you should have seen the amount of fries i put away

Guided by Starlight.

// Draco x Gryffindor!reader.

Requested: No.

Summary: Y/n is in the house of Gryffindor. She’s been acting differently recently, trying to look for someone to help her, although none of her closest friends (Hermione, Ron and Harry) seem to notice. Rating: Mid-Fluff, for language.

Warnings: Language.

A/n: It’s been a while since I’ve read the books, (I’m working on reading them now) So I’m sorry if it’s inaccurate in some places. Also, this is my first Harry Potter Imagine. Please leave feedback, I’d love to get some! I hope you guys like this, as I’m planning on it continuing into a series.

Title: Guided by Starlight | Part One. //

 

You walk through the halls, keeping your head down as you make your way through the halls.  It isn’t that your scared or shy, or that you didn’t want anyone to notice you either. No, in fact it was quite the opposite. You wanted someone to notice you. Walking with your body drawn into itself, your eyes constantly cast on the floor. You had hoped your sudden change in behavior would be enough to grab the attention of one of your friends, but not even Hermione seemed to notice. It was about midday; all the classes of the day had been over long ago. Classes had ended early as a Quidditch game was taking place. Currently everyone was at the match, with the exception of you.

As you make your way out the door and into the yard, your heart seems to sink even more. I wasn’t clear what had been causing this, but a cloud of melancholy had settled over you in the past week. You sit underneath a tree, laying back against its trunk and staring up at the blue sky. Yu pick up your wand and fiddle with it for a bit before plucking a daisy from the ground and placing it in front of you.

“Wingardium leviosa.” You murmur, slowly lifting the flower up. However, your concentration is broken quite quickly when a parade of Gryffindors run towards you; Harry at the front, followed by Ron and Hermione.

“Y/n! There you are, we’ve been looking everywhere for you!” You sigh and stand up, dropping your books into your bag and slinging it over your shoulder.

“Oh really?” You ask, raising your eyebrows. Hermione shoots you a puzzled look but before she can say anything Ron nods enthusiastically.

“Yep! Oh, and guess what?”

“Hm?”

“Gryffindor won the Quidditch game. All thanks to Harry,” he pats his friends shoulder, and the other house mates cheer.  Harry scratches his head and shrugs.

I didn’t do much, actually…it was really a team effort.”

“Oh, don’t be so bloody modest!” Everyone’s cheeriness seems to die down instantly as Draco walks into view.

Potter,” he hisses, glancing at you briefly. “Talking to your girlfriend, are you?”

“She’s not my girlfriend, Malfoy. What do you want?” Harry’s voice has the same amount of venom as Draco’s, and you realize this is only going to turn into a fight.

“It’s not worth it, Harry.” You murmur, casting a stern look at Draco. You meet Harry’s gaze shortly after. Harry sighs, not looking at Draco as a laugh escapes his lips.

“She’s right, Harry.” Hermione chimes in, glancing over at you. “C’mon y/n, we were about to go to the dining hall.” At this point your classmates have started to walk off, and Draco seems to have become uninterested with Harry. Although he was still nearby, he didn’t seem to be looking for trouble anymore. You shake your head as you give a rather forced smile to your friends.

“I don’t really feel like eating,” you mutter, trying to keep our voice low so that only Hermione can hear. Out of the corner of your eyes you see Draco glance over slightly. “I don’t feel well, I think I’m going to study a bit more and then head up to the common room.” Hermione reaches out and places her hand on your arm.

“Are you sure?”

“Oh, come on Hermione, let’s just go. Ron says, bouncing impatiently as he grabs Harry’s arm and begins to drag him away Hermione turns and then glances back at you.

“Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah. I think I’m just stressing about the Herbology final.” Hermione’s face lights up slightly.

“Oh, well don’t be worried. You’ll be fine.” With that she turns away and jogs slightly to catch up with Ron and Harry. You wait until they’ve walked through the doors to rush in the opposite direction, too busy trying to keep tears from springing to your eyes to notice Draco still staring at you.

—————————————————————————————

You don’t know quite how long you’ve been laying under the tree, staring up at the sky. All you know is the stars have slowly begun to come out, littering the dark night sky like little specks of paint. Your heart thumps softly in your chest as you inhale deeply, enjoying the scent of the soft dew on the grass; mixing with the cool, crisp night air. Slowly and subtly, an unfamiliar scent wafts towards you, flooding your senses. You sit up slowly and squint, looking around in an attempt to identify where the scent is coming from. You can hear the faint but sure sounds of footsteps and your heart plummets into your stomach.

“He-hello?” You whisper, trying to identify who the footsteps belonged to. If it was a teacher, you were sure you were about to be in a lot of trouble. It was surely past lights-out. It was one thing to be caught in the school after curfew, but to be outside-

A loud crack startles you and you reach for your wand. “Lumos,” you whisper. The tip of your wand bursts with light, temporarily blinding you as your eyes adjust to the brightness. You look up from your spot on the ground.

“M-malfoy?” You curse yourself for the nerves in your voice. He looks down at you, his chest heaving heavily a she breathes loudly. He plops down on the ground next to you, laying against the tree as a look of mild disgust mates his features.

“The grass is wet, why is it wet? And please, put out that bloody light, be quieter, unless you want to get caught.” You blush fiercely and whisper under your breath:

“Nox.” The light goes out, leaving your eyes to once again adjust to the dark. You gingerly lean against the tree, highly away of his arm brushing up against yours. “What are you doing here Malfoy?”

“I know about your family, y/l/n.” He breaths, picking at the grass. “I know…” His voice trails off as he adverts his attention to the sky.

“How in the bloody hell do you know?” You hiss, drawing your arm closer to yourself.

“I heard my father talking about it,” he replies, finally glancing over at you. “My father knows your mum. They were friends back when he was a student here.” Draco pauses, as if he’s not sure he should go on.

“So?” You coax, turning your full attention to him.

“Well, he brought it up and my mum, she…” He pauses again, furrowing his eyebrows. “She said…” A sigh slips past his lips and he turns his gaze to you again. “Is it true?” He asks.

“Is what true?”

“Are they really,” he shifts, as if the conversation is making him uncomfortable. “Your father, that is. Is he really…” Draco sighs again and covers his face with his hands. “Is he leaving?”

Your eyes widen suddenly. There it was. Someone, someone had noticed. “I-well, why would you want to know?” You hiss angrily, narrowing your eyes at him. He drops his hands to his side as his eyes instantly go aflame.

“Don’t.” He growls, reaching out and grabbing your hand.

“We used to be friends- used to. When we were like, eight.” You glare at him slightly. “I’d like to remind you that you were the one who was too good to be seen around me. I didn’t get into Slytherin, you did. I wasn’t good enough to be your fri-”

“Stop saying that!” Draco shouts, his voice echoing in the night. “It’s not- I didn’t-…” He closes his eyes and returns his attention to the stars. “I was stupid,” he mumbles. “The both of us- we were Purebloods. Your family…my family…we came from Slytherins…” He swallows thickly. “We were together. You and I, we were close. Because of our families, we were close…I thought…” He shakes his head, abandoning his thought. “Is that what you want to hear?” He asks, his voice barely audible. When you don’t answer, a soft whimper sounds in the back of his throat. “I’ve known for a while something was wrong with you. You didn’t seem as happy. You weren’t you. You should know that none of what’s happening is your fault, y/l/n.”

Your mind seems to shut down at the words that you hear. You close your eyes.

“But…it is my fault. You may know what’s going on- but you don’t know why.” Draco stares at you as you clench your hand around a clump of grass, ripping most of it from the ground. He reaches out slowly and carefully, watching for your reaction as he puts his arm around you. You collapse forward, burying your face in his chest as you shake with silent sobs. “H-he’s leaving, because of me. He wanted to leave right when I got into Hogwarts- because I wasn’t a Slytherin. He wants to leave because I let him down!”

“Then why didn’t he leave earlier?” Draco asks softly, his hand moving up and down your back in a soothing manner.

“I-I don’t know…” You mumble. He sighs, pulling you closer to him and shifting so he sits leaning against the middle of the tree’s base.

“It sounds to me like your father is looking for someone to blame.” He whispers. “Otherwise he would’ve left right when you were sorted- right? Even so, it doesn’t matter. If that bloody git is going to leave because of the house you’re sorted into, he doesn’t deserve your mum and you.” You pull back slightly, wiping your eyes as you stare up at him.

“Malfoy…”

“Please…call me Draco, y/l/n.”

“Only if you call me y/n.” You joke half-heartedly. He stares at you for a few seconds, his expression blank. Then, out of nowhere, his face breaks out into a smile; his eyes twinkle, and he laughs softly. You can feel his laugh vibrating through his chest as you pull away, leaning back against the tree. Although Draco’s arm is no longer around you, he stays close to you.

“The stars sure are beautiful.” You murmur, staring up at the twinkling sky. Draco smiles softly and nods, although he isn’t looking at the sky.

His gaze is fixed on you as he whispers,

“Something so bright can guide you out of the darkness.”

Seasons of Love Ch.3 (Sashea/Katlaska) - Nymph

a/n i’m enjoying writing this piece of trash way more than i thought i ever would. it’s a lot of fun, and a lot of cute. this chapter is dedicated to marble bc im v proud of her for managing to get her dissertation/essay in on time and i know she likes this fic

in this chapter we see the girls muddle through their first day of work at the coffee shop, but it’s harder than it looks when there’s distractions around

Keep reading

24 Hour Fatness

             Heading home for the holidays wasn’t something I was looking forward to initially. My family’s a drag, my old friends’ lives seem to revolve around the small town drama, and everyone there is just so… skinny. To be honest I’ve always preferred my men on the chunkier side, and by that I mean just about as big as I can get them. Nothing gets me going more than see a big fat gut hanging out of a snug shirt. And I knew my hometown just wouldn’t be able to give that to me.

At least that’s what I thought before I arrived.

Keep reading

It’s a date

Originally posted by hipsta-please-harry


REQUEST: Hi can you please write an harry imagine when we are doing a movie together (we are not love interest) and off set I don’t talk to anyone and I just keep to my self. And harry has a BIG crush on me and tries to get me to open up 

Sliiightly different from the request but not too far off

Keep reading

Just Touch My Cheek Before You Leave Me (Deadpool x reader)

There’s obviously gonna be language.  And this is my first real Deadpool attempt, so be kind.

“He’s late, huh?”

“Yeah,” you sighed, “he has a lot going on right now, so I guess I can’t get too mad.”  You glanced down at your watch again for what felt like the hundredth time, but the hands had moved only millimeters since your last time check.  

“You want me to wait with you?”

“Nah, Cap, I’m good. Thanks anyway.”  As you watched your teammate walk away you considered if you should just give up and go to your room for the night, or maybe take your frustrations out on the punching bag, but you ultimately decided that Parker would be the recipient of your rage if he didn’t show up for your date within the next five minutes.  He was the one who asked you out, so common courtesy would at least mean to be on time.

“Sir, you can’t go in there.”

You heard a whistling coming from the lobby of the tower that caught your interest, knowing that if it were Peter showing up, the guards would have just announced his arrival.  Quickly making your way out there, you stopped at the sight of a man in a red suit, but it wasn’t the red suit that you had been expecting.  When he saw you in return, his hands immediately went to his face in surprise.

“Holy mother of…goddammit you’re hot!  Webby said you were pretty, but fuck me, I had no idea!”

“Thank you?” you smirked, feeling a slight blush on your cheeks from both the attention and the man’s vulgar choice of phrasing.  “And who are you, exactly?” 

“My lady,” he said, extending his arm out so that you could loop yours through.  “Pool, Dead.  Pleasure, mine.”  He stood waiting for your hand, but you didn’t take him up on the offer right away; you held your place and stared at him with your confusion still apparent in your expression.  “I’m here to pick you up for your date.  Sorry, I probably should lead with that, huh?”

“It would certainly help, yeah.  So…you’re taking me where, exactly?”  You finally decided to put your arm in his and gave the guards a small wave to allow you to go as he led you out and onto the busy city sidewalk.

“Mr. Parker has requested the honor of your presence…ah, shit, can’t do it,” he huffed, “Slinger got stuck on a job and is running late, as you might have noticed.”

You laughed out loud and slapped his arm, making him jump just slightly, “he got stuck on a job? Really?  Spiderman got stuck?”

Wade stopped in his tracks and leaned his head back letting out a loud but sarcastic laugh and shaking his head.  After only a few seconds he silenced and looked at you, pointing his finger almost harshly.  “Listen, I don’t care how hot you are, or how fucking amazing your ass looks in those jeans…which is beyond what is acceptable for hot to be, by the way.”  He pulled his arm away and turned to hold his hands out towards your backside, “I mean, have you seen your ass?!  Bam, baby!” When you didn’t reply he turned and looked at the man in the cab next to him for assistance.  “Am I right?”

“Yes, Mr. Pool, she definitely has a very admirable posterior.”

“Thank you, Dopinder! You’ve always got my back.”  He glanced at you and then brought his hand to his chin, rubbing it uncertainly, “what was I talking about…?”

“Your posterior is quite admirable as well, if I might say,” the driver added.  “Shall I take your pair of admirable asses to the restaurant now?”

Wade opened the back door of the cab and jumped in, leaving you standing on the sidewalk with your arms crossed and an amused look on your face.  A few seconds later his head popped out from the door, and if you could see his face beyond the mask, you thought that maybe he was embarrassed at his error.  “You getting in, sweet cheeks, or are you waiting for an invitation?”

Or maybe he wasn’t embarrassed at all.

~~~

When you arrived at the restaurant, he followed the same pattern, jumping out of the cab and heading in without so much as an opened door for you.  Not that you were insistent on chivalry by any means, but you found it humorous that he saw no need for it whatsoever.

Once you were inside it became clear why he hurried in before you, seeing him lying suggestively across a bench, braced up on his elbow with a flower in one hand and a children’s menu and crayons in the other.  He reached his hand up slowly and held out the crayons and paper, waiting patiently until you took them from him.  “Draw me like one of your French girls, Jack,” he cooed.  

“You’re ridiculous, and I’m hungry.  Maybe later, if you can behave,” you smirked with a quick wink, turning to walk to your table and leaving him to chase after you for a change.

“Can I have my menu back, though?” Wade whispered as he followed, reaching around you and grabbing for it like a child trying to snatch a prized possession.  “I was promised to be fed for this.”

The waiter appeared almost immediately as you were seated, and even though you were beginning to be entertained by your new companion, you watched the door anxiously, awaiting Peter’s arrival.  If you hadn’t been drawn in by Wade’s interaction with the server, you might have missed your chance to get a drink to calm yourself.

“I would like…an order of…hmm,” he paused, resting his finger thoughtfully over his covered lips, “okay, how about an order of this dairy filled orgasm, lightly coated in the perfect combination of bread crumbs and just a hint of Italian seasonings, fried to a heavenly golden brown, with just the right amount of crunch on the outside, yet a satisfying and almost comforting softness on the inside.  Much like my new lady friend here.”

“So, mozzarella sticks?”

“Isn’t that what I said?”

The server shook his head and gave you a polite smile.  “I know, he takes some getting used to,” you smiled back.  “I just need a glass of anything white and bubbly, please.”

“You’re not getting any of my sticks,” you heard Deadpool mumble in a sing-song voice under his breath as he began to color the inside of his menu.  When the server left you grabbed the menu and pulled it away from him with a quick motion, the crayon in his hand leaving a long stripe of blue across the paper and onto the table top.  “Excuse me!  What the shit was that?  I was almost done with Captain Asshat’s shield!”

“What?” You flipped the menu over and saw that he had ignored the pre-printed picture of a generic cowboy riding a horse and changed it to Steve riding a very colorful unicorn. Your mind began to race with all of the things you could do with something like this, and you simply had to have it.  “Oh, damn.  Okay, this is actually amazing.  I’m gonna need you to finish this so I can take it with me.”

“You like it?!  Okay, so I was going to put him up here…” he excitedly pointed to the twisted horn of the animal, “do you think I should get a new one and start over?  I mean, if anyone can take a horn up the ass, it would be Cap, right?  Or do you think I should do Iron Man?  Not like do Iron Man…although that would be the balls…”  He leaned back in his chair and looked up as if deeply in thought now, and his voice dropped to almost a whisper.  “Do you think he’s ever done Potts with the suit on?”

“Where’s my drink?” you groaned and searched around the room.  “Better yet, where’s my date?”

“I might have a confession.”

Your head snapped to look at him, knowing what was about to be said before he had to utter the first syllable.  “Shut up,” you gasped.  Wade responded by sitting motionless and silent, even when his plate full of mozzarella sticks were laid in front of him.  You heard a tiny squeal from him, and his hand began to tremble, pretending that he wasn’t able to move to get his food until you released him.

“You want ‘em?” you huffed, pulling the plate towards you and out of his reach, “then tell me what’s going on.”  Between frustration and hunger, his words frantically began to spill out.

“Parker isn’t coming. He got stuck…that’s right, I said stuck… on a job and was gonna cancel but I’m a motherfucking stalker and I’ve wanted to go out with you for so long that I took his phone so that he couldn’t call you and then I showed up instead and brought you here and now I’m so goddamn hungry that you’re beginning to look like one of these sticks and if you don’t let me get my hands on one of them I’m gonna dip your magical hot ass in marinara and fucking feast, you got me?”

With wide eyes you slowly pushed the plate back and took your entire glass of wine down in one long swallow.  Seeing the glass sit empty, the server returned to give you a refill, but you put your hand over the top so that he couldn’t pour.  You glanced at Deadpool, seeing that he had made short work of his food and was already nearly finished.  Maybe it was the wine working far too quickly, or maybe it was a sudden sense of bravery, but you were going to call his bluff.

“Could you please send us a large side of marinara and the check please?”

Dreamy Deputy- Jordan Parrish Imagine

PROMPT:  Could I get a Parrish imagine? I’m stiles older sister and I’ve been away at collage, I’m coming home for break/summer break. I’m bringing dad (the sheriff) some greasy food, cause Stiles doesn’t let him eat it and I’m surprising dad with it and me, he thinks I’m coming home later than planned. When I get to the station, he’s in a meeting of sorts and I meet Deputy Parrish. I’m also a witch, so I’m in the supernatural know, but maybe some cute, flirty Parrish! Thanks!!

A/N: I couldn’t figure out a way to insert the whole witch thing, but I still made her in the supernatural know. I hope you still enjoy it!

******************

“Ah, gosh, I can’t wait to see you!” Lydia screeched across the phone, her squeal almost deafening. Although she was a good amount of years younger than you, her intelligence had put her into many of your AP classes, causing you to become basically best friends. Even after you went off to college, you both kept in touch; Lydia’s reaction to you coming home early was no surprise.

You giggled, pulling into the driveway of Arby’s. “I can’t wait to see you either, Lydia. Hey, I gotta go. I’m in the drive-through. I’ll see you soon, okay?” After saying your quick goodbyes, you pushed your brakes in front of the speaker by the menu. 

“Welcome to Arby’s. What can I get for you?”

“Hi! I’ll have a #4, large. Curly fries instead of straight fries. For the drink, a Coke.” You repeated off your dad’s order, having done it many times before. You were the one who always got Dad his fair share of greasy food; Stiles was always the worrier. Although you got infinite crap from Stiles about “encouraging” your dad’s “excruciatingly awful dietary choices,” it was so worth seeing Stiles squirm and your Dad glow with joy. 

After receiving his food, you cruised your car over to the Sheriff’s station. Since it was about mid-day, you expected your dad would be on his break. At least, you thought he would be. When you got inside, you found that you were sadly mistaken.

“Hi, can I help you?” a frail, kind woman asked at the front desk. She was definitely new from the last time that you were there. 

You grinned, setting the Arby’s bag down on the counter. “Hi, I’m (Y/N) Stilinski. I was wondering, is the Sheriff available at the moment?”

The woman grinned, but looked on her computer while doing so. Frowning, she turned back to you. “No, sadly. He’s currently in a meeting with some of the representatives from Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital. Would you like to go and sit in his office to wait for him?”

You shrugged. You didn’t have exactly anywhere to be, so you just walked in and sat down on one of the Sheriff’s benches. You set the bag down, but soon looked at all of the pictures and documents posted around the room. Your dad was definitely working on a case, and from the looks of it, supernatural, too. 

You stood up, making your way to a picture titled Donovan Donati. It was one of his medical files, along with a picture of his death. You winced. It was definitely gruesome, to say the least. 

Underneath your dad’s notes, you noticed Stiles’ messy scrawl. “Chimera. Wendigo hybrid…? Can have mouths pop up all over his body. Super creepy.”

From behind you, someone cleared their throat. You whipped around, expecting it to be your dad, but it was not. Instead, it was an extremely good-looking young man, in a Deputy’s uniform, thankfully your age.

“Excuse me, ma’am, but I’m not sure you should be going through the Sheriff’s business.” He looked completely serious, but there was a hint of something in his eyes you thought was almost teasing.

You rolled your eyes. “It’s fine. You think this stuff is bad? You should’ve seen all the stuff from the Deadpool!” 

The Deputy’s eyes widened, and he closed the door behind him. “You know about all of this? Who are you?” As he took a few steps closer to you, you read his nametag: Parrish. Deputy Parrish. 

You squinted your eyes. “I’m (Y/N). I’m the Sheriff’s daughter.” 

Parrish’s eyes widened, and you suddenly knew how you knew him. He was the hellhound that Stiles was always rambling about. “Well, for one thing, you sure are a lot prettier than Stiles.” 

You felt your face get hot. Did he seriously say that? Was it real? You weren’t sure. “Oh. Well, I sure hope so.” 

He grinned, showing a perfect set of white, straight teeth. “Oh, trust me, you do. Plus, you’re not supernatural, which is incredibly alluring, considering I know you won’t kill me.” 

You scoffed. “How do you know I’m not supernatural?”

He shrugged. “The Sheriff isn’t and neither is Stiles. They’re just smart. And from how much Lydia talks about your AP classes together, and what you’re studying in school, I’d say you’re pretty smart, too.”

You were studying (Y/Major/H). It definitely wasn’t an easy field. “You’ve got me there. Just smart. What a pity, right?”

He grinned again. “Not really. I like smart girls.” 

Before you could say anything back, the Sheriff walked in. His eyes widened and he grinned as he saw you. “(Y/N)! You’re home!” He glanced at the bench, his grin widening even more. “Oh, thank god. I haven’t been able to sneak anything past Stiles for weeks.” 

While you and your dad conversed about your semester at college and how your classes were going, you hadn’t even noticed that Parrish had slipped out. Or, Jordan, as his first name. Your dad spoke to you while he ate, but you eventually chose to leave. You just couldn’t get that dreamy Deputy out of your mind. 

As you were walking through the lobby, you felt a hand grab you from the elbow. “Hey.” Turning, you saw that it was none other than Dreamy Deputy himself. 

“Hi.” 

“So, I was wondering… If you’re not too busy, would you like to go out to lunch with me sometime tomorrow?”

You laughed. Was he serious, yet again? This really must be your day. Was it the new mascara you’d used? That must be it. Either way, you were definitely going to go eat with Dreamy Deputy, no matter what.

“I’d love to.” 

He sent you a killer smile, pulling his phone out of his back pocket. “Great! I’ll call you tonight to let you know when. See you then.” 

You smiled back right at him. “Can’t wait.” 

Why Me? (chptr2)

Three weeks have passed since Sans found his little attachment and so far he had managed to hide it pretty well. He already wore baggy clothing so they helped to hide the slight mound that was the magical barrier around the new soul, but Sans found himself zipping up his jacket as an extra precaution. Papyrus didn’t think anything of it, he could care less how Sans’ dressed and something as insignificant as a zipped or unzipped coat didn’t even get processed.

During those weeks though Sans tried to make everything seem as normal as possible. He worked at his sentry stations, ate at Grillby’s, and halfheartedly listened to Papyrus calling him a lazybones, but even with him going like nothing was amiss there were things that had changed.

Morning sickness was the first of many. Thankfully the nausea only hit him when he was at his early morning station in the Snowdin forest and not at home where Papyrus could hear him. But just because he was able to be sick without the worry of Papyrus overhearing him didn’t mean Sans didn’t spit out curses while he upchucked any food he had managed to get inside him earlier. It still confused Sans how he was able to vomit in general, but then again he never questioned how he could eat so why should he this?

Another thing that changed was that Sans dietary needs had shifted. Normally Sans would just gorge himself on French-fries from Grillby’s and maybe the occasional hamburger, but now even the sight of the two made him ill. Even mustard had lost its appeal and that had pissed Sans off more than anything. The only things Sans could even remotely stomach that was on Grillby’s menu was some chicken tenders and small amounts of ketchup.

It had surprised Grillby when Sans started ordering something new from the menus but he did not care enough to question it. The fire monster did find it shocking though when the skeleton stopped drinking mustard and moved to ketchup. Sans had just played it off says to Grillby that he ‘should mind his own damn business’ and with that the fire monster did not question the shorter skeleton again.

Sans’ magic had also taken an affect due to the new soul. Where it had once been higher than what most monsters had, it now dropped down to normal levels. He always prided himself in his magic prowess and the amount of it he had, hell he even sweated the stuff that’s how much he had in him, but now most of it went to the new soul to nourish and help create its body.

Sans wasn’t too annoyed by this, taking away his comfort food was a line that was crossed that should not have, but lessened magic made did make things far more dangerous.

He had to use his magic sparsely, as to not put himself or the new soul in danger, but not so much that it raised any bells in the ones around him; especially Papyrus. Sans tended to over use his magic in everything he did, from getting things off higher shelves to taking ‘shortcuts’ that only measured a few feet, but it was only in these small things that Sans knew how to keep his magic level from skyrocketing. Papyrus always just chalked it up to the shorter skeleton being lazy, but if he took the time to actually see what Sans was made of… Sans was certain things would be different for him.

Different how? He wasn’t sure.

Lower magic levels also meant that Sans had to try his best to avoid fights with other monsters. In the underground, fighting was something that one couldn’t elude forever though. On a daily basis Sans watched as monsters fought each other over idiotic and trivial things, like just being looked at wrong was one, and the shorter skeleton didn’t want to think how many monsters he had seen turned to dust.

‘The fucking idiots just don’t know when to run away.’ Sans thought as he sat at his station in Hotland. ‘Refused to listen to reason and let their egos get the better of them.’

Sans found that Hotland was becoming his go to place for when he wanted to make a quick getaway from fighting. Most monsters in Snowdin never came to the blistering hot cavern and the few monsters that lived here knew better than to mess with Sans. He had made it very clear right from the very beginning that he was something to be feared; especially when he threatened to dropped a small rabbit monster into the lava.

Hotland was also proving to be the new soul’s preferable spot to rest and not shift inside Sans uncomfortably; the heat lulling it to sleep most likely. It was still too early in this whole process for the new soul’s body to have formed enough for Sans to feel it move but the soul itself was well-formed by now and the constant fluttering in his midsection started to irritate the skeleton.

The new soul it seemed had inherited Sans insomnia and stayed up, and in turn Sans, at all hours whenever its parent wanted to rest. Hotland was turning out to be the only place the soul relaxed enough, and long enough, for Sans to rest his eye sockets but even then he had to keep his guard up.

‘You are proving to be a real pain in the ass, kiddo.’ Sans thought as he glanced down at his stomach. The station’s booth was high enough that it hid it from view and Sans used this to his advantage and left his jacket unzipped. Hotland wasn’t called what it was because it was cool in temperature and the heat had gotten to Sans to the point he risked leaving himself, and the new soul, vulnerable.

‘You better be SO grateful after all of this. I am risking a lot just keeping you safe and I normally don’t stick my neck out for anyone.’ Sans thought as he looked away from his middle and gave quick glances all around him; making sure no one was around. Once sure no other monster was even near his booth, Sans glanced back down and slipped his hand under his shirt and pressed it to his pseudo-stomach.

The red ectoplasmic barrier was warm and firm to the touch. Trailing his phalanges around the slight curve, Sans found himself genuinely smiling, but the moment he realized he was he growled with an irritated look and turned his attention away from his midsection. His hand still remained on his stomach though.

“I am going to remind you all of your days how much trouble you gave me for letting you stay.” Sans muttered under his breath. “And then I am going to remind you how much of a pain you’ll be once you’re here.”

“WHAT WAS THAT SANS?!”

Stuttering out a gasp, Sans quickly pulled his hand away from under his shirt and turned just in time to see his brother walking up to his station.

“Bro-I mean Boss!” Sans shouted as he managed to zip up his jacket before Papyrus made it to his booth. “What brings you here?  Don’t you normally patrol Waterfall around this time?”

“I CAME HERE TO CHECK ON MY LAZY GOOD FOR NOTHING BROTHER, THAT’S WHY I AM HERE!” Papyrus shouted as he glared down at the shorter skeleton. “I HAD A FEELING YOU WOULD BE SLACKING OFF AND IT LOOKS AS THOUGH I WAS CORRECT! YOU ARE DOING ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!”

“I-I’m doing something!” Sans sputtered. “I’m doing my job and watching out for humans and manning the toll bridge.”

Aside from his part time job of being a sentry and watching out for humans, Sans had multiple other jobs Papyrus made him take and one of them was that while he was in Hotland he watched over a bridge; making sure monsters paid the toll to cross it.

Papyrus didn’t seemed convinced by Sans’ words and stomped his way behind the booth.

“DON’T LIE TO ME! I KNOW WHEN YOU ARE LYING! AND YOU KNOW HOW I REACT TO WHEN I AM BEING LIED TO…”

Sans then felt chills run up his spin. Papyrus had always been violent with him, growing up and still to this day, and Sans had just grown accustomed to his brother’s violent moments. All those times before though, Sans hadn’t been carrying a new soul. Something that was as fragile as a new soul, all it took was one swift punch or kick and it would end in disaster.  

And now… Sans wanted nothing more than to just get the hell out of there.

“L-Let’s talk about this Papyrus.” Sans said as he stood up from his stool and backed away from his brother, but with each step the taller skeleton took two more. Soon Sans had nowhere to go when he felt the edge of the cliff under his sneakers. Looking back Sans saw the burning lava far below and the thought of him falling to not only his death but the new soul’s made him break out in a magical sweat.

Turning back to his brother, Sans saw that Papyrus was now standing before him and had his arms crossed over his chest.

“YOU ARE ACTING STRANGE SANS; STRANGER THAN NORMAL.” Papyrus said as he glowered down at his brother’s pathetic form. “WHAT ARE YOU HIDING?!”

“I’m not hiding anything!” Sans screamed out, trying to make it sound as if he was angry and not scared. “You’re full of shit for thinking it!”

“WHAT?!” Papyrus screamed as he suddenly gripped Sans by the collar of his shirt and lifted him up into the air. “I BELIEVE YOU ARE GOING TO REGRET THOSE WORDS BROTHER…”

Before Sans could even think of asking his brother for forgiveness, the skeleton found himself being violently tossed to the ground and getting the wind knocked out of him as he skidded across the rocks and dirt. Even though his mind was frantic with fear, Sans had managed to position his body to where only his back hit the ground; reducing any damage to his midsection and the new soul.

Finally coming to a stop, just mere inches from the ledge and the lava, Sans let out a gasp but his relief was short lived when Papyrus started to make his way over to him.

“I WILL FIND OUT WHAT IT IS YOU ARE HIDING SANS, EVEN IF I HAVE TO BEAT IT OUT OF YOU!” Papyrus screamed as his eye sockets lit up a blood red.

Fearing that his brother’s words would prove truer than what he meant them to, Sans tried to get up, but found that his legs wouldn’t work with him. Every time he tried to stand they would give out on him due to the pain that laced up his spine and with each failed attempt Papyrus drew nearer. Finally seeing no other way out of the impending danger, Sans gripped the clothing just above the barrier where the new soul dwelled and focused on his magic.

‘hang on kiddo, I’m gonna get us the hell out of here.’ Sans thought as he centered his magic and in the blink of an eye he left Hotland via shortcut; leaving a very pissed off Papyrus in his wake.

“SANS! GET THE FUCK BACK HERE!”

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Sans found that his arms couldn’t hold him up the moment his shortcut spat him out in the Snowdin forest. Allowing his body to collapse into the snow, Sans curled himself into a tight ball. His body was tingling with pain and his breathing was short and ragged; everything, every movement, hurt.

In the past Sans had done long shortcuts and it never bothered him. It was a high waste of magic, the farther he went from one point to another, but he always had a high abundance so it never posed any real danger. But Sans never had to share his magic before with another life and now, after having taken the long shortcut, he realized how dangerous it was.

Just the distance from Hotland to the forest alone had drained enough of his magic that it was not only hurting Sans but the new soul. A panic fluttering movement came from behind the ectoplasmic barrier and Sans knew it was from the soul. It was in pain and desperately hanging onto existence by the thread that was Sans’ magic. Sans was also in agony but forced most of what little magic he had to the new soul.

It was a stupid move on his part, but Sans didn’t see any other option but his shortcuts to get away from his brother. It was either risk dangerously low levels of magic or risk having Papyrus finding out about the new soul and killing it… the first option had sounded better at the time. Right now though, Sans was cursing himself to hell and back for going so far. But he had wanted to get as far away from Papyrus as he could, while still feeling safe, and the only place Sans could think of at the time was the forest outside Snowdin.

“F-F-Fuck…” Sans choked as his grip around his middle tightened.

The pain was starting to ebb but it left a lingering sensation in Sans’ bones. Testing the joint in his phalanges Sans found that it wasn’t as painful to move them and slowly moved them to pull his jacket shirt up. The barrier was still there, thankfully, but it was a dimmer shade of red and the tiny soul that resided inside it was moving all over the place.

“Calm down already.” Sans said as he slowly relaxed his body and pulled himself out of his ball to lean up against a tree. “You’re still here aren’t you? And you are not the one who’s feeling like shit right now.”

Letting out a long and shabby sigh Sans pressed his palm to the barrier and ran it all over it to make sure there weren’t any cracks. Cracks would not be a good thing to find and thankfully there were none. Pulling his shirt back down Sans rested the back of his skull to the tree behind him.

That back there with Papyrus had been too close for Sans’ liking. Sans knew he was only mere moments away from either Papyrus unknowingly killing the new soul or finding it then killing it. Either of the two had an undesirable outcome, and Sans was thankful that his sudden escape hadn’t ended like the other two would have. Sans wouldn’t say it out loud but his desire to keep the new soul alive and strong. Just as strong as his unsaid love for it.

“You are one damn lucky kid you know that?” Sans asked as a slight snow fall started. “Not only did you pick one of the biggest pushovers to grow in, but now you have survived a near death experience from your own uncle… Damn lucky, kiddo.”

The new soul’s fluttering stopped at that moment. It startled Sans a bit at the sudden stop, but when a pulse of love and the will to live was sent to him he relaxed. The new soul was determined to live, Sans would give it that. Even after having the crap scared out of it by Papyrus and Sans nearly killing them both from overusing his magic, it still refused to die.

Giving a weak chuckle with a toothy grin, Sans figured that was another thing the new soul had gotten from him. Through all the shit Sans had been through in his life, death seemed like an easy way out of it all… but he too refused to die.

Sans knew it would be a while until Papyrus calmed down enough before he could even think of heading home, and from how the artificial light was still on it appeared as though he had a few hours to just sit here and do nothing until his magic was back to reasonable levels. Closing his sockets with an exasperated groan Sans allowed the falling snow to cool his hot and sweaty body.

“One damn lucky kid.”

The Great Campaign

As should probably be unsurprising, I’ve never liked school that much. So, in high school, whenever a school-sanctioned opportunity arose, I’d leave the Concentration Campus.

One day, a teacher came to my class during a free period and said that he needed members of the student council for something. At this time, my friend Alex and I were on the council. Both of our positions were completely pointless. I mean, it was worse than the Russian Duma between 1905 and 1917, and that much pointlessness takes skill. Let me briefly digress to explain how we got them:

One day, the faculty decided it would be nice if there were a Student Council so they could get points for Representing The People. To this end, they selected two students from the fifth form (final year) as the candidates for President of the Student Council and announced in the assembly (kind of like homeroom) at the beginning of the day that everyone would be expected to vote for one of them.

During the day they went to each class to collect votes for the Student Council President while also asking each class to nominate and vote for a Class President. When they reached my class, they asked for someone to volunteer to run for CP. I put up my hand but no one else did. The teacher shrugged and said “Alison is your new Class President. See ya later.”

After all the votes came in and were considered by the staff, they declared the winner of the Student Council’s Presidential election to be… My friend Alex in form 3 who was never on the ballot. Because logic.

Anyway, I was pretty surprised they actually wanted us for something. It was almost as if we were important! So, Alex and I followed the teacher to the staff-room where we were briefed on the Super Special Mission of Specialness. Basically, we needed to send a few representatives to a conference the Ministry of Education was holding where they were going to lecture us on Leadership and Responsibility and Dying For Your Führer or some shit. So, slightly less boring than normal school. I was in.

That is, until a girl we thought was sick turned out to be not-sick and actually in school. She was the Secretary and the other people present were the Treasurer, the School President, and a Class President. At this point the teacher decided to mention that he was only allowed to bring three people: the President, Treasurer, and Secretary; with alternates only being accepted when the others were unavailable. Crap.

So, I turned to him, steadied myself, and cranked the charm up to eleven. I made some argument about being a full member of the council too and needing to learn about The Glorious Führer or something like that. I don’t recall because I was too busy thinking don’t send me back don’t send me back please don’t send me back while radiating deadly amounts of Charisma. Evidently, the C-Rays must have fried his brain because he finally relented and let me come with them.

[Comedic travel montage in which we manage to get lost in a town of 6000 people while looking for a well-known landmark, but I forget the details.]

When we arrived at the place, I noticed the Fatal Flaw to my plan. Since we were late due to errors of shipping & handling, everyone else was already there. In my country, all the secondary schools have uniforms, so I could see that everyone was in clusters of three students per school. We very obviously had four. I didn’t know who or where or why or how but someone was going to ask Questions and then I was going to Die.

Luckily, due to some combination of bystander apathy and me rolling into an exceptionally uninteresting ball, the wolves passed without harming me. I was able to sit there and listen to the speech about the Führer…

…Wait, you thought I was kidding, didn’t you? No, no. I never kid. This is what the lecturer said:

“So, how many of you would describe Adolf Hitler as a good leader?” He looked over the crowd and decided to pick on the most uninteresting ball he could find.

“You, at the back!” He called, pointing at me.

“Uh,” I began eloquently. “I would say that the question has multiple interpretations with different answers. He was certainly good at leading, but if the job of a leader is to steer you in the right direction, then no, he wasn’t.”

“Brilliantly stated!” He lied. “Well done! What about the boy next to you with his hand up?”

I turned to look at Alex, who proudly declared “I think Hitler was a great leader! Sure, Germany may have had its ups and downs, but Hitler did nothing wrong! In fact, he should have done more!” Alex turned and looked me in the eye. “If Hitler had been more successful, I might have fewer classmates today. Y’know what they say about small class sizes, right?”

I couldn’t take it. I laughed first, losing the game to him.

The lecturer on the stage before us was watching Alex with an expression that my (occasionally buggy) Facial Expression Recognition Software (GPLv3) flagged as a mixture of confusion, curiosity, and indigestion. I wondered what he’d eaten.

“So, uh, that’s, ah, one way of looking at it.” He said, sounding like he’d just seen a perfectly ordinary witch transform into a cat.

He then went on to explain why Hitler was a bad leader because being a good leader requires following Jesus and leading behind his leadership; which definitely doesn’t include doing bad things to Jews, but maybe to Muslims on alternating Tuesdays. I wasn’t really paying close attention.

However, he soon started describing an election – and this I did pay attention to. He told us that the Ministry of Education had decided that there was going to be a National Student Council to represent all the students in the country. Hooray! I thought. Another Duma!

He told us there would be such New and Exciting positions as President, Vice President, Secretary, Treasurer, Executioner, Head of The Inquisition, and Ass Kisser++ With Extra Lipstick. OK, I may not have been paying very close attention here either. In my defence, the conversation with Alex was far more interesting.

“You should run for Treasurer!” Alex told me excitedly.

“Did you completely forget the part about me being smuggled goods?” I asked incredulously. “I’m lucky they haven’t tossed me in the harbour yet!”

“Details.” Alex said, waving the problem away. “Come on! No one could be more qualified!”

“I suck at accounts.” I understated.

“That isn’t what makes you a good treasurer. This,” he pointed to my nose, “is what makes you a good treasurer.”

“You can’t literally sniff out corruption,” I informed him. “You do know that, right?”

“No, you idiot!” He shook his head. “You’re a Jew! You have powers mere mortals have only dreamed of!”

“Pass.” I replied. “I like not being in the harbour.”

“Come on!” He complained. “You can’t pass up your destiny! You were born to guard a massive pile of gold and roar at the foolish adventurers who come to slay you.”

“Firstly,” I began patiently. “I think you may have confused Jews and dragons. Secondly, even if being Jewish were a sane reason for taking a job, there’s no reason I couldn’t be the President or the Secretary.”

“Your handwriting is shit, and Jews can’t be president.” Alex informed me, sounding like he’d settled the matter.

“What?” I asked. “That’s not true! Look at Benjamin Disraeli.”

“Prime Ministers aren’t Presidents!” Alex announced gleefully. “You lose a turn!”

He turned back to the stage, satisfied with his victory.

The lecturer was now instructing all those who wished to run for a position to put up their hand so he could call on them to introduce themselves and announce which position they were running for. I decided to throw caution to the wind and put up my hand. They hadn’t found me yet and if I was going out, then I was going out in style. I’d decided that running for President wouldn’t be a good idea since that’d be the position with the greatest competition and, as anyone with hereditary business savvy knows, the best way to succeed is to use politics to avoid competition. Likewise, I wouldn’t run for Vice President because I didn’t want to have to assassinate the other guy. I’d promised my mother not to be that evil before my eighteenth birthday.

The lecturer was apparently calling on people in a systematic order. I was somewhat surprised to see this much organisation from someone who worked for the government and wondered how long it would take him to get fired. When he finally reached my side of the amphitheatre, his face changed from disinterest to trepidation. He pointed to Alex the way a sentry might point to the barbarians approaching the city walls as they chanted “doom doom doom, doom doom-doom doom doom-doom…

Alex stood, introduced himself, and announced his candidacy for president. He flashed the room a dazzling smile which, statistically speaking, must have made at least three girls faint. Impressive, I thought. A dumb choice of position; but still impressive. It is a common misconception that presidents are the most important people in an organisation. Not so. The most important person is the one holding the president’s balls – which happen to be permanent residents of the organisational purse.

Next it was me. I too introduced myself, and announced that I’d be running for treasurer. I decided not to attempt the smile since it was clearly an Advanced Technique and Alex was still the acknowledged master in the Art of Charisma. I decided to bide my time…

…For 3 seconds. The moment I sat, Alex turned to me and said, “Good job! I’ll vote for you.” I then turned to the person on the other side of me and offered my outstretched hand. “Vote for me.” I said with a smile that was slightly less catastrophic-systems-failure-inducing than Alex’s, but still quite potent at close range. Clearly my attack roll was a Critical because the guy shook my hand and said “Of course, dude.” Success! Oh, the poor bastard.

I repeated the routine with all the people near me. I only rolled a one once. That time, my target looked at me with a little scepticism and asked “why should I?”

Shit. I’d forgotten that, once in a while, someone votes for a politician for a reason instead of just failing a Will save. I wracked my brain, immediately rejecting Alex’s justification of Jews and dragons.

“I’m studying accounting,” the idiot that was in control of my vocal cords said. All systems were flashing ‘abort mission!’ and ‘you stupid piece of…’ and similarly justified alerts. I cranked my pokerface up to the max and waited for him to inevitably ask me what my grades were in accounting.

Then, a miracle I dared not hope for: a twenty.

“OK,” He said, fooled into accepting my stupendous bluff. “What’s 73 times 9?”

“657,” I answered, almost automatically. The boy nodded, apparently satisfied.

“You’ve got my vote,” he said. All systems were now flashing ‘hooray!’ and ‘you’re still a stupid piece of…’

By this time it was lunch, so we retired to the courtyard after giving the lecturer our names so he could make ballots. I made sure to work the crowd, pulling my handshake routine on each of them. This time I had to turn the charisma past eleven. I set it to ALL, making sure to have each of them feel special and loved – like they mattered – before moving on to the next one and leaving them with the metaphorical baby. I never stuck around to find out how the guys handled their metaphorical pregnancies, but I heard from second-hand sources that it wasn’t pretty.

Unfortunately, a few wanted to be married before they’d agree. This is a deep and complex political concept which can only properly be encapsulated by, “I’ll vote for you if you vote for me.” Most of them literally said that.

Of course, I couldn’t simply say “sure”! I was an individual of class, dignity, refinement, and racist humour. As such, I questioned them. I asked them what they’d do if they were president and smiled at them when they answered; as if they’d told me just what I needed to hear. I asked them about world politics, and congratulated them on their shrewdness when they located Australia in Europe. I asked them what they thought of a quote by a famous person, and praised their intelligence when they told me it was, like, soooo deep. In the end, I assured them that they, without a doubt, were the most qualified person for the job. They had my vote.

I told sixteen people this. I have never claimed to be a good person.

Eventually, I was finished and went to get my lunch. I brought it over to the table Alex had already commandeered. There were also two girls from schools I didn’t recognise sitting at this table on the opposite side from Alex. I sat next to my friend and began telling him of my exploits without any details of how exploitative it was. After all, there were potential voters right there. Alex, on the other hand, informed me that he was doing no campaigning, and that I shouldn’t vote for him because he’d just been joking.

After I’d finished describing the way I’d secured promises from everyone – including the two girls sitting across from us before they’d arrived here – one of the girls turned to me and commented on how successful I seemed to be. We stared into each other’s eyes for what I realise, in retrospect, was longer than Standard Eye-Contact Time. I didn’t know because I’ve never read the manual. We engaged in some witty banter which I no longer recall. What I do know now, though only in retrospect, was that this was me flirting – for the first time. I was not set on fire even once throughout the whole experience, so I count it as an unqualified success.

After lunch, we all returned to the amphitheatre for the actual voting process. The lecturer handed each of us seven printed ballots – one for each available position – with a list of all the candidates for that position, with check-boxes next to their names. Very well done. This guy’s days were numbered.

After we’d all filled out our ballots, another ministry official went around and collected them in a box. She then brought it back to the lecturer so the votes could be tallied and entered into a laptop. After about fifteen minutes of waiting, he began to speak.

“And the President of the National Student Council is,” he said, and a name was displayed on the wall behind him with the number of votes received next to it. Below that name were the names of the runners-up with their vote numbers. Alex had gotten three votes – most likely the fainters. The person who had been selected walked down the steps and approached the stage. There were a few scattered claps. The lecturer repeated the process for every position, with each winner getting a plurality of the votes and a couple claps here and there. Treasurer was the last.

“And the Treasurer of the National Student Council is…” Click. The scene on the wall changed and the name displayed at the top of the list was mine. Next to it: 54 out of 73 votes. The crowd went wild. The applause was loud and excited. I stood and swept a bow to one side, increasing the volume. I bowed to the other side and the roar became deafening. I proceeded to approach the stage. Halfway down, Alex started chanting “Alison! Alison! Alison!” The rest of the crowd adopted the cry as well. “Alison! Alison! Alison!”

When I finally arrived on stage I turned back to the audience, flashed a smile that undoubtedly caused four people to faint, and gave one last bow before sitting in a chair which had been provided. The lecturer had to order everyone to quiet down, calm down, and sit down. Of course, there was no ‘down’ for me. I was on top of the world.

starksexxual  asked:

okay but hs au with new student Tony who speaks more Italian than english. he meets steve and cuteness

a/n: hey look it’s the longest thing i’ve written in a month :”) 

“Um,” Someone said from behind him, tapping him on the shoulder lightly. “Excuse me?” 

When Steve turned around, he was met with probably the most attractive sight he had ever seen. The guy was probably 2 or 3 inches shorter than him, even though he seemed taller because of his hair. He had some muscles on him but he’s more on the lean side. His eyes were in a shade of brown he had never seen and they were very expressive because they looked so nervous. “Yes?” 

“Uh, I’m new?” He said, pronouncing the world slowly. “Can you help? I, uh-” 

Steve waited for him to finish, but the guy kept on opening his mouth and closing it again while he looked at his class schedule and then Steve heard him curse in what seemed to be… Italian? 

“This,” He gave up, pointing and glaring at the paper. “Help me.” 

Steve looked at the paper and smiled. “Advanced science, huh? That’s at room 12. Come on, I’ll walk you there.” 

Their walk to class was silent until Steve said, “I’m Steve, by the way.” 

“Tony,” He replied, tilting his head up so he can look at Steve in the eye. “I, uh, sorry, I’m not… good at English? I’m Italian.” 

“I figured,”  

“How..?” 

“You cursed at your schedule paper in Italian, figured it out from there,” Steve chuckled. Then, he backtracked, he was probably speaking too fast for Tony to understand, “Uh-” 

“Don’t worry,” Tony assured as if he read Steve’s mind and wow, how could Steve miss the thick Italian accent when Tony spoke? “I.. can understand well. Speaking? Not much.” 

“You’ll get there,” Steve told him. “You’re in advanced math anyways, what can you not do? Witches are in advanced math, I tell you.” 

Tony laughed again and Steve grew even fonder with the sound. “You’re not..?” 

“In advanced math? No thank you,” Steve said, pretending to crinkle his nose in disgust. “But tell you what, I’ll try to answer 2 math questions from you but you have to let me walk you to your next class,” 

“Affare fatto,” Tony breathed out, an easy smile on his face. 

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Table For Two (One Shot)

Summary: She’d had a long week and she deserved a pint of beer, a pizza for herself, and the cute little table that was reserved just for her. Instead she gets a rude boy and so much food that she might need to share. Lucky her.

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Imagine waking up in The Shire and meeting Bilbo who instantly falls in love with you and protects you from his neighbours doubts about you

For middleearth2asgard :)

~~~~~~~

The sweet smell of pine trees lingering in the warm spring air was the first thing that hit you when you woke up. The second thing that hit you was the realisation that you had no idea where you were.

You were lying on soft green grass but knew not how you came to be there. Endless fields and tall towering trees were scattered about you, and…were those doors in the sides of those hills?

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Chicken soup for the soul

Anon Request: Hey, you are an amazing writer and I love everything you write. I just wanted to ask if you can do a reader X Dean for me where the reader is terrible at cooking? You write great Sam too. Can you add a bit of him too? Thank you so much!

A/N: Thank you so much Anon for your kind words! I am so sorry honey that it took me ages to post this but it’s just so hectic these days. Forgive me? Pretty please? I really really hope you like this.

Word count: 800-ish

Dean X Reader.

Warnings: None, just fluff :)

Originally posted by deangifsdaily

“No Sam! That is not how it works!” you were starting to get really annoyed now.

“That’s how Dean does it. I’ve seen him do it,” Sam muttered but he didn’t seem so sure of himself anymore.

The pan was starting to smoke at the edges and the chicken definitely smelt burnt. There was no way this was going to be edible. You sighed and dumped the whole thing in the sink, pan and all.

“Y/N?” Sam protested.

“C'mon Sam! We wanted to treat Dean, not punish him,” you sighed, “Besides we already have these dry sandwiches and that suspicious looking chicken soup. I didn’t want to add that terrible fried chicken to the list.”

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New Start

Characters: Reader x ???

Words: 2017

Summary: It’s the reader’s first day of work, and she gets a vistor after the lunch rush. Then after work, she gets a special tour of her new palce.

Part 7 in New Roommate Series. Read Part 1 here, Part 2 here, Part 3 here, Part 4 here, Part 5 here, and Part 6 here.

Really excited for where I’m taking this series, guys. The next part will be a little more fun, but enjoy!

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RyanAir

[AO3]

Clarke’s stranded in the Philippines, glowering at her phone as she jabs at it with imprecise fingers, struggling to maintain a hold on her bags and find his number on Whatsapp. She manages, barely, and shrugs her luggage up onto her shoulder to listen to the drolling ring.

“Hello?" 

She starts at the voice, not having really expected any answer at all.

"Hey, um, so I’m in the Philippines?” She starts, not really sure how to invite herself to the house of someone she knew for two weeks four years ago.

“You are? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? How long are you staying? Where are you staying? What’s your schedule look like?” He sounds much too awake for ten minutes to midnight, and his eagerness startles a sleepy smile out of her.

“I had only planned on a quick layover here, but my flight got canceled, and it’s looking like I might be here for a little longer than I planned. The airline’s shit though - fucking RyanAir -  they’re not going to put me in a hotel, or reschedule my flight, or give me a goddamn refund, or  fucking anything. To be perfectly honest, I don’t know what I’m going to do, I kind of used the last of my money to buy the ticket back home and if I can’t get there…” She trails off, too tired to think about it. She had been on a plane for the last nine hours, and spent the two days before that going from bus, to shuttle, to plane, to plane, to plane.

“Hey, look, which airport are you at? I’ll come pick you up, and we can figure it out after you’ve gotten some rest, okay?” He doesn’t sound the least bit bothered by her middle-of-the-night crisis, or his involvement in it.

“Manila.” She answers, “Thanks so much, Bellamy, I’m sorry to put you out like this, I just didn’t know what else to do, and-”

“Don’t worry about it, Princess.” He cuts her off goodnaturedly, “It’s going to take me a little bit to get here, the traffic here is horrible and the public transport is worse. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Try to take a nap, I’m on my way.”

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“Two week trial part 7″ Zootopia drabble

“Two week trial part 7”

Day 10

Judy was beginning to feel irritated.

She thumped her foot impatiently when a rolled up chip bag touched her toes. Carelessly thrown by a lounging foc who failed to notice her. Nick, with a tv remote on one paw and a new bag of chips in the other. He was browsing through the channels, staring dumbly at the screen. His constant munching made crumbs escape his lips  and onto his shirt. Her eye twitched when most of those crumbs fell onto her carpet like snow.

For more than a week, Judy had been vacuuming non-stop from the trail of potato chips he leaves behind, along with picking up piles of trash he had been hoarding around his space in the living room. She had no idea how Nick managed to sneak in junk food in her healthy alternatives. She realized that Nick hardly ever does anything but get up, raid her pantry and sit back on the couch with a lap full of salty delicacies.  

And his snack habits was just one of the problems.

She interrupted Nick’s friday’s screening by placing herself in front of him. Nick’s eyes slowly gazed up and blinked. He groaned softly.

“What did I do this time?” He said while brushing the crumbs off his shirt. Judy fought hard to restrain herself as more crumbs landed in her carpet.

She took a breath and pulled an item from behind her back. She held up the familiar green fabric in front of him, holding it by the nails of her fingers. His nose retracted from a sudden , horrific smell. He violently sat up and reeled away from the item which was dangerously close to his sensitive nose.

“Do you mind telling me why I found this smelly and humid shirt in my coat closet?” She asked sweetly. Nick felt a cold chill run down his neck.

Nick covered his nose when he replied steadily. “I must have missed one when I did my laundry last week…”

“Missed one, have you? Oh.” She let out a dry laugh. “Well, because you missed this one, my whole closet stinks!” She threw the shirt right on his face making him yell out when he took one big whiff of it. He threw it off and almost gagged. His eyes on the verge of tears.

“Ugh! Judy!” He shouted, rubbing his nose on the sleeve of his shirt. “I forgot!”

She placed her paws on her hips. “Nick, leaving your shirt in my closet is not the only thing. You can’t just leave a mess and expect me to clean it up! I’m not your maid!”

“You didn’t have to clean up anything.”

She pursed her eyebrows together. “I didn’t see you making an effort.”

Nick sniffed and avoided her hard glare. Judy slowly let out a calming sigh. “Look, I cleaned up after you for a week because I thought maybe you just needed a break after getting kicked out, but I had it.” She pointed to the floor, making Nick take notice of the amount of empty chip bags around him. “It may not seem like it, but this is your room and I expect it to be clean.”

Nick stood up giving her a sleepy gaze. “But Whiskers!…I don’t know how to be a clean freak like you, maybe if you show me how?” She crossed her arms when he gave her a small pout, but his puppy dog look isn’t going to work on her this time.

She cocked a brow. “Are you really trying to hustle me into cleaning your mess?”

Nick put his paws in his pockets and hummed.  “No?”

She gave him a straight face. “The vacuum is in my room. Use it.” He frowned when she walked away. She snatched her purse off the table and headed to the door. “I’m going grocery shopping and I expect this place to be clean when I get back…”

Nick’s ears lowered when he took noticed how much he needed to do. There was garbage spewed out across the floor, his DVDs cases that were once stacked into a mighty tower was now a mole hill and his clean clothes were just sitting on her couch, spread about like the blanket he had.

Judy pulled opened the door, making Nick go up behind her with a grin. “What? No goodbye kiss?”

“Oh right, I forgot.” She turned around and grabbed his face gently. He chuckled when she leaned forward. If he was going to do something he was going to need some incentive. “Throw that shirt away too.” His face fell when she gave his cheeks a pat and slipped away. Leaving him alone.

—————————————————-

She pushed the small metal shopping cart down the aisle, stopping in front of the assortment of fruits and vegetables. There was a grocery store just for animals her size which made shopping a breeze. It also gave her the time to get some more healthy snacks for Nick. This time she is going to avoid buying any fried foods for him. No matter how much he begs. She grabbed five small boxes of blueberries. Just for him. It was the only thing he actually like to eat. She frowned by how small they were, not plump and juicy like the ones in her family’s farm. It was times like this that made her wish she was back home with her family. Life in the city always seemed to affect her with common homesickness. She sighed when she grabbed a set of strawberries, also not as big and plump as those she was used to. A soft orange paw suddenly landed right over her paw.

She pulled away, forcing a polite smile and pushing away her melancholy.

“Excuse me, after you.” She motioned with her paw. She could always find some more.

“Mighty kind of you, Judy.”

Her eyes lite up when she saw Gideon Grey, a smile plastered across his face as he held the prized strawberries in his paws. She was more out of it than she thought. She didn’t even notice him standing next to her.

“Oh Gideon, what are you doing here so early?” She asked as she glanced at the clock on her phone. “It’s almost 8:30, don’t you need to open your shop?”

“Yes and no.” He placed the strawberries in his paw-basket. “I am meeting with Miss Jesse in an hour to take her to a carnival down at The Burrows. I’m packing us a lunch.”

Judy’s ears twitched. Jesse? “The burrows are having a carnival today?”

“Yes.” He nodded and grabbed another basket of strawberries. “It’s the annual burrow carnival.”

“Oh yes! Wow…it’s been a long time since I went to the carnival.” The last time she went was when she was a kid, in fact, the last time she went was when Gideon scratched her. She brushed her left cheek unconsciously.  

“Why don’t you come with us?” Gideon began excitedly. “Having a group of friends would be much more fun!”

Judy tapped on her chin. This could give her the chance to visit her hometown, even if it was for a day. “You know, I think I might take you up on that offer.”

Gideon exhaled in relief. “Thank goodness, I’m no good when it comes to dating, why I’ll be as stiff as a dead corn stalk with Jessica.”

“Why Gideon Grey, a date with Jessica Wilde?” She grinned and elbowed him playfully in the gut. “Aren’t you lucky?”

He laughed slightly, his eyes shifting to the side in embarrassment. “Yeah…Miss Jesse, is a bit on the wild side, I’m just hoping I won’t bore her on this trip.” He wiped his brow, feeling himself sweat from underneath his shirt collar. “Why I’m so nervous I might just make a fool of myself.”

“Don’t say that, I’m sure Jessica would be happy to spend time with you!” Judy placed her paw on his arm, comforting his nerves. “Don’t worry, me and Nick will be by your side looking out for you.”

She rushed back to the apartment. She only had less than an hour to get Nick and head out with Gideon. She was surprised to see the living room was actually cleaned. Not a speak of crumb to be seen, and the smell of fox musk was aired out.

Her ears sprang up when she found Nick, taking a nap on her couch, exhausted by cleaning for only a half an hour. With a gentle smile, she silently tip toed up to him and slowly leaned forward. Her pink nose rubbed against his snout in a gentle nuzzle. One of his eyes slowly opened and the corner of his mouth went up.

“You should wake me up like this more often.” He noted with a deep chuckle when she pulled away. She dropped down on her knees to rest her chin on his chest.

“Thanks for cleaning up, you slob.” She teased. He chuckled when she wrapped her arms around him. “In fact,-”. Nick’s tail wagged when he heard her silky smooth voice and felt her moist breath next to his ear. “I think you deserve a reward.”

He couldn’t help wrapping his arms around her waist. “This day just keeps getting better, and what exactly are you going to give me, Whiskers?” He asked wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. He knew how much Judy loves it when he does that.  He could only guess what type of reward Judy wanted to give him. Maybe a kiss or a massage? He hoped it was both.

She pulled away and clapped her hands together.

“We’re going to a carnival!”

“A carnival?” He hid his disappointment but he wasn’t entirely against of going to a carnival. Just him and Judy. He already began to plan out their day. He could win her a stuffed bunny for her collection. He could eat all the junk food he want without Judy telling him not to. He scratched his chin when he grinned wolfishly. If the carnival has a tunnel of love that is nice, dark and private…it would be perfect.

“Yes!” Judy chirped. “We’re going with Gideon and your sister, Jessica!” Nick’s ears fell.  “Won’t it  be fun? We’re going to join them as a double date at my hometown!” Nick bit his cheek and debated whether or not to go back to sleep, fake a coma, and avoid his annoying sister and the equally annoying Gideon. Judy grabbed his arm making him turn to see her press her cheek against it. “I can’t wait to play all the games there with you, and go on the hayride and-!”

He sighed inwardly. He really wanted to fake a coma. Every time Jessica meets with Judy, she always manage to reveal something embarrassing about him to his favorite bunny. The last time they were together, Jessica revealed to Judy that he was used as a make up doll for her sister to practice on. Judy couldn’t stop laughing for twelve minutes.

And Gideon?

He was glad he found someone new to like but hanging around with the pie-maker without the satisfaction of his pies, was more than he can take.

Judy rubbed her face against his fur, giggling softly as she imagined the day ahead. He shut his eyes, not wanting to be swayed by her cheerful mood. She let out a blissful sigh that made Nick shiver. Ending him. “And the ferris wheel is my favorite.”

His head drop on top of hers. She always had a way to butter him up like popcorn. “Sounds fun, Carrots.”

—————————————————————————————————————————-

Jessica Wilde brushed her rough tail down with her comb. She was dressed in a pair of ripped skinny jeans and a slimmed white tank top. With one final stroke of the comb, her tail was now soft and glossy. Her fingers gently stroked against the fur making sure it’s silky smooth.  The way to a fox’s heart is how your tail looks. It was something every fox knew and was praised for. She liked to think that Vixens had the best tails out of the males.

She really wanted to make an impression with Gideon. She couldn’t get him out of her head. He lacked everything she looked for before. A sexy body, a strong personality and overall a great lover.

Gideon was none of those, he still had a chance of being a great lover but, she would have to wait and see. His body was something she was against, round and plump. Very plump. She could beat that belly like a drum and she could come up with a song. His personality was something strange. He was soft and polite but from what she had experienced in his kitchen, he could also be brash and blunt. Her paw grazed over her chest, her heart beat wildly when she looked back on it now. He actually held strength inside that gooey exterior. In fact, he was the only fox who had ever pinned her down.

With a click of her compact, she found her reflection in its round mirror. She cringed when she saw the dull color of her fur. She immediately patted the blonde powder in her compact and pattered her cheeks, hiding the black and white roots. She made sure to cover all the ugly blotches on her face and neck. She smiled when she found a beautiful and blonde fox looking back at her.  

A set of knocks made her head swiveled towards the front door. Her tail wagged in excitement when she rushed towards the door. She skidded to a stop when she realized how happy she was getting. With a deep breath and a flick of her tail, she went back into her calm self.

She cleared her throat. “Yes?” She called out as sweet as possible. “Who is it?”

“It’s Gideon, Miss Jesse.” Her eyes narrowed in interest by how early he came to her apartment, about 10 minutes to the dot. That’s a first for her. “I’m I too early?”  

She pivot her hip to the right. “Yes actually, but don’t worry, I’ll be out soon!” She held back a laugh. She was actually ready to go but she wasn’t going to go out that quickly. It was best to keep him waiting for her. It will be a reward for him after waiting for a few minutes outside. She looped her bag over her shoulder and slid her compact inside. Her eyes widened in fear when she found a black spot on the top of her paw.

“Oh Shoot!” She whispered harshly to herself and yanked her compact out. “Almost missed a spot.” She powdered the color away and back into her beautiful blonde. She was lucky she saw it before she went to open the door.

With a smile she unlocked the door and revealed herself to her date.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” She cooed, her eyes moved up and down at him. He was wearing a blue striped long sleeve shirt and a cheesy red bowtie that made him look like an owner of a candy store. He wore a pair of jeans that looked new, as if he recently bought it the day before. In both of his paws he held one flower. She arched a brow at the small daisy, its head was forward in a sad bow. She imagined that it was plucked from the patch that grew next to her apartment building.

“It’s no problem, Miss Jesse…here.” Gideon replied, giving her the limped flower. She nimbly took it from him. She was expecting a bouquet of flowers, not just one. She forced out a smile.

“Thank you…its um, cute. Let me put it in a glass of water.” She went behind the door and chucked the dull flower in her waste basket. Out of sight from Gideon. His eyes lite up when she returned with a large smile. “Okay let’s go!” The door slammed shut and the fragile flower lost one of its petal.

Jessica clutched the strap of her purse. It wasn’t the start she was expecting in the day but hopefully Gideon could make it up for her.

“So which carnival are we going to?” Jessica mentioned smoothly, making sure to brush her shoulder against him. The mere touch made him take an immediate side step. He flustered immediately.

“W-we’re going to the Bunnyburrows, it’s my hometown…t-they have their annual carnival there today.”

“The Bunnyburows?” Strike two. Jessica should have known they were going to a carnival in the country, she was hoping they were going to the Savannah Square. She heard there was a building near it named, Wild Times. She really wanted to go there but it appears she won’t be heading there today. “Sounds like fun.”

“I am happy to hear that.” Gideon said. Jessica ears dropped when Gideon opened the passenger door to his van. On the side was the decal and art of his shop. It was pink and slightly rusted near the bottom of its frame. She was actually going to go inside a refrigerated van. Even the seats were tore up and the age of the van looked over twenty years old. “Oh..thanks.” She said as she slowly slid onto her seat. Gideon closed her door and rushed around to the driver seat. Jessica softly groaned by the condition of the car.

“Isn’t he nice, Jessica?!” a voice popped next to ear. She jumped in her seat and whirled to see Judy sitting behind her with a large smile. Nick was beside her with his elbow propped up against his arm rest. The two of them were cramped in the back, sharing one seat.

“Judy? Nick? What are you doing here?” She demanded, casting daggers onto her brother who smirked at her attempt.

“Good ol’ Gideon here, invited us.” Nick replied with a roll of his tongue. Jessica mouth fell from his answer. She whirled at Gideon who hopped inside, he didn’t notice her shock expression when he checked the mirror and slipped on his seatbelt.

“Are you two alright back there?” He asked.

Judy’s nose wiggled, her whiskers bouncing gently. “We’re fine, Gideon, thanks again for inviting us along.”

Nick chuckled when wrapped his arm around Judy. “It’s perfect, Pie Boy. Nice and snug.” He replied, making sure he said the last words towards Judy. She snorted and slapped his chest playfully.

Jessica eyes narrowed when Gideon gave the blonde fox  a toothy grin. “I hope you don’t mind, Miss Jesse, I thought it might be fun if we go as a group.”

Jessica waved a dismissive paw at him. “Of course not! This is a good idea, we will have twice the fun!” She giggled, but inside she was screaming and ranting from the thought of Nick hanging around her and Gideon. If there is anything she expected from her scheming brother, is the thought of him purposely there to embarrass her. She would need to make sure to sneak away with Gideon.Unknowingly to her, Nick was having the same thoughts of sneaking off.

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I hope you enjoyed this! and sorry for the long wait! 

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punching in a dream (life tearing at the seams)

[carmilla/laura drabble, somewhere between the Before and After of lives.]

/

punching in a dream (life tearing at the seams)

.

they watched men hurl from rock to sea/ like sternum to button, lined lip pinches in between/ your foothills/ your warmth
—al-j, ‘warm foothills’

/

1

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There are a lot of things you do to remind yourself that you aren’t dying, which is ironic, you know, because technically you already have died. It’s all a bit convoluted, really, but you aren’t a brooding philosophy major just for the aesthetics: the question of what life actually is has plagued you for literal centuries: you have so many Befores, and you aren’t sure of what an After actually is.

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I’ve worked in food service (hostess, server, bartender) for over a decade now, and from time to time I feel the need to bitch. I thought this post would be slightly more constructive than pure bitching, though. (Mind, this list is for the USA, so feel free to disregard if it doesn’t apply to you.)

Put in order from least to most desired. #1 probably isn’t what you think it is, either.

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Note: wait… what? So yea, I’ve been working on this for a little while. I don’t feel it’s as good as the other chapters… but hopefully I can get back into the groove of writing again.

—-

*TRIGGER WARNING* This story contains narcotic abuse, self harm, mentions of eating disorder, and emotional abuse.

Title: Take My Pain Away
Rating: Overall M due to Content

Pairing: Dani/Santana. Mentions of Finn/Rachel, future mentions of Puck/Quinn(possibly)
Genre: Angst with eventual Romance

Chapter Word Count: 5,762

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Originally posted by wecrescendo

Originally posted by ifdyingsyourwayoutimin1995


Summary. *Imagine meeting Dean in hell and getting pulled into the plan for the apocalypse kickoff.*

This is Part Twelve in the No place like hell series. Part two here. Part Three. Part Four. Part Five. Part Six. Part Seven. Part Eight. Part Nine. Part Ten. Part Eleven.

Pairing: Dean x reader

*I felt like I needed to put some WARNING with this one because it does get dark.This story as a whole gets, well, hellish. Deals with torture and the after-effects. It’s adult content. Let’s go with that.*

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@duchessofwinchester

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koolerestkid  asked:

So a friend of mine is currently binging all of Steven Universe on my recommendation, and is on the verge of quitting. Upon reaching Peridot's redemption arc, they were absolutely furious that they would try to redeem a "sociopath" (their words). While I don't share their vitriol, they did actually have a backing to their argument (citing the way Peridot was more annoyed then anything when told to obliterate the CGs, among other things). Help me defend Peri's honor?

So I’m going to break this into two parts, thematically for the show at large, and practically for the character. I will add in an aside that sociopathy is a specific mental illness, and while the term is very often attached to people who are malicious or aggressive, as it appears in this juncture, it does have a specific diagnosis and is a specific condition. You can’t really just ascribe it to anyone who seems aggressive and doesn’t care much about hurting people- but a lot of people do, and much like other formerly clinical, medical terms that have since fallen to the wayside, it’s on its way to becoming a hurtful pejorative.

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