories and such won’t be all that accurate because I’m the author and I say so teehee :)

“Text like this is spoken in Korean.”

“Text like this is spoken in English.”

summary: Your current job as a travelling housesitter has taken you to many places, some strange and many wonderful. When the acquisition of a new client takes you to Korea for three months, you wonder if your self-esteem can survive being around so many other-worldly looking people. Also, not to be paranoid or anything, but maybeperhaps you’re being stalked by the same seven strangers? They’re pretty loud and always surrounded by a tonne of people, so you write it off the first few times.

But this shit is getting excessive, chile. And annoying…

Rhetorical question, but what lies at the end of a rainbow? You hope that it’s a pot of gold, but with the way that your luck has soured, it might just be seven short(er than you), rowdy leprechauns ready to flip your world sideways…

Chapter 1: New Beginnings

Usually, when it came to social outings, ___ would go out of her way to make sure that she looked her best. Her wild mane would be tamed, her makeup would be carefully, painstakingly applied, and her clothes wouldn’t hold a single wrinkle. This, however, isn’t ‘usually’— this is an airport, and ___ currently couldn’t find it within herself to give a single, flying fuck about her appearance after the flight that she had just had. 

That isn’t to say that it was terrible— she was flying first class, for Christ’s sake! Not to mention that she didn’t have to spend a single dime on it (excluding the multiple new outfits and lashes that she purchased for herself because if she was anything, it was slightly vain). But a roughly 18 hour flight, combined with slight motion sickness? It doesn’t matter how comfortably she had dressed, or how attentive the flight attendants were, or how delicious the food was— ___ walked off of the landing strip probably looking exactly as she felt (read: terrible). 

Luckily, the good thing about airports was that she wasn’t the only one. No one paid her any mind, too worried about themselves and finding their respective luggages and families to be giving some rando more than a passing glance. 

She was officially in Seoul, South Korea, and she couldn’t read a damn thing.

Okay— slight exaggeration. Most of the signs had English (and Spanish, and Chinese, and Japanese) translations beneath the larger blocks of Korean, but her damn near-blind ass missed that the first time around. 

The airport looked as airports tended to look— large, modern, and clean. There was a beautiful netting of glass in the ceiling that let gentle rays of sunlight in. The walls were similarly comprised of the netting design and slanted outwards, away from all of the passengers. Statues and abstract constructions divided the masses. People from all walks of life milled around, looking for their luggage or anxiously waiting for their plane to arrive.

Incheon International Airport, Terminal One, Flight DL27. ___ reminded herself over and over of the number of where she would go for Baggage Claim, scanning the area and mumbling slightly to herself. She adjusted her dark shades and hefted her purse (her only carry-on) higher onto her shoulders, following the crush of fellow passengers into the depths of the fragile looking place. 

There were a lot of people walking around with black facemasks and shades on, so she was glad that she wasn’t the only shady-looking sista walking around. Inwardly snorting at her own pun, ___ nearly walked past her destination. 

It was honestly this part of each trip that gave her the most anxiety— that is, waiting for her suitcase to come around on the conveyor belt.

She had heard and read multiple horror stories about too many passengers never recovering their luggage. Either stolen, lost, or dropped from the airplane itself— if it could go wrong, it went wrong. But it’s not like hers’ is particularly interesting to look at. It was a simple, standard black. Only a red, knotted ribbon tied around the handle marked it as her own.

Ten minutes of fretful bag checking later, ___ finally found it. She gave a silent sigh of relief and turned towards the exit. Then, her anxiety flared right back up when she realized that she would have to hail a taxi to get to her destination. 

Honestly, her people-meter was getting a little bit too full for her to actually be initiating direct human interaction right now. 

But she would persevere! Even if her persistence could use a bit of work, she’s faked confidence enough times to make it. 

Getting a taxi to stop for her was like pulling teeth. By the time that she had stuffed her menial baggage into the trunk and clambered into the front seat, her temper had risen a few notches. She’s had a long two days. The flight wasn’t kind on her stomach or her sleep schedule— not to mention the fact that she felt disgusting. A shower sounded so nice right now… She didn’t want to be on the streets any longer than she had to be, dammit!

Donning her ‘Customer Service’ voice (as she liked to call it), she politely rattled off her destination to the driver in Korean. He was on the younger side for the profession (at least, from what she’s seen), with neatly laid dark hair and slightly tanned skin. His dark eyes constantly shifted from the road to her when they were stopped for traffic, but he luckily seemed to sense her mood as he did not say anything more than the polite initial greeting. 

All in all, it was a 30 minute drive filled with determinedly unawkward silence. ___ sent a quick text to her employer to inform them that she would be at the house in a bit, then sent another to her mother to let her know that she touched down safely. Almost immediately, her phone began to buzz.

Rolling her eyes, ___ answered. “Good morning to you too, Ma.” She said as her full lips tilted up in amusement. Upon hearing the English, the driver sent another glance in her direction.

“Hey, baby! It’s night time for us right now (we just got finished eating dinner). How was your flight?” Her mother’s voice gave a slightly tinny echo as she spoke, and the sound of shifting fabric clued ___ in to the fact that she, indeed, was probably on the toilet.

“Tiring. I forgot to buy Dramamine, so it was a fun time for me.” She switched hands with her phone so that she could look out of her window more comfortably. Little snatches of the city flashed by before they turned into a slightly more residential area. The houses here were large and gated, yet closely located. “How is everyone doing? No-one dead yet, right?”

Her mother snorted. “Yet is correct. Turns out, ya’ sister got herself a lil boyfriend—” ___ had to stifle her laugh before she gave herself away, “— and ya’ daddy wasn’t too happy when he found out. Her fast ass is sitting in her room right now, phone taken and everything. Woulda’ gotten an ass whoopin if we found anything triflin’ in it, but she’s clean.” Yeah, only because of her advice. No sending nudes back and forth, no secret folders dedicated to trifling shit, and no conversations going further than normal teen-girl gossip. Those were her three cardinal rules to sneaking around with a boy, and it seems that her little sister had done well to heed them.

“And the lil’ boy? Anyone we know?” ___ asked, playing along. If her parents found out she already knew about him, her ass would be grass, too. 

“Yes!” Ma exclaimed frustratedly. The driver jumped at the sudden loud sound in the otherwise silent car. “That nigga, Devin. Lives a block down from us? You know the one.” She gave the appropriate gasp at the news while rolling her eyes. Devin was a sweet boy who had a good future ahead of himself. There was no goddamn way she would waste her painstakingly gathered advice on someone who wasn’t good for her sister.

“Dam— I mean, wow. You think you know the people you live around...” She caught herself quickly before she cursed. Even halfway across the world, her fear of her ma’s wrath was still very, very healthy.

“I heard that, but I’ll let it slide this time.” Her mother’s tone was amused despite her previous outrage. 

“Anyways, as I was saying… I don’t see anything wrong with Devin. He was a nice boy, last time I talked to him.” From the cover of her shades, ___ watched the driver watch her from the corner of his eye. The car began to slow.

“Tell that to ya’ daddy. He—” Ma began to rant as ___ pulled the phone away from her ear. 

“How much do I owe you?” She asked quietly, hands dropping to rummage through her purse for her wallet as she cradled the phone between her ear and her shoulder. “—Alright, Ma. Imma have to call you back. We just pulled up to the house and I gotta get situated.”

Handing the driver the appropriate amount of Won, they both left the car to remove her luggage from his trunk. “Okay, sweetie. Love you! Call me again when you get settled in.” Her mother echoed as she mouthed a quick ‘Thank you,’ with a shallow bow.

“Gotcha. Love you, too! Bye.” She hung up and grabbed the handle of her suitcase, making it extend before dragging it behind her towards the house that they had stopped in front of.

She couldn’t really see anything past the high, brick walls and iron gate. Spotting an intercom, she quickly checked her reflection in her phone’s camera before she could press the button to call her employer.

Removing her silk head-scarf, she found that her high puff had held up reliably under it. She quickly stuffed it into her purse and pulled out her glasses case to place her shades in. Shoving that back in, too, she smoothed out her black jeans and checked for stains on her yellow top. It was only after assuring that her face was, indeed, clean that she rang the buzzer.

A red light blinked on before a voice answered. So there was a security camera for surveillance? Good. “Good morning! You must be ___, right?” Her voice was smooth and low, like velvet. It hinted towards an older age, especially when compared to the commonly high pitched tones of the youth.

“Yes, good morning.” ____ stepped back slightly to bow. The gate unlocked with a soft click, and she made her way up the driveway. She could only see one car at the moment, but from the size of the house— no, mansion—, she was sure that a lot more were probably in the garages (yes, plural).

The mansion was a modern white with a lot of windows to let in natural light. The lawn was cleanly cut and the rich, emerald grass shined with small droplets of morning dew. There was actually a surprising amount of yard space, which was ideal for pets and children. The only thing that she would be needing to worry about this trip was a dog and some plants, though.

Little solar-powered lights lined the walkway that ___ walked down. They looked nothing like the one-dollar versions from the Dollar Store, and definitely cost a lot more, too. She climbed a few stone steps to reach the porch. On either side of a dark-wooded door, two gold vases stood guard. They were almost as tall as her and intricately carved with little, delicate flowers. The welcome mat that she stood upon was a sensible dark brown and had a looping Welcome swirled across the front in white. 

She rang the doorbell and patiently waited.

A few moments passed before the door sprung open. The lady that answered was small and adorable in her old age. Her dark hair was sprinkled with white streaks, and her large, dark eyes were creased with laugh lines. The same lines were also wrinkled around her mouth, but they did not take away from the traditional beauty that she still held. Her cheeks were rounded and scattered with pink, and her skin was the color of milk. She was dressed in a fashionable black pantsuit and wore black pumps that boosted her height. 

“Good morning!” ___ bowed lowly with a sweet smile. Her eyes, large and slightly too round to truly be almond shaped, disappeared into crescents. With her face transformed so cutely by just a single smile, one would find it hard to believe that ___ had a mean, mean resting bitch face that, when combined with her not inconsiderable height, gave her a naturally intimidating demeanor.

Endeared, the woman bowed back. “Please, come in.” She invited, stepping aside and letting ___ and her suitcase drag in. 

***

She was still getting situated in the guest room when the door slowly creaked open.

Though she couldn’t see anything from where she was seated on the bed, the tell-tale pattern of claws clicking against the hardwood floor cued her in to who was entering— Mickey, a cute, little Shih-Tzu breed with floppy ears and a brown and white coloring. Despite the fact that he was male, Mickey had two tiny, powder-blue bows woven around his ears. His matching sweater creased slightly as he padded towards her.

“Hi, sweetie!” ___ cooed, reaching down to give him a gentle pat on the head, “Are you looking for some company now that Grandma isn’t in?” 

Mickey had been (surprisingly) very calm upon his introduction towards ___. He barely reacted (outside of a few weak wags of his fluffy tail) to her squealings of how cute he was. Perhaps it was behavior that he was used to.

He settled down onto the carpet next to her bed, the ideal spot for her to reach down and pet him if she wanted to. It was a good move on his part, because that was exactly what she wanted to do. 

___ was a huge dog lover— in fact, she just loved cute, fluffy animals in general. Cats, llamas, sheep— you name it. She tolerated reptiles, and if she had to handle insects, it was usually with gloves and a healthy bit of distance. 

The moral of the story is that she adored fur-babies, and until Mickey’s owner came to pick him up or his Grandma came back home, Mickey was her dog.

a/n: Thank you all for reading the first chapter! I really hope you liked it. The fun stuff starts next chapter, so please stay tuned! I have so much planned *evil laughter*

[rainydayhogwartsimagines]

Hi could you write to Draco?  The Malfoys signed a marriage contract with another thoroughbred family, time passed and the girl who would marry Draco was selected for the hufflepuff so she thought the contract would be canceled, but when the war was over Lucius thought it would be a good idea to do  Draco marries someone other than Slytherin to clean up the family image a bit, of course keeping the tradition purebred.I could have anguish I like, but the ending is very happy?  Please!

I’ve got you homie! 

Warnings: Self harm, swearing, slight NSFW stuff.

The battle of Hogwarts haunted everyone’s memory. It was slightly infuriating to be a muggleborn child in that time because it was impossible to come home and tell family what happened. Wizards would deal with their demons in the invisible walls of the world only you all knew. You could only imagine what wizards who were forced to abandoned their families unwillingly. Hermione only talked to you about that pain. How she had to remove herself from the memories of her own parents. You got lucky. You were a pureblooded wizard, your parents being ones of a high income family. Your parents loved you, they fought with you during that battle. They didn’t hesitate to run to their bleeding daughter when you took a hit for Fred Weasley, ultimately saving the boy’s life. They didn’t hesitate to stay by your side when you recovered due to Fawkes taking a liking to you. They didn’t hesitate to protect you when you ran back out into battle. You understood they loved you. 

What you never understood though was the arranged marriage. When you were eleven, you were set to be in a arranged marriage to Draco Malfoy. He was nothing but an ass to you though, part of you questioned whether or not he even knew about the arrangement. Well he did. And quite often threw it back at you when you were in his presence. When describing this boy, you wouldn’t exactly use the word “hate”. No you didn’t hate him. You had a STRONG disliking to the boy. He often was rude over your house, saying you must’ve been weak to be put in Hufflepuff. You swore one day you’d prove him wrong and actually did when the battle of Hogwarts came. You saved his life, pulling him back and shouting a defense charm telling him to be more careful before running off. Draco was surprised to see you fight for him in such a way. He nearly expected you to leave him for dead but you didn’t. So he stealthily watched you through out the battle, allowing you to narrowly escape death a few times. When you did nearly die he was actually present. You weren’t aware of him being in the makeshift medical unit, watching you silently. Your parents were very aware though. They recognized his presence and the fact that he had been anonymously keeping you alive throughout the entire battle. When sides had to be chosen it was gut wrenching to look at you. You were good friends with Harry and his ragtag group of friends. When you saw Harry dead in Hagrid’s arms you just fell to your knees staring at the boy with shock and tears. Hermione and Ron both were by your side as your eyes just locked onto him. Voldemort seemed to take great joy in seeing you in pain. Draco’s parents were visible, standing with the dark lord with great pride as to say “We won and you can’t fight us anymore”. Lucius extended a hand to Draco but you stopped him, grabbing his hand with this pained expression. “Don’t go.” You whispered. Draco looked at you and then his father. Would he really stay for someone who he seemingly hated? Would he stay because you asked him to? The answer seemed to be obvious. But it surprised everyone when he stepped back into his place with Hogwarts

It seemed you two buried the hatchet after the battle was over, especially when Harry turned out to be alive and Draco grabbed his wand from his father, giving it to Harry. It was the only time you heard Draco say “Potter!” With no disgust in his voice. You were the one that kept him safe though. You grabbed Draco’s hand and ran to the order. “We need to move.” Remus said. “Where, the battle is literally going on everywhere!?” Fred asked. “We need to not be stopping, that’s for sure, I’ve already almost died once here, I don’t plan on doing it again!” You said. You all ran to the second floor, finding a vacant hall so you could finally rest. “I am too old for this!” George whined. “You’re joking right? Tonks, tell me the boy is joking.” Remus said making you let out a breathy laugh. Draco had this confused look on his face. “Why did you help me?” Draco asked. “I--” You were cut off by the crackling noise of Harry’s magic against Voldemort. Your eyes couldn’t even handle looking at it, it was so bright. But then almost as quickly as the battle picked up... It stopped. You were terrified that Harry might’ve lost but when you could finally see you saw Harry still standing. “He did it!” You gasped. Tonks looked out the window and let out a relieved sigh. “It’s over.” You said. “Draco its-- Draco?” You noticed his absence and that was the last you saw of him

Until today. You opened the door to your parents’ home and there he was, that same stern expression he usually kept plastered on his face. “Draco?” Your father asked. Draco let out a long sigh and you rose a brow. “The contract was never terminated.” Draco said. Contract? What was he-- WAIT WHAT!? “I see.” Your father said. “My father cannot terminate it because of his... situation so it appears we’re stuck in this.” Draco said to you. “...Shit.” you muttered. Your father didn’t even bother to scold you for that one. “Well... Welcome to your new home for the time being I suppose.” Your father said. “Thank you sir.” Draco said, blank expression as he stepped in. “May I speak with you? Alone?” You asked him. “If you must.” Draco said. You dragged him into the empty dining room. “Are you alright?” You asked. “Excuse me?” Draco asked. “You disappeared after the battle and I got worried something had happened... Fred tried writing to you.” You said. “I see... You’re concerned with me? Genuinely?” Draco asked. “Yes!” You said. “Why?” He asked. “Because... Someone has to be.” You said. “What?” He asked. “You deserve to have someone care about you.” You said point blank. “Plus you apparently saved my life. Multiple times.” you added. Draco blushed slightly, putting a hand on the back of his neck and looking away. “So you did?” You asked. “I... May have kept you alive longer?” he said. “Why didn’t you say anything?” You asked. “Because I didn’t want you acting strange about it!” He said aggravated. You couldn’t help but smile. “You don’t hate me do you?” You asked. “I never said I did!” Draco said. Your smile grew bigger “This is exactly why I didn’t say anything!” Draco groaned making you laugh. He liked hearing that laugh... Something about it was so... Pleasant. “So do you actually want to get married or are you sticking with ‘it’s my duty, nothing more’?” you asked. “I mean no offense, but why would I want to actually get married to you?” Draco said. “Offense definitely taken.” you nodded. “Look, you can understand how I am not exactly thrilled to be bound to marry a girl I barely know by a fucking contract.” He griped. “It’s no cakewalk for me either asshat.” You said, roughing up his hair. He frowned and swatted your hand away. “But you’re right. We barely know each other. so we should start getting friendly now.” You said, pulling a seat out at the table. “Christ don’t--” “Sit.” You said sternly as your father walked through. “Little tip for your marriage, son: The women actually run the household.” He said before leaving. Draco sighed and sat down, you sitting across from him. “Sooo. Where did you go after the battle?” You asked. “...I really don’t want to answer that.” He muttered. “Can you at least tell me that you’re okay?” you said, showing legitimate concern, taking one of his hands into yours. He looked into your e/c eyes and swallowed. “Yes... Y/n I’m fine.” He nodded. “Okay... So Harry might be coming in five minutes.” You said. “What!?” Draco asked. “Hey, we didn’t realize you’d be here today! They’ve been coming over for dinner since the war.” You said. “Oh Christ, all of them are coming!?” Draco asked. “Yes and they’ve been worried about you too!” You said as he stood up. He turned back around. “Why?” He asked. “Because you were a leading cause of winning the war dumbass, your name is everywhere.” you said. Draco sighed. “Plus your parents--” “Don’t.” Draco muttered. You nodded. “Sorry... But Molly feels responsible for all children... She cares about you and she doesn’t want you to feel alone. And neither do I.” You said. He ran a hand over his face and the front door opened, a house elf walking into the dining room. “The Weasley family.” She said. “Thank you Francis.” you said, the house elf nodding and leaving. Molly walked in and halted. “Draco showed up earlier and--” Molly hugged Draco making him freeze before slowly looking to you. “hug back” you mouthed. Draco slowly hugged her back and she pulled away. 

“We’ve been so worried about you dear!” Molly said. Fred walked in and he hugged Draco on sight. “Told you they were worried.” You said. “Was there any doubt that we weren’t!?” Fred asked. “I’m not exactly liked Fred, please let go.” Draco said. He did and George hugged him afterwards making Draco groan. Tonks, Ron, Hermione, Remus, Harry and Teddy all joined you soon after. You soon all sat down for dinner, Draco being silent for most of it. “So you’re safe. What made you leave?” Fred asked. “I was checking on my...” He swallowed and shook his head. “I was checking on my family... Before they...” he muttered. Remus nodded. “We’re grateful you’re safe son.” Remus said as you wiped Teddy’s mouth. Draco noticed you with him, keeping him on your knee while you ate. “He almost said your name the other day.” Tonks said to you. You smiled. “Did you now?” you asked Teddy rhetorically, hugging him. He let out a giggle and Harry smiled. “He clearly favors you.” Harry said. “Hmm, you give me a run for money though.” You chuckled. Remus smiled. The house elf from earlier emerged. “Yes Francis dear?” Your mother asked. “A package for Miss Y/n has arrived.” the house elf said. “Oh.” You got up, passing Teddy to Draco. “Y/n I don’t--” “Harry, help the poor guy.” You said as Draco seemed to struggle with Teddy. You walked out and Draco sat Teddy on his knee, mimicking the same way he saw him with you. “See you’ve got it.” Harry nodded. “I have no idea what I’m doing.” He admitted. “Oh, you’re doing just fine son.” Remus assured as you walked in. “What was the package?” your father asked. “A new set of stationary.” You replied sitting down. Teddy made grabby hands and cooed as if to ask to be back with you. You took Teddy and smiled, kissing his cheek. “You’re so becoming our babysitter. He never stays this calm.” Tonks chuckled. “Y/n has always had a way with children.” Your mother said. “She gets that from you.” Your father told her. “I don’t know.. Teddy do I have a way with children?” You asked with a smile. Teddy giggled and grabbed your finger making you chuckle. Draco smiled at the sight and Fred noticed. “So what exactly brought you here?” George asked. “Uh... I’ve been in a arranged marriage with Y/n since the first year of school.” Draco admitted. “Wait what!?” Hermione gaped. “Since father is in... Azkaban no one can revoke the marriage so... We’re both stuck with this.” Draco said. “Yikes.” Tonks winced. “When is the wedding?” you asked. “Looking forward to the marriage or something?” Fred teased. “I just figure there’s no loophole or anything. We may as well just accept what’s happening. Glass half full approach.” You shrugged. “Y/n, your Hufflepuff is showing.” Tonks coughed out making Remus smile. You chuckled and Draco sighed. “I understand where your coming from. I suppose she’s right.” Draco nodded. “Did you just... Agree with her?” Harry asked. “And?” Draco asked. “You two argue over almost everything.” Ron pointed out. “We do not.” Draco sighed. “We spent three hours in an argument over potions before.” you reminded. “.... I’m just trying something new.” Draco admitted. “...Being more agreeable?” Ginny asked. “Being nicer... From what I understand I’ve... Been kind of a pain.” Draco said. “Kind of?” George asked, Fred kicking him from under the table as a response. “I’m trying to make up for what I’ve done.” Draco admitted. You smiled.

The rest of the night was mostly spent with the family. But Draco stayed up once everyone went to bed, sitting in the library by the fire. Well... Almost everyone. “Couldn’t sleep?” You asked, making him turn. “No.” He said, turning back to the fireplace. He seemed to be thinking about something as you sat down. “Something wrong?” You asked. Draco swallowed. “I went looking for the ministry...” Draco admitted. “Hmm?” You asked. “Why you never saw me... I went looking for the ministry.” Draco said. “...Any reason why?” You asked. “To find my parents... If I was going down they were going down with me.” Draco said. “Wait, why would--” “Because I had a dark mark. I chose to bare this. I chose this.” Draco said, clearly saying it to himself rather than you. He started scratching at his wrist and you stopped him, hugging him close. “You don’t have to bare these demons alone Draco.” you said in his ear. He clung to you as if you were the most precious thing to him, sobbing into your shoulder. “I’m sorry.” Was the only thing he could seem to get out. When he finally calmed down you left, coming back with hot cocoa. “Here... I’ve learned from Remus that chocolate fixes everything.” You said. He let out a small chuckle and took the mug. “You’re always so kind... I honestly feel like shit when I think of how I’ve treated you in the past.” Draco said. “Can I admit something crazy to you?” You asked. He nodded. “I had a massive crush on you in third year. to like our sixth year.” You admitted, making the boy nearly choke on his drink. “...That is crazy.” Draco said. “I know.” you chuckled. “I had a crush on you in our second year.” He said. You rose a brow. “You treated me like shit our second year.” You laughed. “I did not handle those feelings well, as you can see.” he said making you laugh. “What, pray tell brought on those feelings?” You asked. “Quidditch.” He admitted. “What?” You asked. “There was a quidditch game where it was Slytherin vs Hufflepuff and you ended up nearly falling off your broom for the snitch. I watched you leap off your broom, fall and then get right back up, covered in grass and dirt. And apparently twelve year old me thought that you were amazing.” Draco chuckled. You smiled and seemed to hide in your hair to cover the blush forming on your face. Draco however brushed back your strands and smiled looking at you. “Your eyes are very bright...” he commented, his voice low and soft. Your lips parted, looking at him. “When did you stop?” You asked softly. “hmm?” He asked. “When did you stop liking me?” You asked. His breath hitched. “I never did.” He admitted. You looked at him surprised, blinking a few times. “Sorry... I-I didn’t mean to--” “N-no it’s fine, it’s just I.. I didn’t expect to hear that.” You said. “Why?” He asked. “I always assumed you disliked me so I dropped it.” You admitted. 

Draco sucked in a breath and chuckled. “So Potter actually kept it a secret.” He said. “Kept what a secret?” You asked. “The Amortentia lesson. You were sick with a cold and you couldn’t come to class.” Draco began. “I had to work with Pansy Parkinson and we were making the potion... I didn’t realize what the scent of the potion was until I made a comment.... ‘Jesus Y/n did you bathe in your perfume this morning, this place stinks of it’.” Draco recalled. “Amortentia smells like--” “Whoever you have feelings for... Which is you. And Potter was there and I practically begged the guy not to tell you... I’m surprised he kept it to himself.” Draco admitted. “Course I was the dolt that decided to say that bit out loud--” you cut him off with a kiss, him cupping you cheeks as he realized what was happening. You pulled away from air and he smiled. “What brought that on?” He asked. “You became bearable.” you chuckled. Draco kissed you again, you pulling away before getting up and straddling his lap. He kissed you passionately, running his fingers through your hair.  “I feel like we shouldn’t do this here.” You breathed. “If you don’t want to I understand.” He breathed. “My god you are the perfect man.” You whispered, making him chuckle. He kissed your nose and you smiled. “Suddenly this arranged marriage thing isn’t so bad.” He said. You curled up in his arms and he chuckled. “Tired?” He asked. “I can only take so much human interaction... Wait till Arthur isn’t working a nightshift... He will not stop talking. Love the man to death, honest... But if he asks Harry for the function of a cellphone I’m going to impale myself on a fucking fork.” You whined. Draco looked over at your chair and saw a blanket. “Accio Blanket.” He said before he pulled it over you. “We don’t have to actually--” “I’m comfortable, it appears your comfortable... Why not sleep here?” He asked. “... Wanna get married?” You teased making him kiss your head. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep.

Your parents found you two the next morning, you curled up in his lap his arms holding you close. “Ahem... Dear?” Your mother called. You sucked in a breath, leaning up and blinking a few times. Draco shifted and turned around. “Mr. and Mrs. L/n!” Draco said getting up and you hitting the floor. “Oh my god Y/n are you okay!?” Draco asked, helping you up. “We fell asleep.” You said to your parents. They started laughing and you both rose a brow. “You’re both adults. And engaged. We just wanted to know why you weren’t at breakfast this morning and it seems we have an answer.” Your father said. “Aha... righhhtttt.” You nodded, blushing a bit. You two sat at the breakfast table and your parents went off to work. “So...” You cleared your throat. “Hmm?” Draco asked, sipping on a coffee. “Last night was fun.” You said, making him almost cough it up. You chuckled and handed him a napkin. He chuckled and sighed. “I suppose it was.” He agreed. You smiled and Francis brought you the paper, you reading one half while Draco read the other. Your hand rested on the table as you read and you felt Draco grip it and you smiled. “Your hand feels nice.” You said. “Mmm, does it?” He chuckled. “Surprisingly soft... Okay, you’ve got to tell me what moisturizer you use--” Draco began laughing silently as you spoke. “Oh God.” You said after a while of rambling. “What?” Draco asked, clearing his throat. You showed him the article. “Battle Hero Draco Malfoy is engaged to Y/n L/n. An article by... Rita Skeeter.” He read aloud. “How the hell am I considered a battle hero!? You saved more lives than I did!” He gaped. “Probably that wand incident that landed you the title.” You shrugged. “I don’t want it.” He grumbled. “Besides she’s completely writing you off. You nearly died for Fred, you saved Remus and Nymphadora, you literally a war hero but she’s--” “Draco, you’re squeezing my hand too tight.” you winced. He eased up and kissed your knuckles almost as an apology. You chuckled. “Draco, this is Rita Skeeter. All of her stuff is bullshit.” You snorted. “True. I still remember that ridiculous article she wrote on Potter.” Draco nodded. You snorted “ ‘eyes glistening with the ghosts of his past.’” You recalled. “God it was so terrible.” He laughed. You smiled. “You have a nice laugh.” You pointed out. He smiled. “So is this our new thing? We’re... together?” you asked. “Well considering the marriage... We were technically already together. But yes, I presume this does mean we’re... Friendlier?” He said making you snort. “If a make out session with you is friendly, what happens if I sleep with you?” You teased. He chuckled and leaned to your ear. “Wonderful things.” He said making you nearly knock over your cup of coffee. He chuckled and you grumbled in your seat, annoyed he could make you flustered. “You pout like a child.” He said. “Fuck off.” You griped making him chuckle and shake his head. 

You and Draco spent most of the day actually wedding planning. Your parents came home to a heated argument. “Are you blind!? You have to be to think that is a good color scheme!” Draco said. What the hell was he talking about? “We are not making it green and black Draco that is depressing for a wedding!” You said. “Alright, compromise. Silver and Yellow.” He suggested. “Yellow? Ehhhhh” “Oh come on!” He sighed. “Blue!” You said. “Blue?” “Blue! Blue and silver are pretty.” You said. “...Blue and silver actually sound nice.” He nodded. “What are you two doing?” Your mother asked. “Wedding planning.” “Roses?” Draco asked. “Are you out of your mind? With blue and silver?” You asked. “True. Lilies?” “Not bad.” You nodded. Your parents nodded, watching you two bounce ideas off of each other. Draco smiled and pulled you into his lap, kissing your cheek as you wrote. “Then there’s the cake.” You said. “hmmm. Chocolate?” He suggested. “Somewhere Remus just screamed. Absolutely.” You nodded. Your parents smiled. 

Maybe this whole thing wasn’t so bad after all.

[babyboiboyega]

1.02: “Wendigo” Pt. 1 (SPN Rewrite)

Supernatural (Rewrite)

Pairing: none...yet

Episode: “Wendigo”

Summary: Sam and Dean follow the coordinates in their father’s journal and land in Colorado, where they investigate the disappearance of several campers with the help of Ersa, an old friend. 

Rated TV-14 for profanity; horror; violence; gore; some disturbing content; sexuality; alcohol; 

Word Count: 6k (this is a short part, but I hope you enjoy it all the same!)

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She tried to find something to keep her eyes from closing, for as of right now, she was rather close to going to sleep. Her eyes crossed as she looked at the blurred trees that raced by them. 

After her eyes had closed for the umpteenth time, she finally sat straight up in her seat, taking a deep breath. Her hand raised and rubbed at her face, the movement causing Dean to glance in the rearview mirror at her. 

“Good morning, sleeping beauty.” 

His voice was soft to not disturb Sam, who slept with his head against the window. He glanced over at his brother before focusing back on the road. 

Ersa scoffed softly.

“I wasn’t even asleep. Wouldn’t want to leave you up and alone.” Though her voice was quiet, the sarcasm could easily be heard as she spoke. It made Dean grin.

“Well, thanks for gracing me with your oh, so wonderful company-”

His words were cut off by Sam gasping loudly and shooting forward out of his sleep. The action caused both Dean and Ersa to jump slightly, but they mostly just looked at Sam in worry. He didn’t notice either of their gazes as he focused on taking deep breaths, no doubt trying to scrub his mind clean of whatever he had just dreamt.

The smile on Dean’s face had disappeared as he glanced over at Sam, his features set in a worried expression. 

“You okay?” 

Peering over the front seat, Ersa could see Sam rub his face and pinch the bridge of his nose before casting a glance at Dean. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” 

The tone of his voice openly contradicted his words, as his voice was rough and almost emotionless. There was a small waver in his voice as he spoke.

Dean nodded, his eyebrow raising knowingly. 

“Another nightmare?” 

Sam cleared his throat but didn’t offer any other response, causing Dean to let out a sigh. Ersa couldn’t blame Sam for not wanting to answer. She could only imagine what Sam had gone through a week ago, and it wasn’t surprising when he was reluctant to talk about it. She could tell that Dean, however, didn’t have the same understanding.

“Want to drive for a while?”

Both Ersa and Sam turned to Dean in surprise at his question. She had seen how protective Dean could be over his car, she had seen it firsthand; so the fact that he was asking someone else if they wanted to get behind the wheel and have full control over his car had her raising her eyebrows in surprise. 

Sam let out a surprised laugh. He skeptically looked at Dean.

“In your whole life, you never once asked me that.” Dean rolled his eyes right as Ersa began to speak.

“Yeah, and you threatened to commit double homicide when we got a few scratches on the paint.” She knew why Dean had asked, it wasn’t hard to figure out why. It was a way to distract his younger brother from his traumatizing memories, although neither of them would admit it. 

“A few scratches?” His voice sounded incredulous as he replied, “You and Sammy drove my car through an entire house. ‘A few scratches’ my ass. Just thought you might want to. Never mind.”

Ersa grinned, sitting back and continuing to peer between the two brothers. 

“Look, man, you’re worried about me. I get it, and thank you, but I’m perfectly okay.”

His statement prompted a noise of disagreement and a short “mhm” to come from Ersa and Dean. Eyebrows furrowed, Sam glanced at the two of them, face set into a frown. Despite knowing that she had no place to tell Sam how to feel, she knew for a fact that what he was doing, claiming that he was “perfectly fine” after witnessing his girlfriend’s paranormal death a week ago, was not the best way at handling it. Despite all of this, she kept her mouth shut. 

The car grew silent as Sam reached forward, grabbing the map off of the top of the dashboard. He opened it quickly, glad to direct their attention towards something else.

“All right”, he cleared his throat, “where are we?”

Whether Sam was successful or not at changing the topic completely, Dean replied, his eyes on the road. 

“We are just outside of Grant Junction.”

The big, red X that was scribbled on the paper told them that they still had a good drive until they reached Blackwater. Sam raised the map closer to his face as a heavy sigh left his mouth. 

“You know what? Maybe we shouldn’t have left Stanford so soon.”

The dejection in Sam’s voice caused Dean to momentarily pause and let out a tiny sigh. It hadn’t been the first time in the past week that Sam had suggested that they should have stayed in Stanford, investigating Jessica’s murder, and Ersa knew that it wouldn’t be the last. The entire reason behind Sam joining them on the road was Jessica’s death; all of his actions from here on out would be motivated by his desire to find the thing that killed her.

Ersa looked sympathetically at the back of Sam’s head, though she was happy he couldn’t see it. She was willing to bet that he wouldn’t appreciate it that much. 

“Sam, we dug around there for a week. We came up with nothing. If you want to find the thing that killed Jessica…”

“Got to find dad first.” He said the words in a tired manner. After all, he had heard the same words from his brother more times than any of them could count.

“Dad disappearing, and this thing showing up again after 20 years?” Dean glanced over at Sam, “It’s no coincidence. Dad will have answers. He’ll know what to do.”

Ersa’s eyebrows raised at those words as they had also, unironically, been repeated more times than she could count. And she had noticed that it had always seemed to be Dean who said those words. 

At the mention of their dad, Sam focused more intently on the map in his hands. He motioned towards the spot that was marked with the red “X”. 

“It’s weird man. These coordinates he left us, this BlackWater Ridge…”

“What about it?” Dean’s voice sounded weary.

“There’s nothing there. It’s just woods.” 

Ersa quickly sat forward once more, craning her head over the seat that separated them. Her eyebrows rose.

“‘Just woods’? What do you mean by ‘just woods’?”

Sam answered her by raising the map high enough to where she could see it, pointing at the words “Lost Creek, Wildness Area”. He leaned slightly to the side to see her reaction, which was quite different from his. Whereas he was confused about the coordinates their father had given them, she was cautious about the fact that they were being led to the woods. Nothing good ever happened in the woods. 

“Nothing good ever happens in the woods.” She voiced her thoughts aloud, her eyes still trained on the map. Sam’s eyebrows furrowed inquisitively at her statement before he turned around to face the front once more.

He let his hands fall to his lap as he looked through the windshield. 

“Why is he sending us to the middle of nowhere?” His question was rhetorical, but he spoke for all three of them when he asked the question. No one had the answer, but they were on their way to finding out. 

*****

“So, Black Water Ridge is pretty remote. It’s cut off by these canyons here. Rough terrain, dense forest, abandoned silver and gold mines all over the place…”

Sam’s words could easily be heard, as the three of them were the only one’s in the office sized building. Ersa suspected that either this area was just that unpopulated, or the majority of the people they had seen coming in were outside, fawning over the Impala. They had seen several curious gazes when they pulled in, so the latter didn’t seem too impossible. 

However, the more he spoke of how “rough” the surrounding area was, the warier she became. It led to her scanning the 3D model that Sam stood in front of, hoping that she would see an area that wasn’t raised to indicate hills and mountains. 

“Dude, check out the size of this friggin’ bear.” 

Dean sounded impressed as he gazed at a framed picture of a hunter standing over one hell of a grizzly bear. She barely glanced over, her eyes still roaming over the 3d model, while Sam straightened and walked to join his brother. 

“...And a dozen or more grizzlies in the area.”

His words sent a small shiver down her spine. She could handle almost every monster out there, however, the thought of running into an actual bear somewhere in the woods shook her a little. 

“It’s no nature hike, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.”

She had meant for her words to only be heard by her ears, but the sudden silence that encompassed the room made her head snap up. Her eyes immediately landed on Sam and Dean, both of who were looking at her amusedly. Dean’s eyebrow raised, and there was a knowing smirk on his face. 

“Don’t tell me someone’s afraid of the three little bears.” She knew he was just teasing, but it didn’t stop her eyes from widening as she quickly walked over to where they stood.

She pointed at the picture of the grizzly bear while keeping her eyes trained on Dean and Sam.

“‘Three little bears’ my ass, Dean. Look at this thing.” She turned her attention to the picture but still spoke to them, “I can assure you this, though. If we run into one of these out there, I’m leaving your ass in the dust.”

Her statement only made his smirk widening into a grin. She would describe it as a “shit-eating grin”. 

“Cute of you to think you’d be able to outrun me.” 

Her mouth opened, but before she could respond, Sam was stepping between the two. He looked between them before his gaze landed on Ersa, a small grin pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“My money’s on Ersa.” 

While Dean’s smile dropped at his brother’s “betrayal”, Ersa’s smile only widened. Not because she had just won an argument, but it was nice to see a genuine grin, no matter how small, on Sam’s face. She internally patted herself on the back for getting him to smile. 

Ersa turned, ready to rub her victory in Dean’s face, but a voice immediately caught their attention.

“You boys aren’t planning to go out near Black Water Ridge, by any chance?” 

They all turned, eyes falling on an older man who had a uniform on. He looked as if if we were a park ranger.

The man’s eyes jumped between Sam and Dean before settling on Ersa, but only after she had stepped from behind Sam. His eyebrows furrowed as he looked at her.

“You boys and...gal.” 

Ersa refrained from rolling her eyes at the obvious humor in his voice. She could see it in the way he kept looking between the boys and her as if the thought of her going to Black Water with Dean and Sam was humorous in some way.

“Oh, no, sir. We’re environmental-study majors from U.C. Boulder. Just working on a paper.” Sam nodded and spoke in confidence, glancing between Ersa and Dean, who in turn nodded in confirmation. 

“Recycle, man.” Dean chuckled, raising his fist in a powerful gesture. Ersa couldn’t help the soft laugh that came from her mouth; the words “recycle, man” sounded weird coming from his mouth. 

The man’s hand landed on his hip while his other hand held a cup. His eyes narrowed.

“Bull.”

That one word made all three of them tense, their grins dropping and their bodies freezing. Ersa caught Sam’s eye as he glanced over, his jaw tightening. Dean’s face had hardened, and his gaze stayed on the man across from them.

“You’re friends with that Hailey girl, right?”

It took a second for any of them to reply but in that second, they had all realized that this “Hailey girl” had to be someone significant. 

“Yes, we are, Ranger...Wilkinson.”

The three of them followed Ranger Wilkinson’s movements as he walked and stopped behind a counter. They saw him laugh softly, but dryly, at Dean’s words.

“Well, I will tell you exactly what I told her.” He spoke in a slightly annoyed tone; most likely because he had repeated himself multiple times. 

“Her brother filled out a backcountry permit saying he wouldn’t be back from Black Water until the 24th. So it’s not exactly a missing persons now, is it?”

Ersa could feel a small bubble of irritation forming in the pit of her stomach as she listened to the Ranger’s nonchalant words about a possible missing person. Any and everyone knew that these types of cases, where a person thinks a friend or family member is missing, usually ended with the authorities doing nothing only to find the missing person’s remains. As if someone would just report a person missing just for the hell of it. 

“Tell that girl to quit worrying. I’m sure her brother’s just fine.” The ranger walked away, his head shaking slightly. Ersa’s eyes followed his figure, and she could feel how her face twisted at his back. 

“We will. Well, that Hailey girl’s quite a pistol, huh?” Dean continued the act, smiling and raising his eyebrows.   

Whoever this Hailey girl was, Ersa desperately wished that she were here so that she could defend herself from the dense ranger in front of them. 

“That would be putting it mildly.” The ranger turned to make his exit, but Dean quickly spoke up.

“Actually, you know what would help is if I could show her a copy of that backcountry permit. You know, so she could see her brother’s return date.”

No matter how annoying Dean could be, Ersa had to admit that he could charm the skin off of a snake if he wanted to. This fact was only proven further when Ranger Wilkinson reluctantly sighed and motioned for them to stay put, before walking away to some unknown location. 

The ranger’s actions did exactly what Ersa knew they would do: inflate Dean’s ego. That much was obvious as he turned to her and Sam, his eyebrows raising in a self-impressed manner.

They merely shook their heads at Dean and waited for the ranger to come back.

*****

His happy-go-lucky mood continued, even as they walked out of the building. There was the tiniest bounce in his step, and it made both Ersa and Sam squint in confusion.

A chuckle had just left Dean’s mouth when Sam finally spoke up.

“What, are you cruising for a hookup or something?” Dean quickly looked at him, his eyebrows furrowing but his smile remaining on his face.

“What do you mean?”

“The coordinates point to Black Water Ridge. So what are we waiting for? Let’s just go find dad.” 

The annoyance in Sam’s voice was apparent, and it was emphasized as he quickly walked around to the passenger’s side of the car. 

“I mean, why even talk to this girl?”

At his words, Dean’s smile had faded, leaving a confused expression in its wake. He looked at Sam over the top of the car.

“I don’t know, maybe we should know what we’re walking into before we actually walk into it.” 

Ersa found herself nodding and agreeing with Dean’s words, but it also made her look at Sam in confusion as well. If she were to be honest with herself, she would have expected Sam’s words to come from Dean instead of the other way around. 

Sam’s eyes flickered between the two of them before his head tilted, and his shoulders rose and fell in irritation. 

“What?”

That one word was said in a biting manner as he raised his hands, his eyes widening slightly. 

“Since when are you all ‘shoot first, ask questions later’?” The corner of Dean’s mouth lifted, his body leaning against the side of the car. Despite the tiny grin on his face, Sam’s face remained stoic as he replied.

“Since now.” Sam didn’t wait for a response as he opened the passenger side door, sliding into the car. 

Ersa and Dean were left standing outside the car, looking at each other in a mixture of confusion and amusement, at least on Dean’s part. Ersa was quite worried. His eyebrows raised. 

“Oh, really?” He asked no one in particular, his face twisting into one of...impression? 

Ersa shook her head, opting to just join Sam in the car over opening her mouth and possibly making matters worse. It was hard when she had words for both of them. It’d be hard to keep them to herself until there came a point where she could truly say what she wanted to say. 

There was a part of her that hoped that that time would come soon. 

*****

Ersa wondered exactly what would come from seeking out “Hailey”, but she would have guessed that it was going to be something good the way Dean hastily drove to the woman’s house.

“Try not to scare the girl, will you? You seem a little too excited to ask about her missing brother.” She watched Dean in bewilderment as he knocked quickly on the door. The sound of Sam’s slow shuffled footsteps drew her attention to him as he joined them on the porch. She didn’t think he could look any more disinterested, and it made her furrow her eyebrows. She tried not to think too much about it as the sound of the door unlocking reached their ears.

The door opened, yet a screen still separated them from the young woman who had come to the door. Despite the screen, it was obvious that their presence confused, even worried, her.

“You must be Hailey Collins. I’m Dean, this is Sam, and Ersa.”

Sam offered a small nod as Dean introduced them, while Ersa sent a quick smile her way. Her eyes trailed over the three of them, her face not changing in the slightest...that is until Dean continued with their introduction.

“We’re rangers with the Park Service. Ranger Wilkinson sent us over. We wanted to ask you some questions about your brother Tommy.” Instead of remaining worried, she now looked at them skeptically. Ersa didn’t blame her.

Three rangers, yet none of them were wearing uniforms. None of them had badges, none of them had anything to back up their “ranger” story. 

“Let me see some I.D.”

Ersa raised an eyebrow, looking at Dean and waiting to see how he would handle this. Even Sam looked at his brother, his eyebrows slightly raised. 

“Oh.” It took Dean a matter of a few seconds to reach into his pocket and pull out a small car, holding it against the screen door. “There you go.”

Hailey regarded the car for a few seconds before her eyes lifted to look between the three of them. She reached to unlock the screen door and pushed it open.

“Come on in.”

“Thanks.” 

Before they could walk in, Hailey’s eyes landed on the Impala, her eyes narrowing. She looked at Dean.

“That yours?” A self-satisfied smile appeared on Dean’s face as he looked back at her, nodding slightly. 

“Yeah.” 

She took a second to look at it once more before turning to make her way back into the house, throwing a “nice car” over her shoulder. 

As they followed her further into the house, Dean turned around, looking at Sam and Ersa whole mouthing an “oh my…” in awe. Ersa rolled her eyes as she watched Dean fall in love within the period of a few seconds. She looked at Sam who merely shook his head at his brother’s antics. 

Their steps were muted against the dark carpet of the house as they walked through. Ersa’s eyes roamed on their own accord, the habit of looking for anything that could be labeled as “weird” or “unnatural” showing its head. 

They followed her into what looked to be a dimly lit dining room where another person, a man, was sitting at the table. He barely looked up from whatever was occupying him when they walked in. Even as she disappeared into the next room over, the man still hadn’t looked up at who he was now alone with. The sound of dishes being handled floated out of the room shortly before she walked out, now carrying a bowl. 

“So, if Tommy’s not due back for a while, how do you know something’s wrong?” 

His question wasn’t just a question; Ersa could hear it in his voice, the small hint of skepticism. He couldn’t see her face, but that didn’t stop her from narrowing her eyes at the side of his face. 

Of course, she knew where his disinterest or hesitance was coming from; to him, this was just one more obstacle distracting them from finding their dad and possibly finding the thing that had killed, not only their mother but his girlfriend as well. 

But this wasn’t just an “obstacle” they had to get over. This was a situation that could most likely turn into a potential case. A missing man somewhere in the woods? The number of cases she had that had started like this was too many to count; including the one case that would forever have a grip on her conscience. 

Before her mind could force her to relive those memories, she tuned into the current conversation.

“He checks in every day by cell. He e-mails photos, stupid little videos. But we haven’t heard anything in over three days now.”

She rattled off the reasons behind her worry quickly, raising her eyes to meet Sam’s. He replied quickly as if he had already planned what he was going to say. His face showed indifference when he replied. 

“Well, maybe he can’t get cell reception.”

Her eyebrows slightly furrowed and her head shook in slight denial. 

“He’s got a satellite phone, too.” 

Ersa could tell that Hailey had made up her mind on this entire situation. She could tell by the way Hailey didn’t back down, even as Dean and Sam asked questions that could prove otherwise. 

“Could it be he’s just having fun and forgot to check-in?”

The man who had been sitting silently at the table now spoke up, his voice being accompanied by the clattering of his utensils hitting his plate. He looked at Dean, a tinge of annoyance being heard in his voice.

“He wouldn’t do that.”

He turned back to his plate, but not before Ersa caught a glimpse of his face. The person who she had thought was a man was a young boy; he couldn’t have been older than 17. Her eyes landed on Dean, who was looking at the boy in surprise. 

“Our parents are gone. It’s just my two brothers and me.” Hailey looked at her younger brother fondly, but a sad and worried curtain had fallen across her face. 

“We all keep pretty close tabs on each other.”

Maybe it was just her incredibly empathetic side, but as Ersa watched Hailey and her brother, she couldn’t help but feel the tension in the air. The tension of not knowing what was happening to a family member- a sibling- all the while being the only people who worried about him. Her brother wouldn’t lift his gaze from his plate, even as she continued to look at him. 

Ersa felt her chest tighten the longer the silence stretched on, to the point where she had to look away. Ironically, her eyes immediately landed on a framed picture of the three of them, and it was easy to see how close they were, even in the picture.

“Can I see the pictures he sent you?”

She nodded, motioning them to follow her a few steps past the dining table and to a short desk. Her steps were quick, but at the same time, she seemed to hesitate. 

It didn’t take long for them to reach the desktop, nor did it take long for Hailey to pull up the appropriate files. Soon, a picture of a man laughing in the direction of the camera was on the screen.

“That’s Tommy,” another click changed the picture to a video, “this is his last message.”

Ersa leaned closer, gently nudging Dean out of the way. He sent a questioning look towards her, one she didn’t see, before focusing his attention back on the computer.

“Hey, Hailey. Day six, We’re still out near Black Water Ridge. We’re fine, keeping safe, so don’t worry, okay? Talk to you tomorrow.”

The video ended, and Hailey let out a breath. Watching the last video a sibling sent before they went missing would be hard to go through, but she had just done it. 

“We’ll find your brother. We’re heading out to Black Water Ridge first thing.” A glance showed that Sam’s eyebrows were furrowed, but not at his brother’s statement; he was still staring at the computer screen. Even as Hailey stood up, making her way past them, his eyes didn’t move.

“Then maybe I'll see you there.” Her steps took her to the other side of the table where she stopped beside her younger brother. She squared her shoulders as she looked at them.

Ersa straightened from where she had been leaning over the computer, looking at Hailey. Her eyebrows furrowed slightly. 

At seeing the questioning glances Dean and Sam had given each other, Hailey continued, her voice strong and unrelenting. 

“Look, I can’t sit around here anymore, so I hired a guide. I’m heading out in the morning, and I’m gonna find Tommy myself.”

Ersa couldn’t stop the small expression of surprise from crossing her face, but she had no idea why. Hailey had already proven that she was a person who wouldn’t take no for an answer when it came to the wellbeing of her brother. A trait that Ersa admired. 

Dean’s voice came from her side, prompting her to look at him and discover the admiring look on his face as he nodded.

“I think I know how you feel.” 

It didn’t take long for Ersa to realize that Dean probably did know how she felt; after all, their first meeting after many years had been fueled by his desire to find their dad. But he wasn’t the only one who understood Hailey and what she was going through.

“Hey, do you mind forwarding these to me?” Sam asked softly, motioning to the computer and the photos they had just seen. 

“Sure.” 

Silence had filled the house until Hailey motioned vaguely to the dishes on the table, looking at the three of them and telling them that they were welcome to stay for dinner. Dean had seemed a little too excited to take her up on the offer, however, after hearing both Sam and Ersa politely decline under the pretense of “needing to do a little research” he declined.

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that Dean had formed the smallest connection with Hailey. It could be seen in the soft looks he sent her way, even as they exited her house and got back into the Impala. 

The entire drive to their next destination, there was a peculiar look and a faint smile on his face. 

*****

Ersa couldn’t remember the last time she had gone to a bar. It was most likely because going to a bar alone didn’t seem as appealing to her. Add the fact that she was a young woman who was, in no way, looking for someone to entertain her, and she had a perfectly valid reason for not going to bars that often. 

However, the bar that they currently were in was no different from the ones she had been to in the past. It had all of the tell-tale signs of a rugged bar; loud country music, the smell of booze and sweat mingling with other unknown smells, the sounds of rowdy conversations, the whole deal. 

She had to lean forward to hear Sam’s voice, and he had to raise his voice just to be heard over the noise. 

“So, Black Water Ridge doesn’t get a lot of traffic, local campers mostly. But still, this past April, two hikers went missing out there. They were never found.”

As he spoke, he pulled a few papers out of a small briefcase that rested on the table beside him. He flipped open a planner that had more paper in it, along with an attached notepad.

 “Any before that?” Dean looked over all of the papers Sam had spread out, seemingly not surprised by the amount of research his brother had done. 

“Yeah. In 1982, eight different people all vanished in the same year. Authorities said it was a grizzly attack.” 

Ersa looked intensely at the newspaper Dean passed her way, quickly spotting the bolded heading “GRIZZLY BEAR ATTACKS” before setting it to the side as Sam pulled out yet another newspaper. 

“And again in 1959, and again, before that, in 1936,” he lifted the screen of his computer and after a glance over, she could see Tommy’s smiling face on it, “every 23 years. Just like clockwork.”

The more Sam continued to show them what he found, the more invested Ersa became. She had already believed Hailey, but now, without a singular doubt, she knew something was going on.

“Okay, watch this. Here’s the clincher,” Sam pushed his laptop further into the center of the table, just far enough so that they could all see the screen, “I downloaded that guy Tommy’s video to the laptop. Check this out.”

The video played, with Sam continuously pressing the pause button,  and there was one aspect that had Ersa leaning forward more, her eyes focusing intensely on the screen.

“Whatever the hell that was, it sure isn’t human.” She was confident as she spoke. Not even taking the speed into account, the silhouette of the creature didn’t even look human.

“Do it again.” Dean’s eyebrows furrowed, and he ducked his head to get a closer look. Sam repeated his actions from before, letting the video play before continuously pressing pause during the part where the silhouette appeared. He looked at his brother.

“That’s three frames. It’s a fraction of a second. Whatever that thing is, it can move.”

Sam played through the three frames once more, only to stop when Dean’s hand suddenly shot out and hit against his arm. Both Sam and Ersa quickly looked at him in question. He met their gazes with a small grin.

“I told you something weird was going on.” Sam let out a quick breath at Dean’s words, closing his laptop.

“Yeah. I got one more thing. In ‘59, one more camper survived the supposed Grizzly attack. Just a kid- barely crawled out of the woods alive.” He handed Dean a piece of newspaper.

“Is there a name?”

Sam looked between the two of them, a small, knowing smile on his face. Dean sighed and nodded. The sound of keys filled the air.

“Alright. Well...I think it’s best we go pay-” he glanced down at the paper in his hands, his eyes quickly moving across the words, before he looked up, “Mr. Shaw a visit.”

*****

If she hadn’t known any better, she’d have thought that they had stepped out of a bar and driven right to another one. 

It hadn’t been hard to find Mr. Shaw's address, but it had been a little challenging to keep her facial expression as neutral as it could get when they stepped inside of his apartment after introducing themselves. 

The smell of liquor was there, along with the smell of cigarette smoke, and the unmistakable smell of expired food. A few more steps past the front door only confirmed her suspicions; while things were they should have been, the conditions of the room were...not the best. She could see that, despite the majority of the apartment being shrouded in darkness. 

“Look, Ranger, I don’t know why you’re asking me about this. It’s public record. I was a kid.” 

As he spoke, Eras could see both Dean and Sam looking around the apartment. Mr. Shaw continued walking into the next room before stopping with his back to them. 

“My parents got mauled by a-”

“Grizzly?” Sam spoke up from his position in the connecting kitchen area, “ that’s what attacked them?”

The older man slowly reached up, taking the cigarette out of his mouth before slowly turning to face them. He nodded silently, not offering anything else. And when it became apparent that he wouldn’t say anything else, Dean stepped forward.

“The other people that went missing that year...those bear attacks, too?” At Dean’s words, Mr. Shaw lowered his gaze, his jaw working. At some point, he had put the cigarette back in his mouth, and it stayed there. 

“What about all the people that went missing this year? Same thing?”

Mr. Shaw’s shoulders tensed as he barely spared a glance toward Dean. Ersa could practically see the wall the older man had built around himself.

“If we knew what we were dealing with, we might be able to stop it.” Now, as he turned, there was an acute humorous look on his face. He lowered the cigarette.

“I seriously doubt that. Anyways,” he shakily lowered himself into the wooden chair, “I don’t see the difference it would make. You wouldn’t believe me. Nobody ever did.”

His shoulders had sagged as if the mere mention of what had happened decades ago was weighing down on him right now. His eyes were focused on something far away as he spoke. 

Ersa slowly walked closer to him, pulling out the chair in front of him and sitting on it. She waited until his eyes met hers. 

“Mr. Shaw...I can assure you that we will. You’d be surprised at what we’ve seen while being rangers.” She had been so close to saying the word “hunters” but had caught herself at the last second. Luckily, the man hadn’t noticed, his wary gaze on her.

Sam’s soft footsteps sounded through the air as he slowly approached the table that they were seated beside. He slowly sat on said table, lowering his head until his gaze was leveled with Mr. Shaw’s.

“Mr. Shaw...what did you see?” His voice was soft as he questioned the man. Despite the softness of his voice, Mr. Shaw still looked, well, terrified. His eyes flickered from Sam to Ersa, who gave him a nod and an encouraging grin. He sighed.

“Nothing. It moved too fast to see. It hid too well. I heard it, though. A roar...” His voice grew rougher as he continued, and his eyes had focused on one spot near the ground. The atmosphere had grown darker, and not in the physical sense. They all sensed it and glanced slowly at each other. He continued, and it only seemed to get darker.

“...Like no man or animal I ever heard.” His eyes glistened with tears or maybe it was just pure terror at reliving the moments that could have possibly had a grip on his mind ever since they happened.

“It came at night?” Mr. Shaw nodded at Sam’s question.

“Got inside your tent?” Sam’s next question made him pause for a second before his eyes widened following the next words out of his mouth.

“It got inside our cabin.” This one piece of information made a chill run down Ersa’s spine, and she sat up more. She took a deep breath as he continued. 

“I was sleeping in front of the fireplace when it came in. It didn’t smash a window or break the door...it unlocked it.”

The last words he spoke affected all three of them, as they fidgeted slightly. Ersa didn’t know about Sam or Dean, but in moving around, she was trying to ignore the way his words had made goosebumps appear on her entire body. 

“Do you know of a bear that could do something like that? I didn’t even wake up until I heard my parents screaming.” At the mention of his parents, Ersa froze, her hands in the process of gripping the sides of the chair she sat on.

“It killed them?” Sam asked the question, but they all knew the answer before Mr. Shaw had even spoken.

“Dragged them off into the night. Why it left me alive...I’ve been asking myself that ever since.” 

Sam’s head dropped slightly, his eyes finding a spot on the floor to stay on. Not only was there grief in Mr. Shaw’s voice, but there was guilt. Survivor’s guilt, to be more specific. Ersa had seen it enough times to recognize it; she had lived it enough times to empathize with him.

“It did leave me this, though.”

They all watched the man pulled his robe and shirt aside only to reveal 4 long, massive marks that had either been made by Kreuger himself, or whatever had attacked Mr. Shaw and his family. Even after all of these years, the marks were still very apparent. 

He slowly pulled his clothes to cover the marks as he looked away. He took a shaky breath.

“There’s something evil in those woods. It was some sort of a demon.” The man was right...in a way. 

The three of them knew that they weren’t dealing with a demon, but they were most definitely dealing with something that was pure evil. 

*****

The conversation with Mr. Shaw had only made them more determined to find out what was out there, tearing families apart by literally dragging them elsewhere, maiming people. As soon as they had bid goodbye to Mr. Shaw and started walking to the exit, they had started talking amongst themselves, throwing out theories. 

“Spirits and demons don’t have to unlock doors. If they want inside, they just go through the walls.”

“So it’s probably something else- something corporeal.” Without missing a beat or a step, Dean turned to Sam, one eyebrow raising. 

“‘Corporeal’? Excuse me, professor.” Ersa glanced over her shoulder at the two of them but aimed her words at Dean.

“‘Corporeal’: something with a physical body.” Dean’s head quickly turned frontwards and he looked at Ersa’s back. She could hear a smile in his voice as he spoke. 

“Great, I’m dealing with two spelling bee kids.”

“Shut up.” Sam and Ersa spoke in unison, and it wiped the smile off of Dean’s face rather quickly. However, it only made grins appear on their faces as they looked at each other quickly, before Ersa turned back around, intent on not bumping into anything. 

“So, what do you think?”

Dean tilted his head, probably going over everything they had just learned. 

“The claws, the speed that it moves, it could be a skinwalker-”

“Or a black dog.”

“-maybe a black dog,” Dean agreed with Ersa’s input, nodding when she chimed in, “whatever we’re talking about, we’re talking about a creature, and it’s corporeal, which means we can kill it.”

Dean paused, making sure to look pointedly at them as he copied the word they had used earlier. It prompted an eye roll from both of them and a soft laugh to fall from Ersa’s mouth. She reached out, gently patting Dean’s shoulder in a celebration.

“Aw, Dean learned a new word today. I think I have some stickers in the car.” A bark of laughter came from Sam at Dean’s expense, who jerked his arm out from under Ersa’s hand. He looked at her with a frown, but it slowly morphed into a grin that he couldn’t stop. Not only was it a grin, but it was a mischievous one.

“Just for that, you can be the first on watch duty.” Her eyebrows furrowed but the smile remained on her face. She crossed her arms.

“Watch duty?”

Dean’s smile grew and he looked between them before focusing back on Ersa once again. He walked forward until they were toed to toe.

“Watch duty. When we go camping.” 

This time, it was Dean who laughed audibly, and it was because of the way Ersa’s face had dropped. 

“Camping? Camping?” Dean turned, still laughing, and made his way down the hallway. Anyone could tell how self-satisfied he was by the way he practically skipped down the hallway. 

Ersa was still rooted to the spot, her mind still trying to process the word “camping”, her eyes wide and blinking furiously. 

Sam entered her vision a few seconds later, a soft smile on his face. His hand raised, gently landing on Ersa’s shoulder and squeezing reassuringly. 

“I’ll take the first watch with you, don’t worry.” 

She straightened her posture, took a deep breath, and pushed the thought of camping in the middle of nowhere without the proper supplies, all while hunting, or possibly being hunted, by the creature they were supposed to kill, all while worrying about a group of civilians and their safety-

Her voice was higher in pitch as she looked at Sam, her eyes even wider now.

“Camping?”

I hope you all liked this part!! I’m going to try my best to get part two written by next Thursday, but the holiday season is upon us and I’m rather busy! PLUS my birthday is Dec 23rd, so I’m going to be extra busy!

I hope you all are staying safe! For those who celebrate Christmas, Merry Early Christmas! For those who don’t celebrate Christmas, Happy Holidays!

[dew-itowo]

As The World Caves In part 4

Cody; It’s been and honor... Sir...

The alcohol stung the back of Cody's raw throat. From screaming his pain away. Screaming at you because you didn't understand how much Rex had meant to him. He sat there, drinking, smoking, doing anything other than thinking about his dead batcher, and failing. Smoke rolled off his lips like the thunder that threatened rain off in the distance of his office. Of course, he was destroyed over Rex's death. He and Rex had practically adopted you when they met you. Not taking your hurt into account he selfishly, drunkenly, took his out on you like some abusive father. But never laying a hand on you. He fumbled with the medallion you'd gifted him after his promotion to Commander.

"What's that Ad'ika?" The commander said, scooping you up from where you stood. Only a little girl at the time. Maybe Ahsoka's age. Maybe younger. Giggling and squirming in his arms you tried to hide the present.

"Nothing Kote. Just uuuh, a thing." You lied wonderfully. Cody smiled brightly as Rex jogged up the hill to where they stood. His riduur looking like he'd just run the mile four times.

"Force you're a fast little shit, you know that right?" Rex panted as you buried your face into Cody's chest plate, smiling like the it was Life day and you just got the best present. "FYI they'll leave you in their dust Codes." Cody laughed, throaty, deep, and beautiful. It always made you feel better hearing that man's laugh. Rex moved forward resting his hand on your shoulder as he kissed Cody's cheek. "How's my Marshal Commander?" The captain cooed lightly. Cody smiled brightly.

"I'm better than I'll ever be with you two." Gods wasn't that the truth~

The height wasn't too far up from where he stood. Maybe 50 meters up. The whiskey burned sliding down his throat again. Thinking of you. Thinking of everything you gave him and Rex. It hurt to do this to you, but he couldn't take living with his husband. Afterall the war was ending and now clones would be needed after the fact. It was entirely selfish to believe that he might save you from more hurt by jumping now, when Obi-wan his best friend and your master was to be coming around tomorrow morning with reports. He'd most likely have you with him. Another chug of the whiskey made his groan. If it wasn't jumping that'd kill him, it'd be the alcohol poisoning.

"Cody? Do you like being a clone?" You asked one evening while nestled between an exhausted Rex and Cody. The latter being fast asleep while he held you close to him. Cody looked away from his datapad with a thoughtful look.

"What do you mean by that Ad?" He asked, combing his hand through your hair.  You leaned into his touch looking down slightly, away from his eyes. "Do I like being a clone, as in do I enjoy being a soldier?" You nod slowly. "Well of course I like being a clone. Hell if I wasn't I would have you or Rex or Obi-wan. Yes I hate watching my Vod leave me, but it's a natural thing, and we we're all born to die. Clone or not." He admitted, leaning his cheek on your head. "How could I not love being a clone when I have everything and more right now."

You smile feeling him kiss your forehead. Your eyes growing heavy with each passing second. "I love you dad." You slurred already half asleep, unaware of what you just said to him. Cody blinked for a moment before answering.

"I love you more than anything Ad'ika."

"Promise?"

"Cross my heart."

His com chirped with another message from you. Surely you were petrified thinking this was all your fault. It hurt Cody to think about it. But you are a strong kid, you'll move on. Eventually at least. He was afraid of hurting you any further. He was afraid of you hating him for what he was deciding to pull. Rex would kick his ass into next week if he caught him doing this. Even as a kriffing ghost he might shove his foot up his ass. The thought drew out a small laugh from Cody thinking about how funny Rex was.

They were pinned down by droids. All sides as you sat there trying to come up with a plan. Anakin sitting with you spewing out idea with Ahsoka. When Rex spoke up. "Hey, Let's do get help." He grinned at Cody.

"What?"

"Get help." Rex repeated smiling more. Cody frowned.

"No~" Cody breathed, thinking about what happened when they did it last time.

"Come on you love it." Rex chuckled. Cody looked at the ground trying not to meet anyone's gaze. Because Get help was not something you did in front of your general's.

"I hate it."

"It's great, It works every time."

"it's humiliating."

"Do you have a better idea?" Rex asked, knowing fully that he'd won. Cody sighed in defeat.

"No." He admitted. Rex smiles.

"We're doing it." The captain smiled.

"We are not doing Get help." Cody affirmed one last time. At least trying to sound like he wasn't going to anyway.

~

The doors hiss open as Cody hung onto Rex's shoulder. Rex acting panicked he held onto Cody's arm. "GET HELP! PLEASE! MY BROTHER IS DYING!" Cody rolled his eyes internally as he played dead. Stumbling along with Rex's steps. The battle droids all confused by what was going on. "Get Help! Help Him!!" Rex yelled as he threw Cody at the line of droids. Bowling them over as Rex pulling out his twin DCS add mowed down the rest around Cody who laid on top of the pile of droids he was just thrown at. You and the rest of the men enter the room. You ran over to Cody asking if he was okay frantically. Rex chuckles putting his blasters away. "Oh he's just pouting because I threw him like a bowling bowl." Cody grumbles a death threat as he gets up. Rex laughs. "Oh hush, you could never kill me. I'll kill you first Cyar'ika."

Cody choked on a broken sob as the last of the memory echoed in his mind, "I'll kill you first Cyar'ika." the whiskey tasted like veno on his tongue. his com chirping with panicked messages from you now. Maybe others. He could hear Obi-wan's ring playing along with yours. He must be worried now. All he wanted was to lay down and die in peace, but he couldn't do that with you panicking and worrying about him. It sounded horrible, but what world is there to live in when he's lost what he loves must. Along with hurting you.

"Go Away!" He yelled throwing his empty whiskey bottle at the com. Instead of shutting it up, it hit the call button. Great, just what he needs right now. Human interaction.

"Commander?" A familiar voice said over the com. They sounded half asleep whoever they were. "Commander are you alright?" He said sounding an awful lot like Kix. Oh not good. Kix was a kriffing bloodhound when sniffing out hurt vod. Especially emotionally hurt one. "Cody, you there vod? Are you ok?" Sounding fully awake now the clone could be heard moving around, with another asking what was going on in the background, possibly being woken up by the movement and talking. "Cody?" Cody wasn't there, physically maybe but not mentally or emotionally. He didn't want to ask for help, though he knew he deeply needed it. He wasn't that kind of person to ask another for comfort. He'd always had Rex to just give it to him when he noticed the signs. He could tell Kix was getting worried now. "Cody are you there, is everything okay? Are you hurt?" Hurt is metaphorical. Pain is rhetorical. and self loathing is literal. So which was it?

"Can you tell them I'm sorry... I didn't mean to take it out on them. They never deserved my anger. Please tell them I'm sorry." Kix knew what was going on now. Quickly he could be heard jumped out of his bunk and his feet hitting the floor hard.

"Cody stay on the line. Just keep talking to me." Kix spoke in his medic voice, sweet like sugar followed with a great sabbac face. He knew Kix was panicking now. He didn't have far to run, they were all in the same barracks. But the offices where high over them. "Cody you there Vod?"

"Kix, it's okay I'm fine." He lied, looking over the railing of the small balcony that every office had. Officers offices also had a living quarters if they hose to stay there, which Cody had since he and Rex wanted a private place for themselves.

"Where are you right now." Kix breathed hard, he must be running. "Cody keep talking to me, tell me whats going on."

"I miss him... So much..."

"I know, I know you miss him. But It's going to be okay listen to me. I promise it's going to be okay." Kix was in the lift now, he could hear the doors closing. But the pocket knife was already in his hand. He didn't want to be saved. But he also didn't want to hurt anymore.

"Kix tell them that they mean the world to me. And that I'm sorry." Cody choked out at the blade touched his underarm. The thin layer of skin protecting his veins and artery being pressed in. He could feel Kix's panic now. He knew he was scaring the poor medic, but this needed to be said. "I don't want them to know what I did so I want you to tell them I went in my sleep." The blood started to bead up now, pressing harder the blade cut deeper into his wrist. It didn't hurt much since he wasn't sober or in his right mind at all.

"Cody listen to yourself vod, do you hear what your saying?" But Cody didn't care what he heard. He knew Kix well, and also knew he wouldn't stop trying to save a goner until they died in his embrace. A small whimper escaped Cody. "Cody I'm in your corridor. You better be there when I bust down your door."

"Or what." He dare challenge the medic now. Blood dripping continuously from his wrist, deep slices bleeding heavily. he'd felt the pinch when he cut to deep, he knew he wasn't going to survive this. "Are you going to decommission me?"

"I sure your trying to decommission yourself as we speak, but no, I'm going to help you." The lock on his door unlocked as Kix keyed in his code. "It's going to be alright Cody."

"Nothing's going to anything sooner or later Kix."

"Don't give up on me."

"I give up a long time ago, I just had my husband to keep me from offing myself." He growled through welling tears, he hated crying. It pissed him off. But only when he was one doing it.

"Is that it, was that all Rex was to you?" Kix yelled now as the door hissed open. He then saw the mess the office was, holes in the walls from punching them, empty bottles of liquor everywhere, and Cody sitting on the balcony stabbing his arms as his mask cracked entirely. Kix ran towards him, realising his med kit wouldn't help this at all. "Cody no, stop, now!" He shouted grabbed the Commander by his untouched wrist and twisting in sharply to make him drop the pocket knife. A broken sob exited the commander's mouth as the knife fell to the ground. Landing in the messy pool of Cody's blood. "No, You di'kut!" Cody felt very light headed. Dizzy too.

"I told you I'm sorry. Please don't be mad with me." He sobbed, Kix cupped his cheeks holding him up when his legs gave out.

"No vod, no I'm not mad at you. You okay, your going to be okay." He chanted as he dead gifted Cody off the ground. He'd never seen Cody this broken before. It hurt him.

All of Cody's words became gibberish soon after that, just holding onto Kix as he carried him to the med bay. He felt so pathetic as brothers from his battalion and the 501st stared in shock. Watching the as his blood left a trail on the white permacrete. They knew a goner when they saw one.

Cody watched the brothers as he passed by, his eyes becoming very heavy suddenly as Kix chanted stay with me closer to his ear. He could only imagine it being Rex's voice. Maybe that'd help to stay. Why did he want to say though? Why was he listening again?

He could see the white walls of the medbay now. Sick brothers watching as the commander is carried by their medic, his blood staining the white tile as they passed by. Kix's talking became hard to hear the closer they got to where ever they were going. All Cody thought about was You and Rex.

Rex laid with you in his arms, you slept peacefully as both of them watched the night shift in morning.  Dreaming about the stars and what they meant.

Cody was laying on a cot now, and you were next to him. Why were you there? When did you get there? Words seemed to jumble up inside his head. Breathing became harder as he heard you say his name.

"Amazing grace, how sweet the sound. The save a wretch like me." They sang as the shots fired for him. He watched as they folded his flag. The Coruscant emblem with the GAR emblem in the right corner. Cody held you close as you sang. Rex had always loved it when you sang. He must love it now, Cody thought as a sneaky tear rolled sown his cheek. Gods he must be laughing right now, watching grown men cry over him. Hell he must be having a blast. It made Cody smile thinking about it.

He smiled as a tear dripped down his cheek. Holding your hand in his good one the words suddenly starting to make sense. "I'm so sorry for what I did, I didn't meant to make you mad. Please Cody don't you leave me too. I'm afraid of being alone." You sobbed holding his hand.

"But you're not alone, yeah I may be leaving you. But my caring will always stay for you, as will so many others. I should yelled at you. It wasn't your fault, never had been. I was just so mad. I'm sure you could understand." He whispers to you. "Be to honest, I'm scared to be alone too."

"Then why leave me?" You sob.

“When someone leaves your life, those exits are not made equal. Some are beautiful and poetic and satisfying. Others are abrupt and unfair. But most are just unremarkable, unintentional, clumsy.” He breathes out, feeling his eyes grow heavy. "But as long as you remember them, you'll never be alone." His smile was bright as he cupped your cheek softly. You leaned into his touch. "I was an honor... Sir..." He slurred as he finally let go.

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

13 Keys to the White House: 2024

Historian Allan Lichtman has produced an astonishingly accurate system for predicting presidential elections; although first implemented in 1984, going backwards it correctly accounts for every election since 1860, with the only hiccup coming from the hotly contested 2000 election. He predicted Gore would win, and he wasn’t entirely wrong, there was just some brotherly nepotism and Supreme Court fuckery. Anyway, his system posits 13 yes or no scenarios about the state of the union; if at least 8 are true then the incumbent party wins another term, less than 8 and the challenging party wins. Simple.

It’s pretty early in Biden’s term to tell for sure, but we can make some soft predictions that we can refine over the next few years before solidifying in 2023 or 2024.

Midterm gains: after the midterms, the incumbent party holds more seats in the House than they did in the previous midterms. Almost certainly false. 2022 will see new districts drawn by the predominantly Republican statehouses, giving them an immediate advantage. Democrats have a razor thin majority as is, it’s never been this close to tied before, I can’t see them holding on when you take into account new census data and partisan gerrymandering.

No primary contest: is there no serious contest for the incumbent party nomination. Almost certainly true. Like him or hate him, Democrats are stuck with Biden. There hasn’t been a serious primary challenge in either major party since Reagan tried to take on Ford in 1976.

Incumbent seeking re-election: the incumbent candidate is the president. Again almost certainly true. There was an unspoken agreement that Biden would only run for one term, considering the fact that he’ll be 82 at the end of it, but o think he thinks he’s in for the long run now. If he does in office, Harris will become president and run for re-election herself, so the only way this would flip false would be if Biden just decides not to run again. In that case, the #2 might also flip false because I could see a weak senator like Joe Manchin running against Harris to get out of his own impending failure in West Virginia.

No third-party: no significant third party challenger. Too soon to tell, though I’m leaning towards true. The last nationally successful third party candidate was Ross Perot in 1992 and 1996. He didn’t win any states, but he split some states nearly in thirds; Clinton and Bush and Dole all won states with less than 50% of he vote because Perot split the ticket. In 2000 Ralph Nader lost New Hampshire for Al Gore, giving it and the presidency to George W. Bush, and the same thing happened with Jill Stein in 2016 in the Midwest. Spoilers don’t need to be major on the National scale to have significant effects in specific states. Lichtman only flips this one false when a third party candidate wins 10% of the vote, so I’m going with true.

Short-term economy: the economy is not in recession. Probably true, but still too early to tell. We are either in the middle or nearing the end of a covid recession, I can’t see it lasting three more years without recovering at least a little, especially with the $2 trillion stimulus package they just passed. The economy is random, but if you look at a plot of unemployment since the Great Depression you will see that it consistently trends up under Republicans and trends down under Democrats. Trump was the only president is recent history to actually destroy more jobs than he created, so Biden could. It have inherited an easier path to victory. He shouldn’t be able to fuck up when the bar is so low, but I’m not holding out hope.

Long-term economy: real pet capita growth equals or exceeds mean growth during the previous two terms. Probably true, too soon to be sure. We’re so deep in the hole after Trump that any even remotely upwards tick will count as growth. I can’t see us dipping deeper than 2020 anytime soon, but then again that’s what they said in 2008, so who even knows?

Major policy change: the incumbent administration effects major change in national policy. False, I can call it now with utmost confidence. With Manchin and Sinema protecting the filibuster, Biden will get absolutely nothing substantive done in his first two years. He’ll end up losing one or both houses in the midterms, accomplishing even less in his next two! If he loses the Senate, it’s all over. It’ll be 2016 2.0, no more appointments, no more nominees, complete and utter obstruction until the Republicans take back he presidency and fill all the vacancies themselves.

No social unrest: no sustained social unrest during the term. Too soon to tell, but maybe true. 2020 was an anomaly, a once in a generation thing like 1968, so many crises all compounded together; the pandemic, the George Floyd protests, the wild fires, the hurricanes, utter chaos. I don’t see 2024 being as bad, but don’t quote me on that.

No scandal: incumbent administration is not tainted by scandal. Who knows?!? Biden seems pretty white bread/plain vanilla/mayonnaise, but Republicans insist he’s the most corrupt politician since their own guys (Trump and Nixon; lowering the bar for all their successors). They milked Benghazi for years and found nothing, but still tanked Clinton’s integrity going forward, I’m sure they’ll try to milk whatever BS They can find on Hunter Biden, especially if they retake the House or Senate. Whether any accusations will stick is up in the air, but I could see Republicans impeaching Biden just because they can.

No foreign/military failure: incumbent administration suffers no major failure in foreign/military affairs. Who knows? Biden’s foreign policy isn’t significantly different than Trump’s, so there’s no telling what could go wrong. The Saudis will keep cutting people’s heads off, North Korea will never disarm itself, Iran will probably arm itself, Afghanistan will drag on forever, and I can smell war brewing in the Caucasus, Venezuela, and Bolivia. The future is as clear as milk.

Foreign policy/military success: incumbent administration achieves major success in foreign/military affairs. Probably not, but too soon to tell. Succeeding is very different from not failing, so 10 and 11 aren’t necessarily linked. You can not fail AND not succeed, they’re not mutually exclusive. I don’t see anything good happening overseas for a very long time. If we pull out of Afghanistan, the power vacuum will pave the way for ISIS 2.0, so our hands are tied there. Our best bet would be to renegotiate a nuclear deal with Iran, but then we’ll just be back to status quo anteTrumpum, zero sum gain.

Charismatic incumbent: the incumbent party nominee is charismatic or a national hero. False, false, a million times false. Biden isn’t even beloved by his entire party, let alone the country; Republicans hate him even more than they ought to just because he wears a blue tie instead of a red one (his policies are so middle-of-the-road inoffensive to them that they shouldn’t have a problem with him, but Trump told them to, so they do). If Biden dies or refuses to run, Harris is even more divisive because she’s a woman and a disingenuous liar (she pretends to be super progressive, but she’s a cop, a Clintonesque moderate through and through). Obama in 2008 was a breath of fresh air which got very stale by 2012; 2008 was lightning in a bottle, and neither Biden nor Harris could ever dream of catching it again. They’re nowhere near as nationally beloved as the Roosevelts or Kennedy or Reagan.

Uncharismatic challenger: the challenging party candidate is not charismatic or a national hero. True, true, a million times true. It will almost certainly be Trump again in 2024, and he is even more despised than Biden. Sure, he’s beloved by his own party, but they make up less than half of he country. He never had majority approval and lost the popular vote twice, he’s a loser! If by some miracle he chooses not to run, the Republicans will be running around like chickens with their heads cut off trying to appoint a successor. They’ll want one of his kids to run, maybe even his daughter in law who is looking to run for senate in 2022, but they’re tainted by affiliation to the Gonad Lump himself; they’re all the same. Ted Cruz sucks ass, Ron DeSantis might actually have an intellectual disability so I feel bad making fun of that piece of shit bastard, I pray that Rick Scott and Josh Hawley and Matt Gaetz suffer debilitating brain aneurysms on live TV, Nikki Haley is a nobody, and Lauren Boebert and Majorie Taylor Green are too regional to have national appeal (though Green will probably run against Raphael Warnock in 2022, so she will almost certainly be a senator by 2024). There are no nationally beloved politicians on either side of the aisle, so I would expect Republicans to cheat like they tried in 2020 to stop black people in swing states from voting.

So, the tally stands thus:

3 are certainly true

4 are probably true, leaning uncertain

2 are uncertain

1 is probably false, leaning uncertain

3 are certainly false

Democrats need 8 true to win, Republicans need 6 false to win. Right now, Biden had a slight edge because it is historically difficult to defeat an incumbent, Trump just sucked. I don’t see a rematch being significantly different, I suspect Biden would still win the popular vote, but Trump could eke by with the electoral college like he did in 2016, especially now that Republicans are taking over the judiciary in Pennsylvania (they’re changing the rules so that judges are elected in gerrymandered districts instead of statewide races). You saw how hard Republicans fought in 2020, they’re not going to change tactics in 2024, they’re gonna double down and try even harder next time. Fewer polling places, fewer drop boxes, shorter early voting, shorter hours, more stringent ID laws. Their MO is systemic voter suppression because their rhetoric has become too toxic to win on a national level. The majority of Americans vote against them in almost every election, general and midterm, but they continue to rule in the minority.

Something has got to give, this can’t go on forever, eventually the situation is going to boil over, be it in a civil war or a constitutional convention to overhaul the entire country; neither are probable, and either outcome would almost certainly hurt people of color in predominantly conservative states.

Biden thought he would be an arbiter president, he thought he would be able to unite the country, heal the divide, being both sides together under mutual compromise, but he failed to understand that Republicans hate him on principal. Doesn’t matter how much he tries to appease them, they still hate him because they have to hate him, even if they agree with him. It would be political suicide for any of them to side with Biden on anything, Trump has already vowed to support primary challengers, his presidency was the final nail in the coffin of bipartisanship. Bipartisanship is dead, it hasn’t been alive in decades, and the only people who call for it are the minority party.

Trump is hard liquor, unappealing to anyone but his alcoholic voters; Biden is diet ginger ale, inoffensive and boring, nobody really wanted him, he only ran to try and settle everyone’s stomachs, and he hasn’t been very successful yet. He honestly believed he would be a neutral alternative for the alcoholics; that level of optimism would be adorable if it weren’t so pathetic. It’s gonna take a lot more than 12 steps to break the country’s addiction.

[let-it-raines]

Catch Me If You Can (23/?)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series.

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

a/n: I wrote this entire story in some kind of pregnancy-fueled Mexican-food-craving haze, and I didn’t realize just how much time was between some certain big plot points until I was proof-reading this. That said, I’m not changing any of that and am literally impatient to share all of the upcoming chapters with you wonderful people! @resident-of-storybrooke​ has assured me that they’re actually good. lol. Not entirely sure that I trust her 😉

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-/-

I need your post-series comparison report by nine this morning.

You were late with it last time, and that made me late with my report. This is why you should probably stick to on-air reporting instead of continuing to write articles when we have people for that.

W.O.

���Asshole,” Emma mutters to herself after reading that blatantly condescending email from Walsh.

She’s been in the office for approximately fifteen minutes, most likely a little less than that, and the first thing that Emma saw after logging into her computer was an email from Walsh about her report on the difference between playing at home and away, specifically when it comes to playing the Red Sox. Two weeks ago, the Yankees lost every single game they played in Boston, especially that epic game where they lost 3-17 the night Killian was the starting pitcher, and then over the last four days, they’ve won every game while in New York.

Home team advantage taking on a whole new meaning because it is seriously in play this year.

And Emma doesn’t want to get too excited, doesn’t want to get too ahead of herself because anything can happen for the rest of the season, but only a month and a half of the regular season is left and there’s no way the Yankees aren’t making the playoffs. Once they get there, who knows if they’ll make it to the Series?

There’s a chance, though, and that’s all that matters.

As a fan, she’s excited. As Killian’s girlfriend and a reporter for the team, she’s over the freaking moon. It would be insane for them to back it up, but she’s got to slow her roll.

Slow her roll and send Walsh this report so that she doesn’t have to deal with him anymore today. Working with her ex is fine since it’s not an everyday thing, only an office day thing, but the man has got to get the stick out of his ass. He cheated on her, belittled her out of jealousy for her success in her job, and yet he acts like it’s an inconvenience for them to have to spend a miniscule amount of time together. He’s probably sitting at his desk thinking of ways to torture her while drinking a giant bottle of Mountain Dew. She always hated that he did that. He could have at least had the diet version instead of consuming all of that extra sugar.

But whatever. It doesn’t matter. None of it does.

Ruth: Do you think you’d like to come to Portland in October? Or maybe sometime before Thanksgiving? I was thinking you could bring your boyfriend so that I can meet him.

Emma reads the text, but she doesn’t answer it quite yet. She needs time to look at her calendar and have time to ask Killian if he wants to go. Hell, she needs time to figure out if that’s what she even wants because, wow, bringing a boyfriend home is not something she’s ever done. Neal literally never wanted to come home with her, never wanted to go to David’s, never wanted to do anything that wasn’t in his control, and Walsh was just…

Shit. She needs to email him now and stop letting her mind go down this path.

Today is a good day. Nothing is going to ruin it. If she repeats that enough times it’s sure to come true.

“Oh my God,” Ruby groans as she steps into Emma’s office, barely able to squeeze in past the chair that’s keeping the door open before sitting in it, “I am ready for this season to be over. Why is it always so jam-packed? Do people really need to watch this much baseball? There are so many damn games.”

“Nope. They really don’t.”

“I feel like you should not be able to say that because of your job and the fact that your boyfriend is a freaking baseball player.”

“Rubes,” Emma hisses, twisting in her chair and looking out the small glass window in her office, “shut up.”

Ruby’s eyes widen, her hands immediately going to cover her mouth, and that might be the fastest Ruby has ever stopped talking in the entirety of her life.

“Sorry, sorry,” she apologizes before getting up from the chair and moving it so that she can shut the door behind her. Damn this small office. “I didn’t even think about it.”

“It’s fine. It’s not like you have a giant poster saying that I’m dating him. There are just a lot of people constantly walking by this door, so we can’t really talk about it with the door open.”

“My lips are sealed. Also, are you ever going to get a bigger office?”

“I don’t even know why I have an office. Like, honestly. I keep waiting for them to realize that I don’t need it and to give it away to someone who works here more than once a week. Then I could do all of this stuff from home.”

“That is the life. Though, I think you would probably never put on real pants again.”

“Yoga pants are real pants, and that’s a hill I’m willing to die on.”

“Whatever,” Ruby yawns, covering her mouth with her hands. “I’m ready to go home already. Do you think we have time to go home before the game?”

“Considering we have to get out to the stadium in less than an hour and I still have to finish this report for Walsh, I’m thinking not.”

“Ugh,” Ruby groans, propping her feet up against the walls like she owns the place, “why does he continue to exist? Can’t he go work in another department or something?”

“I imagine,” Emma sighs, twisting back in her chair to actually get work done on the report, “that he stays simply to annoy me, but I tend not to think about him too much.”

“Yeah, well, that’s because you’re getting fucked much better now.”

Emma huffs. “Why are you the way that you are?”

“You know, I think it comes from being raised by my grandmother instead of my mother, and I –”

“Rhetorical question,” Emma hums, pulling up her file with her notes from the last few games up so that she can fill the last bit of information in while they talk. “So, Ruth has asked me if I want to bring Killian to Portland.”

“I thought you just said that we couldn’t say his name.”

“We can’t yell it with the door open. We can say it quietly in here.”

“Gotcha, gotcha,” Ruby sighs as Emma keeps working. “How do you feel about the boyfriend going home to meet Ruth? That’s kind of a big step. I mean, he’s already met David and Mary Margaret, but that’s different. They’re more like friends than anything else.”

“Yeah, I’m aware of that.”

“This is, like, ‘I see a future with you and want everyone I love to love you’ kind of stuff.”

“Are you trying to freak me out?”

“Only a little. I could have brought up marriage and babies, but I figured that would have you jumping through the ceiling to escape the conversation.”

Emma’s heart kind of feels like it’s going to jump through the ceiling of this conversation. Why did she even bring this up? Probably because she does actually want to talk about it, and Ruby will be the most honest with her because she doesn’t seem to have any kind of filter in that wonderful brain of hers.

‘Yeah, let’s avoid the marriage and babies stuff.”

“Okay, so barring those things,” Ruby sighs, getting up from the chair to perch herself on the edge of Emma’s desk so Emma can actually see her while talking, “how do you feel about this? I know you love Killian because you guys are ridiculously adorable together, which makes me happy for you even if I sometimes find it disgusting, but I also know that you like to freak out about relationship stuff.”

“I’m…” Emma rolls back in her chair and tilts her head up to look at Ruby while she tugs her bottom lip with her teeth. “I don’t think it’s that big of a deal, really, because Killian has met everyone else and we do travel pretty often together. But that’s for work, you know? This is…this is moving forward in a way.”

“That’s a good thing, hon. People in good relationships move forward. Graham and I dated for awhile, then moved in together, even if you do live with us because rent is ridiculous, and then one day we’re going to get married. When you love someonesomeone,who is good to you, that’s what you do, even if every relationship roadmap is different with different destinations. It’s scary as hell, but sometimes you’ve got to do scary shit.”

Sometimes you’ve got to do scary shit.

“You sounded really philosophical until you got to the end there.”

“Eh,” she scoffs, flipping her hair over her shoulders, “I think all great philosophers should talk like me. It’s real. Good advice doesn’t have to be poetic. It’s just got to be good.”

Emma hums in response, crossing her legs over each other and readjusting her position while she thinks over everything that Ruby has just said. “So, you think I should talk to Killian about it and then text Ruth back?”

“That’s exactly what you should do. And then you should finish this damn report, send it to your asshole ex with a picture of a middle finger attached, and then we should get something to eat on the way to the stadium.”

-/-

The Yankees win an easy game against the Orioles that afternoon, as they usually do, and it’s a smooth day at the office for all involved. Killian is particularly cheeky in his post-game interview, he and Will bantering off each other, and Emma has to bite her tongue to keep herself from telling Killian that she loves him live on-air.

Talk about a disaster waiting to happen there.

-/-

“Darling, can you get me a napkin?”

“Get it yourself, Jones.”

“Emma is literally standing in the kitchen.”

“You are a big boy. You can get your napkin yourself.”

“You just asked her to bring you a glass of water.”

“That is different.”

Emma rolls her eyes at Ruby and Killian bickering with each other. It’s honestly how they talk. Emma doesn’t think that they’re capable of speaking in normal terms, and as obnoxious as it can be, it’s kind of hilarious. Those two are pretty much a friendship made in heaven because of their wit and ability to make anything a dirty joke, but it results in a hell of a lot of bantering.

Or bickering.

Emma’s not sure which one, but if the look on Graham’s face is any indication, it’s a combination of both.

“We’re going to have to stop allowing them to spend time with each other, aren’t we?” Graham asks as he reaches over her to grab a napkin that the restaurant provided them with when they ordered take-out. “I think they might kill each other.”

“Eh, it might just be the natural progression of things.”

“True. Might as well just let it happen.”

“I can hear the two of you,” Ruby huffs, leaning over from the couch so that she can get a handful of chips out of the bowl before standing and walking to the kitchen, “and it’s totally not cool that you’d just let the two of us die. You are supposed to love us.”

“To be fair, I just met Killian, so I’m not sure that we love each other quite yet,” Graham teases.

Killian winks, the biggest smirk stretching across his lips, and it makes Emma’s stomach flutter. “Give it time. I’m irresistible. Ask Emma.”

“He’s not,” Emma sighs, taking the napkins out of Graham’s hands and walking them the few feet over to Killian before sitting down next to him on the couch, plucking a chip from his plate instead of the bowl. “He pretty much had to beg me to get me to date him.”

“Um, no, you definitely asked me out, Swan.”

“Only because you wouldn’t ask me out.”

“We have talked about this,” Killian breathes, scooping up a forkful of his rice. “And besides, it’s a moot point now.”

“Maybe. Are you going to eat the rest of your queso?”

Killian hands her his bowl in answer. Him watching his eating habits more carefully is quite possibly the best thing that’s ever happened to her even if she has to cut down on the pop-tarts in the morning. That’s probably for the best. She’d rather waste her calories on things like queso and grilled cheese. Killian has learned to make a really good grilled cheese sandwich, and that may be the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for her.

Obviously she has some really high (low) standards, but it’s the little things.

Cheese is the way to a woman’s heart. At least to hers. There are some crazy people out there who don’t like cheese.

Crazy.

“Why didn’t we get margaritas with our food again?” Ruby asks as she and Graham both settle back into the living room. They barely have enough room for the three people who live here, let alone four. “I really want a margarita.”

“We’ve got an eleven o’clock game tomorrow.”

“You two do. I don’t.”

Emma reaches to the side to slap Killian’s shoulder, nearly spilling her queso dip, and what a tragedy that would be. “You have training.”

“Not at eleven in the morning.”

“Poor people having to wake up and be at work before nine in the morning to start work at eleven. However do all of you live?”

Everyone’s eyes move toward Graham, evil stares likely there, and instead of backing away, he shrugs his shoulders and takes a bite of his taco, completely unbothered.

“Shut up and eat your tacos, babe.”

He holds up the taco he just took a bite out of. “Don’t mind if I do.”

Killian chuckles beside her, lifting his arm over Emma’s shoulder so that she can lean into him and into his warmth. “And you say Ruby and I bicker.”

“I’m starting to think maybe it’s Ruby that’s the problem.”

“I,” Ruby scoffs, reaching forward to grab the remote to turn the TV on, “am picking the movie we watch tonight because all of you are assholes, and I deserve this.”

They watch Pride and Prejudice because it’s the first thing Ruby finds on TV, something that Emma definitely isn’t going to complain about. She’s usually not one for period romances, most of them a little too damsel in distress with no backbone for her, but this is one that she can appreciate. Plus, Keira Knightly is pretty much the greatest at being in movies that aren’t modern. The woman wouldn’t know how to act in a movie where cell phones exists.

(Okay, maybe she would, but that’s entirely beside the point.)

Ruby and Graham go to bed before the movie is even over, Ruby falling asleep on the couch with chip crumbs on her shirt, and Graham has to coax her into getting up, telling her that she’s not going to be able to move her neck in the morning if she doesn’t move. Ruby pretty much tells him to fuck off in that charming way that she has, but she does get up, slowly wandering back down the hallway to their bedroom until the door shuts behind her.

She and Killian manage to make it until the end, and even though she’s been up since early this morning and spent so much time outside, Emma’s not tired. She’s not tired as she and Killian move to clean up their food, wrapping up the leftovers and putting them in the fridge, before moving back to her own bedroom so that they can go through their routines to get ready for bed. Emma kind of feels like they’ve been spending most of their nights together even though she knows that it’s not true. It’s been two or three times a week, mostly depending on her schedule or Killian’s game schedule, and it’s not something they ever really plan.

But she likes having him here or likes being over at his place, even though she isn’t the best at sharing the comforter or not sprawling out in the middle of the bed, and it’s a nice thing to get to have someone to spend time with like this.

Today has been a good day.

Killian is in bed before her, the white of her comforter pulled up over his lap to cover his sweatpants, and instead of getting under the covers herself, Emma moves to straddle his lap, placing her knees on either side of his thighs while her hand plays with the chain around his neck, moving the cool metal back and forth in her palm.

Killian arches his right brow at her, that side of his lips tugging up to, and it makes her laugh before she places her hands on his bare shoulders all the while Killian reaches up to tuck her loose strands of hair behind her ear, thumb running across her cheekbone in a gentle motion.

His eyes could not possibly be more blue.

“What is it that you think you’re doing, Swan?”

“What do you mean?”

A low hum comes from Killian as the hand that’s not caressing her cheek moves to her waist, snaking up underneath her t-shirt to rest against the bare skin of her stomach.

“This position isn’t exactly indicative of us going to bed.”

“Is it not?” Emma teases, dipping her head down to press her lips to the tip of his nose. “Because I’m very comfortable right now.”

She does a pointed roll of her hips and revels in the way that Killian’s eyes shut at the movement.

“I think the queso is getting to that head of yours.”

Emma shrugs. “Maybe.”

“Definitely.”

And then Killian is tugging her closer and moving his lips over hers, soft and slow and completely and utterly thorough while his hand tangles into her hair, fingers pulling at the strands, and her hands move from his shoulders to his neck, holding him steady. He tastes like her toothpaste, far too minty, and his skin smells like the soap she keeps next to her sink that definitely should not be used for skincare. It’s weirdly refreshing for him to smell like her things, if not a little overwhelming. Last week she used Killian’s bodywash when she was at his place because she didn’t have any of her own, and while she used to be entirely attracted to the smell, carrying it around on her all day was far too overwhelming.

How do men live smelling that strongly of some kind of Irish spring or mountain brook?

That’s not how either of those things smell either. Or, at least, she thinks.

But that’s entirely beside the point when shivers are spreading across her body at the feeling of Killian’s tongue moving inside her mouth. It’s warm and wet against hers, the feeling that same high that she always seems to be chasing with him, and her fingers inch up his neck to curl into the thick strands of his hair while she groans.

“Bloody hell do I love that sound.”

Heat immediately rises to her cheeks, but it’s also curling between her thighs at the heady sound of Killian’s voice and the demanding pressure of his kiss as his legs shift beneath them to move the two of them until Emma’s back is pressed against the mattress and Killian is hovering over her, his lips trailing across the expanse of skin at her neck that has the simmering heat between them continuing all the while Emma tries to catch her breath.

Every time she thinks she’s got it back, though, Killian nips at her collarbone or nibbles on her ear, and it all evaporates into thin air.

“Oh fuck,” Killian grunts, and Emma takes it as an invitation to trace her nails along his back, pressing her hips up to his to get a little more friction. “No, love, fuck.”

Her eyes snap to him at the more pained exasperation in his voice, and it’s then that Emma realizes that he’s stopped kissing her neck and has his forehead pressed there instead, his body not moving over hers.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“My,” he grits, his voice dark but not in the way that she wants it to be, “leg is fucking cramping.”

Emma doesn’t mean to, not really, but the laugh bubbles from deep within her belly until it’s passing through her lips and she can’t contain herself. It’s not really even funny. Cramps and weird noises and all of that jazz are as normal as can be during sex – don’t even get her started on lock jaw – but it’s usually not when they’ve only been making out for five minutes. This is some kind of new record.

“I’m glad you’re so amused by my pain, love.”

“No, no,” she laughs, wishing that she hadn’t but still not able to stop herself, “I promise you I’m not.”

“Then what the bloody hell are you laughing at?”

“Your pain.”

Killian groans before rolling off of her, the loss of his body heat immediate, and she watches as his arm reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose, his eyes still shut so tightly that those little crinkles have shown up around his skin. It’s adorable even if he’d probably like to chop his leg off right now.

“I hate you.”

“That is entirely untrue,” Emma sighs, leaning down to brush her lips over his cheek before moving across the mattress so that she can grab onto Killian’s leg and rest his calf on her lap, fingers digging into the flesh to start to massage it. “I have it on good authority that you love me in spite of all of the weird things about me like the fact that I laugh at your cramps.”

Killian’s hand moves from his face until his arm is flopping against the mattress in what has to be the most dramatic fashion in the world. “That’s probably the least weird thing about you.”

“Oh yeah? What’s the weirdest?”

Killian props himself up on his elbows, his eyes obviously taking her in as he thinks, and she squeezes his calf a little bit too hard in response. “You put too much creamer in your coffee.”

“That’s a cop out answer.”

“Nope. It’s my honest to God answer, love. That is the weirdest thing about you.”

“The weirdest thing about you is the fact that you organize your t-shirts by year that you got them instead of color or putting your favorites up front.”

“I don’t believe I asked for your opinion on that.”

“No,” Emma shrugs, squeezing his calf where she can see the muscles twitching, “you didn’t, but I thought I’d give you my opinion anyways since you’re not being honest with me about what you find weird about me.”

Killian rolls his eyes before falling back down to the mattress, strands of hair falling over his forehead. “You have too many blankets. It’s not…I mean, you do a million little things that are different or quirky, but I don’t find any of them weird. Not really. But you collect a hell of a lot of blankets. You’ve probably spent thousands of dollars on them. I swear, you’ve brought a different blanket on every road trip we’ve had this year.”

“That is not weird.”

“Neither is my t-shirt thing.”

“Agree to disagree,” she sighs, pulling a pillow behind her back so that she’s not hunching over. “And you have never complained about having use of one of my blankets before.”

“Nor you my t-shirts.”

“This is true.” Emma keeps working at Killian’s calf, feeling the muscled skin under her fingertips, and she figures now might be the time to talk to him about Ruth. It’s not like he can run away. Well, he could, but she could probably run faster than him now. “So, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Killian’s body stiffens. “And you saved it for when I can’t run away?”

Great minds think alike.

“Yes, because I knew you were going to cramp while we were making out.”

She rolls her eyes but still smiles at the way Killian’s forehead is wrinkled with the raise of his brows. His face can hold so many different expressions – from soft to broody and from sexy to amused – and she likes that he often gives away what’s going on in his mind through them, even if he doesn’t always.

“You are evil like that.”

“I know,” Emma shrugs before putting a little more pressure on Killian’s calf so that he groans. Definitely a different groan than what was happening before. “So, Ruth texting me today and asked if when I wanted to come visit. She’s been on me about it for a few months now even with her coming here, but I probably should go home when the season is over. And I was wondering if you wanted to come with me.”

They’re simple words, but the weight behind them makes Emma feel like she’s just been run over by a truck.

She’s absolutely great at being an adult.

The best.

Her heart is probably going to implode.

“Well,” Killian sighs, propping himself up on his elbows again, “I’d have to check my calendar. You know, I am a very popular man, and many women ask me to go home with them to meet their mothers. I have to make sure that I’m not scheduled to do that with someone else.”

“Asshole,” Emma huffs as she slaps Killian’s leg and pushes it off of her lap so that she can get off the bed. “You’re an asshole.”

“I’m feeling a little bit of de ja vu with you calling me that.”

“You deserve it.”

“Hey,” he sighs, stretching across the bed to grab at the bottom of her t-shirt until he pulls her back down onto the bed with him so that she roughly lands on the mattress and against Killian’s knee. It’s not exactly comfortable, but Killian shifts and caresses her cheeks with his hands, pushing her hair back while he looks at her. “I’m kidding. I would love to get to go to Portland with you to meet Ruth. I really do have to check my schedule, especially with how we do in the post-season, but I’m more than happy to go with you and get to hear all kinds of stories about you as a teenager.”

“Yeah, you’re not allowed to ask for any stories when we go.”

“I’m one hundred percent asking for stories.”

“No. You can’t do that because – ”

Killian doesn’t let her finish her protest, pulling her forward to press his lips into hers, a soft yet insistent thing that has her forgetting her argument. He’s good at that. Probably too good, but that’s definitely something she’ll address at another time.

A time when he’s not doing that thing with his tongue and his teeth that she likes so much.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Emma stops, possibly against her better judgement, and Killian pulls back only to bury his face in her shoulder.

“W-what?”

“My leg is cramping.”

Killian groans into her neck before wrapping his arms around Emma’s waist and pulling her down alongside him so that they’re a tangle of limbs that very well may never be unwrapped. She wouldn’t mind that either, not if she can stay in the dim light of her bedroom with Killian holding onto her and looking at her like she put the stars in the sky and tells them to glow every night.

No one has ever looked at her that way before.

Ever.

She’s really damn happy.

“I love you,” Killian breathes out, and her heart metaphorically skips a beat while she reaches for his chain between them so that she can run the metal between her fingers. “More than anything, I think.”

Well damn. Who knew three little words added to those big three words could completely change the meaning of it all? Or, at least, amplify them.

“I love you too, twenty-nine.”

Killian shifts again, pressing his back into her and pulling her closer, as if that was possible, and she can feel the scruff on the underside of his chin pressing into her temple while he intertwines their fingers and moves their joined hands to rest between her breasts.

“I’m serious, Emma. I know…” Killian takes a deep breath, one that she can feel in her own bones, and she has to swallow down the emotion that she feels at just the gravely sound of his voice. “Thank you for trusting me enough to take this shot with me. I haven’t been this happy in a long time, and I kind of thought that I’d reached the pinnacle of happiness last year when we won.”

“I mean, you did win the World Series,” she says, trying to play off some of the emotions she’s feeling. “What could be better than that?”

“Don’t you know, Emma?” Killian speaks into her hair, pressing a kiss there that has her lashes fluttering closed against her cheeks. “It’s you.”

[noodlecupcakes]

Madness is like Gravity - Chapter 2 (Sequel to Nothing More Contagious Than Laughter)

Warnings: ONE LONG ASS CHAPTER, Threesome, M/M/F, Flirting, Sex, Smut, Voyeurism, Oral sex, Vaginal sex, Vaginal fingering, Anal sex, Language, Injury, Alcohol, Polyamory 

I’m gonna go hide in a my shame cave for this one 

Shout at me if you want to be added to the taglist :D  

Chapter 2

Emeralds P.O.V

I awoke in the morning to an empty side of the bed. Of course, he was already awake, probably downstairs talking to Eddie about his campaign. I forced myself out of the comfort of my bed and into the shower before changing to a clean skirt and blouse. I headed downstairs to find the two exactly as I suspected. Only I didn’t suspect Eddie would look so attractive in a dark green suit and his hair all gelled back. Stop staring. But my god those cheekbones. I forced myself out of my trance and sat down at the table, grabbing a few things for breakfast.

Eddie smiled at me, sitting down next to me. I did my best to avoid staring once more, I felt I could probably lose myself in those hazel eyes. Oswald kissed me good morning, bringing me out of state. “So, what’s the grand plan then?” I asked. “Today I’m going to make a speech at city hall and then we have one week to make any more preparations.” Oswald left the two of us to go and work on his speech. “Thank you again for everything last night Emerald, you and Oswald have been very kind-“ Eddie began. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m just glad you’re out of that place and your home. It’s going to be nice to have someone else around the house.”

Why was I suddenly struggling to make conversation with him? Normally I could rattle on for hours to him but now I couldn’t think of a single thing to say. “Oswald said now that I’m living with you I’ll be able to have baked goods on a daily basis,” Eddie smiled. I laughed, “I don’t know about daily but a few times a week yes. If Oswald or Victor even leave any for you that is.” I finished off my breakfast and began gathering the used plates to begin the washing up. “Do you need a hand?” Eddie asked me. “Its fine, I’ve got it.”

At that moment, a plate fell out my hand and smashed to the floor. I cursed, putting the other plates down and gathering the broken pieces. Eddie got out of his chair and began to help. I grabbed a particularly sharp fragment a little too carelessly and it sliced my palm. I winced, making a sound of discomfort, dumping the fragments back on the floor to clean myself up. Eddie rushed after me, looking over my hand. “Well the good thing is you won’t need stitches. Just needs to be cleaned and bandaged,” he said. “I know Captain Obvious, this isn’t the first injury I’ve tended too. And just because you studied shit like this doesn’t make you any smarter than me,” I said jokingly. “It makes me a little smarter.”

I rolled my eyes with a smile, running the cut under the tap. Once cleaned, Eddie wrapped a bandage around it and placed a soft kiss over the cloth. I felt my cheeks burn and quickly pulled my hand out of his grip, mumbling a thank you before rushing back to the dining room to continue cleaning up the mess I had made. I did my best to avoid Eddie until we had to join Oswald at city hall for support. One of us stood either side of him as he made his speech, not that I was really paying much attention to what Oswald was saying.

After the speech, I watched as Eddie followed Butch...those suit pants were awfully tight and didn’t leave much to the imagination. I bit my lip, what the hell was wrong with me? And how had Eddie gone from super cute and adorable to the sexiest thing in the room. Maybe it was the fact I was starting to get bored in the bedroom. Missionary and me on top was literally the only two positions Oswald seemed to know about and he was awfully vanilla. I missed things like being spanked or treated just a little roughly.

I tried asking him to tie me up but he couldn’t understand why I would want that. It was frustrating to say the least. Eddie came over to me, a frown on his face. “Are you aware Oswald’s paying for votes?” He asked. I frowned myself and shook my head. I didn’t really care, I'd rather he wins the election to be honest...for everyone’s sake. I found myself staring again. I was definitely getting lost in those eyes. “How's your hand?” He asked. I blinked, his words not registering with me at first. Focus damnit. “It’s fine thank you,” I finally replied.

Eddie leaned in a little closer, studying my face which caused me to blush further. “I’m sorry if I was inappropriate earlier. That was never my intention,” he apologized. “It’s ok.” It was not ok. This close proximity and obvious tension was not ok. God, I wanted to kiss him. Eddie followed my gaze, his lips twisting into a smirk. “What?” I asked. “Your pupils have dilated, your cheeks are awfully red, your breathings a little heavier and your staring at my lips. I think you want to kiss me.”

I felt panic fill me. Shit. He couldn’t know. Oswald couldn’t know. He'd probably have Eddie killed if something like that happened. I shook my head, I needed to get better control of my emotions. “No. I don't,” I lied. “Emerald we both know you do. Personally, I’ve wanted nothing more than to pin you against the nearest surface and show you just how thankful I really am. It’s obvious Oswald’s been neglecting you, not giving you the love and attention you deserve,” Eddie explained. I pressed my thighs together in the hopes of diminishing the growing heat between my legs. The thought of him ‘thanking me’...I think I needed to sit down.

At that moment, Oswald came over to us, asking if I was ok. No I was not. I decided to play up on it in the hopes we'd get to go home. “I’m not feeling very well. Can we go home please?” I asked, pleading with my eyes. Oswald looked disappointed, it was obvious he wanted to stay. “I can take her home for you Oswald,” Eddie cut in with a small smile. My stomach dropped as Oswald beamed at him. “Thank you, friend. I'll see you two a little later,” Oswald spoke.

Eddie put his hand on the small of my back, leading me out of city hall and to the car. The valet drove us back to the manor where the two of us would be alone. Surprisingly Eddie didn’t make a move nor comment. I headed straight for my room, avoiding him like the plague. However, there was still this raging heat between my legs and let’s face it Oswald was going to do little to nothing to help. But yet there was nothing I could do to satisfy myself, not without knowing Eddie would have gotten what he wanted.

Over the next week there were occasional comments or soft tender touches from Eddie and I thought I was going to go mad with lust. Thankfully I had election day to distract me what with all the drama of whether or not Oswald should be paying voters. Either way Oswald won by a landslide. After the formal celebration at the manor and once finally Oswald had gotten everyone out of the door it just left the three of us.

The three of us were sat around in the lounge, a few empty wine bottles on the table. It was safe to say we were drunk. And I was known to be rather flirtatious when I was drunk. I rested my head in Oswald’s lap and he began to stroke my hair. I had noticed the way Eddie had been looking at me tonight and so had Oswald. “You like her don’t you my friend?” Oswald asked rhetorically. “Of course, but not like that, she’s yours Oswald.” “Ed please, we're all friends here. I can tell you like her. You haven't stopped looking at her all evening.”

I sat up and pressed my body against Oswald, my head nuzzling in to his shoulder much like a cat demanding attention. He turned to me and kissed me slowly. Once he pulled away I shifted so I could whisper in his ear. “I want to play with him,” I whispered. Oswald smiled, his arm around my waist, “well if that's what you want darling then I don't see a problem.” “What is it?” Eddie asked, clearly worried. “She wants to play with you.”

Eddie looked surprised but was soon smiling as I walked over to him. I straddled his lap, placing my hands on his shoulders. “Do you want to play with me Eddie?” I asked innocently. “Yes,” he spoke, his voice just above a whisper. I grinned, my tongue darting out and tracing Eddie’s lips. He let out a shaky breath, his hands resting on my hips. I pressed my lips against his and began grinding against him. His breathing became much heavier and I felt him harden beneath me. About damn time, I’d been dying for this.

The kisses soon turned more passionate, our tongues coming into contact. He still however wasn't touching me; he was still probably thinking this was an elaborate prank. I pulled away, jumped off his lap and headed back over to Oswald pretending to be upset. “I don’t think he wants to play with me,” I said in a hurt tone. “No I do. I’m just still not quite believing what’s happening.” I headed back over to him, tangling my fingers in his hair before kissing him again. He spun me round so my back was against his chest. He turned his attention to Oswald, his fingers on the zipper of my dress.

“May I?” He asked. “By all means, take your fill.” Eddie pulled the zipper of my dress all the way down, kissing the bare flesh that was revealed to him. He then pulled the straps down my shoulders and then the material past my hips until it fell to the floor. I happened to not be wearing any underwear today. Oswald grinned and shook his head. “You'd been planning this, hadn't you? You naughty little minx.” I shook my head, playing innocent before turning back to face Eddie. All formalities thrown out the window Eddie gave into his lust, pulling me into a hard kiss by my hair.

Eddie took my hand and began pulling me towards the bedroom. I giggled and held my free hand out to Oswald. He smiled and took it, letting himself be dragged to his own bedroom. Oswald took a seat in the corner chair whilst Eddie pushed me down on the bed. He climbed on top of me, wrapping a large possessive hand around my neck to hold me in place. Ed loves a neck. I moved my hands up to Eddie's green tie and did my best to remove it. Once unknotted he used it to tie my hands above my head before placing feather light kisses across my neck.

I glanced over at Oswald who was watching us intently and rubbing the growing bulge in his suit pants. I felt another wave of arousal wash over me at the sight before Eddie forced my attention back on him as he flicked his tongue against my clit. I moaned, my hips bucking a little. His mouth latched onto me, sucking on my clit before fucking me with his tongue. I threw my head back, moaning his name as he continued to eat me out like a starving man. Oswald had pulled his cock out, rubbing it slowly as he continued to watch.

I didn't know how much longer I could last, my chest heaving as I fought for even breathing but all I could focus on was Eddie's tongue. Eddie slipped two fingers into me, starting a hard, rough pace. My tied hands moved down and fisted in his perfectly neat hair. I’m sure it wasn’t going to stay like that for long as I continued to grab fistfuls and rock my hips against his face. My moans had gotten much louder and needier. Eddie continued the pace, now determined to make me cum. It didn’t take much longer as I screamed his name, my back arching off the bed.

I collapsed back onto the bed, a panting mess. But I knew this night was far from over, both of these men had their own needs for me to fulfil. Eddie looked completely dishevelled, hair a mess, glasses askew, his shirt wrinkled and untucked and his belt loose. I bit my lip, feeling fresh arousal between my legs. I watched as he undressed himself before he removed his tie from my wrist that had left small red indents from how tight he had tied it. Oswald got to his feet, making his way over to the two of us and undressing himself along the way.

I knelt on the bed, awaiting my other lover. Oswald climbed on to the bed and pulled me into a kiss. I moaned softly as Eddie began kissing my neck. It was almost overwhelming having two sets of hands on me. Oswald began rubbing my clit, earning a soft whine from me. That whine turned in to a loud moan as Eddie slipped two fingers back into my wetness. If I was struggling to hold it together now, I worried what I would be like when they were fucking me. I leaned against Eddie's chest as I was starting to go weak at the knees.

Eddie began a fast pace, curling his fingers against my g-spot once more and Oswald continued rubbing my clit, almost matching Eddie’s pace. I knew I wasn't going to last long at all, not now that I finally had Eddie touching me. He continued to kiss and nip at my neck whilst Oswald gave my breasts the attention they desperately needed. I could already feel my second orgasm building and I knew it was going to hit me like a tonne of bricks. I grabbed a fistful of Oswald’s hair, the closer my orgasm got the tighter my grip got. My hips took on a mind of their own, bucking into the touch of both men.

Finally, my orgasm crested, washing over me completely. I went limp against Eddie as I let out a string of obscenities. My eyes were shut tight as they continued, drawing out every last wave. I don’t think I could take much more, I just needed to sleep at this point. Eddie lay me down gently on my side, still placing soft kisses across my neck and shoulders. He lay down with me so that I was facing him. Oswald lay down behind me, stroking my hair.

“I hope you’re not too tired yet my dear,” Oswald spoke. I made a small sound. His fingers trailed down my spine before he rummaged around in the draw next to him. Eddie pulled me closer to him, hooking my leg over his hip as he began rubbing to head of his cock against me. Ok I was awake again. I bucked against him, pleading with my eyes. I needed him, I'd needed him from the moment he got here and now it was finally happening. Eddie slowly pushed into me, both of us moaning at the contact we had so desperately craved from each other.

He began a fast pace, holding my hip in place. Oswald’s pressed a wet finger against my other hole before slowly slipping inside. The feeling was foreign but not uncomfortable. Eventually he moved his finger, getting me used to the feeling before eventually adding a second finger. I shuddered, clinging to Eddie’s shoulders as he continued to act as a distraction for any discomfort I might feel. He pressed his lips to mine, his tongue in my mouth. I moaned against him, our legs a tangled mess as Oswald positioned himself behind me.

Oswald gently eased himself inside, making sure it was as painless as possible. Finally, he bottomed out, the three of us breathing heavily. I'd never felt this full before. Eddie resumed the pace, his hips smacking against mine whilst Oswald started with a slow pace as he kissed along my spine. Soon enough Oswald matched Eddies pace the best he could. At this point I was completely overwhelmed with pleasure that I thought it was going to get too much. I could feel myself already clenching around Eddie's cock, forcing a louder moan from him.

I tried to will myself to last a little longer but my body wasn’t playing along and threw me into my third and final orgasm. I closed my eyes tight, my nails digging into Eddie's shoulders as I cried out both of their names. Next to finish was Eddie with a low groan and finally Oswald who buried his face into my neck, moaning my name. The three of us lay there for a moment, panting heavily and coming down from our highs. Oswald gently pulled out, placing more kisses across my shoulders and spine to distract me from any discomfort. I rolled on to my back, my eyes now heavy as I welcomed sleep.

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

The next morning, I awoke facing Oswald and smiled to myself. He looked adorable when he slept. I slowly rolled over and found Eddie also sleeping on my other side. My eyes widened and that’s when I finally remembered the events of last night. Had we really been that drunk? I shifted my body all the way down to the end of the bed where I carefully climbed out so I didn’t wake both of them. I showered, changed and went downstairs for breakfast. I had no idea what this now meant. I put my head in my hands and groaned.

A little while later Eddie and Oswald joined me for breakfast, both of them talking normally as if nothing happened. Eddie kissed me on the cheek with a ‘good morning’. I froze, looking to Oswald who simply smiled as if it were nothing. They could both see the confused look on my face as they sat down. “Why are you two acting completely normal about this?” I asked. “Ed and I have discussed what happened last night,” Oswald announced. “And?!” “It’s obvious you have feelings for both Oswald and I so the best way to resolve the problem would to be in a polyamorous relationship. If you want to of course. We’re more than happy to have that kind of relationship with you,” Eddie explained.

I couldn’t quite believe they were both fine with this arrangement. I’d expected Oswald to have murdered Eddie in his sleep. But if they were both ok with it then so was I. I smiled softly and nodded, giving them my answer. Yet some part of me still couldn’t quite believe this was happening.

Taglist: @belathora, @my-world-of-imagines, @warriorqueen1991, @genevievedarcygranger, @emoryhemsworth, @neganismyobsession, @just--a--nobody-here, @suicidesqwads, @musicalcoffeebean, @maddybeck01

[ayearofpike]

The 2010s reprints, all at once

So if Simon & Schuster is going back to the well for Pike’s vampire books, what’s stopping them from bringing back other stories from their one-time best-selling young adult author? Form factor, perhaps. It’s the twenty-first century now, and no self-respecting teen would be caught dead reading a pocket-sized paperback. We need something big and beefy to show that we’re Serious About Literature even as we read about murderous insane girls. Fortunately, he’s written more than a couple continuations that will link together into a handy packaged bind-up. But a lot of these books were originally written twenty years ago or more, when the absence of technology and communications wasn’t something that needed to be addressed to explain why these bastards weren’t better informed. Indeed, new audiences (the ones we in education call “digital natives”) might not even understand the characters’ rationales for action without being able to step back in time and forget what they take for granted.

Is it worth rereading these new editions? How different are they from the originals? Lucky for you, I’ve decided to find out.

Remember Me

Compiles Remember Me, The Return, and The Last Story Simon Pulse, 2010 789 pages ISBN 978-1-4424-0596-7 LOC: PZ7.P626 Re 2010 OCLC: 646299604 Released July 6, 2010 (per B&N)

Since this was the magical bestseller that made Pike who he was in the first place, it shouldn’t be too surprising that not much is changed or updated in this edition. Still, the very nature of the YA market having morphed into the vehicle that allows these stories to be reprinted throws a pretty massive wrinkle (like, even worse than the fact she’s publishing under her white name) into Shari’s expectation that her mom will never read Remember Me. Come on, dude — I guarantee she already read about the vampires. 

The only changes I found through all three stories were giving Lenny the Latino gangbanger a CD player rather than a cassette (because 2010), saving the final story on a jump drive rather than a floppy disk (again, 2010), and swapping Shari’s green pants for blue jeans (I guess to match the outfit Jean is wearing when she falls off the balcony?). One thing that hasn’t changed: Third Book Whitewashin’ Shari is still an asshole. You’re lucky I’m so determined to be thorough, otherwise I would have never reread this shit.

To Die For

Compiles Slumber Party and Weekend Point, 2010 408 pages ISBN 978-0-545-26432-1 LOC: not listed OCLC: 679759450 Released September 1, 2010 (per B&N)

Little weirdness here, as this is a Scholastic joint rather than Simon & Schuster, but the covers are all coordinated, down to the typeface. Not sure whether the two houses worked together to try to sell their books (at Pike’s agent’s suggestion?) or whether Point saw an opportunity to mine some back catalog and tried to copy the existing presentation as close as possible.

The oldest viable stories (read: not Cheerleaders) must have some major rewrites pending for a modern audience, you’d think, but it’s not that drastic. The main complication would be these kids being able to reach someone outside the immediate group and report problems, so Pike quickly writes around that with a single line in each story establishing the locale as beyond cell service. They also both turn emergency CB radios into walkie-talkies, which isn’t even close to the same thing. It’s a little hinky at times, especially in accepting that Lara Johnson has packed an alarm clock instead of a phone, but it does the job.

Most of the rest of the changes hinge on contemporary references. Slumber Party loses its Richard-Pryor-lighting-himself-aflame-while-freebasing joke, but keeps the kids watching Dr. Zhivago at the first fateful party. Weekend has to adjust a lot more — party music is no longer on record, David Bowie becomes Bono (replacing a ten-year-old reference in 1985 with a ten-year-old reference in 2010), Angie’s Datsun is now a Camry, and song leaders are finally just cheerleaders. At times, he’s just wiped out a reference altogether: gone are Pat Benatar, Ryan O’Neal and Ali McGraw, Fonzie, Michael Jackson, and most tragically the Carpenters, which undoes a joke at Sol’s expense and removes any understandable sense from the passage they once were in. Oh well. At least he spelled “gringo” correctly in this edition.

Until the End

Compiles the Final Friends trilogy (The Party, The Dance, and The Graduation) Simon Pulse, 2011 846 pages ISBN 978-1-4424-2252-0 LOC: PZ7.P626 Unt 2011 OCLC: 693810612 Released August 30, 2011 (per B&N)

I’ll be honest: I’m not sure what this compilation is doing here. Did anybody clamor at the bit for Final Friends even back in the day? I mean, there must have been some demand to let our boy write a trilogy, but even as a teenager I saw the problems embedded in this tale. Simple time-shifting adjustments weren’t gonna fix those. And this is the beefiest book of the lot, maybe to appeal to young readers who like the huge format and want to show off how much they can read. (I had it in the waiting room of my kid’s doctor this week and another dad said it was the biggest book he’d ever seen.) It’s a lot to plow through for the sake of completeness. Still, we’re committed, right?

I got like 200 pages in and did not see a single change — not even in the computer lab where Bubba is “hacking” into the district grade data bank — which made me worried I was going to just be rereading the same stories over again. And 650 pages later, GUESS WHAT. Literally the only difference is that Jessica, in bemoaning her travails with Bill, says she was “trying to seduce a gay guy” instead of merely “a gay.” Like, even the part about it taking all day to transfer 40 megabytes via modem and filling up a school computer’s hard drive is still there. This was NOT done for new fans. But reading it so fast and soon and smushed together did help me realize that The Rock does indeed have a given name. (I’ll save you the research time: Theodore Gordon.)

Bound to You

Compiles Spellbound and See You Later Simon Pulse, 2012 490 pages ISBN 978-1-4424-5971-7 LOC: PZ7.P626 Bo 2012 OCLC: 777602521 Released August 7, 2012 (per B&N)

Maybe this is the only bind-up where the two stories could have been anything. (The Point book: those were his only two under Scholastic, so it makes sense.) There’s a back catalog of literally two dozen books not otherwise committed that they could compile. So why these two together? OK, sure, we’re four years away from the phrase “sexy lizard teens” entering the lexicon, but for sure Scavenger Hunt is better paired with Spellbound than a story about nuclear war survivors time traveling out of regret. See You Later seems like a really obtuse deep cut to me, but if he was committed to it why not pair it with The Midnight Club, which is similarly about love lost to inevitable death? I don’t really see the connection, and am too lazy to do any rationale research. But I’m not actually mad at the books — they’ve shown as two of my favorites in this reread. 

Spellbound, being the oldest of the S&S catalog, does need a little reworking, particularly in the racist elements of an African shaman going to a podunk Old West high school. Pike didn’t take them all out, of course, because we have to know what a dick the boyfriend is by his connection of the dude to savage cavemen. However, the lack of cell phones is very glaring in the bits where they’re trying to find the brother/potential murder victim, and Cindy has to sit around the hospital waiting to be paged. In 2012 it’s inconceivable that high school kids wouldn’t have SOMETHING. You tried to reach the brother at his house, at his friend’s, at his girlfriend’s ... did you call him directly? Such a simple fix: “He’s not answering his cell.” It probably would have made the unease even stronger.

See You Later, hinging as it does on the main character understanding a video game, has its own needs for updating, and does it better than the Final Friends remake. Still, it’s a little slapdash. Becky works in an electronics store instead of a record store, but do these places even sell physical media computer games anymore? Even six years ago that shit was all download-only. And Ray STILL works in a bookstore ... do those still exist? Mervyn’s definitely doesn’t; they went bankrupt in 2008. As for the game itself, it requires 12 gigs of RAM rather than the paltry megabyte, which is what my newish machine runs six years later. (At the time I had ... two gigs?) Also, in the original Mark asked who won the 2010 World Series, which isn’t the future anymore in 2012 ... but it’s weird that he’s now asking about 2020, just eight years off rather than twenty. Most unsettling, though, is how the tenor of international violence rhetoric still rings true for the setting of this story, even though we’re not worried about Communists anymore. The Cold War is long over, but we’ve swung through tolerance and hope and are right back on fear.

Chain Letter

Compiles Chain Letter and The Ancient Evil Simon Pulse, 2013 456 pages ISBN 978-1-4424-7215-0 LOC: PZ7.P626 Ch 2013 OCLC: 852941511 Released July 23, 2013 (per B&N)

Chain Letter was also not originally published by S&S, so it’s interesting that they’ve gotten the rights to print it in this volume. (Though they were compiled in the UK in 1994, so maybe it wasn’t too hard.) By now, though, it feels like they’re reaching, as the teen fiction world shifts yet again to futuristic dystopias and Pike doesn’t really have anything like that. Thirst was on its way out too; the fifth book appeared just before this, and we’ll note that even though Pike didn’t finish the story the sixth has yet to emerge. Curse you, unpredictable teen girls!

Not too much is different from the original editions here. Obviously Pike was throwing in his timely references that had to be cut for understandability (Nastassja Kinski?), but by Chain Letter 2 he’d learned to rein that in. Also, there’s a moment in the first one where Alison yells “Hate you!” at the attacking Caretaker, which always struck me as awkward. This version changes it to “Screw you!” which makes me think Pike originally wrote it as “Fuck you!” and had to bowdlerize for YA. Of course they have to throw some shade at snail mail, too, since that’s how the letters arrive in the first place. 

But the main differences are cassette recorders and phones. Obviously the kids aren’t going to tote around a whole bunch of old-school tools when we are now six years into the smartphone era. There’s some nice cleaning up in The Ancient Evil, writing around the idea that people need to (or even CAN) look numbers up in the phone book, but in lots of cases it just makes things awkward. Like, why is Joan going after the driving controls to turn the incriminating recording off if it’s on Kipp’s phone in the backseat? Why do Alison and Brenda have to sit around the kitchen waiting for a return call? Why is Kipp waiting until he gets home to check his voicemail? Did he seriously leave his phone in his room while he ran to the store and left a seven-year-old sister alone at the house? It just makes less and less sense.

You might have seen somewhere online a mention of another compilation, collecting Last Act and Master of Murder. This book does not actually exist. The ISBN and OCLC numbers associated with the title both lead to a British printing of the second half of Final Friends, by Hodder Publishing. I emailed the house just to make sure I wasn’t missing anything, and they responded that they’ve never printed these two stories together. There’s no record of it anywhere else, certainly not on Simon & Schuster’s Pike page, and reviews I’ve found where people have attempted to buy this collection attest to the fact that they’ve actually received a copy of Final Friends Part 2 But Not Book 2 Even Though the Second Half of Book 2 Is In It.

There also used to be another one named on Wikipedia called Time of Death, which was supposed to compile Bury Me Deep and Chain Letter, but why the hell would they do that when Chain Letter has its own sequel already? There’s not any verifiable record of such a book anywhere online, not even a flawed cross-listing like the first. 

So fuhgeddaboudit. I’m done reading compilations.

[snowwolf1118]

Humans Are Weird: Women’s Edition Part X

Wow! We’re at Part X already! I can hardly believe I have committed myself to this point (which isn’t very far to be honest). Also, I honestly have no idea how long this series will be, but I can assure you it will last for far longer than you’d expect.

Also, my apologies for not posting an update sooner. I started writing Part X weeks ago, but then I realized it was too far ahead, so I decided to save it for a different time. Then I started writing another Part X, but again, it somehow needed to be saved for future posting. And now we have this post! The beginning took me a couple of tries to start, but then it started coming naturally. After that, it was the ending of this post that gave me trouble. I rewrote it about five or six times. Something kept feeling wrong about the endings. However, I am satisfied, or as satisfied as I can be and I hope you all are, too.

Now, let’s return to the story. It involves some POV hopping, as usual, and a good dash of humor. At least my type of humor! :)

Part I >> Part II >> Part III >> Part IV >> Part V >> Part VI >> Part VII >> Part VIII >> Part IX < > Part XI

“LET ME OUTTA HERE, YOU PIECES OF SHIT!” Straining her muscles against her restraints, Jay’va lurched toward the goons as they passed by her cell on their usual guard route, but again, she stopped short. The pirates had her bound to her cell wall, like a caged beast, but it was for their own safety after all.

When she had first awoken in the med-bay, she had caused an incident. When they transferred her to her cell, she caused another one. A few of the goons had to be hospitalized and, as a result, the others kept a tentative distance from her, even when they delivered her daily meals. At first, it was amusing, but it soon lost its luster after the fourth day.

Now it was the fifteenth day of her captivity and she was pissing mad. The accumulation of being treated like a wild beast and having no social or physical contact was driving her mad and making her mad. Cyborg always said cabin fever caused madness in humans left in isolation, but he never mentioned how it could incite anger, too. Her anger.

I wish he was here with me right now, she thought, he always knows what to do. Always. Sighing, Jay’va tried not to let her anger mix with her sorrow. She tried not to let it get the best of her. She knew if her crew saw her like this, they’d lose faith in her. Gotta stay strong. Stay strong. As she chanted the words in her head, she heard the faint footsteps of the goons patrolling the prison halls.

Shoving her emotions aside, she forced herself to calm down. She needed to calm down. Calm down, Jay-Jay, calm down. Remember your yoga. Cy wouldn’t want you pissing like this. Though she knew that was the truth, it was difficult to follow through with her breathing exercises because just seeing the goons again pissed her off.

Bucking like a wild mookeige, Jay’va screeched at the goons just as they reached her cell. She chuckled as they gave a little start. You would think these idiots would remember me by now, she smugly thought, but they never do―

“Well, I see isolation has done nothing to damper your spirit, Col. Heth Jay’va,” the new voice startled her.

Completely taken aback, she couldn’t even think of a witty, madness-drive comeback. She could only stare at the lifeform before her and feel shame wash over her. It was difficult to explain, but the deference she felt shook her to the core. It was unsettling. Maybe this was what humans mean when they pray to their gods and God? This absolute feeling of submission toward someone greater than them.

It was terrifying.

“I see you’re speechless. Good,” said the lifeform as they lowered the quantum-particle barrier separating them, “it makes things easier. I am Captain Zeelot of the Frek’jon, the magnificent ship you and your crewmates are captive on.” Jay’va remained silent, too overcome by her emotions to respond, her mind too muddled. The lifeform, Captain Zeelot, made a strange noise. Maybe it was a sound for displeasure? She didn’t want that, but she couldn’t make her jaws move.

Whatever it meant, it didn’t matter because Zeelot was approaching her with one heavy step at a time. The fear wafted off her like smoke from a fire. “Heth,” Zeelot murmured her name and cupped her cheek with one of their hands. It was so warm; it had been so long since anyone had touched her, she leaned into their embrace. “Hmm...that’s better. Golok, Rue’oth, release her,” they ordered the two goons.

“But Captain―” “She’ll kill us― ” exclaimed the goons.

“Silence,” Zeelot cut them off, “don’t make me repeat myself.”

The goons wore wary expressions, but she hardly noticed anything. Warmth. Touch. It had been too long...

Watching as Jay’va fell to her knees once released from her restraints, Zeelot marveled at the effectiveness of the pheromone concoction Krellion had created for them. Regardless of Krellion’s mental state, he still managed to create some of the most potent pheromones to subdue ferocious H’hish like Jay’va.

It was wonderous how, just moments ago, she was foaming at the mouth, ready to kill the guards, but now she was as docile as a reika-booj. Clucking, they knelt before her and began massaging her cheek. “Isn’t that better, Heth?” they cooed.

Jay’va nodded. “...feels good...” She was completely at their mercy. It was entertaining how easily the pheromones had taken over such a vicious H’hish.

“I’m glad, Heth, because I want to keep you and your crewmates comfortable, but I’m having a rather difficult time with that. Would you help me?”

They watched as Jay’va dumbly stared at them, so lost in the pheromones. They debated strangling until she whispered, “I want...I want to help. Let me help...” With great satisfaction, Zeelot knew with this, they had won.

Rising, they motioned for Golok and Rue’oth to handle the rest before giving Jay’va with a few parting words. “Answer all their questions truthfully for me, Heth. The more truthful you are, the sooner your crewmates will find comfort like you have.”

“Yes...” Jay’va mumbled.

Turning to Golok and Rue’oth as the lifted her, Zeelot assured them of their safety. “This batch of pheromones won’t wear off anytime soon, and since this is her first time experiencing kulgo pheromones, it will take even longer for it to dissipate from her system.” And with that, they were gone, leaving the rest of the work for the two of them to handle.

Entering their quarters, Zeelot found Murakami tinkering with an old service-bot. She’s taking to her duties well, they thought as they took a seat beside her, but she still refuses give up any personal information on her crew. Cheeky. “How do you like life on the ship? they questioned her.

Murakami didn’t spare them a glance. “Can’t say. It’s only been three days, but I suppose I can say I hate it and wish you all would die.” Yes, she was a cheeky human.

“I wish you wouldn’t say that,” the chided as they absentmindedly flicked a bolt off the table, “the others may take it the wrong way.”

“And what way would that be? I’d ab-so-lute-ly would love to know,” she sneered.

“Your sarcasm is not lost to me,” Zeelot murmured as they carefully raked their fingers through her short hair. They didn’t fail to notice Murakami’s muscles tense at their touch, or how she quickly forced them to relax. She refused to show her fear, but everyone feared them. “Murakami,” they leaned and whispered in her ear, “you can betray every single filthy piece of molongo on this ship, but if you betray me...if you truly ignite my anger, I will insure your life will never end. Understand?” they rasped before leaning back into their seat.

“I understand,” she finally said, her voice trembling.

“Good,” they said, taking the servant-bot from her and tearing it apart, “because this is your only warning. Don’t dare betray me again. Now get out.”

Murakami found herself dumbly standing in the hallway outside of Zeelot’s quarters, questioning herself about their abilities. How did they know what I was going to doing with that robot? How? It terrified her, this uncertainty. She had not even had the chance to reprogram the bot, but they knew what she wanted to do. Alright, stop panicking, Murakami. Don’t let them get to you. Clear your mind. Surely a reasonable explanation exists. Maybe a different slave tried the same thing as me. Maybe that’s why the bot was out of commission? Yes, that is right, she thought, breathing in a deep sigh of relief. That was the answer. One of Zeelot’s previous slaves must have tried to escape that way. It only made sense―

“What are you doing standing in the hallway?”

Giving a small yelp, she spun around to find Mel standing beside her. “Don’t do that. You nearly gave me a heart attack,” she exclaimed.

“Father cleared you of any cardiac conditions,” he said, waving for her to follow him, “so it is highly improbable that you almost experienced a cardiac episode.”

“It’s a figure of speech, kiddo. It means you startled or frightened me,” she deadpanned, following him.

Mel blankly stared at her, clearly not believing her. “Then why wouldn’t you say that I startled you?”

“You’re kidding me, right?” she asked, dumbfounded. “Are you actually suspecting I’m lying? Don’t answer that; it’s a rhetorical question. Let me educate you real quick about figure of speech.” She held up her hand and halted whatever nonsense he was about to spout. “Figure of speech exists everywhere in the universe and probably every alternate reality in existence―except in any reality where on this ship exists―and it’s words or phrases used in the non-literal sense for rhetorical purposes or vivid effects―”

“―Like your questions from just now?”

“Yes, just like my questions. Understand now?”

“Yes, I do. I have never had a proper conversation with another human before.”

“Really, I couldn’t tell.”

“...”

“Sarcasm. It’s irony used to mock or convey contempt.”

“...Then I suggest not using it in Father’s presence. Or showing emotion,” Mel said.

Murakami cocked a brow at him. “Is that why you’re such a killjoy? ‘Cause your crazy dad doesn’t like emotions? Don’t answer that. Anyways, where are we heading?” As she asked, she glanced around, not recognizing the darken hallways.

Mel shot what she would consider a smug look. “The prison cells for the cargo.”

“People aren’t cargo, Mel.” She nearly spat the word.

Mel briefly glanced at her. “Anyone can be cargo, Murakami. It doesn’t matter how unique or intelligent you think they are. If someone wants something and is willing to pay whatever the price for it, then the Frek’jon will provide it.

“In any case, I didn’t bring you here to discuss the ethics of slavery. I’m under orders to get information from you regarding your crew. Minute details such as personality traits, likes and dislikes, special talents; information not available from their personnel files.” As he spoke, Mel placed his hand on the wall, which somehow prompted the hallway to lighten up and reveal cell after cell filled with lifeforms of species she had never met, before continuing to walk down the hallway.

Wrinkling her brows, Murakami had followed Mel up until he mentioned the personnel files. That isn’t right, she thought as she tried to rationalize his words. The EMP wave destroyed all the digital files from the ship’s systems, so how would it be possible? She didn’t believe for a second Mel was lying to her. Though she had only met him a few days prior, she could already tell he wasn’t the type to lie about something like this, which again begged the question: How?

“Don’t lag behind,” Mel barked, dragging her from her thoughts. He was already at the end of the hallway.

Fucking shit. What a brat, she cursed as she took her sweet fucking time joining him. “Didn’t Krellion teach you manners when speaking to your elders?” she inquired once she caught up to him.

“Elders? No, he didn’t, but not like it matters. Most lifeforms don’t live long enough to be considered an ‘elder’. Anyways, like I said before, I need information on your crew, and you will give it to me.”

The way he spoke commanding her got on her nerves. “And why do you think I’ll tell you? Now that I know you’re trying to get information out of me, I’m a hundred percent unlikely to give it to you.”

Mel remained stoic, ignoring her words, as he placed his hand on the wall again and revealed a holding cell with a familiar figure curled up inside.

Her lips suddenly chapped, Murakami barely whispered the figure’s name.

“Fatima...”

[humansareweirdsedition]

Humans Are Weird: Women’s Edition Part X

Wow! We’re at Part X already! I can hardly believe I have committed myself to this point (which isn’t very far to be honest). Also, I honestly have no idea how long this series will be, but I can assure you it will last for far longer than you’d expect.

Also, my apologies for not posting an update sooner. I started writing Part X weeks ago, but then I realized it was too far ahead, so I decided to save it for a different time. Then I started writing another Part X, but again, it somehow needed to be saved for future posting. And now we have this post! The beginning took me a couple of tries to start, but then it started coming naturally. After that, it was the ending of this post that gave me trouble. I rewrote it about five or six times. Something kept feeling wrong about the endings. However, I am satisfied, or as satisfied as I can be and I hope you all are, too.

Now, let’s return to the story. It involves some POV hopping, as usual, and a good dash of humor. At least my type of humor! :)

Part I >> Part II >> Part III >> Part IV >> Part V >> Part VI >> Part VII >> Part VIII >> Part IX >> Part X >> Part XI >> Part XII >> Part XIII >> Part XIV

“LET ME OUTTA HERE, YOU PIECES OF SHIT!” Straining her muscles against her restraints, Jay’va lurched toward the goons as they passed by her cell on their usual guard route, but again, she stopped short. The pirates had her bound to her cell wall, like a caged beast, but it was for their own safety after all.

When she had first awoken in the med-bay, she had caused an incident. When they transferred her to her cell, she caused another one. A few of the goons had to be hospitalized and, as a result, the others kept a tentative distance from her, even when they delivered her daily meals. At first, it was amusing, but it soon lost its luster after the fourth day.

Now it was the fifteenth day of her captivity and she was pissing mad. The accumulation of being treated like a wild beast and having no social or physical contact was driving her mad and making her mad. Cyborg always said cabin fever caused madness in humans left in isolation, but he never mentioned how it could incite anger, too. Her anger.

I wish he was here with me right now, she thought, he always knows what to do. Always. Sighing, Jay’va tried not to let her anger mix with her sorrow. She tried not to let it get the best of her. She knew if her crew saw her like this, they’d lose faith in her. Gotta stay strong. Stay strong. As she chanted the words in her head, she heard the faint footsteps of the goons patrolling the prison halls.

Shoving her emotions aside, she forced herself to calm down. She needed to calm down. Calm down, Jay-Jay, calm down. Remember your yoga. Cy wouldn’t want you pissing like this. Though she knew that was the truth, it was difficult to follow through with her breathing exercises because just seeing the goons again pissed her off.

Bucking like a wild mookeige, Jay’va screeched at the goons just as they reached her cell. She chuckled as they gave a little start. You would think these idiots would remember me by now, she smugly thought, but they never do―

“Well, I see isolation has done nothing to damper your spirit, Col. Heth Jay’va,” the new voice startled her.

Completely taken aback, she couldn’t even think of a witty, madness-drive comeback. She could only stare at the lifeform before her and feel shame wash over her. It was difficult to explain, but the deference she felt shook her to the core. It was unsettling. Maybe this was what humans mean when they pray to their gods and God? This absolute feeling of submission toward someone greater than them.

It was terrifying.

“I see you’re speechless. Good,” said the lifeform as they lowered the quantum-particle barrier separating them, “it makes things easier. I am Captain Zeelot of the Frek’jon, the magnificent ship you and your crewmates are captive on.” Jay’va remained silent, too overcome by her emotions to respond, her mind too muddled. The lifeform, Captain Zeelot, made a strange noise. Maybe it was a sound for displeasure? She didn’t want that, but she couldn’t make her jaws move.

Whatever it meant, it didn’t matter because Zeelot was approaching her with one heavy step at a time. The fear wafted off her like smoke from a fire. “Heth,” Zeelot murmured her name and cupped her cheek with one of their hands. It was so warm; it had been so long since anyone had touched her, she leaned into their embrace. “Hmm...that’s better. Golok, Rue’oth, release her,” they ordered the two goons.

“But Captain―” “She’ll kill us― ” exclaimed the goons.

“Silence,” Zeelot cut them off, “don’t make me repeat myself.”

The goons wore wary expressions, but she hardly noticed anything. Warmth. Touch. It had been too long...

Watching as Jay’va fell to her knees once released from her restraints, Zeelot marveled at the effectiveness of the pheromone concoction Krellion had created for them. Regardless of Krellion’s mental state, he still managed to create some of the most potent pheromones to subdue ferocious H’hish like Jay’va.

It was wonderous how, just moments ago, she was foaming at the mouth, ready to kill the guards, but now she was as docile as a reika-booj. Clucking, they knelt before her and began massaging her cheek. “Isn’t that better, Heth?” they cooed.

Jay’va nodded. “...feels good...” She was completely at their mercy. It was entertaining how easily the pheromones had taken over such a vicious H’hish.

“I’m glad, Heth, because I want to keep you and your crewmates comfortable, but I’m having a rather difficult time with that. Would you help me?”

They watched as Jay’va dumbly stared at them, so lost in the pheromones. They debated strangling until she whispered, “I want...I want to help. Let me help...” With great satisfaction, Zeelot knew with this, they had won.

Rising, they motioned for Golok and Rue’oth to handle the rest before giving Jay’va with a few parting words. “Answer all their questions truthfully for me, Heth. The more truthful you are, the sooner your crewmates will find comfort like you have.”

“Yes...” Jay’va mumbled.

Turning to Golok and Rue’oth as the lifted her, Zeelot assured them of their safety. “This batch of pheromones won’t wear off anytime soon, and since this is her first time experiencing kulgo pheromones, it will take even longer for it to dissipate from her system.” And with that, they were gone, leaving the rest of the work for the two of them to handle.

Entering their quarters, Zeelot found Murakami tinkering with an old service-bot. She’s taking to her duties well, they thought as they took a seat beside her, but she still refuses give up any personal information on her crew. Cheeky. “How do you like life on the ship? they questioned her.

Murakami didn’t spare them a glance. “Can’t say. It’s only been three days, but I suppose I can say I hate it and wish you all would die.” Yes, she was a cheeky human.

“I wish you wouldn’t say that,” the chided as they absentmindedly flicked a bolt off the table, “the others may take it the wrong way.”

“And what way would that be? I’d ab-so-lute-ly would love to know,” she sneered.

“Your sarcasm is not lost to me,” Zeelot murmured as they carefully raked their fingers through her short hair. They didn’t fail to notice Murakami’s muscles tense at their touch, or how she quickly forced them to relax. She refused to show her fear, but everyone feared them. “Murakami,” they leaned and whispered in her ear, “you can betray every single filthy piece of molongo on this ship, but if you betray me...if you truly ignite my anger, I will insure your life will never end. Understand?” they rasped before leaning back into their seat.

“I understand,” she finally said, her voice trembling.

“Good,” they said, taking the servant-bot from her and tearing it apart, “because this is your only warning. Don’t dare betray me again. Now get out.”

Murakami found herself dumbly standing in the hallway outside of Zeelot’s quarters, questioning herself about their abilities. How did they know what I was going to doing with that robot? How? It terrified her, this uncertainty. She had not even had the chance to reprogram the bot, but they knew what she wanted to do. Alright, stop panicking, Murakami. Don’t let them get to you. Clear your mind. Surely a reasonable explanation exists. Maybe a different slave tried the same thing as me. Maybe that’s why the bot was out of commission? Yes, that is right, she thought, breathing in a deep sigh of relief. That was the answer. One of Zeelot’s previous slaves must have tried to escape that way. It only made sense―

“What are you doing standing in the hallway?”

Giving a small yelp, she spun around to find Mel standing beside her. “Don’t do that. You nearly gave me a heart attack,” she exclaimed.

“Father cleared you of any cardiac conditions,” he said, waving for her to follow him, “so it is highly improbable that you almost experienced a cardiac episode.”

“It’s a figure of speech, kiddo. It means you startled or frightened me,” she deadpanned, following him.

Mel blankly stared at her, clearly not believing her. “Then why wouldn’t you say that I startled you?”

“You’re kidding me, right?” she asked, dumbfounded. “Are you actually suspecting I’m lying? Don’t answer that; it’s a rhetorical question. Let me educate you real quick about figure of speech.” She held up her hand and halted whatever nonsense he was about to spout. “Figure of speech exists everywhere in the universe and probably every alternate reality in existence―except in any reality where on this ship exists―and it’s words or phrases used in the non-literal sense for rhetorical purposes or vivid effects―”

“―Like your questions from just now?”

“Yes, just like my questions. Understand now?”

“Yes, I do. I have never had a proper conversation with another human before.”

“Really, I couldn’t tell.”

“...”

“Sarcasm. It’s irony used to mock or convey contempt.”

“...Then I suggest not using it in Father’s presence. Or showing emotion,” Mel said.

Murakami cocked a brow at him. “Is that why you’re such a killjoy? ‘Cause your crazy dad doesn’t like emotions? Don’t answer that. Anyways, where are we heading?” As she asked, she glanced around, not recognizing the darken hallways.

Mel shot what she would consider a smug look. “The prison cells for the cargo.”

“People aren’t cargo, Mel.” She nearly spat the word.

Mel briefly glanced at her. “Anyone can be cargo, Murakami. It doesn’t matter how unique or intelligent you think they are. If someone wants something and is willing to pay whatever the price for it, then the Frek’jon will provide it.

“In any case, I didn’t bring you here to discuss the ethics of slavery. I’m under orders to get information from you regarding your crew. Minute details such as personality traits, likes and dislikes, special talents; information not available from their personnel files.” As he spoke, Mel placed his hand on the wall, which somehow prompted the hallway to lighten up and reveal cell after cell filled with lifeforms of species she had never met, before continuing to walk down the hallway.

Wrinkling her brows, Murakami had followed Mel up until he mentioned the personnel files. That isn’t right, she thought as she tried to rationalize his words. The EMP wave destroyed all the digital files from the ship’s systems, so how would it be possible? She didn’t believe for a second Mel was lying to her. Though she had only met him a few days prior, she could already tell he wasn’t the type to lie about something like this, which again begged the question: How?

“Don’t lag behind,” Mel barked, dragging her from her thoughts. He was already at the end of the hallway.

Fucking shit. What a brat, she cursed as she took her sweet fucking time joining him. “Didn’t Krellion teach you manners when speaking to your elders?” she inquired once she caught up to him.

“Elders? No, he didn’t, but not like it matters. Most lifeforms don’t live long enough to be considered an ‘elder’. Anyways, like I said before, I need information on your crew, and you will give it to me.”

The way he spoke commanding her got on her nerves. “And why do you think I’ll tell you? Now that I know you’re trying to get information out of me, I’m a hundred percent unlikely to give it to you.”

Mel remained stoic, ignoring her words, as he placed his hand on the wall again and revealed a holding cell with a familiar figure curled up inside.

Her lips suddenly chapped, Murakami barely whispered the figure’s name.

“Fatima...”

[sammywilk-imaginations]

Who knows who better?? (Kian Lawley)

(Y/N pov) Currently I’m laying in my boyfriend Kian’s bed watching a movie, its Saturday and he’s pre-filming videos for Kian and Jc with Jc of course. Him and Jc live in a house with 4 other friends, Harrison, Bobby, Franny and Corey. It can get pretty hectic but at the end of the day it’s all fun and games. Suddenly Kian comes in the room, “hey baby whatcha watchin’?” He asks sliding into bed next to me “The Grinch” I say fluffing his hair a bit “oooo reaaally?” He asks rhetorically. We sit there for a minute just enjoying each others company watching the movie since Jim Carrey is Kian’s favorite actor until Kian speaks up “sooo baby, could you please do me a huge favor?” “And that would be?” I ask “can you help me and Jc film a Wednesday video for next week? It won’t be too hectic beca-” I cut him off and finish “because it’s a Wednesday video.” He nodds his head and says “and because its 10am the only people awake are me you and Jc so it won’t be loud or anything” “of course I’ll help my love, no worries” I say kissing him on the cheek as we both get up from the bed. “Meet me downstairs when you’re ready baby” Kian says leaving the room. I’m only wearing one of Kian’s shirts and my underwear so I decide to change, I change into a pair of ripped black jeans and a burgundy crop top with my white vans (bringing back them DAMNNNN DANIELS ;)).

I go down the stairs to find Kian and Jc in the back yard by the pool, “Y/N to the rescue! Yes I like it!” Jc yells as I walk towards him and Kian “Alright whatchu guys need?” I ask. “Well Jc can explain while I set up the camera” Kian says fixing the camera on the tripod so we’re facing the camera but the pool is behind us. “Ok so a while back we did a video with Trevor where it was ‘who knows who better’, like Trevor trivia to see who knew him better. Have you seen that video?” He asks. I nod my head indicating for him to proceed “yeah, so it’s literally that but Kian trivia, where it’s me vs you” he finishes “oooooo that sounds dope” I say. Kian then chimes in “yeah and the consequence will be being covered in random shit and thrown in the pool fully clothed” “of course” I add. “Ok let’s get started” Jc says grabbing three chairs, Kian in the middle and us on either side of him. For the intro we decide for me to jump in. “WASSUP EVERYBODY ITS KIAN AND JC” Kian yells “Yup one two three…” Jc says counting the chairs “wait who’s three..?” He finishes acting confused “Oh is this seat for me?” I say jumping into it “ayyyyy” we all yell hyping everything up. “Welcome Y/N everyone” Kian says “yeah this is our friend Y/N and she-” Jc says but Kian cuts him off “let me rephrase that, this is Y/N my wonderful GIRLFRIEND and everyone else’s FRIEND there we go back to you Jc” we laugh a bit and then Jc continues “ok so we’re doing who knows who better, basically Kian trivia. Jc vs Y/N edition” then Kian chimes in “basically the name of the game is who knows me better my girlfriend or my besssttt-boyfrienddddd.” I laugh at his humor. “That’s a pretty long name of the game” I say “shut up” Kian says playfully “We’ve done this before on our channel with Trevor and you’ll get it as we go along, OK let’s get started” Kian says. He brings out his phone with the questions in his notes. “Ok first quessssion düd” he starts “when is….. my birthday” he quickly finishes “SEPTEMBER 2nd!!” I yell a smidgen before Jc yells “SEPTEMBER 3rd!”, he then realizes I was right and says “fuuuckk”. “Jc! Really?!” Kian says shocked “dude I was off by one day oooooo call the cops ooooo” Jc justifies. “Yeah yeah ok, one point for Y/N. NEXT!” Kian says. “Ok, on which arm- or wrist is my O2L tally mark tattoo on?” Kian states quickly turning his wrists over. “Left, nononono right, yeah right” Jc shouts. “Ok that’s your final answer, Y/N?” Kian says as they both look at me. “Haha its on both bitch!” I say confidently “GOOD FUCKING JOB BABY!” Kian says giving me a high five “DAMNIT! A fucking trick question” Jc says. “You should know your boyfriend better” I say to Jc snobbishly in a joking matter of course. “Ok next question, so we all know that 2014 Kian dyed his hair blonde and then some weird blue shit right after but when did I dye my hair rainbow?” Kian asks “it’s either the end of 2014 or beginning of 2015… shitt” Jc contemplates out loud “ok say your answers together on three, ready 1…2…3” Kian calls off “2015” we both say. “Wow you both got that right, it was April 2015. So that’s 3 Y/N and 1 Jc. We’re going up to 6 by the way” he says talking to the camera towards the end. “Alrighty what is my fourth latest photo on Instagram and its caption?” Kian asks “fucking nope Y/N you got this one” Jc says giving up “OMG OMG ITS THE UMMMMMM the one of you IN THE POOL AND THE CAPTION IS ‘POOL DAY’!!” I yell “wow I can’t believe you actually got that” Kian says amazed “haha I only know that because I was stalking you this morning” I cheekily confess “huh I keep up on my boyfriend” I say to Jc smirking “shut up I’ll have a come back” Jc responds “it’s 4 to 1 you literally can’t win” I say “SHHHHH NEXT QUESTION,” Kian starts “ok who is/was my ultimate best friend like since forever? Hint, it’s not Jc” Kian asks. I sit there for a second just so lost, I say “wait give me a second” until Jc immediately shouts “SAM, Sam Pottorff” “yeah” Kian says. “I would’ve never guessed that, like I was so lost. Every fan probably thinks I’m just so dumb” I say. “You’re still gonna win baby” Kian says “hey that’s biased-” Jc starts but Kian cuts him off “OK LADIES AND GENTLEMAN THIS IS THE LAST AND FINAL QUESTIONN CAN I GET A DRUM ROLLLLLLL” Kian shouts as Jc and I hit our chairs continuously imitating a drum. “What is my favorite color?” Kian asks “BLUE”. “BLUE” Jc and I shout, “THAT WAS ME I GOT IT FIRST!” I yell “NO WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN IT WAS OBVIOUSLY ME, REPLAY THAT SHIT NOPE CUT IT. I will SHOW YOU IT WAS ME” Jc says. “Kian who do you think it was” I ask, Kian smiles and says “I honestly don’t know” “fuck it, we’ll be back in a sec guys” Jc says talking to the camera. “Are you actually?” I ask “yes” Jc responds. He then proceeds to stop recording and replay the footage, he then proceeds to show us in slow motion that he in fact said blue a millisecond before I did.

We then set the camera back up and turn it on “ok so we played back the footage, and the winner prevails” Jc says gloating. “Whatever I still won” I say “OK SO since my baby one and Jc fucking lost were gonna throw shit on him and push him in the pool” Kian says standing up. Kian runs to go get the condiments and such that they already set out earlier. He hands me mustard and mayo while he holds ketchup and jelly. “Ok get over by the pool” Kian says pushing Jc “ok ok I’m going– wait wait I don’t want to get the pool dirty…” Jc says trying to stall “shut up it’ll clean you, now on three Y/N.. 1..2..3!” Kian yells and we start throwing condiments on Jc right away. “THAT DIDN’T EVEN MAKE SENSE!” Jc says, Jc tries to cover his face but then realizes there’s no use. Once we cover him almost completely I decide to pull a stunt. “Wait Jc hold on” I say making Kian stop and Jc look up “come here.. what’s that thing righttttttt….” I say dragging the word on as I walk closer to him “THERE!” I yell throwing him in the pool. “HAHHAHAHAHAHAH THAT WAS SO FUCK- THHHAT WAS SO FUCKING FUNNY BABE! Gosh I love you” Kian yells laughing hysterically while stuttering, I give Kian a high five and say “I learn from the best, love you too” indicating Kian as the best. “Fuck you Y/N, ahhhaha I didn’t see that coming at all” Jc says once he surfaces. “Ok thank you guys for watching, a big thanks to Y/N for being in the video” Kian says turning his attention from the camera to me “anytime for Kian and Jc” I say smiling. “MAKE SURE TO SMASH THAT LIKE BUTTON AND SUBSCRIBE IF YOU HAVEN’T ALREADY AND COMMENT IF YOU WANNA SEE Y/N IN OUR VIDEOS MORE OR DON’T WE DON’T REALLY CARE” Jc yells from the pool. We all laugh “Alright,” Kian starts as he grabs my waist “we’ll see you guys on Friday!!” He says before pulling me in for a kiss and covering the camera with his hand then turning it off once we pull away. “That was so cheeessssyyy ugh” Jc says as he gets out of the pool taking his shirt off “shut up” Kian and I say in sync as we push Jc back into the pool, smiling.

**Decided to switch it up a bit, let me know if you enjoyed this bc I had fun writing it! Thxx and send in some KnJ requests!!!

peace&love :)***