i have clearly lost it

8

Rebelcaptain Regency AU: Cassian Andor goes undercover in an attempt to find Galen Erso, who has been captured by Napoleon’s spies in England. He is tasked with finding Erso’s daughter, Jyn, in order to get an in with her distant relatives, who have ties to France and may know of Erso’s location. But he discovers that in this game of chess, she is not a pawn but a queen.

Secrets

Originally posted by kths

“We weren’t meant to be. We should have never kissed. I should not have become that weak soul which needs you. We shouldn’t have met, but we did.”

Summary: I call him devil because he makes me want to sin. And every time he knocks… I can’t help but to let him in…

Hoseok was my brother’s best friend. He was nothing but bad news, but the more I spent time around him… the more I couldn’t help but to fall for him…

Temptations is a dangerous thing… especially with a guy like him…

Previous Parts:

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 //

Part 6 is here~

Masterlist

Keep reading

My dudes. It is now 3.45 AM where I am. My heart is warm and fluffy and aching red. My eyes are clear, my stomach is burning of butterflies. My head is mushy and my knees are weak. I wanna thank not only RAS but casting director David Rapaport for bringing these 2 sunflowers together, leading them to their true soulmates.

As I have now clearly lost my mind I must try to get some sleep. I THANK YOU ALL FOR THIS SPECTACULAR SPROUSEHART FAMILY GATHERING as I am sending my love to you from my very own grave. LiliCole did it, they officially killed me tonight. 

Exclusive footage of the Sprousehart family during the past 24hours:

Originally posted by riverdaleselite

lets just see how it goes

It doesn’t start how you’d think it would


“Well, obviously it’s Moony”

“Fuck you Sirius.”

Sirius sits up from where he’s lying on the picnic table to raise his eyebrows. “Now Moony, that’s no way to speak to your prison master.”

“I am not your prison bitch. If anything, you’re my prison bitch.”  

Sirius looks scandalised, and thus James, lying with his legs in the air against the wall bordering the grounds, decides to cut in. “Neither of you are prison masters, I’m the prison master. You’re both my prison bitches.”

“You can’t have two prison bitches, that’s monopolising the prison bitch market.” They all turn, Sirius on the picnic table, James lying on the ground, Remus sitting beside him with splayed legs, to the voice and there- in an orange jumpsuit with one of the zippers broken off- is their ticket out.


 

Alternate ends to that sentence include:

1.       The girl who broke the daisy chain.

2.       The one least likely to be a prison bitch.

3.       The rest of James’s life.


 

She sits with them at dinner.

“What’s your name again?”

“Black, stop trying to look cool. I know you know what my name is.” Lily puts her tray next to Remus, who is sniggering into his hand. There is sunburn across her face from standing in the sun and talking to them nearly all yesterday, and as a result it is difficult to tell where her hair begins and her face ends. James looks up and grins.

“I think he intended it to be more of a power move actually.”

“He’d actually have to have power in order for that to be accomplished.”

Sirius brandishes his fork at her so forcefully that a piece of chicken flies off. “Listen here Evans, I don’t know what kind of prison gangs you associated with back at Northcote but here, things are different.”

“I would hardly call us a prison gang.” Remus is in the process of reaching for his napkin, only to find that James had stolen it pretty much the moment they sat down.

“Well Moony, we are in prison and we are a group of people who hang out, hereby, a prison gang.”

Lily gives Remus her napkin. “A prison gang implies you have sinister motives.”

“You have no idea what our motives are, Evans.”

James rolls his eyes and flicks Sirius on the ear. “Our motives are not sinister” he says to Lily, who smirks.

“’Thought not.”


 

A rumour goes around that Lily got transferred because she killed two prison guards and ripped out another inmate’s teeth after they removed cornflakes from the cafeteria. Noah Brewer goes around telling everyone that her hair is so red because its full of matted blood. It’s all very dramatic and Elise Porter makes a big show of moving stepping aside for her in the halls.

James finds the whole thing hilarious, and often talks her up in the guy’s bathroom to the point where everyone thinks she’s a mass murderer. Sirius joins in, and then they’re reenacting the supposed ‘ruthless killing’ once a week just before movie night. Someone suggests putting the idea forward for the annual play.

She tries to be bothered by it but, honestly? Remus charges everyone one baked potato from their Sunday lunch to watch and they’re making a killing.


 

“So why were you transferred, really?” James asks as she takes a book from him and shelves it. He’s been standing in the library and talking to her for the better part of an hour now, trying to figure out how to ask.

“You really want to know?”

“Well generally that’s why people ask things.”

She raises one eyebrow and reaches around him, grabbing a book from behind him. “just for that I’m not going to tell you.”

“What? Oh come on Evans, you can’t set me up like that and then get mad when I capitalise on the opportunity you created!”

“Stop using the word ‘capitalise’ in casual sentences, it’s embarrassing”

“Says the girl who used the word ‘monopolising’ the first time we met.”

“Oh James, are you reliving the moment I came into your life? Do you think about it all the time? Does it haunt your days and nights, making you sleepless-“

“Stop.”

“-keeping you awake as you dream of me, shaking up your world with the word ‘monopolising’ and then shaking you up as you can think of nothing but me? oh James, I’m so flattered that you picture me always-“

“Please stop. God, Evans, I’ll leave this library. I’ll leave this fucking library and you’ll have to stack this bullshit all by yourself. Try me”


 

Sirius puts in a request for them all to get t-shirts that say #1 PRISON GANG for ‘medical purposes’ and they all get called in for counselling. After that they’re not allowed to have metal utensils so they have to eat with plastics. James breaks three forks in two days, Sirius ends up eating with his hands by day four, Remus tries to stab himself with the plastic knife in the middle of lunch because ‘any alternative would be better than this’ and Lily goes on a hunger strike by day seven.


 

They get their metal utensils back.


 

“Seriously? That’s it? You got 12 years for that?”

“We were pretty damn good.”

“You were stealing cars. I stole a car once when I was sixteen and so drunk I tried to start it by putting the keys in the glovebox.”  

“We once cleared out an entire dealership in a night.” Lily’s mouth drops open and Sirius’s best shit-eating grin appears.

“Told you we were good, Evans.” Lily shuts her mouth and pretends to not be impressed.

“Well alright” she leans forward, elbows on her knees, “what if I told you that I ran a multi-million-dollar underground meth ring out the back of an old lacrosse shed after I got back from working shifts at the supermarket my mum owned.”

There is a silence so loud she worries she might have actually scared them. Sirius is agog, eyes huge enough to see from at least 18 miles away and Remus is giving her look like he’s trying to figure her out in his head, a complicated math equation inside a girl. James breaks first.

“Hold on, so you’re a drug dealer and your mum owns a supermarket?” he’s starting to smile, struck by lightning through the skull, “Shit, Evans you’re fucking fantastic. You had access to drugs and free fruit roll ups. I’m outraged I haven’t known you my whole life.”


 

“One question.” Lily says and Remus starts from where he’s cleaning the sink, “If you guys were so damn good then why did you get caught?”

Remus doesn’t turn around, and after a minute she realises she’s asked something that has struck a nerve. He doesn’t look at her.

“There used to be four of us.” He says, quietly.


 

“Potter, I’ve just had your driver’s licence photo described to me in intense detail by Black, along with an accompanying drawing by Lupin. Please describe to me the exact thought process that lead to the green hair”

“Will it do any use denying this?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Fine. Then let me set the scene: it’s summer, I’m seventeen, and am on a lilo in a stranger’s pool at 3.a.m.…”


 

Lily gets some sort of severe sunburn even looking at a window and won’t stop humming David Bowie even after threats of bodily injury. Sirius is always diagnosing himself with dramatic, deadly diseases and won’t stop drumming on the table with his fingers. Remus once accidentally swallowed a fly in his orange juice and won’t stop rolling his eyes every time Sirius diagnoses himself with a dramatic, deadly disease. James asks every week on the phone for his mother to send him a dressing gown and won’t stop looking at Lily.

Honestly, someone should have caught on that this would happen. Clearly, they are the dream team.


 

“I’m fixing it!”

“Really, Black? because it looks like you’re fucking it!”

“What are you two doing.” Lily and Sirius wheel around and look so clearly guilty that James thinks it’s a wonder that they didn’t end up in prison years before. Sirius holds up two halves of what was once a daisy chain.

“Happy Birthday, Prongs. Evans broke your gift.”

Lily hits him over the head.


 

She has the idea in the middle of the night and sits up in bed- an electric fence turned on in the dark.

Oh, she thinks. Oh, yes. That could work.

 


Lily corners him by the toast and drags him by the collar out into the abandoned hall. James is about to object, but he can feel her fingers against his skin through his shirt fabric and- well- his tongue is suddenly too big for his mouth. Lily looks up at him, eyes full of what appears to be determination.

“I like you.” She states, a pure and simple fact.

He’s floored. “Like in a prison way?” he asks, and then wishes to be cremated immediately.

Pause. “How the hell do you like someone in a ‘prison way?’”

“I don’t know you just- just like them, when you’re- ah- when you’re in the prison- you like me?”

“Yeah.” her eyebrows are furrowed together and she crosses her arms over her chest, “in the normal way, meaning: I want to hang out with you and fuck when we get out here. Not in the ‘prison way’ you fucking-“

He’s kissed her before she can finish her sentence. Then-

He pulls back. “You said when.”

She opens her eyes, looking a little like she’s just been hit over the head with a bat. “What?”

“You said ‘when we get out of here’. And you said the ‘when’ like you thought ‘when’ would be happening soon.”

She grins at him.


 

“Are we really going to do this?” Remus asks.

Sirius blanches, “Of course we are, this is brilliant.”

“Yeah but…” Remus trails off, but the meaning is clear. If this goes wrong, it will mean more than having no metal utensils. Lily looks at James.

“We’re doing it.” He says firmly, “Lily knows what she’s doing.”


 

(She actually doesn’t, because that’s the thing about breaking out of prison, you only really get to do it once.)


 

It involves, in no particular order:

a fork, the cords from all the phones, a piece of sink piping, three sheets, a shower curtain, four really good hair ties, the stuffing of one mattress, four good pairs of shoes, and at least three excuses that could explain away any part of the plan, lest they be caught. These could include “we are barricading down this wall to get some exercise”, “I am purposefully blocking this sink because I am staging a protest against the water quality’ or “I’m stuffing all this mattress foam down my pants because I believe in comfort.”


 

“Moony, I’m willing to consider letting you off the hook for being my prison bitch if you pull this off.”

“Sirius, I am going to hire someone to murder you.”

“Hire someone?! We’ve been friends since we were eleven! You can’t even kill me yourself? Unbelievable. Typical prison bitch behaviour.”


 

They get out, the specifics are boring and, to be perfectly honest, Sirius hardly listened to the plan anyway and ended up winging his half, while Lily broke her wrist jumping over the wall because it turns out that the hair ties weren’t that good. Remus did alright, although he did get a cold from being in the water tank to long, and James, well-

Fingernails grow back.


 

They’re all over the news the next day, pictures plastered everywhere and news anchors calling them a ‘notorious prison gang’ that frequently performed plays detailing a gruesome murder and made other inmates ‘pay to watch’. ‘They also requested t-shirts be made to solidify their status’, many reporters claim.

Lily hums David Bowie until they cross the border, and Remus hits James every time he tries to change the radio. Sirius yells about how great they are for ten minutes and then falls asleep with his head on Lily’s shoulder.

“Hey,” she sticks herself in between the drivers and passenger seat, grinning, “So we’re out of prison and- against all odds- I still like you, so it must not be in a ‘prison way’ as-“

“Shut up. Oh God, Evans, mention that again and I’ll kill you and then happily go back to jail for your murder. Just-“

“Remus, do you know how you fancy someone in a ‘prison way’? because I sure don’t, let’s ask James her what that means exactly-“

“Moony, roll down the window. I’m throwing myself out of it.”

Imagine #4 Erik Lehnsherr, Charles Xavier - Part 2 (Request)

Requested by @mutantsupremecy: I request a fic where there’s a hit list going around the world for mutants, and the X-men along with the reader are on it? The reader can manipulate energy and stuff, and Erik wants to protect her but Charles becomes protective?? Please??

Requested by @lostamongstthecosmos (and kinda by @samariabarnes, like 20 years ago, who’s probably already forgotten about it): Would you consider continuing the Imagine 4th story? I’d love to see more

Not my gif

Words: 1927

Warnings: typos, fem!reader, also I kinda messed up the timeline, I hope you don’t mind 

Part 1  Part 3

The moment you entered Charles’ office, you knew that something was wrong. He usually didn’t call you to his office. He rarely called students to his office, let alone teachers, such as you. And as you stepped through the door, you realized that you weren’t the only person, who had been called in.

“What’s going on?”, you asked as you stopped in front of the professor’s desk and looked at Jean, who seemed just as confused. “I don’t know. I had to dismiss my students early, he usually waits till the end of the lesson, before he calls me in.”, she replied and you couldn’t help but feel a little sting of jealousy. Jean had been your best friend ever since you had arrived at Xavier’s a few months ago, and you knew about the close connection she had with Charles, due to her telepathic abilities and the fact that he had helped her through some rough times, long before you even met him, but you still envied her for their closeness. You were aware, that you weren’t the first person to have fallen for the professor’s intelligent charm, and you never even tried to approach him in that way. He clearly didn’t see you as anything else than a colleague and not that close friend.

Keep reading

Day II - Pets!!

If they had to switch places for one day (for whatever reason) it would mean mutual acceptance for Kaka and Ningame, but Gai would have no idea what to do with ninken at first. Then he would decide to go running with them and that would be the end for the poor dogs.

2000 laps around Konoha sounds like a perfect distance, after all??

I should be writing. or editing. but my desk isn’t clear because of a puzzle I have lost motivation to finish and clearly there is nowhere else I can write in this house.

2

I wouldn’t dream of it

86/365 Days of Outlaw Queen

imamultifangirl  asked:

I love your account so much! Can you make some Raphael headcanons? I would love to read them, even though my Mexican vampire loving heart wouldn't be able to handle it

Thank you! Oh my god I’ve never been asked for headcanons before, this is exciting!! Okay, okay, Raphael headcanons for my fellow Raphael trash.

  • Even though he never makes contact with them anymore, Raphael still keeps an eye on the Santiago family to make sure they’re okay. One of the kids is getting bullied at school? The bully mysteriously disappears. They’re short on money? Suddenly it becomes easier to get overtime at work and easier to actually get a job. The family thinks they have a guardian angel, but only the older people of the family, Raphael’s siblings, know the truth. Though they still call him their guardian angel.
  • Raphael feels secretly protective of Simon. Sure, he once tried to kill him, but it’s kinda like a ‘no one can hurt him but me’ situation. If someone else tries to fuck with the Daylighter they will seriously regret it.
  • Magnus is also very brotherly towards Raphael. Raphael pretends he hates this, but secretly it makes him feel like he still has a family to look out for and who will look out for him and he loves that.
  • Occasionally Raphael will remind everyone that he is still technically a teenage boy by throwing a tantrum when his cunning manipulation isn’t enough to get him what he wants.
  • Raphael wasn’t jealous that Simon could walk around in the daylight, not exactly. He was jealous that God seemed to be favouring Simon because ‘what has he done that I haven’t? I looked after my family in every way I could, I look after my clan, I have not lost faith in Him even though He has clearly lost faith in me. Why is the Daylighter more deserving of His love than I am?’
  • Raphael was amassing followers within the clan in secret long before he actually tricked Camille out of leadership, because he had to make sure the other vampires would be loyal to him when Camille couldn’t return. If ever there was a new fledgling in the clan he would test their loyalty by opposing some of Camille’s orders, pretending he had a better idea, to see which side the fledgling would take. If they took his side on more than one occasion, he would continue to talk to that vampire, get to know them better, get them to trust him. If they took Camille’s side he would mostly leave them alone.
  • He still prays even though he feels like it’s in vain, because he refuses to give up his faith even though his faith means he really is damned. He would rather be damned than live in a world without God.

Okay this was really fun and now I’m drowning in Raphael feels. Thank you!!!

Edit Bonus headcanon: Raphael knows Magnus’ real name and he uses it to blackmail Magnus whenever he wants something

Another Day Snowbaz Fanfic

Chapter 1 

Summery: Simon meets a strange, intriguing person in an usual situation at 2.30 am. Idk i suck at summerys but the next will be better probs ;)

Warnings: Mentions of suicide/ being suicidal but not much and not graphic or in detail.

Word count: 1266 Next one will be longer! 

Enjoy!!

~

Baz

I can think clearer here. 

It’s easier to breath. 

I don’t think i should but I feel calmer and lighter, like everything will be okay. Life’s been too stressful recently and this is my escape place. Being here makes me forget the stresses of being the director of finance at my father’s global company Pitch corporations. Being here is nice, wind in my hair, fingers around the cool metal bar, breathing the cool fresh air.

Simon

2.34 am and I  can’t sleep again. It’s not surprising really, i’m not even sure when i last had a good night’s sleep. A few years ago probably. Usually i mess around on my acoustic guitar for a while, however i’ve been working on a new song for almost two months now and it’s slowing killing my soul every time i even think about it. Plus i haven’t left my apartment in almost a week since the office i work at is having a refurbishment and if i don’t get out i’ll probably go insane, that’s if im not already.

I grab my keys and jacket and head out of the door. I head to the elevator and decide to go up to the roof garden. The apartment i live in is one of the only apartments in Watford that even has a roof garden. Living in the worst part of town has an upside when your apartment has a large, beautiful half open top roof with bright flowers and wooden benches to sit on. As soon as i get there i feel better, my head less groggy. I can already feel the wind blowing my curls as i leave the elevator onto the closed roof half of the garden. Although it’s chilly i decide to walk across to the far edge so i can sit on a bench and look at the sky and all the stars.

As i’m moving closer to the edge i see a tall figure standing there, right at the edge, at the wrong side of the railing. Oh fuck.

Baz

“Don’t do it, please!” Yells someone behind me. Shit, i didn’t even hear the elevator.

Fuck sake how am i going to explain this? 

I should have been more careful! God what is wrong with me, well actually i don’t want to know that. Something seriously wrong probably.

I take one last look out at my feet hanging over the edge, bright glowing stars and the light up windows from the business buildings that never seem to sleep. (Ha like me then.)

“Another day” I whisper (out of habit) before shifting my weight and landing back over the railing onto the roof garden.

What i’m faced with can’t be real. It just can’t.

I must have fallen. I must have fallen off the stupid roof and gone straight into heaven. (I’m a drama queen, i know).

A mess of peach curls, freckles and blue eyes.

Huge glowing blue eyes staring straight at me like they are trying to stare into my soul. He stands there in what must be his black cotton pyjama pants, an old looking The Smiths t-shirt and denim jacket dotted with pins. He rakes his hand through his hair and i realise how weird i must look, suicidal and now just staring back at him. Although, that’s not true. It might have looked like that but i’m not suicidal, i just like that spot. I like the feeling of control from standing there. I like the wind and the cool metal railing.

But i know i must have looked crazy.

And i have no idea what to say to him.

How’d you start a conversation with a beautiful boy on the top of your apartments roof top garden when it looks like you were just about to commit suicide?

Oh hi, i wasn’t about to jump. By the way you’re really hot and i don’t know if you’re gay but i’d like to take you out.

Yeah that’s not going to work, and anyway he’s probably straight. All the hottest indie boys are.

I clear my throat.

“I was just looking out, i wasn’t going to jump.” That’s all i can muster up before striding straight past him to the elevator.

I almost think it worked, however when i reach the elevator i hear his footstep as he runs to catch me up. I will the elevator to hurry up and close its doors before he gets in but since my luck has never been good and he clearly sprinted, he makes it into the elevator slightly red faced and tries to catch his breath. And of course his pink face makes his constellation of freckles stand out more. 

“It’s not that i don’t believe you, well, that, but i want to make sure you’re okay and the thing is you don’t look okay and i want to make sure you are okay, wait i think i already said that?”

Verbal diarrhea. That is what the beautiful boy has. He’s trying to be nice and i have a feeling like i’m not sure whether i want to push him down some stairs or to push him against the wall and kiss him. Clearly neither is acceptable so i turn my back to him and count the tiles on the floor mentally trying to speed up the ride.

12, 13, 14, the boy is still talking away but i stopped listening, 15, 16, 17, ping.

Finally, floor 12, my floor. I speed walk out of the elevator and start heading down the corridor but much to my dismay, i can still hear him behind me. I’m just outside my door when he finally seems to stop walking.

“Stop!” he half shouts. This take me back a bit for some reason. He doesn’t seem like an authoritative person, not someone who gives orders, but the way he says it makes me stop and turn around to face his big blue eyes.

“Look i know you don’t know me but seen as no one else is awake to talk to right now and i’m out of coffee, i was hoping you’d maybe let me in and maybe we could talk?” His eyes are full of concern, a small hopeful smile hanging on his lips.

 “I’m Simon by the way.”

Simon

He looks like a mess.

Messy, just above shoulder length, jet black hair. A messy suit with the tie hanging down and half the buttons undone. And eyes that look like they hold a messy life and the weight of the world. I instantly felt a connection to him. As soon as his grey eyes locked onto mine i wanted to know him, fully and completely know him. 

Penny would say it’s because of my habit and wanting to fix the most broken things i can find, like a little bird with a very broken wing we found in the woods one day. Maybe she’s right, maybe i do like broken things.

All i know i like the look of his broken grey eyes and i really, really want to find more out about him.

Something flashes over his eyes like he’s hard a thought but he must decide against whatever it was and stares at my face again before turning and unlocking his door. He walks in, leaving the door open, presumable he decided i wouldn’t leave him alone anyway and that it’ll be easier to let me in before i wake anyone up.

Baz

I’m not sure why i let him in. Probably because i like to torture myself with pretty things i can’t have. That and clearly I’ve lost my mind.

i’ve been reading loud hands: autistic people, speaking, which is incredibly powerful but also deeply deeply hard for me to read.

this is the narrative of my autistic siblings across the country. this is my narrative. this is who i am, and this is who i could have been. this is what happened to me and this is what could have been done to me. 

as time has passed, I’ve realized more and more clearly that I have lost big pieces of myself, in possibly irreparable ways, to the rhetoric of quiet hands and eliminating autistic behavior and autistic thought processes and autistic life.

and I wish I could take my young self by the hand and tell them, in their own language — in the words and patterns that make sense to them, that mean something to them in the deep places of their heart — that it’s okay to be what they are, to show who they are to the world. that they can claim the words that make them feel strong, that they can claim the words that let them feel vulnerable. that their hands can be loud, and they should never apologize for celebrating, or for thinking about the world in new and exciting ways.

that they are allowed to take up space. that there is no way to exist wrong. 

but I know that I could never do that. because if I did that and they listened, things might very well be worse. because passing is a survival mechanism. because as flawed and damaging as it is, it has likely kept me alive. because even though my skin itches and blazes with the desire to touch, to know, to draw out the shapes of things, to make patterns, to draw connections, part of me knows that quiet hands are what has kept me safe. 

that’s a really terrible feeling — to know that to tell myself to be true to who I am would put me at such risk of harm even though it has cost me so much to maintain this facade, even though passing has nearly cost me my life too. 

there’s so much pain in this book, in the self-loathing and violence and insidious degradation so many of us have faced in one way or another. there’s so much joy here too, in the resistance to the idea that we are broken and wrong, that we are too much to be allowed, that it is better we were dead than alive and autistic. joy in community, in growing celebration, in taking up space with loud hands and loud voices. 

it’s hard to find the words for this, to put this sense of shared experience into words. to put this sense of determination and pain and need into the right words. 

this is what it looks like. 

it looks like a small, battered notebook, bright yellow like sunshine and the heat that glimmers off the cars in the parking lot in arizona in the summer and that perfect leaf in fall. it looks like pages and pages of scribbled notes, of quotes in scrawled cursive and in large block typography and in ballpoint pen and glittery art pens, the words of others adapted and rewritten and recontextualized in someone else’s life. it looks like grocery lists and to-do lists and notes all written over each other, the written evidence of a life lived and remembered. it looks like emotions and thoughts bled out onto a page, consolidated and shaped to share or keep, and stickers on the page, little bits and pieces stuck in from wherever, and little drawings in the margins, figures and swirls and whorls, and whole pages of nothing but curved lines tucked into one another, a page of ink adapting and twisting to meet and shape the other pieces on the page. 

it looks like a page that says only “THERE ARE ONLY TWO STORIES: EITHER YOU GO FORWARD OR YOU DIE.” in large block letters, and another with “so much depends/upon/a red wheel/barrow/glazed with rain/water/beside the white chickens,” tucked into a corner in neat, nervous cursive, and a third just covered in ampersands of various sizes and colors and styles. it looks like survival. it looks like the connection of my life and others’, like art and words, like so much depends/ upon us and on this and/ upon/ the stories we tell to one another.

Leaving Time

They’re not fighting anymore by the time they get in the elevator. Not actively. Stiles has accepted that Derek’s going to have the meeting, and in return Derek’s agreed that Stiles can tag along. It’s a truce, of sorts. Specifically, it’s the sort where Stiles is glaring daggers at him, he’s been walking too quickly for the human to comfortably catch up, and they haven’t said a word to each other for the last fifteen minutes.

Derek doesn’t know what else he’s supposed to say - he’s already decided that he’s leaving Beacon Hills, and he’s clearly explained why at least three times now. If Stiles feels like being obtuse it’s not Derek’s problem. He thumbs the up button again, as if that will call the elevator faster, and pretends the silent treatment isn’t getting to him.

The air in the lobby is thin and chilled, barely holding scents beyond a faint metallic tang from all the brushed steel-and-glass decor. Overall, the building is a picture of minimalist affluence, right down to the muted ‘ding’ of the elevator arriving, the smooth way the doors slide open, and the elegant brushed-steel interior they reveal. Bridge and Branch Property Group definitely has the funds to buy his buildings at market rate, Derek thinks, which is the goal after all. Liquidating will free him to travel the way he wants, to buy a place and settle down somewhere better when the mood strikes him. If it ever does.

Stiles wedges himself into the back left corner of the elevator to sulk while Derek stands in the middle, facing the door and ignoring the ball of tense energy behind him. He hits the button for the 31st floor and the two of them remain in uncharacteristic silence as the elevator begins to ascend with a barely noticeable pull.

The back of Derek’s neck itches with the glare Stiles is still leveling at him and he crosses his arms. He has no idea why the kid drove all the way to Sacramento just to interfere with Derek’s wealth management planning; he says it’s so Derek doesn’t get cheated by scummy developers, but Derek obviously knows more about real estate than he does. Stiles keeps insisting it’s not the right time to sell, for example, when anyone who’s paying attention can see that it’s a perfectly good time to get out of the market.

He watches the lighted floor number tick up faster and faster as the elevator gains momentum. Despite their tenuous agreement, Stiles is only getting more worked up. He’s started to kick his heel back into the wall with a rubber thud-squeek and it’s making Derek on edge, too. Just what he needs right before a high-stakes financial negotiation. Unlike the lobby, the air in the confined space of the elevator quickly fills with the overbearing scent of Stiles’ anxiety, and his unsteady heartbeat is so loud it practically echoes. Well, Derek thinks with dark humor, a few floors left and they can be out of each other’s hair. For good maybe.

Then, with a jerk, the elevator comes to a complete halt.

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So today I was working on a presentation for school about women in politics and I have this slide about the current female office-holders/recent firsts, etc, etc

Classy, right? You got Hillary Clinton, Condeleezza Rice, Madeline Albright, Nancy Pelosi, and all three of the current female Supreme Court Justices.

But then I was like “Hey wouldn’t it be funny if I had a picture of Sarah Palin appear all crazy-like for a couple of laughs" And so

And THEN I was like "Oh my gosh what if we added Michelle Bachmann in there too” and

AND THEN

IT JUST

KIND

OF

ESCALATED

WHAT HAVE I DONE