sorry i don't know who the rest of the people are

story time: presidential edition
  • so you know how everyone has a story
  • you know
  • like the story
  • like if you’re at a party and someone turns to you and says, tell the story
  • and you know exactly what they mean
  • the story
  • well 
  • i have a story
  • and not unlike most good stories, it involves three key components:
  • barack obama
  • pre-2008 reebok sneakers 
  • and the absolute earth-shattering horror you can only feel after making the worst mistake of your life

Keep reading

“Bad guys don’t deserve to be redeemed” is a boring plot mindset and it’s cancelled forever.

Show me bad guys that think it’s too late to turn their life around, and then turn it around. Show me bad guys that think they’ll never be loved because of the things they’ve done and then give them love and support that makes them feel like it’s worth it to change. Show me bad guys who are bitter, hold grudges, lash out at people, and then make them realize that this Isn’t Working and want more out of their life. Show me bad guys that ask the good guys for help!!

The “villain gets what’s coming to him and is never seen or heard from again” trope is old and played. I want to hear from them again. I want them to ask the good guys to drive them to their first therapy appointment. I want them to struggle through apologies, not because they’re too proud to say “I’m sorry” bc tbh that trope can die too, but because they can’t find the words to make things better and it makes it feel pointless to try.

Make it hard! Make it hurt! Make them question who they are and if change is possible and make them find out that they can be more than the destructive thoughts and behavior they’ve adapted! Make them learn that having bad thoughts doesn’t make you a bad person, and you can choose which thoughts and desires you entertain and act upon. Let the choice to ignore bad thoughts and focus on positive ones become easier over time. And let them feel proud of themselves for it!

Real people struggle with these issues every day and right now the social message is that if you fuck up, you’re scum and you deserve to suffer and you’ll never be more than scum. Real people need to know that you can’t undo the damage of things you’ve done, but you can be better in the future. Real people need to know that you’re not pigeonholed into being a Bad Guy for the rest of your life because you’re a Bad Guy right now.

Nobody “deserves” to be redeemed, it isn’t about “deserving” redemption, it’s about working your ass off not to keep hurting people because you can.

I still don't know if he ever got his coffee.

I’m not 100% sure this even belongs here and I’ve posted this story elsewhere so some of you might have read it already.

Some background: I work in a rather specialized area of Forensics. Officially I’m employed by Police Scotland but they tend to let other law enforcement agencies, universities, etc borrow us from time to time. A lot of the time it’s for consulting work or guest lecturing but sometimes we’re sent to teach training courses.

About 18 months ago I was asked to lecture at a training course for some of the CID higher-ups in an English Police force. It was the first time I’d done anything like it and I was crapping myself.

I met with the conveners and other officials for dinner the night before my first day, and after dinner and drinks, I was dropped back at my hotel.

So to set the scene; it’s about 10pm, I’m all dressed up in my evening wear and I’m sitting at the bar in the hotel lounge. The place is dead, it’s just me and the barman so I’ve taken off my heels and am unraveling my hair having just ordered a hot chocolate. The barman asks if I want mini marshmallows on my hot chocolate. Yes, of course I want mini marshmallows on my hot chocolate. No I don’t mind waiting while you run to the kitchen.

So I’m sit there trying to trick my phone into connecting to the hotels WiFi when Angry Man walks in.

He stomped into the room and slammed his fist down on the bar about 3 ft from me and barked out one word:

“COFFEE”

I didn’t know it but apparently that attempt at communication was aimed at me; a fact I learned a moment later when Angry Man moved right up next to me, bent over me so his face was practically in mine and barked out again;

“COFFEE”.

In an attempt to get away from the screaming coffee man I slipped off the bar stool, putting it between the two of us. Extremely confused and more than a little terrified, it didn’t immediately occur to me that he thought I worked there, hell it wasn’t even registering that he wanted a coffee. He was just repeating it the same way a toddler does when they learn a new word but don’t entirely know what it means.

I’m going to blame the confusion, fear and tiredness for my completely moronic response, which was to parrot the word back at him.

Me: “Coffee?”

Angry Man: “COFFEE”

Then he slammed his fist down on the bar again. This time I noticed that he was actually throwing down money.

My brain suddenly came back online.

Me: “Oh. Eh, the barman should be back in a sec. H-”

Angry Man: “Get me a coffee. Now.”

Ooooh four new words. Progress.

Me: “I’m sorry, mate, I don’t work here.”

Angry man (shouting now) “You fucking lazy liar!! Do you think I’m fucking stupid?”

Yes, actually, but I’ll be keeping that to myself.

Angry Man: “Get off your fucking phone and get me a shitting coffee”

Me: “I really don’t-”

Cue rant about me being the only person in the lounge so of course I must work there and I was just being lazy and did I take him for an idiot. All while I’m slowly backing away from the bar so he can’t pin me between it and the bar stools. Then he throws in this:

Angry Man: “Do you have any idea who I am? Do you have any idea how important I am?”

I never got to find out how important this guy thought he was. Instead Angry Man’s Friend came wandering in.

He took one look at me; pretty much cornered by Angry Man who is now screaming about how he’ll make sure I never work again while I’m trying to calmly tell him to back off and he tries to intervene.

He took Angry Man by the shoulders and moved him back away from me while asking him what was going on.

Angry Man: “This stupid little whore is refusing to serve me”

Me: “I really don’t work here”

Angry Man’s Friend: “She doesn’t work here. Let’s just all try to calm down”

There was a few moments of Angry Man’s Friend trying to calm Angry Man while he ranted about getting me fired until two barman arrived, one of them with my hot chocolate. The presence of the three men distracted Angry Man enough for me to grab my shoes and escape with my chocolatey goodness.

As I left I could hear him demanding to speak to a manager.

The next day, after being introduced to a lecture theater full of high ranking CID Officers, I stood and walked to the podium only to be greeted by one guy in the audience laughing hysterically.

I just sort of froze trying to figure out the joke. Did I have food on my face? Was my shirt on inside out?

A quick check confirmed that, no. I’d managed to adult that morning.

A few other people began to chuckle as this guy struggled to get a hold of himself. As he regained control he pointed to his left.

Where a very red looking Angry Man was sitting.

I think it was the sheer relief that he wasn’t actually laughing at me that caused me to open my mouth and say to Angry Man;

“Oh did you get your coffee in the end?”

He walked out and I didn’t see him for the rest of the course.

It’s been about a week of driving on the road, and Stiles gets to his place and drops his things off. The rest of his stuff will be delivered in about another week. 

Stiles stands in the stillness of his tiny apartment and closes his eyes, takes in the quiet, a quiet he hasn’t heard and felt in a long time, when his phone dings.

Stiles opens his eyes, sees it’s text from Scott asking if he made it by the time he said he would. Stiles answered he made it, and then shuts his phone down, and proceeds to lay down on all the blankets he brought with him - his bed won’t be there for a few more days, at least - and sleep.

It’s night when he wakes up, and the street lights are shining into his apartment where he lay in the almost bare living room. Stiles turns on his phone, and this time his heart skips a beat - and Stiles doesn’t quite know why - when he sees the text he’d been expecting from Derek:

Have you made it? Do you want to meet up? 

It was sent an hour ago. Stiles replies back, saying he did and he would, but since it’s night time, they could meet tomorrow?

But Derek replies back a few minutes later that he wouldn’t might meeting up that night. It’s only 7PM, and so Stiles agrees and they agree to meet at a coffee shop a few blocks from where Stiles lives - Derek has been living in D.C. for a few months now, and ever since Stiles told Derek where he would be living, Derek made a point to get to know the area around it. Stiles found that oddly sweet, but he would never tell Derek that. 

Stiles’ heart is beating wildly as he leaves, locking his door behind him. He hasn’t seen Derek in over a year now. They’ve talked over the year, actually they’d talked quite a lot in the past few months, especially, but Stiles hadn’t been face to face with Derek in well over a year. 

Stiles feels and equal measure of excitement and nerves. He feels almost jumpy as he heads down the stairs in his apartment building, and then out into the warm summer night D.C. air. 

He texts Derek that he’s on his way, and Derek texts back that he’s already there, waiting outside. 

Stiles gulps and licks his lips, and walks faster, pocketing his phone.

Stiles is away from the only home he’s known for 18 years. But he feels oddly free. He misses Scott, his dad, everyone like crazy, but he also feels less…heavy. Less like he was drowning. Stiles still looked around him surreptitiously, not able to shake off the habit from almost two and a half years of danger and destruction happening to and around him, but the air is quiet, people barely spare him a glance. 

It feels wonderful.

Stiles is able to breathe

He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this relaxed. 

When he rounds the corner to the coffee shop, he freezes, his inhale sharp when he sees Derek standing outside, and then it feels like his heart trips over itself when Derek hears him and turns towards him, and they lock eyes. 

Derek looks good. He looks as relaxed as Stiles felt. Derek was still in the tight jeans that Stiles remembered him wearing all the time (and damn, they always made Stiles stare a little longer than he should have) but his shirt looked soft and comfortable, and it was a light purple color that made Derek look absolutely…amazing. 

And he wasn’t wearing his signature leather jacket. He wasn’t standing with his arms over his chest. They were at his sides, just hanging, relaxed. He also wasn’t scowling. He was grinning. At Stiles.

And Stiles found himself grinning back. He let out a shocked laugh, and then he was walking fast toward Derek, who started walking toward him too. 

Stiles sped up the last ten or so feet, and then Stiles was practically jumping into Derek’s awaiting arms, and Derek gave a small “oof” as if Stiles, fragile human that he was, was able to knock the breath out of Derek. 

“Sorry,” Stiles murmured. 

But he felt Derek shake his head and wrap Stiles up firmly in his arms, and Stiles breathed out softly, tightening his arms around Derek’s shoulders and resting his cheek against Derek’s.

“I missed you,” Stiles whispered, surprised he let that slip out. But he did nothing to take the words back. 

“I missed you, too,” Derek said, and Stiles shivered. He and Derek had mostly texted over the past year, and the last time they had talked on the phone had been months ago. Stiles had missed his soft, beautiful voice. It was like honey to Stiles’ ears.

Two and a half years. That’s how long Stiles had basically lived in hell. 

But now….now, Stiles was getting out of it. With Derek, who actually picked Stiles up enough that Stiles was then on his tippy toes, somehow bringing Stiles closer in his arms, and Stiles huffed out a laugh. 

“Derek-”

“Shh, just enjoy it,” Derek murmured. 

“Can’t imagine the Derek I knew saying that,” Stiles whispered. Even at the end, before Derek left, when he was in such a good place, he hadn’t quite been like this. So happy. So relaxed. So ready to hug someone. And hug them closely, for that matter. 

“Yeah, well…some time away helps,” Derek murmured, and Stiles felt his heart beating faster when he felt Derek brush his lips lightly against Stiles’ neck. 

“Good thing I’m getting some time away, then,” Stiles murmured. And then after a long moment, “with you,” Stiles said. 

He felt Derek inhale sharply, and then the arms around him tighten. But it didn’t feel restrictive. It felt amazingly comforting. Stiles felt warm, safe. Relaxed. And maybe even a little bit happy.

“I’m glad you’re getting time away, too. With me.”

Stiles smiled, buried his smile against Derek’s shoulder, and then decided to hold on to Derek just a little longer. 

He didn’t feel the need to be anywhere else. 

RIVERDALE MEME.
episodes 1-4 / ( change pronouns as needed. )

CHAPTER 1: THE RIVER’S EDGE

  • “i’ve been thinking about us.”
  • “i’m asking you now if you love me.”
  • “of course i love you, ____. but i can’t give you the answer you want.”
  • “one summer can change everything.”
  • “it’s about following your heart, right?”
  • “as long as you don’t give up your passion.”
  • “eventually, there will be a reckoning.”
  • “that entitlement you wear on your head like a crown? it won’t last.”
  • “are you scared, ____?”
  • “don’t freak out. just trust me.”
  • “i’m breakfast at tiffany’s, but this place is strictly in cold blood.”
  • “he was looking for the girl next door. instead, he found me.”
  • “you wanted fire? sorry, _________. my specialty’s ice.”
  • “just… talk to her. it could go a long way. would have gone a long way with me.” 
  • “you are so perfect. i’ll never deserve you.”

CHAPTER 2: A TOUCH OF EVIL

  • “romeo and juliet are the exception, not the rule.”
  • “once again, fate throws us together.”
  • "sardonic humour is just my way of relating to the world.”
  • “what? what are you going to do?”
  • “i’m not. i want to be. i thought i could be. but it’s too much, too fast.”
  • “what do you know about it, _____? or about me, even?”
  • “he wasn’t perfect. but he always tried to do the right thing.”
  • “sometimes a friend is better than a boyfriend.”
  • “why don’t we both just do that bro thing where we nod like douches & mutually suppress our emotions?”
  • “is there something you want to tell me, pal?”
  • “did you & _______ kill him together?”
  • “i’m alone.”
  • “we’re not gonna hug in front of the entire town.”
  • “it’s like there was a train that was going to the rest of my life. & i just… missed it.”
  • “it is not my fault he doesn’t like you.”

CHAPTER 3: BODY DOUBLE

  • "spoken like a true good girl who always follows the rules.”
  • “i don’t follow rules, i make them. & when necessary, i break them.”
  • “nothing this bad was ever supposed to happen here.”
  • “you don’t want to slow down, do you?”
  • “they have zero remorse for the lives they destroy.”
  • “does he not know who i am?”
  • “i’d love to stay. but i gotta shake down an evil adventure scout.”
  • “not bad.”
  • “maybe i don’t know _______.”
  • “you came through for me. in a way no one else ever has before.”
  • “i would’ve done anything to protect _____.”
  • “i saw the way you looked at me. … you’re hiding something.”
  • “maybe we should slow it down a little.”
  • "she’s right.”
  • “would i have complete freedom?”

CHAPTER 4: THE LAST PICTURE SHOW

  • “where did you find all of this?”
  • “oh, i’m already there!”
  • “you’re right. i’m selfish, & i’m stupid.”
  • “make some room, outcasts.”
  • “what’s next, selling her hair extensions?”
  • “it’s off-brand & sends a false message about acceptance.”
  • “shut the hell up, or you’ll find out!”
  • “i just hate when people disrespect my cinematic experience.”
  • "i’ll figure it out. i always do.”
  • “you are not the things you said.” 
  • “you’re not stupid. this wasn’t your fault.”
  • “i have a strong inkling.”
  • “threatened, much?”
  • “i learned that from the nancy drew detective handbook.”
  • “if you really are my friend, you’ll drop this.”

I was at a con recently. And while looking at some of the art, I made a comment to a guy who had a collection of cat avengers prints that he was missing the best avenger. So he goes, ‘oh and who is that’ and I just kinda look sideways at him and say 'hawkeye, the only one you don’t have’. To wich he of course smirks and says 'is he really the best or is it just cause of jeremy renner?’

First of all… Jeremy Renner is a gorgeous human being and he is more than enough reason for Hawkeye to be awesome, so why the hell you got that smug look on your face like I’m just some random ass fangirl who don’t know shit about comics. I was fuckin dressed like Captain Marvel, 100% comic accurate costume thank you very much.

So my dad starts laughing cause he can see I got my 'fight me’ face on. And I proceed to list each and every reason why I have loved Hawkeye since waaaaay before the movies and why he gets even better with new movies and comics.

NUMBER ONE, he is the only fully human Avenger in every single story line.

To which of course I get 'well what about Black Widow’ well sir you must not know your comics very well because in the Earth-616 universe she has the Red Room version of the super soldier serum which gives her enhanced physical abilities as well as a very long lifespan.

Then comes the 'well Scott Lang is human’ well yeah but he’s got a mother FuCkiNG SUPER SUIT. What does Hawkeye have? Spandex or leather, not quite the same thing. And you take away that super suit, is Scott still a super hero? No he is in jail for being a thief. You take away Hawkeye ’ super sui… oh wait that’s right HE DON’T GOT ONE.

'But what about Black Panther he is human right?’ Do you know anything about comics dude? The dude eats a magical plant and is gifted his powers by the Wakandan Panther God and has enhanced speed, strength, agility, healing, reflexes, stamina, etc. NOT FULLY HUMAN he also is proclaimed King of the Dead and is granted the power and knowledge of past Black Panthers and gains the ability to control the dead… so awesome but still not human.

Hawkeye is 100% human 100% of the time (except a very brief moment when he borrowed pym particles just to help out on a mission) and still manages to keep up with super humans, gods and guys with fancy super suits.

NUMBER TWO, he is deaf, canononically.

'Well Daredevil is blind’ his accident enhanced his other senses… and not an Avenger… so your argument is not even relevant.

NUMBER THREE, he shoots a bow, usually a recurve, in battle with people that have magic and laser guns and other shit and he can shoot it with out even looking!

'But he has trick arrows’ wich are guaranteed to be weighted terribly and that weight changes depending on which arrow it is. So he not only has to compensate for the strange weight but he has to do it on the fly in the heat of battle for each individual arrow. Not to mention when he shoots multiple at once.

And come on, have you ever tried to shoot a bow and arrow, it’s not easy. It takes a lot of practice patients and skill. Especially to get as good as him.

NUMBER FOUR, I mean have you read the guys backstory? If you looked up tragic backstory in the dictionary, you would see a picture of Clint Barton. He was orphaned after his abusive father got into a car accident that killed his mother as well. Was sent to a children’s home, ran away to the circus, was trained by Swordsman and Trickshot who were not the best mentors, was betrayed and abandoned by Swordsman and his brother and left for dead, ended up severely injuring his brother, had to leave Trickshot, when he tried to do the hero thing he was mistaken for a criminal, was manipulated into trying to kill Iron Man, kept falling in love with women who didn’t love him back, left the Avengers at one point believing he was unwanted, was passed over because he was not super human, watched his brother die, was forced to leave the Avengers, had a bounty put on his right arm, lost former mentor Trickshot to cancer, split with his wife then watched her die saving him, sacrificed himself and came back, was almost assasinated, went to prison so the rest of his team could go free, was shot and conducted a suicide mission that saved the planet but killed him, lost his memory, was vanished into nothingness, doubted he was himself or even alive, faked his death, and that’s just the short list.

NUMBER FIVE, he ran the West Coast branch of the Avengers, as well as other treams.

NUMBER SIX, he took on the mantle of Captain America for a short time.

NUMBER SEVEN, Caw Caw Mother Fucker.

So yeah, suffice to say that I left the guy speechless surounded by his friends who were nodding along and adding in their own bits of info and laughing hysterically at him. I turned to walk away after that mic drop and heard him mumble, 'well I guess I’m making a cat hawkeye’

I still don't know if he ever got his coffee

I’m not 100% sure this even belongs here and I’ve posted this story elsewhere so some of you might have read it already.

Some background: I work in a rather specialised area of Forensics. Officially I’m employed by Police Scotland but they tend to let other law enforcement agencies, universities, etc borrow us from time to time. A lot of the time it’s for consulting work or guest lecturing but sometimes we’re sent to teach training courses.

About 18 months ago I was asked to lecture at a training course for some of the CID higher-ups in an English Police force. It was the first time I’d done anything like it and I was crapping myself.

I met with the conveners and other officials for dinner the night before my first day, and after dinner and drinks, I was dropped back at my hotel.

So to set the scene; it’s about 10pm, I’m all dressed up in my evening wear and I’m sitting at the bar in the hotel lounge. The place is dead, it’s just me and the barman so I’ve taken off my heels and am unraveling my hair having just ordered a hot chocolate. The barman asks if I want mini marshmallows on my hot chocolate. Yes, of course I want mini marshmallows on my hot chocolate. No I don’t mind waiting while you run to the kitchen.

So I’m sit there trying to trick my phone into connecting to the hotels WiFi when Angry Man walks in.

He stomped into the room and slammed his fist down on the bar about 3 ft from me and barked out one word:

“COFFEE”

I didn’t know it but apparently that attempt at communication was aimed at me; a fact I learned a moment later when Angry Man moved right up next to me, bent over me so his face was practically in mine and barked out again;

“COFFEE”.

In an attempt to get away from the screaming coffee man I slipped off the bar stool, putting it between the two of us. Extremely confused and more than a little terrified, it didn’t immediately occur to me that he thought I worked there, hell it wasn’t even registering that he wanted a coffee. He was just repeating it the same way a toddler does when they learn a new word but don’t entirely know what it means.

I’m going to blame the confusion, fear and tiredness for my completely moronic response, which was to parrot the word back at him.

Me: “Coffee?”

Angry Man: “COFFEE”

Then he slammed his fist down on the bar again. This time I noticed that he was actually throwing down money.

My brain suddenly came back online.

Me: “Oh. Eh, the barman should be back in a sec. H-”

Angry Man: “Get me a coffee. Now.”

Ooooh four new words. Progress.

Me: “I’m sorry, mate, I don’t work here.”

Angry man (shouting now) “You fucking lazy liar!! Do you think I’m fucking stupid?”

Yes, actually, but I’ll be keeping that to myself.

Angry Man: “Get off your fucking phone and get me a shitting coffee”

Me: “I really don’t-”

Cue rant about me being the only person in the lounge so of course I must work there and I was just being lazy and did I take him for an idiot. All while I’m slowly backing away from the bar so he can’t pin me between it and the bar stools. Then he throws in this:

Angry Man: “Do you have any idea who I am? Do you have any idea how important I am?”

I never got to find out how important this guy thought he was. Instead Angry Man’s Friend came wandering in.

He took one look at me; pretty much cornered by Angry Man who is now screaming about how he’ll make sure I never work again while I’m trying to calmly tell him to back off and he tries to intervene.

He took Angry Man by the shoulders and moved him back away from me while asking him what was going on.

Angry Man: “This stupid little whore is refusing to serve me”

Me: “I really don’t work here”

Angry Man’s Friend: “She doesn’t work here. Let’s just all try to calm down”

There was a few moments of Angry Man’s Friend trying to calm Angry Man while he ranted about getting me fired until two barman arrived, one of them with my hot chocolate. The presence of the three men distracted Angry Man enough for me to grab my shoes and escape with my chocolatey goodness.

As I left I could hear him demanding to speak to a manager.

The next day, after being introduced to a lecture theatre full of high ranking CID Officers, I stood and walked to the podium only to be greeted by one guy in the audience laughing hysterically.

I just sort of froze trying to figure out the joke. Did I have food on my face? Was my shirt on inside out?

A quick check confirmed that, no. I’d managed to adult that morning.

A few other people began to chuckle as this guy struggled to get a hold of himself. As he regained control he pointed to his left.

Where a very red looking Angry Man was sitting.

I think it was the sheer relief that he wasn’t actually laughing at me that caused me to open my mouth and say to Angry Man;

“Oh did you get your coffee in the end?”

He walked out and I didn’t see him for the rest of the course.

here are a bunch of fucking fantastic fics I’ve enjoyed and loved reading throughout the month of october. I recommend that you read these great fics in november, if you haven’t already!! also check out the Reverse Big Bang and 31 Days of Smut!

(all fics with a star are my favorites and if there are two stars then it was a favorite favorite)


1. Damn the Dark, Damn the Light 20k

“Why is this face of beauty ringing so true?” The genuine confusion in Harry’s voice causes Louis’ chest to painfully twinge. “You’re a complete stranger in my eyes, William Shakespeare, but not in my heart. How is that possible?”

Louis wants to live out every romance plot he has ever written in his own life. He wants to be the protagonist of his own narrative, the hero who finds true love and gets his happy ending. Instead, Louis is stuck with only dreaming of such wild fantasies and writing them down. He can create entire romances in his dreams, yet he can never live one.

2. Threadbare 20k**

Harry Styles was eight years old when Louis Tomlinson kept him from falling into a machine in a Manchester textile mill. He was 18 years old when nothing, not even the threat of death, could keep Harry from falling in love with Louis.

3. Don’t Come Down 6k

Louis takes Harry home to meet the family.

4. I’ll Take Your Pain 2k*

Or, soulmates have the ability to feel each other’s pain, and Harry finds his after getting his arse waxed.

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roxyblade  asked:

Hi Carrie. I don't know if you're doing prompts or anything but I needed to ask anyway. You're always able to help me when I need it (when my mum was diagnosed with cancer and when I broke my elbow). I had to have my 12 year old German Shepherd put to sleep last night (April 28th) and I feel so empty and lost now. I don't know what to do and I was hoping you could write something to cheer me up/help/distract me?

i’m so sorry to hear about your dog. this is a little late, but i’ve been travelling and stuff and i’ve only seen this message just now. sending you lots of love, and i hope this ficlet cheers you up a bit

Derek loves his family, he really does. But sometimes he wishes they weren’t so… weird. And it’s not that he doesn’t have fun at the annual Hale-Extravaganza, the ridiculous family reunion that they hold every summer at Lake Bellasue. When he was a kid, he looked forward to it every year, how all the Hales from all over the country would gather and he’d get to see his favorite cousin from Texas and see Aunt Jo and Uncle Monty argue over jam and his grandma would make all the best food. It’s two weeks of potato-sack races, scavenger hunts, s’mores, swimming, and more, and the only time Derek sees his cousins and stuff. 

Even if they weren’t werewolves, they’d still be weird. For instance: Derek is wearing a bright pink t-shirt (Cora’s design, this year) that proudly declares HALE PACK WEST COAST BEST COAST because in about an hour he and the other kids (Derek is twenty-two years old, and he can’t believe he still has to play all these games) on his team are gonna face off against the cousins from New York. 

The matching t-shirts, Derek could probably explain. There are a lot of families who do that. There’s at least two other reunions (none quite as large as the Hales) at this lake, which is a popular vacation destination. Derek’s never took much notice of the other people there; just usually kids on spring break from the local college partying and swimming and racing around on jetskis and stuff. 

But this year is different.

“Hey, Derek!” 

Oh, fuck, he’s shirtless again. Derek can see every one of his moles playfully scattered across his chest. There’s a mole right on his hip, and Derek freezes. 

“Hi,” he manages, his throat closing up. Derek is painfully aware that there is glitter on his cheeks, and probably mashed potatoes still in his hair, and he’s wearing mismatched flipflops. 

Theoretically, Derek should be annoyed by Stiles– everything from the backwards hat, the board shorts, the litany of “dudes” that flow from his mouth, the fact that he is one of the obnoxious spring breakers. But the first time they ran into each other, Stiles immediately got into an argument about him about Star Wars (Derek absolutely does not count the extended universe as canon, and Stiles does), and then proceeded to help Derek’s two year old niece tie her shoe and well… Derek is, for the lack of better word, very, very distracted this family reunion.

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Anon: Can you please do one where lance is self-doubting and staying up really late and training? Like he gets really sick from not sleeping. Like can’t keep anything down sick. It’s okay if you don’t want to do or you already did this already. Please and thank you!

Anon: Maybe something where Lance is getting berrated (idk why) and Keith comes to his defense like in intensness or something.

A/N: When I started writing this, I didn’t intend for it to be so dark. Hot damn. Deep shit ahead. Also, I’m horrible at pet-names. I tried to write from 3rd person Keith instead of omniscient so here we go ᕕ(ツ)ᕗ

It was a particularly depressing mission.

The Blue Paladin had to make a near-impossible choice. Surrender Voltron, or surrender a resource-heavy planet and all its inhabitants. Death wasn’t mentioned in either scenario, but it was very heavily implied. In the end, Lance made the choice to save Voltron on the basis that they would save many many other planets by defeating Zarkon in the long run.

But that didn’t mean a whole planet’s worth of deaths wasn’t weighing on his soul.

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Plagiarized fics - asking for help from the 1D fandom

Hi everyone! I’m poking my head in your door from the Haikyuu fandom to ask you guys for help. I have spoken to quite a few people in the One Direction fandom thus far and I have been overwhelmed by their kindness, support, and how fast everyone I talked to acted to help me and my friend get this sorted out.

It came to my and my best friend ellessey-writes’s attention (confusing names, sorry! I’m Esselle) this morning that many of our fics had been stolen by the Tumblr/AO3 user Fruxoo, who has since deleted her accounts.

Here are two screenshots of Fruxoo’s fics, posted in April. The first is a direct copy of my story Hunger, completed last June 2016. The second is the summary from Ellie’s story Tea and Sympathy, posted January of this year. The entire text of every fic Fruxoo stole has been copied almost exactly word for word from our fics, changing only the names and other relevant character info.

I messaged her privately and asked that she post an explanation on Tumblr, as well as replace the text of her stolen works with links to our respective stories, in order to notify any readers who enjoyed these works. Unfortunately, she didn’t respond. Now that she has taken everything down, that’s no longer possible.

It would mean the world to Ellie and I if people would help spread the word about what happened. Last year, between the two of us, we wrote 626,000 words. We poured all our energy and love (and time!) into these stories, and to have someone copy them word for word, lie to people who were kind enough to comment or send asks as if they had thought up the ideas on their own, and interact with other people in the 1D fandom based off of love for OUR writing, is devastating to us both. This was going on for at least 2.5 months.

Besides the two stories listed above, we know As Long As You’re Smiling was actually copied from ellessey-writes​​‘s fic The Chronicles of the Virgin Asahi. We think this is the first fic they grabbed, due to the note on the summary. Here is a masterpost of all Ellie’s works from last year, and a link to her AO3.

They also took my incubus story Dreamless and reposted it as Lilin. This fic was posted as a part of a collab for my close friend’s artwork. reallycorking​​ drew this (VERY NSFW) art as part of a 30 day challenge, and the two of us worked together for a full month on Dreamless. Here is my fic masterpost for last year, and a link to my AO3.

I wanted to share links to the rest of our work because we don’t know how many stories she stole (it seemed like there were around 10 in total). We didn’t even have time to make a note of everything before she removed her accounts. So we don’t know what people read and might want to re-find (if there’s any interest cross-fandom).

Again, the One Direction fandom has been so incredibly supportive (Gina, Ange, phd-mama, Emmi, Lisa and everyone who was so helpful and understanding). Ellie and I started off the morning crushed, and now I have comments in my inbox on the fics that were stolen, and asks on Tumblr showing support, and it’s nearly brought me to tears. Thank you all so much. If anyone who sees this would be kind enough to get the word out there in any way (reblogs, just telling your friends who’ve read these stories, anything!!), we’d be incredibly grateful.

THANK YOU, to everyone who takes the time to read this.

Omens, Goblins, and Suicidal Wolves

So, the Friday Game I’m in had been running for a few weeks. We had a small party consisting of a gnome rogue (me), a warforged sorcerer, a human ranger/alchemist, and a human bard. Though the party had been through some stuff together, due to some character related reasons (gnome’s a racist, ranger is dependent on potions, bard is … a bard, and the warforged takes everything literally), the group hadn’t quite been able to mesh well. Particularly when it came to combat. (Two of us had already died and been resurrected.) But, what I’m about to recount to you is the wonderful mayhem that happened once we got a FIFTH member of our little band, a human cleric.

Highlight 1:

(Setup: My gnome, upon learning the cleric was going to be joining our group, immediately set up a prank, placing a booby-trap on the door to the cleric’s room so that when he woke up that morning, he’d set off a trap that would cover him in flour if he didn’t make the dex save. He didn’t.)

DM: Alright, as you open the door of your room and step out into the hallway … a ton of flour falls over your head, covering you completely.

Cleric OOC: Hold on, I have to check to see what sort of omen this is. *rolls percentile dice*

DM: And?

Cleric OOC: It’s a good omen! ((He’d been rolling bad omens until then.))

Party: *bursts into fits of laughter*

Ranger OOC: I see this right? I’m in the hallway, going to my room. I f'n see this, don’t I?

DM: Not only do you see this priest get covered in the flour prank you know that the gnome set up, you also see him pause for a moment and then nod to himself and say, “Good omen.”

Party: *begins to die of laughter*

Ranger: *rolls their eyes* And you said I was the weird one. *walks into their room*

(The Cleric continues the rest of the session still covered in flour, having not even bothered to try and clean it off.)

Highlight 2:

(Setup: The party is sitting down and discussing how to best deal with the threat of the goblin warband that had formed just outside the village. My gnome had been slinging insults at the cleric most of the morning and was far too pleased with the prank’s success. Side note: My gnome DESPISES goblins to her very core.)

Cleric: So sorry, but I’m afraid I don’t really know much about goblins, you see. Would someone mind telling me a bit more about them? Should I be worried?

Me: (attempting to frighten the cleric) *grins* Oh, goblins are vicious. They’ll rip your throat out as soon as look at you.

Cleric: *immediately and without thinking* Kinda like you then? *eyes go wide as he realizes what he said*

Entire table: *a mix of shocked faces and people holding back laughter as I reel back in shock*

Me: *raises eyebrows and fixes the Cleric with a death glare* … Excuse me?

Cleric: I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry!

(I proceeded to glare daggers at the Cleric throughout the rest of the strategy meeting.)

Highlight 3:

(Setup: We’d made our way to the goblin caves, implementing a strategy of distraction to lure most of the goblins away from where we’d be infiltrating. We were inside the caves, having killed a couple of goblins already when two wolves came out of the darkness. One had already been shot with a crossbow bolt, and our bard had been holding his action to do vicious mockery on the next enemy that came into range.)

DM: *moving the pieces across the play mat* So the wolves charge forward and-

Bard OOC: Oh! I was holding my action! Can I do a vicious mockery?!

DM: Okay, which one do you mock? They’re charging at the same time, so they come into range at the same time.

Bard OOC: Does it matter?

DM: Well, one has a crossbow bolt sticking out of its side where the gnome had shot it, and the other one hasn’t been hit by anything yet.

Bard OOC: I’ll mock the one that the gnome hit.

DM: Mock away.

Bard: Hey wolf! You’re so stupid! You let stupid orange morons ((Referring to the goblins)) tell you what to do!

DM: *rolls the saving throw* And it failed the saving throw. What’s the damage?

Bard OOC: *rolls the damage* *jokingly* Please don’t tell me I demotivated it to death? *laughs*

DM: *smirks* As the wolves charge forwards, this one hears your shout. It pauses and then decides that you’re right. It takes a sudden turn and plunges into the river where it gives up and drowns.

Entire table: *laughs as the bard looks horrified*

Bard: Wait-no! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!

DM: -You cry out as you watch the wolf’s body, still covered in faerie fire wash downstream.

Bard OOC: Well now I just feel like a horrible person. I didn’t think it’d actually kill it!

Highlight 4:

(Setup: The boss of the caves has appeared behind us, the hobgoblin who has formed the other goblins into the warband. The target we decided to attempt to take out.)

DM: *as hobgoblin* You, you lot must truly have a deathwish. You come into MY home, burn down MY forest, and kill MY people without provocation- *clearly has more to this speech*

Me OOC: Yeah, my gnome is gonna try and shoot this guy in the throat.

DM: *pauses* Really?

Me OOC: Yeaah … Also, I was hiding. Am I hidden from him? Cause I’m pretty sure I get advantage and sneak attack damage if I am.

DM: What was your stealth roll again?

Me OOC: Modified 20?

DM: *rolls dice* Yeah, he doesn’t see you. Roll with advantage.

Me OOC: *hits* So, as I shoot my crossbow, I scream “For Tordek!” ((The gnome’s mentor who was killed by goblins))

DM: *sigh* You interrupt the hobgobin with your cry and the bolt hits him in the shoulder. He pauses and then laughs.

DM: *as hobgoblin* Fine then. If you want to hasten your death …

DM: Aaand we’ll end it here for tonight.

Entire table: *groans*

(On the way home, I complained about the cliffhanger, and the DM complained about me interrupting his speech in return.)

I have this random headcanon about the Captain Swan wedding, ok.

So Emma and Killian make up yadda yadda, the engagement is back on, and he has a long lovely talk with Charming to make amends and all is right in the Charming-Jones world. 

They get married and everyone (read: me) cries and it’s beautiful and wonderful and True Love Forever.

But then it’s the wedding reception. And while Killian and Emma and her family are all fine, whispers still persist following the drama that happened around the engagement and Killian’s disappearance. Gossip quietly tinges the party with the “well I heard he left her” and “no no no she kicked him out” and “well he killed her grandfather, I can’t believe David and Snow allowed this to happen” etc etc etc. 

And it’s probably someone like fucking Grumpy running his dumb mouth after too many beers when all of the sudden

**THWACK**

A fork jabs down, perfectly in between his fingers that rest on top of the table. 

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I still don't know if he ever got his coffee

I’m not 100% sure this even belongs here and I’ve posted this story elsewhere so some of you might have read it already.

Some background: I work in a rather specialised area of Forensics. Officially I’m employed by Police Scotland but they tend to let other law enforcement agencies, universities, etc borrow us from time to time. A lot of the time it’s for consulting work or guest lecturing but sometimes we’re sent to teach training courses.

About 18 months ago I was asked to lecture at a training course for some of the CID higher-ups in an English Police force. It was the first time I’d done anything like it and I was crapping myself.

I met with the conveners and other officials for dinner the night before my first day, and after dinner and drinks, I was dropped back at my hotel.

So to set the scene; it’s about 10pm, I’m all dressed up in my evening wear and I’m sitting at the bar in the hotel lounge. The place is dead, it’s just me and the barman so I’ve taken off my heels and am unraveling my hair having just ordered a hot chocolate. The barman asks if I want mini marshmallows on my hot chocolate. Yes, of course I want mini marshmallows on my hot chocolate. No I don’t mind waiting while you run to the kitchen.

So I’m sit there trying to trick my phone into connecting to the hotels WiFi when Angry Man walks in.

He stomped into the room and slammed his fist down on the bar about 3 ft from me and barked out one word:

“COFFEE”

I didn’t know it but apparently that attempt at communication was aimed at me; a fact I learned a moment later when Angry Man moved right up next to me, bent over me so his face was practically in mine and barked out again;

“COFFEE”.

In an attempt to get away from the screaming coffee man I slipped off the bar stool, putting it between the two of us. Extremely confused and more than a little terrified, it didn’t immediately occur to me that he thought I worked there, hell it wasn’t even registering that he wanted a coffee. He was just repeating it the same way a toddler does when they learn a new word but don’t entirely know what it means.

I’m going to blame the confusion, fear and tiredness for my completely moronic response, which was to parrot the word back at him.

Me: “Coffee?”

Angry Man: “COFFEE”

Then he slammed his fist down on the bar again. This time I noticed that he was actually throwing down money.

My brain suddenly came back online.

Me: “Oh. Eh, the barman should be back in a sec. H-”

Angry Man: “Get me a coffee. Now.”

Ooooh four new words. Progress.

Me: “I’m sorry, mate, I don’t work here.”

Angry man (shouting now) “You fucking lazy liar!! Do you think I’m fucking stupid?”

Yes, actually, but I’ll be keeping that to myself.

Angry Man: “Get off your fucking phone and get me a shitting coffee”

Me: “I really don’t-”

Cue rant about me being the only person in the lounge so of course I must work there and I was just being lazy and did I take him for an idiot. All while I’m slowly backing away from the bar so he can’t pin me between it and the bar stools. Then he throws in this:

Angry Man: “Do you have any idea who I am? Do you have any idea how important I am?”

I never got to find out how important this guy thought he was. Instead Angry Man’s Friend came wandering in.

He took one look at me; pretty much cornered by Angry Man who is now screaming about how he’ll make sure I never work again while I’m trying to calmly tell him to back off and he tries to intervene.

He took Angry Man by the shoulders and moved him back away from me while asking him what was going on.

Angry Man: “This stupid little whore is refusing to serve me”

Me: “I really don’t work here”

Angry Man’s Friend: “She doesn’t work here. Let’s just all try to calm down”

There was a few moments of Angry Man’s Friend trying to calm Angry Man while he ranted about getting me fired until two barman arrived, one of them with my hot chocolate. The presence of the three men distracted Angry Man enough for me to grab my shoes and escape with my chocolatey goodness.

As I left I could hear him demanding to speak to a manager.

The next day, after being introduced to a lecture theatre full of high ranking CID Officers, I stood and walked to the podium only to be greeted by one guy in the audience laughing hysterically.

I just sort of froze trying to figure out the joke. Did I have food on my face? Was my shirt on inside out?

A quick check confirmed that, no. I’d managed to adult that morning.

A few other people began to chuckle as this guy struggled to get a hold of himself. As he regained control he pointed to his left.

Where a very red looking Angry Man was sitting.

I think it was the sheer relief that he wasn’t actually laughing at me that caused me to open my mouth and say to Angry Man;

“Oh did you get your coffee in the end?”

He walked out and I didn’t see him for the rest of the course.

Fall For You (M) | 02

gif ©

Summary: You hate a lot of things about Jeon Jungkook; you hate his arrogance, his reputation, and his pet name for you to name a few. But most of all, you hate how right it feels for you to fall into his arms, and how easy it is to fall for him.
Word Count: 10,272
Genre: fuckboy!Jungkook, college au, hate to lust to-

Part 01. Part 03 + Drabbles

It wasn’t over.

After your night with Jungkook he was on your mind more than ever. You didn’t go to any parties in the following days, but you couldn’t help but think of him during the evening, of if he was drinking to get drunk or to maintain appearances as he brought another girl to his bed. The idea of him, wrapped around a random girl, his tongue shoved down her throat, didn’t bother you.

No, what angered you was how he continued to consume your thoughts, even though you hated him more than you’d ever hated anyone else.

It wasn’t fair.

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burningflyme  asked:

I hope I don't trigger you, but I have to know... Will Blackrock ever be finished? Not in videos, but you mentioned writing the rest of Blackrock. I love Blackrock, I practically grew up with it. (I've been watching it since I was 11 lol) I know this sounds cheesy, but I'd love to know how my favorite childhood story ends before I set off to collage next year. Thanks🙂 <3

I’ve sat down to write up a couple of details, answers, story beats, and origin stuff a few times but I’ve never quite been satisfied with it. It always feels dry and unimportant. I realized after a while that I was trying to give people something I can never give - real closure.

So I started thinking of why I was doing this. I know a lot of people want the answers to questions still left unanswered - especially since it was left on a cliffhanger. But I honestly think it’s better left this way.

I can’t give you what you want, and anything else is a poor substitute that will just end up closing the door on a world that there are still people enjoying. I’ve seen so much great fan creations for Blackrock, and so many theories and ideas of everything, and I don’t want to shut that down. At this point, anything I make will feel like a weird post-series spinoff. And I don’t want that.

I think back to stuff like the Dark Disciple book for Star Wars: Clone Wars, or the Buffy/Angel comic books. They were well written, and they were official, they were canon, and so on. But to me they never really felt like the same thing, and they couldn’t compete to “the real thing”. And while I would never compare myself to the talented people who made those, in this regard, as a creator, I’m making the decision to leave Blackrock as it is.

I wish I’d made this decision earlier and not dragged it out so long. I’m sorry for that, and I’m sorry if this disappoints some people, but I genuinely think it’s better this way. The Blackrock world is your world now. I wish I could finish it the way it deserves, but it’s just not happening. Let your theories, headcanons and universes run wild, and don’t let my “real canon” stop you.

0n-y0ur-left  asked:

The "Don't tell anyone you saw me crying" AU sounds super promising!

The best part of Steve’s day is, generally when he gets to go eat lunch in the abandoned teacher’s office on the third floor. It’s quiet up there, and it’s not so dusty now that one of the custodians noticed him hanging out there and comes around to clean it up every so often. So, all in all, not a bad place to quietly eat his lunch, do some homework, and maybe get a bit of drawing done, if he’s up to it.

Except today, apparently.

After the bell rings and fifth period starts, Steve makes his way up to the abandoned teacher’s lounge. He’s got a cheese sandwich, apple slices and a can of Diet Sprite that he’s excited to eat, and a drawing of one of his classmates — a guy who probably doesn’t even know Steve exists, let alone would want Steve drawing him, but that’s the one good thing about being invisible — that he’s excited to finish up. But when he gets to his abandoned teacher’s office, he hears someone…

Well, he hears someone crying.

Still, it’s his abandoned teacher’s office — he doesn’t have much else to take ownership of at this school, so he’ll take what he can get — so he enters anyway.

“What the hell?” Bucky Barnes says, furiously wiping off his face with the sleeve of his henley.

“Oh, uh,” Steve says, clutching the sketchbook that has an in-progress drawing of Bucky Freaking Barnes in it tight.

“Come to laugh at me?” Bucky asks with a rueful chuckle.

“What? No,” Steve says, maybe a little fiercer than he should.

“Then what?” Bucky asks.

“I eat lunch here every day,” Steve says, straightening up. He may only be five foot four and weigh the same as a wet dachshund, but that doesn’t mean that he can’t be intimidating!

He does wish that his beanie would quit sliding down his head and hiding his eyebrows. Having visible eyebrows would probably help the intimidating factor.

“You eat… here?” Bucky asks, looking around the dim room like he’s really seeing it for the first time. He grimaces.

Steve pushes his beanie back. “You’re here crying!” Steve argues.

“Yeah, but I’ve only been here a couple times. You’re here every day.”

Steve scoffs. “Are you trying to contest who of the two of us is less pathetic, because that’s probably a pretty easy fight.”

“What do you mean by that?” Bucky asks, voice getting louder.

“You have everything — friends, football, popularity. I just want to eat my cheese sandwich and listen to my iPod during lunchtime without having to confront crying jocks.”

Bucky stares at him for a moment, then his face screws up. “I’m s-s-sorry,” he says, starting to cry again.

“Oh jeez,” Steve says, shutting the door behind him and taking a few steps across the room, closer to the desk Bucky is sitting at. “Don’t… Cry, okay? I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“You didn’t… it’s not your fault,” Bucky says, burying his face in his hands.

Steve drops his backpack and kneels down, digging through it. After about forty seconds, he emerges victorious with a half-used pack of tissues. “Here,” he says, handing them out to Bucky.

Bucky looks up at him with wide, bloodshot eyes. “Really?” he asks. Steve nods. Bucky reaches out and takes the tissues from him. “Thanks,” he says, pulling one free from the package and loudly blowing his nose.

“No problem,” Steve says, trying not to be grossed out, though he can’t help but cringe a little when Bucky looks back up with a line of snot dripping out of his nose. “You oughta…” he says, gesturing to his nose.

“Shit,” Bucky says, wiping his nose again.

“Then again, if you’re sporting snot, I’m sure the rest of the school will follow,” Steve says, hoping he doesn’t sound as bitter as he feels.

Bucky shakes his head. “You don’t get it,” he says. “I’m not… It’s not like that.”

“That’s not what it looks from the outside,” Steve says, quiet.

Bucky gives him a little half-smile. “I’m just gonna tell you this because I feel like this abandoned teacher’s lounge is a safe, trustworthy space, okay? And because I feel like you won’t blab to a bunch of people, but everyone fuckin’ hates me.”

“Really?” Steve asks, deadpan.

Bucky nods. “It’s… Well, they may not think they hate me, but they do.”

“Please don’t tell me it’s because you’re too beautiful. If you do, I may scream,” Steve says and is rewarded when Bucky laughs.

“You’re spitfire,” he says. “Anyhow, I’m gay, and they’d fuckin’ hate me if they knew.”

There’s a long pause.

“You’re gay?” Steve asks.

Bucky nods, mouth flattening. “It feels real weird to say it out loud,” he admits.

Steve’s mouth drops. “I’m the first person you’ve told?” he asks, surprised.

Bucky shrugs. “I don’t got anyone to tell. My old man’s a homophobic asswipe who’d kick my ass if he knew, and it’s not like I’m gonna tell the guys on the football team that I like guys. They’d take turns kickin’ my ass and leave me a bloody lump on the field.”

Swallowing hard, Steve takes a seat close to Bucky’s. “That’s… a lot,” he says.

“I know,” Bucky says. “Which is why I feel justified to stay in this abandoned teacher’s lounge and cry for a bit, if you don’t mind.”

There’s a long pause.

“Can I eat my sandwich while you do so?”

Bucky snorts. “Sure,” he says. “Let’s live it up. Cheese sandwiches and tears, quite the couple.”

Steve shrugs. “I’ve seen worse,” he says, pulling his sandwich from his backpack and splitting it in half. “Want some?” he asks, holding it out to Bucky.

“Sure,” Bucky says, grabbing the sandwich and taking a huge bite.

— —

“Hey,” Bucky says as the bell for sixth period rings.

“Yeah?” Steve says, packing his stuff up.

“Wanna do this again tomorrow? Maybe without the crying?”

Steve smiles. “Sure,” he says.

— —

In a week, Bucky is letting Steve draw him.

In a month, Steve is letting Bucky kiss him.

In a year, they walk around their college campus hand-in-hand.

anonymous asked:

pleeeeease tell me there's a story about nate and aj? ❤️❤️❤️

WELL ANONS (from this fic):

Andrew Joseph Minyard doesn’t know a thing about Nathaniel Wesninski until he’s sent to kill him.

That’s perhaps more unusual than one would suspect, knowing Andrew. His general disinterest is well known, but he has a personal stake in knowing the movers and shakers of the magical families on the East Coast.

Know your enemies, and all that. Andrew didn’t used to have those, until he met Kevin Day and finally picked a side that wasn’t himself and his best interests. Now he kills people for righteousness, or what the fuck ever.

“The Wesninskis have a new leader,” Wymack tells them, hands folded on his desk like this is very serious news. “It’s Nathan’s kid, apparently. He’s cleaned house. Or it might be more accurate to say that he wiped the old circle off of the map entirely.”

Like he always does, Kevin goes pale at the mention of one of those families. Wymack flicks him a glance before continuing, “It’s not immediately clear where he stands on the old family alliances, but it makes sense for us to move now while he’s unsettled.”

Andrew can see where this is going already. “I didn’t realise we were killing off children now.”

Wymack shoots him a level look. “He’s twenty-two. Barely younger than you.”

“Well, I suppose that’s alright then,” Andrew replies agreeably. “When do I leave?”

“Hold on. Didn’t he kill his own father?” Nicky cuts in. “Shouldn’t that require a little more investigation than ‘when do I leave’?”

Dan waves a hand. “He’s a mage. Killer or not, he won’t be able to protect himself against non-magical weapons.”

“Don’t worry Nicky. I don’t like to be too well prepared,” Andrew says. It’s not meant to be soothing.

That’s how he ends up crawling through an upper-storey window of the Wesninski mansion, cursing mages and rusted locks. The house is probably warded - Andrew couldn’t say. To him it’s just like breaking into any other house.

What he does notice is the complete emptiness of the building. While mages don’t often have non-magical defence - and Andrew would be a lot less successful if they invested in some attack dogs, or even burglar alarms - they do generally at least have people. But every room he passes - soundlessly, of course - has its door flung wide open to display its total emptiness.

Every instinct he has is screaming. For a moment, he wonders if Wesninski has cleared out of the house entirely. But, despite the limited information for this trip, Andrew knows Wymack wouldn’t send him on a wild goose chase. The mage is here.

He creeps down the stairs, sticking close to the wall. It’s a broad staircase, gaudy even in the near-darkness. Apparently the elder Wesninski had more money than taste.

The lounge is no more elegant, and still empty of people. Beyond it, though, light falls from the doorway. Andrew creeps towards it, palming one of his knives.

Apparently, all his quiet was wasted. The person through the door is waiting for him - and this, having met Nathan, is definitely his son.

Twenty-two he may be, but Wesninski looks like a kid. With his fair falling into his face as he slouches against the kitchen island, he looks nothing like someone who could have killed Nathan and the entire rest of his circle in one fell swoop. Any tracery of magic in him isn’t detectable to Andrew though - for all he knows, the air could be singing with it.

The only giveaway that this man isn’t as normal as Andrew is the curling tattoo emerging over the collar of his t-shirt. It’s a mage-mark, and it’s large. Even Kevin, the most powerful of the Foxes in terms of sheer strength, doesn’t have one that extends so far across his skin.

“You’re AJ Minyard,” Wesninski says. He looks excited about that. Andrew didn’t realise he was a groupie. It’s the danger of being a contract killer - being known by your signature. Andrew is Andrew, except when he’s AJ and earning his keep in blood.

“Usually, your kind is throwing spells by now,” he replies blandly. Not that it ever helps them.

“That would be a waste of time, though. Wouldn’t it?” Wesninski says. “You’re immune.”

Well then. “You’re smarter than you look,” Andrew informs him. 

“It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why you’re so successful,” Wesninski shrugs. “I need to send a message to Kevin.”

Wesninski isn’t following the script. Andrew glances at his watch - usually they’d have gotten past the initial failed attempt to blast Andrew off of the face of the earth with magic and moved onto either running - unusual, mages didn’t like to run - or begging. “Do I look like a messenger to you?”

That earns a thin smile. “Oh, I’m sorry. Is that demeaning?”

“If you think I’m here for that, then you’re confused,” Andrew says. 

Wesninski throws his arms wide. “Well, go ahead then. You know I can’t fight you. And it’s not like I can run.”

Fuck’s sake, Andrew didn’t come here for a conversation. Still, though - he throws a glance at Wesninski’s legs. “Too lazy for it?”

“Not exactly. I know you probably don’t care for magical theory, so the short explanation is that right now I can’t leave this house. Hence wanting to speak with Kevin. The best I could do is hide in a closet, and I can’t imagine that would deter you.”

“As sob-stories go, you might want to try ‘but I have children and a wife’,” Andrew advises. 

“As if that would help me.” Wesninski rolls his eyes. “That’s fine. I wasn’t expecting you to help me for free. I’ll give you something you want in exchange.”

Andrew really should have just killed him instead of saying a word. Corpses are so much less trouble. He raises an eyebrow to signal that his patience is wearing thin.

“If you want a chance at getting anywhere near Riko Moriyama, you’ll help me,” Wesninski says.

That’s an interesting offer. “What makes you think I care about that?”

“Do you think it isn’t common knowledge in the upper circles about what happened between him and Kevin?” Wesninski says. “Plus you’ve been working your way through all the high blood families over the last year. I figured a Moriyama must be right up there on your wish list. Particularly that one.”

He isn’t wrong. “I’m not here to make a deal with you.”

“Are you sure about that?” That smile again. It’s really a wonder someone so irritating hasn’t been killed already. “I have access to the Moriyamas now, whether they like it or not. I think you’d like to make use of that. Better move fast, though - you aren’t the only one who wants to kill me.”

Riko would already be dead if he were easier to get to. And Nathaniel now has his father’s seat on the council, even if he killed for it - succession is muddy  and ugly amongst mages at the best of times. He’d hardly be the first to do it that way. 

He’s right. Andrew could use that. Getting into Castle Evermore is difficult, and Nathaniel has a free pass through the front gates. If he could smuggle Andrew inside…if he were willing to do so…

“What’s in it for you?” Andrew asks.

“What, you mean besides you not murdering me tonight and me getting out of this fucking house?” So sardonic. “I don’t like the Moriyamas any more than you do, Wesninski blood or no. I don’t care if I die, as long as Riko goes first.”

It seems their interests all line up. Andrew can deal with Riko at last, and might even get a shot at the other Moriyamas in the process. He smiles a little bit, feeling his face cracking.

“Well, Nathaniel. Looks like you might be useful to me after all.”

Wesninski makes a face. “I go by ‘Nate’.”

“I really don’t care,” Andrew tells him. “I would say ‘wait here’, but I suppose that’s irrelevant, isn’t it? I’ll come to you.”

The with a message or a knife is unspoken but clearly implied. Nathaniel - Nate - smiles thinly.

“Better hurry,” he says. “Offer ends if I’m dead.”