#and she had a backpack full of books and pictures for evidence…

[kiwioala]

bagi is already terrorizing her twin brother and is gonna call cellbit over to her house tmrw to see her house where she left a black chest with a “:)” on it and an egg inside

#qsmp #liveblogging #qsmp bagi #they’re never gonna beat the sibling allegations either #the insane parallel today between cellbit being chased down with a chainsaw and bagi being gunned down and chased through the fed officies #and she had a backpack full of books and pictures for evidence… #they’re the same

[forksianbeaute]

Bleed Me Dry | C. Cullen | Prologue

𝚈𝚎𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚊 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚗 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐.

Warnings: This entire story is intended to be read by those who are at least eighteen years old. This chapter itself doesn’t contain any mature content, but I will block all ageless and underage blogs who interact with this post.

It’s still early — too fucking early. The sun has not risen above the horizon just yet, though from what you have been told, you figure that it wouldn’t really make the scene look any different even if it had, since there’s a thick, dark curtain of clouds veiling the skies of Forks more often than not.

Glancing outside, you take a brief moment to appreciate the beauty of the picture that opens right behind that steamy, clearly never-washed window of the Forks Hospital’s break room. It’s something you’re not used to viewing as beautiful, but now — looking at the endless sea of dark green and gloom, and seeing how both of those elements tie the picture together whilst somehow only adding to one another’s beauty —, you’re beginning to think you’ve never seen anything as beautiful in your life.

“I would like for all of you to meet the newest addition to the team.”

It’s one of the board directors — one of those four people, who actually have a say in what goes on inside the walls of Forks Hospital these days —, who introduces you to the entire staff.

You’re not quite sure what kind of a welcome it was that you were expecting to be greeted with upon arriving, but it surely wasn’t anything like this.

A couple dozen pairs of tired, still half-closed eyes staring back at you. Unimpressed, perhaps even a little bored expressions carved onto the features of what seems that is literally every single person present. Coffee cups in the hands of most — the smoky aroma of that freshly brewed, nearly black liquid that is supposed to knock some life into the employees of this hospital now lingering in the air.

Forcing an awkward smile onto those cherry-red painted lips of yours, you say, “Hi.”

It’s not that you’re shy, or not-that-good with people, because really you’re not either of those things — you’re quite the opposite, actually —, but something about seeing those nonchalant, ‘Can we go now?’ looks on the faces of your new colleagues seems to shove every single thing you thought you could say to them down your throat — making sure that this situation is way more awkward than what it needs to be.

The board director, Samuel White, gives his throat a rather loud clear, making it evident to everyone present that he doesn’t approve of this being the kind of a welcome new employees are greeted with here, at Forks Hospital.

Noticing that his efforts don’t really make a difference — noticing that not a singular person straightens their spine, or even tries to fix the look on their face —, he sighs, the audible exhale loud enough to be heard over the steady humming of the air conditioning unit that you’re sure runs on full speed all day and all night, just to be able to keep the humidity of this rainy city outside the hospital’s walls.

“Anyway…,” he then says, bringing his hand up to scratch the back of his neck. “She’ll be with us until the end of her residency. She’s a damn good doctor and surely a great addition to the team, so… Be nice.”

It almost feels as if you were eleven years old again. Standing in front of the classroom, with a backpack full of heavy books resting on your shoulder. An awkward smile tugging the corners of your mouth upwards, while waving at your new classmates — something that the teacher insisted you do.

Come to think of it, the situation which you’re in now isn’t that much different, actually. Only now you’re standing in front of a hospital’s break room instead of a classroom. Only now the room is brimming with highly educated adults instead of kids whose parents have spoiled them rotten — who they either don’t seem to give a flying fuck that you’re here.

Though it is something you don’t notice, at one of those flimsy-looking, white cafeteria tables that someone with poor taste has decided to decorate the break room with, sits Dr. Carlisle Cullen. There is no coffee cup in his hand like there is in the hands of many others, but instead a few patient files sitting in a nice and neat pile before him, patiently waiting for him to start his day by going through them.

With both of his elbows resting on top of that god-awful table, and with one hand’s fingers curled into a loose fist that is now positioned right before his nose and mouth, he sits still — not really having it in himself to do anything else because God, that’s how good you smell. And though every single person in this room kind of does smell good to him, this is different. You are different.

He has been around for a while. He has treated more patients with open wounds than he cares to count, and thus has become very familiar with the scent of fresh blood and the iron-like tang there is to it that tickles his nostrils each time he allows air to flow into his lungs at work.

Yet still, right here and now — with the air conditioning unit circling the air that to him now smells like a mixture of fresh coffee, you and the scent of that sweet, floral perfume of yours —, he feels the need to excuse himself.

God, it’s going to be a hell of a long next few years.

#carlisle cullen x reader #carlisle cullen x you #carlisle cullen imagine #carlisle cullen fic #carlisle cullen fanfic #carlisle cullen fanfiction #carlisle x reader #carlisle x you #carlisle cullen #twilight imagine #twilight fanfiction #twilight fanfic #the twilight saga #x reader #my writings

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24HighSchoolStudents #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental education #environmental justice #environmental protection #environmental health #high school students #high school #youth #youth of america #school

[victhinks]

Don't Leave, I Love You

Lockwood & Co. Angst week Day two: Treasure Your Relationships | arguments ; @lco-angst-week

Also posted on AO3

TW: Suicidal Ideation, Self-Esteem Issues

“Please, Luce,” Lockwood said desperately, trying to persuade her to stay. Lucy huffed, angrily collecting her belongings from across the room. She wanted to leave this time for real and his heart seized painfully at the thought.

The case was doomed from the start. 

The houseowner, Mr. March had given them false information and the mostly harmless Type I had turned into at least three very powerful Type IIs, which left George, Lucy and Lockwood completely out of their depth. 

Lockwood had packed according to the information presented to them, so their equipment was insufficient and they barely got out with their lives. It was foolish on his part, of course. Stupid, stupid, to pack only the bare minimum and be entirely unprepared by any change of scenery with unprecedented dangers.

It was entirely his fault, forgetting the first rule he had set himself: Keep them safe, no matter what. Lockwood had put them all in danger. And it was only natural that Lucy had finally had enough. That did not make this anymore easy.

“Please, Luce,” Lockwood said desperately, trying to persuade her to stay, as Lucy huffed, angrily collecting her belongings from across the room. The wardrobe had already been emptied, all her clothes stuffed in a suitcase. Now only her small trinkets were missing, which she hurriedly accumulated to dump them in her backpack and leave. She wanted to leave this time for real and his heart seized painfully at the thought. 

“Please, Luce,” he pleaded again. The loss of Lucy would be unbearable for him as well as the agency. They needed her, he needed her. The helplessness of the situation hit him full force and Lockwood felt a shimmer of wetness collect in his eyes.

Lucy’s room could not go back to being ‘the attic,’ bare of her possessions. 35 Portland Row could not go back to being just him and George. And how long before George realized what a fuck-up he was and decided he’d had enough, too. Lockwood blinked away tears as he racked his brain of what to say to get Lucy to stay, not to leave him—

From his place in the center of the room he had a clear view out of the windows and onto the sunset. The sky seemed dipped in gold, bright enough to seem surreal and alter reality somehow. “It’s nearly curfew,” he said by way of argument. 

Lucy scoffed, not turning from her task of collecting her things. The pictures of her and Norrie were missing already, undoubtedly tucked safely between the pages of one of her books. “I can handle myself,” she said sternly.

It was evident that she could. Lockwood had been certain of it since the moment he met her. Her talent was spectacular, no doubt, but that did not mean she could safely navigate the haunted streets of London at Visitor-primetime. 

“Not against all of London at night,” he countered resolutely. It was reckless to try (he knew, he had) and she would likely end up hurt or worse and Lockwood could not bear to think of that. She is hurt already. He recalled her being flung against a wall by one of the Visitors and clutching her side on the way home. “And not when you’re hurt. How’s your side?”

“I’m fine,” she hissed, finally turning to set her eyes on him with a glare. “I don’t need you fussing over me when you’re the reason I’m hurt in the first place!” — Lockwood swallowed thickly, trying to push the shame and guilt to the back of his head — “I can’t do this anymore. This entire agency was a mistake, Lockwood. You’re just an amateur and it’s only a matter of time until someone gets seriously hurt because you’ve been careless again.”

Lockwood let her words sink in, crawl into his heart and rip him apart. Their profession came with a risk, they all knew that, but Lucy was right (of course she was). It was his name at the door, his agency. All that happened was his fault, in the end. He was responsible for them, he had to ensure their safety and he knew that was a weight he could hardly shoulder. How could he, when he passed that closed door every day and fought against the thoughts telling him he’d be better off at the bottom of the Thames. 

His agency was the only thing keeping him afloat. 

“I’ll do better. I swear, I’ll try,” he promised in a soft voice, willing Lucy to give him another chance. “I promise, this will never happen again.”

With a sigh containing all her disappointment and frustration, Lucy closed her suitcase. She was packed. Looking into his pleading eyes, she said coldly, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Lockwood. It makes your words all the more hollow.”

He squeezed his eyes shut in an unusual display of hurt. Better than the alternative of having Lucy witness his tears. She was going to leave, he would lose the person he loved most in the world, at last. If this was it, he might as well lay his bruised heart at her feet. 

Lucy was gathering up her bags.

“Wait,” he breathed before clearing his throat and willing his voice not to break. “I cannot stand to watch you leave, Lucy. I—” he could not go on, emotions choking him. “I—”

“You what, Lockwood?” she nearly yelled at him, exasperated and impatient. Him trying to get her to stay did not make matters any easier for her. She was leaving her new family, after all. The second one. And it hurt, but she could not keep doing this anymore. It had become too much.

Lockwood took a deep breath and exhaled unevenly. “I love you,” he said, so quietly she nearly missed it. There it was, his heart in her hands, his walls torn down. He felt nauseous for how vulnerable he had made himself, for her— for Lucy.

She stepped back, letting her bags fall to the floor with a loud thump and stared at him with wide brown eyes, her mouth hanging open slightly in shock. 

A tense silence stretched between them and Lockwood was sure she could hear his heart form how loud it was beating behind his ribcage. 

Lucy’s gaze did not falter for a second, fixated on him and seemingly aimed right at his soul. “I don’t believe you,” she said softly.

And Lockwood could not breathe. 

“What?” he gasped, heartbreak evident in the strangled sound of his breaking voice. No, how could she not see.

Shaking her head slowly, Lucy composed herself, recovering from Lockwood’s confession. She set her jaw and picked up her bags again resolutely. “You are only saying this to get me to stay, but I can’t—” she broke off with a shaky breath. 

On her way towards the stairs, she halted next to him. “Here,” she whispered, leaving the necklace he had given her in the palm of his hand. Lockwood’s heart broke all over again and he clutched it to his chest tightly. “Goodbye, Lockwood.” Not again, please. He could not do this again.

As Lucy’s footsteps faded into nothingness on the stairs behind him and the front door shut softly, he allowed the tears to escape his eyes at last. 

This was why he kept his emotions under lock and key, buried in the recesses of his heart. They destroyed him, left him shattered and bleeding all over the halls of the enormous house he owned. Alone. ALways alone, in the end. 

Living under a thin blanket of apathy was better than this. Feeling nothing was better than the agonizing pain in his chest at her goodbye. ‘I don’t believe you.’ After so long, he nearly thought himself incapable of love as well. How could he blame her?

He heard the Thames calling to him. Wouldn’t it be nice to leave this all behind? In the end, what kept him from jumping? He wished he had jumped.

Instead, he fell to his knees in Lucy’s old room and gripped the bedsheets tightly. They still smelled like her — Lucy, his Lucy — and he tried to anchor himself against the sobs wracking his body and tearing him apart. The necklace was tucked away safely in his breast pocket, resting over his shattered heart.

#lockwood and co angst week #lockwood and co #save lockwood and co

[retroellie]

Farm. Ellie. Making. You. Squirt. 👀 👀👀AAaRAghg now I NEED a whole fic for that!!!! For the sake of my sanity pretty pretty pleaseeeee 😩🙏🏼

Summary: Ellie finding scandalous polaroid's of you before finding out what she can do to you :)

A/N: Thanks for the ask<3 it was a bit rushed but i tried, theres so many asks to do so plz bear with me lol. Also i did research for this one cause idk much about this subject so be proud of me ASHAH

Warnings: NSFW, Squirting, fingering, cunniligus

Word count: 3.2K

She didn’t know what happened, one minute she was listening to Joel strum his guitar, wondering when the hoard will pass so she can finally be with you again. Then the next minute she was looking down a scandalous picture of you, gripping the paper so tightly her knuckles had turned white.

She was digging through her backpack when a piece of paper fell out of it. The paper was folded neatly, the words “For ellie<3″ standing out. Her eyebrows knitted in confusion, not quite sure who had put it in there but there was only one way to find out. She picked it up, it was heavier than it looked.

She opened it up and something fell out of the folded paper onto the ground. She looked down towards the floor to see 5 polaroids scattered, she was even more confused. She picked one up and examined it.

It was a picture of you and her, you two were on her bed. You had a huge smile on your face as ellies lips were on your cheek. Her arms were draped across your stomach lazyly, Ellie smiled. She remembered that day so well, you both were sick with colds and you both stayed in bed all day with each other watching old 80s movies.

The next one she didn’t recognize. You were in her bed once again, you were laying on your back with the camera pointed at your chest. You had a small tank top on which didn’t leave too much to ellies imagination. Your neck and chest were covered in hickeys, the dark shade complementing your lips.

The next was even more scandalous. You were in the mirror with only a set of back lacy underwear Ellie had gotten you on one of her trips. Your hand was over your boobs, covering them up so she couldn’t see them. She could see marks on your waist, finger prints from her. It was evident she had once been in the room with you, judging by your puffy lips and sweat drenched body.

The last one made her heart drop and the blood from her face drain. You were on her bed once again, you were topless. Your hair was draped over your boobs and your legs were spread slightly allowing her to see a small sliver of all of you. One hand was on your hip and the other was placed on your chest, right above your boob.

She looked down at the paper and saw sloppy writing on it, she didn’t hesitate in ripping it open and reading it.

Dear ellie,

I thought you were gonna miss me so i decided to have a photo shoot just for you<3 I hope you like them, I'm no model but I thought having these would make you miss me less. (or to show what your missing, don’t want you running off with another girl)

I miss you like crazy and you haven’t even left now, but by the time you're reading this I know I'll be missing you :(. Please be safe and don’t die, I don't want some asshole getting these pictures off your dead body. Oh and I'll miss you when you're dead of course:)

Anyway, please be safe baby and come back to me. I can’t wait to be ruined when you get back, Muah muah

Love,

Y/n XOXO

Her jaw tensed up, her hand grabbing the paper tightly. She tried everything to stop the thoughts of ruining you from running through her head, she couldn’t do anything about it either. She only had these pictures of you, she couldn’t touch you or be touched. The frustration was really getting to her.

She was pulled back to reality by Joel strumming the strings of his guitar.She shoved the pictures into her backpack hoping Joel didn’t see them. She let out a loud sigh, trying to calm herself down. She couldn’t wait to get home, she knew exactly what she was going to do. She knew this was gonna be a long trip.

-

-

The next couple days were hell for ellie. She couldn’t get her mind off the pictures and she couldn’t get off either. She didn’t get much alone time thanks to Tommy and Joel so all the frustration was building up. She couldn’t sleep sometimes, she was so touch starved it interrupted her dreams

When they finally arrived at Jackson she didn’t hesitate in running to her house, knowing you’d be there. With a couple welcome backs and half assed replies from Ellie, she finally arrived at her garage. She slowly opened the door, being greeted with warmth and the smell of your perfume.

Her room hadn’t changed much, there was still clutter of books and you were on her bed with little clothes on. When you heard the door open your head perked up, your eyes leaving the book you were reading. You gave her a big smile before throwing your legs over the bedside, running over to her.

You wrapped your arms around her neck, bringing her into a deep kiss. You guys had been away from each other for a bit. You hated when Ellie went out on trips like these, trips that took days to come back from. You never knew when she’d be back or if she’d be back.

Her hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you unbelievably close to her. You both basked in the warmth, your hands running through her auburn locks. She felt the most relaxed she had in days, feeling so close to you made her feel safe.

"I missed you..." You said while pulling away from her.

Her eyes had gotten a bit darker, almost now dulled completely. You thought it was because of the long trip she just had but Ellie had other things on her mind. The tourture your little photoshoot put her through, the hunger she felt it was enough to make anyone snap. she thought it couldn't get worse but when she walked in on you with just a shirt on and some cute panties, that was the cherry on top.

"Don't act all cute...." Her voice was thick with dominance, maybe the most you've ever heard. " 'i can't wait to get ruined when you get back'' ' She recited from your letter

She had read the letter so many times she could speak it all without the paper. The words haunted her and she was going to make sure you were ruined by the end of it. You looked speechless, like you hadn't any idea what she was talking about.

The innocent look in your eye made her hands shake and her mind wonder to all that she could do to you while that innocent look was still there, how far could she push you until you broke? She grabbed a fist full of your hair, forcing you to look into her dull eyes.

She pulled you into a deep kiss, hand still gripping your hair to keep you in place and the other one wrapping around your waist. You let out a small whimper, surprised by how fast it happened. Your muscles then relax, your head dizzy.

You hadn’t been touched, neither of you did so you both were touch starved. You brought your hands up to grab at her. Her hair, her neck, her chest you grabbed at everything. Her hand wandered down to your ass that was only covered by lacy underwear, giving it a squeeze. You moaned into the kiss, allowing her to move her tongue into your mouth.

The sudden affection made your legs shake and your eyes roll back into your head. She noticed this, watching as you became a moaning mess just by kissing. She took this as a sign to get you on the bed so she took a step forward, hinting at you to walk to the bed.

You started to walk backwards, your lips still on hers. You reached the bed, falling back on it. You pulled Ellie closer and closer to you, legs around her waist wanting more of her. She pulled a way for a split second just to pull her backpack and shirt off, not wanting to waste precious time she could spend in between your sweet little thighs.

You eagerly watched her, face heating up causing a soft red glow on your face. Her shirt trailed up her body, revealing more and more of her. She was only in a sports bra and a pair of jeans when she finally got her shirt off. You bit your lip at the sight, seeing how her nipples could be seen from underneath her sports bra.

When you drew your attention back to her, you saw her giving you a stern look. You could tell she was waiting for you to also take your shirt off, you gave a small giggle at how distracted you were before pulling your shirt off as well. The cold air hit your bare chest, making you shiver underneath her grasp

Ellie’s breath hitched, watching as your chest rose up and down. You looked like an angel to her, your hair sprawled out on the bed, only in a pair of lacy underwear, soft thighs around her waist. How can someone so angelic do something so dirty?

Ellie ran one of her cold hands up your stomach, enjoying the softness of your skin. You reacted to her touch with a small whimper, Goosebumps rising on your skin. She admired every scar and bump on your skin, loving how it looked on your skin. She reached your boobs, placing her hand on top of one. She bent down to place small kisses on your chest.

“I missed these.” She said between kisses.

You giggled, watching her every move. You moved a hand up to her hair, running your hand through it as she kissing and sucked on your skin. You let moans and groans fall off from your lips. She backed them, they encouraged her to do more. She regularly wanted to taste you so her kisses made their way down your neck, down your breast, down your stomach and finally to your lacy pair of underwear.

She placed small kisses on the inside of your thighs, watching you squirm. You watched her every move with wide eyes, she looked up at you nipping at your thighs. She kissed up your thigh until she reached your underwear.

She hooked her fingers on the sides of your underwear and slowly pulled them down, coming face to face with all of you. She slid your underwear off and threw them somewhere in the room. She looked up at you and then back at your thighs.

“Your soaked baby,” she said, breaking the silence.

You just bit your lip, a bit embarrassed about how your cunt was dripping onto your bed sheets. You couldn't help it, Ellie made you feel things no one else has. She noticed your embarrassment.

"Let me guess." She said, sliding a finger up and down your cunt. "You touched yourself to the thought of me, every. single. night while i was gone.

She swiped up and down your cunt a few more times before shoving two fingers inside you. You threw your head back, only ellies long slim fingers could reach that one place inside you that made your toes curl and she hit it every. single. time.

"What'd you think about huh?" She said, planting another sweet little kiss on your thigh.

you didn't respond, more like you couldn't respond. She curled her fingers, just grazing you g-spot. She chuckled up at you, leading her kissing up and up. She was promised to ruin you and she was going too.

"Was it me fucking you with the strap, you hands tied to the bed post while i thrust in and out.." Her fingers forcefully shoving in and out of you harshly to accentuate her words. "of your sweet little cunt."

You let out a high pitched moan in response to those harsh thrusts, making you see stars. She grinned, gripping onto your thigh roughly before licking up your cunt as if she was licking an ice cream cone on a hot summer day.

She scissored her fingers inside of you, not going too fast but deep and rough. the sinful sound of her fingers working in and out of your cunt filled the room along with your sweet moans. She licked you one last time, lapping up your juices before savoring the way you tasted.

"or was it just like this?" She asked once again, fully aware of you too lost in the pleasure to answer her. "My head in between your thighs, fucking you with my tongue and fingers while you sit back looking all cute."

She was right to say the least, you did run your hand down your body at night while thinking about her. You thought about it all, every position, every toy you had, every single dirty thing you thought about while fucking yourself until you were too tired to stay awake.

Your hands gripped onto the sheets, your knuckles turning yellow. A thin sheet of sweat was developing along your flushed body. Ellie's fingers got faster, curling and thrusting and then spreading apart before doing it over and over and over again. It was enough to make you cum right then and there if she asked.

"Your lucky baby..." she stated, looking up at you seeing you come apart. "I'm going to fuck you until you've made a pretty mess out of yourself and than i'm going to fuck you all over again."

Ellie's hand pushed your thigh all the way down to the bed, then returned to it to grip at it as she divided her tongue into your cunt. She started slow with her tongue but her fingers stayed the same pace , rough and fast.

Her tongue was so sudden it made you moan a little too loud for your liking. That didn't stop her but made her movement quicker, her fingers jabbing at your g-spot head on now. You were absolutely on fire, your skin felt hot and sticky.

You reached up to your boobs and grabbed at them, only maximizing the pleasure. Ellie licked circles on your clit, the sensitive bud sending waves of pleasure throughout your body. You threw your head back, back arching and waist thrusting along with her fingers.

Her nails dug into your thighs flesh, leaving small moon shapes there. Your moans became louder and at this point you didnt care if anyone heard, right now the only thing you cared about was Ellie's mouth on your aching cunt.

Ellie blew cool air onto your cunt, making you jerk up to meet her mouth. She chuckled at your neediness before giving you what you wanted, her mouth. There was no point in teasing you now and she obviously wasn't done punishing you.

Her tongue sped up, lapping at your cunt and really focusing on your clit. She added another finger, allowing her fingers to go deeper. Your hand gripped at her hair to grab it, thrusting your hips up faster and harder than before.

She couldn't get a good angle on your cunt so she took the hand that was on your thighs and brought it up to your waist to keep you down. You could feel your orgasm near but it felt different this time, your belly felt like it was on fire.... it didn't hurt it just felt different, a good difference?

Ellie added another finger, stretching you open. Her tongue was set and determined on your clit, the sensitive bud becoming overstimulated. You could no longer control your volume, you were basically screaming to the point ellie decided if she should stop or not. She didn't need more noise complaints.

Your body was already shaking violently, your stomach felt like it was on fire. This was terrifying how you felt but at the same time you didn't want it to stop. It felt so good and hurt in the best way possible.

Ellie didn't slow down but only sped up more and more until you let out a loud scream. The building knot in your stomach finally snapped and you were overcome with such ecstasy such pleasure, pure fucking light. It was all too much for you, your vision almost went and your hearing ceased for a split second.

From ellies point of view her fingers were soaked, along with her chest and face and even her jeans. She didn't know what was happening for a minute, her first thought was you had peed on her to be honest but after taking one look up at you she knew what had happened. You had squirted.... it had been something she had seen in an old porn tape she came across.

You felt far away from your own body, feeling only wetness on your lower half and after shock waves coming from your cunt. You came back to your body when your head was talking to you.

"Holy shit.... i didn't think i could do that..'' She admitted to you as your eyes fluttered open.

You looked over at her to see her completely soaked with your juices, you suddenly became embarrassed. You didn't know your body did did that, you didn' think it could do that. You closed your your sticky legs as best as you could.

"I'm sorry..." You said, sitting up slowly.

"No no.... It's okay!" Ellie laughed, pushing you slightly back down.

She laid on top of you, kissing you softly. She never wanted you to be ashamed of yourself even after doing something so fucking hot. She brushed your hair out of your face.

"That was a hot babe.... don't be sorry." She smiled.

You let out a sigh, honestly you were still slightly in shock and not yet fully conscious. You were sticky and sweaty, your bottom half tingling and drenched. Ellie's body on yours didn't make it any better but you were okay with that, you just wanted to be with her.

She could sense you not being all there by the way your eyes were still foggy. So she lifted herself off of you and made her way across the room to put on some music, trying to coax you back into your body again.

She went back to the bed and cuddled you up into a blanket before laying beside you, talking to you in a sweet and calm voice telling you all about her journey. She told you about the forest they traveled through and how she swore she saw fairies at one point. She just said anything to relax you and ground you.

"You're cute when you babble." You spoke, voice raspy from screaming.

"look who's back.." She joked, moving a hair from your face.

"That was intense..." You replied, you moved your hand up and down her arm before grabbing her hand in yours

"I know, they make it look so easy in porn." She said, making you perk up.

"Porn?!?!" You asked

You gave her a wide eyed look wanting to know the story behind her porn experience. She scoffed at your sudden interest and threw her hands up, regretting the decision to stay that.

"It was one time when I was 15.... I came across a tape!" She said, laughing at her stupid teenage self.

“Well i have to know the full story…”

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fic #ellie williams fanfic #tlou ellie #the last of us part two #the last of us x reader #the last of us pt ii #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fanfic #the last of us

[startanewdream]

Glimpses of the future

Summary: Lily traces the third line of his hand. The loveline. 'What's going on with your heart, Potter?' 

He wishes he knew.

For @sunshine-marauders who asked for Jily in Divination Class (I couldn’t add any real predictions, but I hope you enjoy this small journey of moments).

Rated T, with warnings for mildly swearing and for a teenager with hormones.

Read on AO3 or below the cut:

________________

Third year

James curses his friends the moment he enters the classroom. They were supposed to share all classes and yet they did not sign for Divination.

Now he is stuck in this class for at least three years.

Great.

And he seems to be the only Gryffindor there; he watches the groups of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, wondering where he should sit, when he sees a table with only one person, their robes gold and red.

Then she turns around, and he recognizes Lily Evans.

They are not very close, not when she keeps weird company he doesn't support - one person only, to be fair -, but Evans is fine, he supposes. Sometimes he thinks she is funny; sometimes she laughs from something he does.

It's a start, at least, and she is the only other Gryffindor there. Gryffindors should stick together.

So he walks towards her table.

'Hi, Evans', he begins, giving her his most sympathetic smile. 'Is this seat available?'

She glances at him, her green eyes assessing him, as if wondering if he is joking with her, before she nods.

'Sure', she says, moving a little to allow him to share the couch with her.

'Your friends ditched you too?', he tries, hoping to engage her into some nice conversation. If they are to be partners, at least they can be is corteous to each other.

'What?'

'My friends. Those prats told me they would sign for this class and they gave up at the last minute'.

'Oh', she is staring at him as if she thinks he is lunatic. 'No, I wanted to study Divination. I always thought it was interesting'.

'Oh'. He thinks of joining that class just for the laugh, for the silliness it would represent since he doesn't really believe in it. But Evans is not smiling and James is not sure how to deal with it. 'So you believe we can get glimpses of the future?'

'Well, magic is real, why couldn't we?'

James shrugs. He never had thought about it in these terms, not really.

'Yeah, I guess. Then you joined the class for curiosity? Want to know what the future will bring?'

'Well, that too'.

'What else?'

There is a pinkness on her cheek, but Lily Evans looks nothing but resolute as she stares at him.

'Sev'.

'Ah', James doesn't refrain from grimacing. If only Evans could move on from her strange taste in friends. 'Don't tell me he is in the class'.

'No, he told me Divination was a waste of time'.

'And yet here you are'.

A grin shines on her lips; it is almost mischievous . 'And yet here I am', Evans agrees.

James grins back, approvingly. Perhaps there is hope for Evans after all.

~*~

Fourth year

Evans' hands are warm. James shouldn't notice this. He shouldn't feel so… so whatever he is feeling just because her hands are touching him, one hand holding his left hand and her other sliding over the palm of his hand as she traces the lines there.

It's just... her touch is so soft, like butterfly wings fluttering delicately or maybe a Golden Snitch's wings - he doesn't care much for the seeker position, but maybe he should, because suddenly he feels his hand is too rough with years of practicing chasing. Perhaps he should try some lotion for them, because she is hating to touch him.

Lily Evans' hands are so delicate, so small compared to his - maybe that growth spurt he had during summer turned him into some kind of ogre, because he feels so out of place next to her, and then he wonders what is the right place with Evans...

'Your lifeline is very clear, Potter', Evans is explaining, talking about choices and what it represents, and he tries to concentrate, but it's difficult because the tips of her finger dancing over the palm of his hand are sending shivers down his spine.

It almost tickles but that's not really what he feels; there is no urge to laugh, just… just to enjoy how good it feels. What's his problem? That's Evans. She can't stand him and he - he also doesn't like her much, though she is vivacious and funny and pretty and her eyes are really gorgeous and her touch is so tender -

'Now, that's interesting', Evans whispers to herself, consulting the book open next to her. She is tracing the third line of his hand. The loveline. 'What's going on with your heart, Potter?'

He wishes he knew.

~*~

Fifth year

'You are late', Evans complains the second he slids next to her on the couch in the Gryffindor Common Room.

'I overslept', he mumbles, for a second refusing to look her in the eyes in a irrational fear she will know exactly the reason he had trouble leaving the bed. Then he grins uncontrollably as her words come back to him. 'Missing me much, Evans?'

Her eyes flicker, not impressed by his smile. Someone else might, he can't help but think. But nothing he ever does seems to amuse her lately.

He tries not to let it bother him, though, very much like her presence in his dreams, he can't help himself.

'If by missed you you mean that I missed not getting another partner for this project, yeah, then sure'.

'It's a start', he tries, still with that stupid grin he always has around her. She closes her eyes for a second, pinching her nose.

'Just let us finish this, Potter. The faster we do, the faster I can go back to my life and you can go do whatever you want'.

She is stressed. Same as everyone else, really, with the nervousness of the exams this year, but he never saw Lily Evans looking so impatient before.

He feels that twinge of guilt that only Evans can arise on him. She is the sole reason for a lot of his feelings lately.

'Sorry for being late', he tells her quietly, and her expression relaxes a little.

'Okay'. She bits her lips and James has to concentrate on keeping her gaze without blushing. It's not like those green eyes of her are not a participant in his dreams too - always staring down at him, for once not looking reprovingly, but invitingly -, but they are easier, much easier, than thinking of her lips that have also been on his mind lately.

Though for very different reasons. And in different situations. With different purposes.

He feels his face heating, which is ironic because the blood seems to be going from his head to…

He looks away, hurrying to pick up his things in his backpack, where it should be safer.

And he can put his backpack on his lap, just in case he needs to hide some of his more… evident reactions to Lily Evans.

Damn stupid hormones.

'It's a good thing you were sleeping, I suppose', Evans adds, her voice a bit warmer now, and James wonders what has been evident in his expression. It's not what he was thinking of, for sure; Evans would not be kind to him if she knew the ways she had been appearing in his dreams lately.

'It is?', he asks, confused. Truth be told he sort of napped during the last class of Divination (right after a Full Moon - he is not used to spending the whole night awake yet) and all he knows is that Evans is his project partner for this semester.

Fortunately she seems to take pity on his confusion.

'Yeah, here'. She takes out two sheets, giving him one. James freezes when he reads the title of it.

Dream diary.

'Tell me, Potter', she starts, taking out her quill and sucking the top of it. Sugarquill, James knows but his treacherous improper mind keeps remembering the way her lips were moving in his dream, and it was not over a quill at all. 'What have you been dreaming about?'

James gulps.

~*~

Sixth year

The classroom is hot with the vapour from the incense. James yawns, trying to focus, but there is nothing inside that crystal ball that gives him any clue at all of what he should be seeing.

There are none of the misty figures the book says he could see.

'Do not fret if you don't see anything', Professor Bath says, her voice sounding mystical since he can't say where she is. 'True sight is a rare gift'.

'So are good incenses', Evans murmurs beside him, and James chuckles lightly. He barely can see her through the smoke. 'Are you seeing anything at all?'

'I think it's safe to assume there will be a blizzard tonight', he whispers dramatically, and now it's her turn to chuckle.

That sound fills him with contentment. He is so glad he didn't give up this class - and neither did she.

'Move a little, I want to see better'.

He sits more to the left, but it's not enough space apparently. Evans comes into focus as she shifts her position, her hand brushing against his as she sits very near him - he can feel the heat coming from her body, the shape of her tight pressed against his and above all her perfume, a mix of garden flowers with scented herbs and he thinks her smell should not be more powerful than the incense in the room and yet it is.

He inhales happily now, taking in Evans' perfume even as he already accepted he won't ever have anything else, and Evans turns to him with a teasing grin on her lips.

'Enjoying the incense, Potter?'

Perhaps it's all the smoke (who is he kidding, it's not the incense, it's her), because James can only think of leaning into her and capturing her lips with his own; it would feel better than any intake of fresh air, he is sure of it.

But that's only a silly hope, so he just shrugs carefreely.

'It is not that bad after a while'.

'You are so high', she teases. James agrees with her. I am so high on you.

But he doesn't say anything and Evans shakes her head, seemingly amused by the light expression on his face, and moves forward to stare at the crystal ball.

Her face vanishes from his vision and yet he could picture the way her eyes are staring attentively at the crystal ball, the way she is biting her lips as she tries to make sense of that smoke that is supposed to give them glimpses of the future.

'Potter?', she calls him, her voice distant. 'Come here'.

He leans forward, joining her next to the crystall ball. Again the wave of her perfume threatens to numb all his senses and James tries to find something other to focus, though is hard. The crystall ball presents him misteries he doesn't really wants to unravel, not when her face is close to his, her dark red hair looking very vivid against the smoke around them and if he turned his face he could brush his lips against her cheek and then -

'What are you seeing?'

He turns almost desperately to the crystall ball, but it doesn't change much. Albeit a little distorted, all he can see is her face staring him back, green eyes sparkling over a face with small freckles he always feels tempted to count.

'You', he whispers. 'All I see is you'.

There is a moment of silence and through the haze on his mind, he suddenly fears that she understood exactly what he meant by that.

But then Evans sighes, taking a scroll and looking away.

'Funny', she says, her voice small too. 'All I could see was you too'.

~*~

Seventh year

'This is not what we should be doing with our time, Lily', he whispers, his voice lacking any reprehension as he pulls Lily even closer to him, his hands around her waist, feeling the skin of her back.

'I feel offended', she answers back, her head raised so her lips can brush his neck. It sends shivers down James' spine that have nothing to do with the cold wind around them. 'Professor Bath has told us we needed to be relaxed, right?'

'I am not sure if that's what she meant'.

'Are you relaxed or not?'

In answer, his lips find hers, and then James is lost in that sensation of kissing Lily, their bodies close together, her arms around his neck holding his hair. It's better than he ever dreamed.

He is not sure if relaxed is the proper term for how she makes him feel though.

Maybe desperately in love would be more accurate.

'Wow', he whispers breathlessly when they break apart, his fingers caressing her face tenderly. She raises her eyebrows, a spark of mischief tingling on her eyes.

'Feeling connected with your inner eye?'

'I'd rather feel connected with you', he assures her, and Lily grins. It's one of the most maddening smiles of her, the one that is cheeky and tempting and that she accuses him of teaching her how to.

'I don't know how you can find a prophecy on my lips, James', she jokes, eyes glistening, waiting for his answer.

James doesn't really care for this last project for Divination Class. Professor Bath has told them prophecies are rare to come and she doesn't really expect any of her students to ever make one, but they must take a try.

James is not even sure real prophecies actually exist.

'Maybe I can find somewhere else', he says playfully, lips brushing against the side of her cheek and then to her earlobe. 'Not here', he whispers and then his lips travel to her neck. 'Still no prophecy'.

He bends his head, enjoying the first opened buttons of her shirt. Lily moans softly.

'I am starting to hear words in my head…'

'Unless they are telling you to snog me right now, ignore them'.

James laughs, raising his head in search of her lips again and it's a blissful oblivion, a fog on his head with only Lily being clear, being real and tangible, and any thoughts of prophecies are forgotten.

#jily #jily fanfiction #fluff moments #canon compliant #james is so hopeless in love I wanna hug him #they are adorable #i hope you enjoy #cause except for the last line this gave me all the fluff writing it #t: fanfiction

[lemonmeringuecry]

The Cubs at Disneyland

Hi, so I've been trying to do this for awhile (ever since I drew Lo in a Mickey Mouse hoodie) but when the queen herself, miss Hazel, said she needs them to go to Disney... well I wrote this. And drew it. Because I'm me.

So anyway, here's the drawing and below is the fic

Tw for a couple mentions of food but I think that's it

Credit for everything @lumosinlove

Leo bounced a bit on the balls of his feet, goofy smile at full force while he waited to board the plane. He had grown up going to Disney World with his family. Living in Louisiana, Florida wasn’t too far away, and Eloise and Wyatt Knut didn’t let being adults stop them from enjoying the magic of Disney. When Leo was born, his parents were beyond excited about the prospect of going as a family, getting mickey ears, collecting pins, and making memories.

The first time he went, Leo was five, his favorite Disney movie was the lion king, and an expression of pure joy was permanent in his pale, blue eyes. Over the four days they were in the parks he got to go on rides, eat themed sweets, and meet his favorite characters.

After that first trip, Eloise started a scrap book. The book, titled ‘Disney World 2006’, was soon filled with pictures of Leo at the entrance gate, Leo with pineapple dole whip halfway to his mouth, and countless of all three of them taken by the photographers.

A favorite picture of Eloise’s was near the back, this one of her son with Simba. When Leo had spotted the cast member dressed as his favorite character, he all but threw himself at the lion costume clad employee. Leo’s mama had taken many pictures of the two lion cubs together and they were beyond adorable.

There are more scrap books from 2008, 2011, 2014, and 2017. Throughout the years of pictures Leo never looks less than ecstatic. Even though New Orleans will forever remain his favorite place in the world, Disney is a close second to home, which is why this trip with his boys is such a big deal for him.

The Lions are currently on a short break in the season after their game against the Coyotes and the cubs are going to spend a few days at Disneyland in Anaheim.

Finn reaches forward to grab Leo’s hand who is standing in line in front of him.

“Sunshine, are you excited?” He asks. Leo tilts his head around to look at his boyfriend and nods eagerly.

“We’ll take that as a yes,” logan chuckles sleepily from behind Finn where he is standing with his head resting on the red head’s back. Evidently waking up at 6:00 in the morning to drive to the airport wasn’t ideal for him.

Leo lets out a low, impatient groan, still bouncing, “I need to be there like right now. Can’t we get on the plane already?”.

“We haven’t even been waiting that long. I think they’re about to call our section though, Peanut,” Finn answers him, trying not to let his amusement show too much.

A crinkly noise cuts off Leo’s response, “Now boarding rows 1-10,” a voice says from over the loudspeaker. Leo stands up straighter and turns to his boyfriends, “that’s us!”

“I know Nutter-Butter, go on, let’s get you to Disney!” Finn says as he pats Leo’s butt lightly, moving him forward, onto the jet bridge.

The boys get settled into their seats, Finn by the window, Logan in the middle for maximum cuddles, and Leo on the aisle for the leg room. For the first half of the flight Logan sleeps while Finn and Leo share a movie, but all three boys are wide awake by the time the flight attendants come around with drinks for the second time. The rest of the flight is spent chatting about practices coming up after the break, things they need for the apartment, and what they are going to do first upon arriving.

Once getting off the plane in California, they take the shuttle from John Wayne Airport to the Disneyland hotels. They are staying in the Adventure Land tower, closest to the park. By this point all three boys are buzzing with the infectious happiness of Disney. After unpacking and getting settled into their hotel room, the cubs proceed with their plans of shopping and getting dinner in Downtown Disney. First thing on the agenda is to procure mouse ears. Logan, Finn, and Leo make their way to World of Disney in order to find the widest selection of ears. Leo has a collection of his own ears at home, including his favorite pride Minnie ears, but for this trip he wants to get new ones along with Logan and Finn. Leo and Finn decide on classic Mickey ear hats, while Logan picks out Minnie ears with a lavender bow. They all get sweatshirts too, as is custom.

After a pleasant evening of enjoying the atmosphere and getting dinner at Ralph Brennan’s Jazz Kitchen (Leo’s offense towards their attempt at Cajun cuisine is only partially a joke), they call it night. They head back to the hotel, brush their teeth, put on pajamas, and cuddle up in bed. After a busy day the three boys quickly fall asleep, full of anticipation for the day ahead.

Something you should know about Leo is that when it comes to Disney, he is hard core. Their first morning there is an early entry in Disneyland park.

“Rise and shine, party people!” Leo calls as he entera the main part of the hotel room from the bathroom. Logan and Finn are just now waking up, but they aren’t remotely tired. The pure excitement radiating off their boyfriend is contagious as well as the promise of a day of fun.

“Butter baby, how long have you been up?” Finn’s question is alarmed yet distinctly amused.

“Since 5:30,” Leo responds off-handedly. Logan and Finn share a look, then turn it on Leo. Undeterred, Leo spins slowly in a circle in order to show off his carefully constructed outfit. He is wearing his favorite light wash Levi’s, paired with the crewneck he bought yesterday (light gray with vintage looking Mickey & friends). Underneath his sweatshirt he is wearing his Pizza Planet t-shirt, ready for when it gets hot later. Leo’s outfit is accessorized with his new Mickey ear hat, white air Jordan 1’s, and his Tinker Bell lanyard filled with pins from over the years.

“These things take time! Now y’all go get dressed, we have to be in line by 6:45,” Leo says. With that both Finn and Logan get out of bed and into their clothes in record time. On their way out of the room, they pick up their ears and backpacks from the desk by the TV.

After a brief stop at the Starbucks in Downtown Disney, the boys make it into the que of people lining up at the entrance gate. Once 7:00 hits, the lines start to move into the park. As Logan, Finn, and Leo enter, they gaze around in awe. At the end of Mainstreet sits Sleeping Beauty’s castle, tall and glorious. They walk hand in hand down the lane of colorful, old fashioned buildings, chatting excitedly about what to do first.

“Alright babes, what’s up on the agenda?” Finn asks.

“I don’t even know the options, what do you say Le?” Logan continues.

They end up heading over to Tomorrow Land first. They go on Star Tours and Space Mountain while the lines are short, then bounce around Fantasy land as they make their way across the park. Around 8:30 all three boys start to get hungry so they grab a bag or two of beignets from New Orleans Square. After breakfast, they hit their favorites in Adventure land (Finn fucking loves Indiana Jones), Frontier Land (Big Thunder Mountain Railroad is a fan favorite), and New Orleans Square (Logan might not stop singing ‘Yo Ho a Pirate’s Life for Me’ for weeks).

Around noon the cubs exit Disneyland Park and walk across to California Adventure. After lunch at Wine Country Trattoria the boys bop around Cars Land, Hollywood Land, Pacific Warf and Grizzly Peak. The lines are a lot longer now that it’s afternoon, so they take it in stride and spend their waiting time talking, cuddling, and playing games. They end up going on almost every ride as well as hitting the extra good ones twice like Incredicoaster and Guardians of the Galaxy (still a fan-fucking-tastic ride but Leo misses the Twilight Zone theme).

By the time they finish up in California Adventure for the day, it’s almost time for Fantasmic, and Leo has yet to tell his boys that he got them reserved seats. The cubs meander back to Disneyland but when they start to near Frontier Land Finn picks up the pace.

“Sweetheart, what’s the hurry?” Leo asks with a knowing smile.

“I wanna get good seats for Fantasmic, I haven’t seen it since I was little!” Finn replies.

“Orgasmic? I like the sound of that,” Logan slides in with a smirk.

“Baby, no!” His boyfriends exclaim at the same time. Logan giggles which gets Leo and Finn laughing as well.

“And Finn, I got us seat reservations for the show so no need to rush,” Leo tells him. Finn’s response is to jump on Leo with a fierce hug and a drawn out “Yay,”.

The cubs enjoy the water show immensely, all snuggled up and bundled in sweatshirts once again to fend off the cool evening air. They point out little details to each other with intertwined hands and gasp aloud at the pretty fireworks. Once Fantasmic is over they do a few more rides, then head back to the hotel, sleepy after a full day. The boys fall asleep quickly again, ready to do it all again the next day.

#my art #writing #lumosinlove #o'knutzy #leo knut #finn o'hara #logan tremblay #disneyland #coast to coast #sweater weather #harry potter fanart #lumosinlove fanart #fanart

[ecoamerica]

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[sagamemes]

the sheridan tapes  📼  part two.   here and under the cut, you can find over 130 lines of dialogue from the horror podcast the sheridan tapes, specifically from episodes four to six, edited for roleplay purposes. some of these focus heavily on survival, war, science, and spooky stuff, but a lot can be used by anyone.  tw:  war, unreality, a mention of cannibalism, implications of manic behaviour.

❝  god, i hate snowstorms like this. not just getting caught in them, but the storms themselves. it feels like the earth’s trying to bury me alive every time it locks in like this. like nature’s rightly pissed off at all of us and doing its level best to crush us to death.  ❞

❝  that’s what yom kippur means:  the day of atonement.  ❞

❝  that wasn’t the first time i’ve caught him in my office, going through my stuff.  ❞

❝  normally i’d be annoyed at someone calling me young lady.  ❞

❝  thank you… you are so warm… thank you for letting me in.  ❞

❝  suddenly, everything fell into place. i made more progress than i had in about half a year.  ❞

❝  the thing i remember most was catching disapproving glances from my father every time i went to the library.  ❞

❝  why does time only run forward?  why does cause need to precede effect?  ❞

❝  no one knows if they can trust me with casework or not.  ❞

❝  i didn’t say i was interested.  ❞

❝  [he/i] was taken off duty and sent for psychiatric evaluation the next day.  ❞

❝  coffee. i was making coffee.  ❞

❝  i didn't mean to get stuck out here.  ❞

❝  that just goes to show how small humans really are in the grand scheme of things:  take away our tools and our toys and our technology, and we’re still just as vulnerable as we ever were.  ❞

❝  she was good at that:  making you feel like you were safe, like you could open up to her.  ❞

❝  i’m just going to cover that one up. no harm in keeping it out of sight for the moment.  ❞

❝  maybe there was someone in the stairs.  ❞

❝  i think i did the lion’s share of the talking, which almost never happens.  ❞

❝  i couldn’t get to sleep... i figured i’d get a head start today.  ❞

❝  i’m afraid i don’t have all of the details of your involvement with the… tragic events in [place]. and i don’t think i’m the only one.  ❞

❝  i’m still not sure i understand the whole tradition.  ❞

❝  whatever it is, it’s chasing me. i can hear it’s footsteps in the snow, i can hear it—  ❞

❝  when you work nights here, the less you really think about them, the better.  ❞

❝  honestly, i just can’t get it out of my head.  ❞

❝  snow is one of nature’s simplest and most effective ways of killing you dead if you aren’t prepared for it.  ❞

❝  i wish you’d tell me what you’re doing here. i could lose my job if anything gets broken or if you end up getting hurt in there…  ❞

❝  would you say you… considered her a friend?  ❞

❝  would you mind saying your name again?  for the recording?  ❞

❝  if that was true, then there was something—and as a scientist, i hate to say this—supernatural going on in that lab.  ❞

❝  most of them didn’t make it. a lot of them died afraid and alone, too.  ❞

❝  i know you don’t like listening to these things, so i just wanted to help you out with…  ❞

❝  if i could sleep, then trust me, i would.  ❞

❝  i’m guessing the new owners are trying to make this place seem less creepy than it already is.  ❞

❝  my schooling was expensive and unremarkable.  ❞

❝  a lot of them died afraid and alone, too:  ideal conditions for the making of poltergeists, in my experience.  ❞

❝  look, i’m sorry, but this really isn’t a good time for anything, so if you wouldn’t mind…  ❞

❝  basically, i was picturing a slightly creepier morticia addams. i couldn’t have been more wrong.  ❞

❝  now i have to deal with [name]’s aspirations to write drama..  ❞

❝  i promise i won’t get you sacked.  ❞

❝  i’ve never been very religious, but for some reason… it made me think of hell.  ❞

❝  i think it may have been a thank you.  ❞

❝  i’m working the graveyard shift and i noticed the lights were on.  ❞

❝  i shouldn’t be here. no one asked me to come in this early.  ❞

❝  everyone around here looks at me like i’m some kind of leper.  ❞

❝  i had to go home for a few hours. i’m already on thin ice around here, and i didn’t want to get in more trouble for screaming obscenities up and down the wall.  ❞

❝  it was… darkness. no, that doesn’t do it credit, the whole place was dark. this was just... void.  ❞

❝  if i’d seen her anywhere else, i’d think she was an athlete or a backpacker.  ❞

❝  better scientists than me have been bashing their heads into that particular wall since 1927.  ❞

❝  i just want you to know that… whatever you really are... you’re safe here.  ❞

❝  goats being goats, it would just come back the next day looking for food.  ❞

❝  i would like you to leave my office now… and i’ll ask you not to tamper with evidence in the future, understood?  ❞

❝  no, of course, i don’t have signal out here, so i can’t just call triple-a.  ❞

❝  what are you doing in my office—at four goddamn thirty in the morning?  ❞

❝  you ever wonder where the line is?  you know, between human and not?  ❞

❝  the funny thing i’ve noticed about war:  no matter how terrible the fighting is, there always seems to be too much waiting. too much quiet. too much sitting around, bored to tears between fits of chaos and violence, lost in routine while waiting for the other shoe to drop.  ❞

❝  a lot of people condemn them for that. we’re so sure we’d never resort to that—that we’d rather die than cross that unspoken boundary.  ❞

❝  i’ve been at the [workplace/institution] for ten years now. that’s long enough to know that the ones who ask questions are the ones who can’t cut it.  ❞

❝  the program blew every fuse in the lab. including the lights.  ❞

❝  it was soon after they left that i began to have trouble sleeping.  ❞

❝  perhaps we never knew each other as well as most friends do, but… we cared for one another.  ❞

❝  most of her questions are a bit above my pay grade.  ❞

❝  i’m trying, i’m trying! i can’t get the door open!  ❞

❝  i don’t know why she needed my help:  i think she had a better grasp of it than most science fiction writers.  ❞

❝  we both had places to be afterwards, so we kind of rushed. i really wish i’d taken the time to say goodbye.  ❞

❝  i guess some things just… don’t want to stay buried.  ❞

❝  it was completely against orders of course, but no one really noticed or cared that far from the front.  ❞

❝  i offered to buy him a cup of coffee.  ❞

❝  newspapers praised them at the time:  saw them as heroes of exploration and paragons of pioneer courage.  ❞

❝  i signed a lot of big, scary nda’s during my time there.  ❞

❝  i did the only thing that came to mind:  i took a grenade from my belt, removed the pin, and threw it.  ❞

❝  i doubt this storm will last more than a couple of days, and once it lets up we can sneak out of here and get going again. very, very carefully.  ❞

❝  given enough time, everything will rot away to its elementary components, and that, you can’t reverse.  ❞

❝  i really can’t see anything from inside the van.  ❞

❝  i knew there were a few experiments that dealt with some pretty high-level theoretical concepts, but i wasn’t directly involved with any of them.  ❞

❝  it’s a strange choice, but then again, he’s a strange man.  ❞

❝  i know, it sounds ridiculous. trust me, i’ve done everything i can think of to make that conclusion go away.  ❞

❝  scared the bejeezus out of a bunch of skiers, but they were nice enough to let me in after deciding i probably wasn’t a ghost.  ❞

❝  please… it burns my skin… please…  ❞

❝  i forgot how fast storms blow in up here.  ❞

❝  it’s not like i felt out of control:  it felt more natural than breathing.  ❞

❝  i didn’t know what i was doing, not at any conscious level. but one step seemed to lead to another, then the next, and then the next.  ❞

❝  it’s called a butcher’s shop in some places, but a mortuary in others. as much as i’d love to imply there was some sweeney todd style recycling going on here, i think the place has just been a lot of things over the years.  ❞

❝  god, these things are creepy as hell.  ❞

❝  if you wouldn’t mind, please, tell us what happened? in your own time, of course.  ❞

❝  it took a few long, nerve-wracking days to work up my courage and visit the section again.  ❞

❝  it’s not that odd to think that people ate each other out there.  ❞

❝  i didn’t think there was a ghost in my room or anything like that, i just kept hearing noises whenever i was about to fall asleep.  ❞

❝  i downed half a dozen energy drinks at 6 and called it dinner—i know, i know, it’s a nasty habit i picked up in grad school.  ❞

❝  they told me that the cpu and motherboard had somehow been melted into a solid lump of plastic and silicon.  ❞

❝  i mean, [name] was a pain in the ass, but at least he didn’t…  ❞

❝  my schedule was full, but i had something else fall through at the last minute. i had your number on my desk, so i thought i may as well call.  ❞

❝  i wonder if it was afraid, or if it even realized what was going to happen. it probably didn’t.  ❞

❝  i need to get more coffee. or punch someone. whichever’s more convenient.  ❞

❝  god, if that’s really how i sound…  ❞

❝  people think i write horror, but i don’t really think that’s true. i just write fiction with all of the comfortable little lies taken out of it.  ❞

❝  i have loved the stars too truly to be fearful of the night.  ❞

❝  i think he felt something about this place… some influence or power that needed to be destroyed, so he tried to do it the only way he knew how.  ❞

❝  well, it’s a tricky thing. the more realistic you make them, the more… unreal they start to look. i think it’s something about the eyes.  ❞

❝  i offered to stay late, just to smooth things over.  ❞

❝  maybe i can get some writing done while i’m stuck here…  ❞

❝  no child could grow up in a jewish home surrounded by books and not read at least one story about golems.  ❞

❝  i just wasn’t a good student, despite my love of reading.  ❞

❝  i have to say, i like your jane doe.  ❞

❝  she was a scientist herself.  maybe not formally, but her way of thinking, her insight, her methods... they were scientist’s qualities.  ❞

❝  seriously, what do i need to do to get a little privacy around here, a little dignity?  hang a  ‘ do not disturb ’  sign on the door?  change all my locks?  ❞

❝  maybe it was stupid, but i figured, ‘ hey, early december, not a cloud in the sky—should still be fine, right? ’  ❞

❝  jesus, [name], i wasn’t born yesterday.  ❞

❝  maybe doing this while it’s still dark outside isn’t the best idea.  ❞

❝  more than a century and a half have passed, and this place is still just as dangerous as it was then.  ❞

❝  now, [mr./ms./mx. name], i’m sure you know why you’re here.  ❞

❝  the [event] was a bust—only about a dozen people showed up all afternoon.  ❞

❝  i never put much stock in the idea of inspiration, but for the first time in my life, it felt like i wasn’t pushing myself through the muck of miscalculation and guesswork towards a solution. i was being pulled towards an answer that already existed.  ❞

❝  it felt like i was a few steps from finding out something fundamental. some truth about our universe that no other scientist had ever dared to dream of.  ❞

❝  huh. that’s… that’s weird. i could’ve sworn there wasn’t a sculpture back there before.  ❞

❝  apparently, no one had told them what i was doing, and i wasn’t actually cleared to leave.  ❞

❝  maybe he’s trying to make amends. keeping watch over these half-living things to make sure no harm comes to them.  ❞

❝  i expected the building to be wreathed in shadow and overgrown with cobwebs, but it's actually really nice.  ❞

❝  sorry, i was trying to get my recorder working, but it froze up on me so i had to find a tape for this old…  ❞

❝  okay. just… don’t get me sacked, alright?  can’t exactly retire on this salary.  ❞

❝  but if it was real—i don’t know if i somehow created it, or if it was feeding me information about itself before it appeared.  ❞

❝  i’ve never had a manic episode before, and i was well below the level of caffeine needed to cause intoxication. as far as i can tell, there isn’t a medical explanation for what happened.  ❞

❝  i don’t get the appeal of meeting real celebrities. it’s just a cheap shock of recognition, and nothing more.  ❞

❝  whatever this… thing was, it sounds pretty dangerous.  ❞

❝  are you familiar with temporal asymmetry?  ❞

❝  i just want to make that abundantly clear:  this /wasn’t/ the plan.  ❞

❝  right then, now let’s get started. please state your name and rank for the record.  ❞

❝  though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light.  ❞

❝  a cracker of a book, young lady.  ❞

❝  no wonder they’re keeping them in storage. they’d give anyone nightmares.  ❞

❝  i was just going to finish out my shift unless… you want me to stick around?  ❞

❝  i went to the university, but don’t remember much of the years i spent there.  ❞

❝  having to study textbooks and essays day in and day out took all of the joy out of reading for a long time.  ❞

❝  we call paradoxes paradoxes for a reason:  no matter how plausible they seem, they can never really happen.  ❞

❝  i don’t know what happened to me that night. i still don’t even know if what i saw was real.  ❞

❝  when we look into the void for too long, we find the monsters instead.  ❞

#sentence starters #sentence meme #rp sentence starters #rp sentence meme #rp meme #* sentences. #* meme. #sheridan #trying some minor new things w/ the formatting #especially for these longer #non numbered sentence memes

[jungkookiebus]

Petals | kth

Genre: hanahaki!au, ANGST Rating: PG13 Pairing: taehyung x reader Word Count: 1.8k Warnings: heavy angst, unrequited love, mentions of blood (and a fair amount of it), major character death Author’s Note: A kind anon asked, I had never heard of it, but immediately started googling and found the subject pretty fascinating. It’s short and sweet, but I think it covers the angst bases. 🙈

The first time you saw him was in spring. The cherry blossoms were blooming, and life seemed magical. Sun beat down on the campus and right onto him. He must have been a transfer; you hadn’t seen him this semester. His soft brown hair shone with strands of gold in the sunlight. His skin was equally as golden, and he seemed to shine. Whispers went around campus quickly. The new boy was beautiful, that much you knew, but the rest was a mystery. Rumors surfaced that he was some out of town rich kid. Others said he was some poor orphan from Daegu. Whatever he was, he was your new object of affection.

You learned his name when you found out you had chemistry together and his last name put him right next to you. He sat smoothly on the stool next to yours, his sweet scent wafting in your direction.

Taehyung. It rolled off the teacher’s tongue delicately because that was the only way one should say it.

You chanced a glance at him. He must have felt your gaze because he looked over at you and smiled. His smile was boxy, but it reminded you of a heart. His eyes were a deep, chocolate brown.

That spring semester was one to remember for you. Every day, after lunch, he was always happy when he sat down next to you. He’d tell you about the current video games he was trying to beat, the book he read over the weekend, or the strange antics him and his new best friend, Jungkook, got up to. Every now and again his hand would find your arm as he excitedly told you a story. Your face would heat up, but you don’t think he noticed. He’d go on talking like nothing had happened and would eventually ask you what you had been up to.

Your feelings for him grew as the months wore on. His touches would happen more often, and he’d keep his palm against your skin just a little longer than normal. You knew, in your heart, that he was beginning to feel the same way.

That was, until, the last day of the semester before summer break. You were making your way down the hall to your last chemistry class. You were excited to see him, but sad that this would be your last class together. Maybe he would tell you about his feelings? If not, were you prepared to make the first move? But those thoughts were quickly dashed when you saw him in the hallway with her. Your school’s sweetheart was oddly close to him as he stood against the wall. One of his hands was on the strap of his backpack while the other was stuffed into his pocket. She, too, leaned against the wall but her chest was nearly touching his arm and she was doing that disgusting thing that girl’s do when they look up at boys and bat their eyelashes. He was talking to her and smiling. It made your heart drop sickeningly into your stomach. You just looked at them, neither of them noticing, as you passed and walked into class.

Moments later, Taehyung was walking into the room, usual smile on his face as he sat down next to you.

“Everything okay, ____?” he asked.

“Yea,” you mumbled, looking ahead.

He merely shrugged and began rambling on as he usually did. You wanted to pay attention, to give him all you had, but you also wanted to be upset with him. Why was he talking to her of all people? Did he not feel anything for you?

Class went by as usual and at the end, Taehyung was extending his hand towards yours. Your heart flipped in your chest.

“Hey, put your number in here,” he said while handing his phone to you, “so when I finally beat Jungkook at that game I’ll take a picture of his face and send it to you.”

And then again, maybe he did like you? Hope bloomed in your chest like a flower and settled here. Nestled deep in your heart, the petals fluttering in time with your heartbeat.

You put your number in his phone that day and he waved a goodbye to you as you parted ways in the hall. But the joy you felt when you left campus would not be long lived.

Taehyung texted you once and it was as promised, a picture of a sad looking Jungkook. You replied and got nothing in return. The message was left as read in your inbox and there it sat. That was when you coughed up the first petal. Delicate and white, it traveled up your throat as you panicked, and out came the fragile thing. It landed softly in your hand and laid there as if it had just come from a flower. You quickly dropped it on your bed, but the burn in your chest was undeniable. Utter pain coursed out from your lungs and to the rest of your body. Heartache charted a course of hot fire to your nerves.

You cried, holding your phone, telling yourself just to text him, but if he liked you, he would have messaged you back. That whole semester was nothing to him. Your talks about art, music, and books was just filler for him before class started. He was nice and social to everyone, so what really set you apart? Nothing. You were as forgettable to him as the rest of your classmates.

Later that night, you’d cough a pink petal, just a tad bigger than the last. You placed it with the other on your nightstand. They delicately overlapped, seeming to have come from the same flower. Perfect matches. Most unlike you and Taehyung.

A week later and you gathered up the courage to text him. Not even five minutes later he replied to you. The ache in your chest subsided a little. The tickle in the back of your throat wasn’t quite as pronounced. He seemed happy that you texted him. Or, as much as the text could portray emotion. He told you about his family vacation, where he had gone, the things he had seen, etc. He began to attach photos and you were excited that he was wanting to share such intimate details about his life. The first few were some nature shots, a couple of squirrels, and then you began to get to ones of his family. His little brother was just as cute as him and you saw that the both took after their father.

The next one sent your heart plummeting into your stomach.

It was Taehyung and her. The girl from the hallway. The one batting her eyelashes so innocently at him. You felt instantly sick, bile rising in your throat. You dropped your phone on your bed as you began to cough. It lit up with text after text from him, but you couldn’t see through the blur of tears as you coughed. Your chest was on fire and it felt as if someone had stuffed them full of old wash clothes. For the life of you, you could not catch your breath. Something was travelling up your throat, but it didn’t feel like sick. You clutched at your throat as you tried to get any amount of air around what was coming up. In the last few moments when you thought you were going to pass out, it fell from your mouth. A small bundle of forget-me-nots lay in your bed as if they had just been plucked from the bush. You inhaled a large breath, throat burning as you did so, but the burn in your lungs worsened.

You grabbed your phone and unlocked it, wiping away your tears so you could see the screen. Taehyung had kept on talking as if he hadn’t just sent you a picture of him and that girl. He kept talking to you like he had in class; like you were the only person in the world. He had begun asking you questions, but his last message was that she had just arrived at his house and he had to go.

I’ll talk to you later, yea?

No. No, he wouldn’t. This burn in your chest was killing you. You coughed into your hand and blood was spattered on your skin. The metallic taste of it made you sick as you stumbled to the bathroom. Leaning against your sink, you pulled the glass that was sat next to it under the tap. You drank heartily but was soon coughing most of it up. It came out stained pink, mixed with your blood, as you struggled to breathe. You dropped the glass into the sink as you fell to your knees. You couldn’t stop coughing. Your lungs burned like paper in a flame. More blood dripped from between your lips. Something was coming up your throat again. Tears streamed down you face, mixing with the blood, and caused a horrid display of red lines down your neck, mapping out your death. Two bundles of forget-me-notes fell to the bathroom tile. Their various blue, pinks, and whites were quickly becoming stained in the deep red blood that dripped to the floor. You were on your hands and knees but were becoming weak quickly. Your knees wobbled and your elbows began to give way as more flowers fell from your mouth. Soon, you would black out and hopefully the rest would be painless.

Yet, you couldn’t quit thinking about him, his soft smile, those bright brown eyes, and the soft, deep tenor of his voice.

Your thoughts were filled of still images and moments with Taehyung as you collapsed to the floor. By now, it was littered with your macabre floral artwork. Your eyes closed as the flowers filled your throat, a whole bouquet waiting to escape.

And it was his voice that said your name one last time and it was his face that you saw when your body seemed to sigh its last breath, if you had any. Blood still dripped thickly down your cheek and on the flowers beneath you. Finally, you were freed from the pain. No longer would you feel his rejection nor the anxiety that plagued your mind.

The medical examiner sat in a soft crouch next to your body. She came in after evidence had been marked off, photographed, and toted away in sterile bags. Now, it was just her, and you lying on the floor, in the bathroom. She quirked her head to the side as she searched your face. Your parents had found you the next morning, so even though the color had drained from your face, something about your features seemed…bright. The flowers spilling from your mouth hadn’t been removed, but the rest around you had been carefully stored away. Despite the gruesome, bloody bouquet however, it almost looked as if you had died with a turn of your lips. A grisly smile. This death would follow her forever.

The girl with the flower filled lungs. What a horrible, beautiful death.                                                

#bangtanarmynet #ficswithluv #btswriterscollective #bts angst #taehyung angst #taehyung x reader #reader insert #tw:death #tw:blood #tw:character death #taehyung #bts #hanahaki

[marvelous-imagines-for-all]

Spencer x BAU x Sister

Requested? Yes! 

“Can I request something platonic for Spencer Reid in Crimnal minds? Maybe where he has a younger sister that's around 5 or 6 years old and for some reason she has to stay at the office with Spencer for the day and he's hesitant because he thinks she will just cause a scene but everyone loves her?”

Author: Jade:)))

A/N: So this is definitely the longest imagine I’ve ever written (Over 2k), but I loved the idea and I got carried away with it. I also have no idea if it makes sense but I hope you all enjoy!

The team had barely checked into work when Hotch called them into his office for a brief meeting, no one knew what it was for, but they noticed the absence of Spencer’s presence. 

“Is there another case? You said today would be a paperwork day.” Emily inquired, looking down at Hotch who was seated at his desk.  

“It is. That’s not why I called you here. If you haven’t noticed, Spencer is running late. He called me ahead of time to notify me of this. Something came up and he has to bring someone in with him today.” Hotch paused, taking notice of everyone’s shifted behavior. Confusion was evident on the faces before him. “Although this is out of the ordinary, I expect nothing less from any of you today. You will continue to work and not create any scenes about the situation.” 

“What’s going on?” Derek asked, worrying filling his mind about Spencer. Who was he bringing in? His mom? Everyone knew how much his mom wasn’t a fan of the “government’s work”. Or maybe it was a girlfriend? But that didn’t make sense. There was no reason for him to have to bring her here even if he did have one. 

The team was dismissed and they went back to their desks, waiting for Spencer to arrive. 

Back at Spencer’s place, Spencer was distressed to say the least. Today was Monday, and it wasn’t until he had woken the little girl up despite her protests that he forgot she didn’t have school. Some teacher work day thing. Spencer was at a loss for how he forgot, but it didn’t matter at this point. He didn’t have time to call a babysitter, not that he really trusted them anyways. 

Now he was gathering items in a backpack for the little girl. Coloring books, a couple of barbies, a book, and a stuffed elephant, her favorite one. Spencer had already prepared a lunch for her moments earlier, it was sitting on the counter waiting. 

“Skye, are you ready?” Spencer called from the living room, searching for his keys. He was already late to the BAU and even though he called in advance, he hated being late. “Skye?” 

After the second call the little girl ran into the living room, hairbrush in hand. 

“I need help!” Her lips formed a pout as she looked up at her older brother. Spencer looked up to see his sister’s hair half in a tangled mess. No matter what he did, he could never seem to get her hair under control. He wanted to tell her that he could fix her hair later, that they didn’t have much time or that her hair looked fine. But he decided against it since he knew she would argue and he definitely did not have time for that. Kneeling behind her, her took the brush from her hand and combing it gently through her hair. 

“We’re going to my work today, which means that you need to be on your best behavior. You know what that means, right?” Spencer paused his actions, waiting for a reply. Skye nodded her head furiously. He smiled at her eagerness and continued to brush her hair. “My friends will also be there. They’re super nice, but you still aren’t allowed to go anywhere without letting me know, you understand? I can’t lose you.” 

Skye nodded again before turning around to face him, “I understand.” 

Spencer smiled and placed a kiss against her forehead, “Then I guess we’re ready to go.” 

Walking into the BAU was a task in itself. Skye claimed her hands were full; one arm wrapped around Mr. Pebbles, her stuffed elephant, and her other hand holding on to Spencer's. So Spencer was left with one arm to carry his bag, both of their lunches, Skye’s backpack, and the files that Spencer had collected on the way up to the elevator. 

The elevator ding was enough to attract the team’s attention. Everyone’s eyes moved down to the little girl who was slightly ahead of Spencer, practically dragging him into the bullpen as she looked around amazed. Spencer directed her to his desk where he hastily dropped everything onto his desk. Skye was too busy staring at Derek, who was approaching the scene along with the rest of the team behind him.

“Hey, kid, who’s this little lady?” Derek smiled down at her and she instantly smiled back. She already liked him. 

“This is, um, she’s my little sister. She doesn’t have school today and I couldn’t call a babysitter so I brought her up here. After confronting Hotch first.” Spencer chewed on his lip, not sure how to continue. 

The team examined Spencer for a moment. They always noticed the bags under his eyes, but they assumed it was just lack of sleep from nightmares, not from dealing with a kid. The random pen marks on his hands? Those were just supposed to be his random scribbles to get a pen to work, not markings from a kid at home who was drawing. The way he knew how to talk to kids? It was assumed it was just all the knowledge he had. Not that he had experience. 

“My name is Skye.” Skye broke the silence, and the group turned their attention to her, whose eyes solely focused on Derek. 

“Hey, Skye, my name is Derek! I’m a friend of your brother’s. How old are you?” 

Skye bounced on her feet as she held up her hand, “I’m 5!’

Derek laughed at her and the team knew in that moment they couldn’t be upset with Spencer for keeping it a secret. 

“How could you not tell us you had a little sister?” JJ nudged Spencer softly, a smile playing on her lips. 

“She’s adorable!” Squealed Penelope as she joined the conversation with Derek. Spencer felt himself blushing, he wasn’t expecting such a positive response. He wrapped his arms around himself and shrugged. 

“I don’t know, I guess safety and privacy.. I told Hotch for work reasons, so he understood my household situation.” 

“Well I don’t think you’ll have to worry about her safety anymore. She’s about to have the whole team wrapped around her finger” Emily spoke and shot a smile at Spencer before she went to go introduced herself. 

An hour passed and Skye hadn’t caused any trouble. She stayed seated next to Spencer and played with her dolls. Occasionally asking him to name a location for her dolls to pretend to be, or have him play as Mr. Pebbles for a few minutes. He didn’t think twice before agreeing, not thinking of the teasing Derek would give him later. 

“Where does Mr. Pebbles wanna go?” Skye thought out loud. Spencer glanced over from his computer and smiled. Her hair was already starting to stick up in places despite his efforts to comb it down earlier. 

“Elephants can be found in 37 countries just south of the Sahara Desert. Maybe you should take him somewhere warm.” 

JJ walked by, setting a file on Derek’s desk and then onto Spencer’s. Overhearing the conversation she interjected, 

“Like the beach? It’s warm there!”

Skye looked up with much wonder in her eyes as a grin broke across her face, “The beach! Yes!” 

JJ and Spencer exchanged a smile as the child went on pretending to take her elephant to the beach. 

A little while later, Skye had insisted that Derek needed his help completing paperwork. Spencer objected at first, saying that Derek needed to focus on work but Skye swore that she would be on her best behavior. So now Skye was seated on Derek’s leg and had colored 2 pictures for him. She was currently writing his name on a paper since Derek teased that he didn’t know how to spell his own name. Spencer couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of Derek trying to fill out paperwork around the child in his lap. 

“Derek starts with a D! And this is how you write a D..” Skye stuck her tongue out in concentration, slowly writing the letter on the paper in front of her for Derek to see. He took his eyes off his files to watch the girl and smiled. 

“Are you sure that’s how you do it?” Derek teased, tickling her sides. A loud squeal left her lips followed by a laugh. 

“Yes! That’s how you write it. Spencer taught me and he’s always right.” She smiled proudly, looking back at her brother who smiled right back. 

Lunch time rolled around and Skye claimed that she wanted to sit with the girls, who happily accepted her. She shared her grapes with Penelope who had not so subtly given her multiple pieces of candy in exchange. 

“I got candy!” Skye held it up for Spencer to see. 

“Yes, you do. But why don’t we space out the pieces so you don’t get sick from eating them all at once?” Spencer stood next to her chair pushing her hair back out of her face, attempting to run his fingers through her locks. It was even more tangled than earlier and he knew it was gonna be hard to brush through later. 

“Ah, come on, genius. We know a few pieces of candy won’t kill her.” Garcia smiled, winking down at the little girl. 

“Of course it won’t. You have to eat approximately 262 fun sized bars of candy in one sitting for it to have a deadly affect.” This statement earned eye rolls from the ladies and a not so quiet giggle from the little girl as she zipped the candy up in her lunchbox. 

“So Skye, what’s your favorite thing to do?” Emily asked, eating the meal she had picked up at the beginning of the break. 

“I like drawing!” Skye looked up at Emily, her legs swinging under the table, “And Spencer gets me a lot of coloring books. There are some in my backpack, I can show you!” 

By the end of lunch time, each of the women had been assigned a coloring sheet to color. Hotch had reentered the building from his meeting and Spencer pulled Skye back to his desk, worried that Hotch would think she was causing too much trouble. But much to Spencer’s surprise, Hotch walked to his desk with a soft look in his eyes. 

“So I hear you’re Miss Skye, is that correct?” 

“Yeah, I am!” Skye sat up straight at the mention of her, something Spencer always told her to do to make sure the person knew she was acknowledging them. 

“I wanted to say thank you for coming in today and helping my team with their work. You make an excellent helper.” Hotch lifted his palm and smiled as the girl gave him a high five, “Keep up the hard work, Miss Skye. I’m counting on you” 

“Yes sir!” Skye saluted Hotch before turning her attention back to Spencer desk where she was helping Mr. Pebbles recite the ABC’s. 

Soon the paperwork filled day that everyone had dreaded coming into work for ended, and it went better than any of the team had expected. Skye had the team wrapped around her finger and they all knew it. Spencer walked to the Elevator, hand in hand with Skye who was smiling and waving at the rest of the team.

“She is just too cute” Emily remarked, smiling at Skye who had finished waving and was now talking up a storm with her brother in the elevator. 

“She is the most pure thing to ever step foot in this building, if anything happens to her I might literally die. Auntie Garcia can’t have that happen!” Penelope looked around with her eyebrows raised, confirming she was serious. Derek laughed, 

“I can’t have that happening either. But don’t worry. Spencer’s been taking good care of her. And now that we know about her,  we can help.” 

“I know exactly what we’re going to be helping him with.” JJ chortled besides Derek. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Oh please, did you see that girl’s hair? Lord knows what he’s doing to try to keep that mane contained.” JJ smiled as the group laughed in agreement.  

Back in the elevator Spencer smiled to himself, knowing that this would not be the last time that she gets to visit the team.

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid #spencer reid headcanons #dating spencer reid #reader x spencer #spencer reid x sister #spencer reid kid imagine #alana and jade imagines #requested

[afy2018]

Going Through Changes Ch. 1

[Aug. 24th, 2020]

It was very early, that Monday morning, when Sara woke up. The curtain, being partially closed, revealed the sun’s strong rays. She glanced over to her roommate, Samantha Santos, who was still sound asleep. Sara slid out of her bed and quietly got changed, taking a moment to turn off her alarm so it would not go off. She grabbed her bag and books before swiping her wallet, keys, and phone. It was almost completely quiet in the dorms. She could hear some muffled conversations as she made her way down the hall. There was a student in the lobby, working as a campus officer and another working the desk.

Sara waved and continued to the cafeteria. The campus had a few students walking around, but most were either already in class or just getting ready for another early morning class. Even the breeze was calm and tired, barely grazing through the trees. The building’s lights were still on like stars to pave the way through the university. Sara gazed at the stars that still lightly speckled the sky. She tried to find the familiar constellations before they disappeared into the daylight.

Sara made her way into the cafeteria where there were only five other students getting breakfast as they waited for their day to begin. Sara walked in line to buy a breakfast burrito and a bottle of orange juice.

She peeled back the thin shiny wrapper and made her way to her classroom. There were more students walking around as she made her way through the campus and to the F Building. The professor’s offices were mostly dark with only one person in their room - that Sara could see. She made her way to her classroom. Still fifteen minutes ahead, Sara walked into the almost empty classroom. Her Professor stood at the podium-desk next to his notes and a pile of syllabi, just waiting to start the new semester. Professor Wright was a portly old man with a bulbous nose that hooked at the end. His dark eyes were full of life as he waited for the lecture hall to fill up and the hour to pass over.

Sara sat in the middle of the hall as the seats around her quickly filled up. She was surprised to see the number of women in the class. From what she could see, there was about one girl for every three boys in there with her. The moment the thin black minute hand on the clock at the back of the classroom ticked over the twelve, Professor Wright sprung to life.

“Good morning class. Welcome back.” He called out to his students. “I would like to start with those on the waitlist. Raise your hands so I can see… who or how many I need to add,” He quickly corrected, counting the seven students on the waitlist. “Okay. After class come up and I’ll email you the add code. Now,” He sighed, grabbing a stack of papers, “time for my favorite part, the syllabus.” He handed it to a blonde boy up in the front of the row and walked back to his desk. “Now, I have a PDF on canvas if there aren’t enough to go around. The important dates and my office hours are on the front. My rules of the classroom are on the second page, my recommended resources- all free- are listed in the very back. In the middle, you will find the description for your Final, your Midterm, and your three research papers. There isn’t any homework for this class. Show up to the lectures and you will pass. I take attendance once that hand reaches 8:00. If you are late to class because of reasons you cannot control, call, text, and email in that order with evidence Like hospital wrist band, pictures of your car troubles, et cetera. Any questions?”

A few students began to ask questions. Someone asked about the way he wanted the assignments turned in, another asked about the late policy. As important as these questions and answers were, Sara felt like something was off. She glanced around the slanted beige room and found a pair of dark chocolate eyes watching her. Her father had always taught her to be vigilant to any threat, especially on campus, but as she glanced at the person staring at her, she just nodded in their direction, feeling no malice, just curiosity from them.

There was a young woman with dark brown hair pulled back in a tight bun. She had tan golden skin that was mostly covered with by a dark green sweatshirt that said “CCRI Knights”; the rest was too small for Sara to read. The woman quickly glanced at another student in the room with her, twirling her pencil around her fingers.

Sara tore her gaze away from her and focused back on her professor. Wright was talking about his thoughts on social media for some reason, making Sara wish she’d learned the context to this rant. By studying how he spoke, Sara could tell that this guy was a rambler as the reviews on Rate My Professor had warned, but he was the highest rated professor for this class, so she decided that she’d just have to sit through it. Of all types of professors to have, “The Rambler” was not the worst kind at all.

Lost in her thoughts, Sara missed whatever Professor Wright had said to end the class. She quickly gathered her belongings and headed to the cafeteria. On her way there, she passed by the art wing. There was a glinting and sparkling piece that caught her eye from one of the hallways. She followed the way down, taking a quick moment to explore the small art garden.

There was a large glittering glass mosaic wall. It was a beautiful piece reflecting the native flora and fauna of New Jersey. There was a deer and a fox by the river with a fish hopping out. The colors were beautiful, with iridescent glass on the birds and trees, bronze for the deer, and a fiery amber for the fox.

Sara glanced at her phone to check the time, she still had an hour and forty minutes until her next class, great to get food from Jeepers. She headed back out of the art garden and to the casual restaurant. Sara had been there before because it came with her meal plan. Jeepers was a fun place with a lot of seating for the students. She kind of wondered how busy it was going to be.

Walking into Jeepers, Sara spotted a familiar face by the windows on the barstool. It was that girl in the forest green sweater. Even though her back was turned to her, Sara could still tell it was her. She decided to grab a bite before the lines got too long and sit next to her. They could swap numbers just in case either of them missed a class.

Sara walked in line and ordered an Asian chicken wrap, grabbed a bag of original Skinny Pop, a banana, and a bottle of water. She waited behind a string bean guy who could not have been any taller than Sara herself. He had a slight frame with messy brown hair. When he turned to look back at Sara, she first noticed his thick sharp brown eyebrows, then his wide and inviting smile.

“Hey.” He greeted.

“Hey, how’s it going?”

The young man shrugged and grabbed his food. “Pretty good. I just got out of my first college class.” He finished with an excited smile.

Sara couldn’t help but smile back. “So this is your first year?” She asked paying for her meal.

“Yeah! I’m Barry, Barry Allen.” He introduced, quickly reaching over to shake her hand.

“Hey, Barry, I’m Sara Lance.” She smiled. “I’m a Junior here.”

“Really?”

“Yup.” She answered, taking her food and thanking the cashier. “Did you get the turkey club?”

“Yeah, why?”

“No reason.” She shrugged, “Bye Barry.”

“Wait, why?” He asked again.

Sara chuckled to herself, just pulling his leg. She walked to the window where her classmate was sitting and took the spot to her left. The girl looked at Sara, tearing her focus away from the textbook in front of her.

“Hey, you’re in my Ethics class right?” Sara inquired.

“Yeah, I’m Nyssa.” She greeted, closing her book.

“Sara, without an H.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“So Criminal Justice major, too?”

“Yeah. I’m here for my masters before I join the UN Security Force.”

“Same here, but I want to join the CIA or the FBI. What’s the UN Security Force?”

“The part I want to join in is the Blue Berets, it’s their armed forces. They’re also known as the Peacekeepers. They help protect people like the victims of African raiders and ISIS.”

“Wow.”

“What about you?”

“I want to become an agent. Hey, do you want to swap numbers, you know just in case one of us misses class?”

“Oh, yeah, sounds good to me.”

Sara reached into her backpack and pulled out a pencil and pad of sticky notes. She quickly jotted down her phone number, email, and name before peeling it off and handing it to Nyssa.

“So what’s CCRI?” She asked while entering the number into her phone.

“Community College of Rhode Island.”

“Oh wow, that’s a long ways away.”

“Yeah, but I really wanted to get out of there,” Nyssa sighed. “What about you. Where are you from?”

“New York.”

“Wow, I’ve always wanted to go there! What’s it like?”

“I mean, it’s a mix. One moment you’re in the city and the next you’re in the suburban hills, then you’re in another state. What about Rhode Island, I’ve never been there.”

“I mean, really it’s a tiny state that it mostly a bay then another state almost right away.” She joked, glancing at the clock on her phone. “Well, I have to go. I’ll see you around, Sara.”

“See you, Nyssa.” Sara smiled, not partaking in her meal as Nyssa walked away.

As Nyssa walked away, Sara’s phone went off in her pocket. A text lit up from her phone with the message “Hey Sara, it’s Nyssa.”

Sara texted back, “Hey, dude”, before adding her into her contacts as, ‘Nyssa (The Cute Girl)’. She glanced at her phone and continued to eat her lunch.

~~~~~~~~~~

It was her third and final class of the day and Sara was actually kind of glad. She walked to the building and went down the hallway to her last class. She was glad to have ceramics between her major classes because it was a nice break. Sara walked into the classroom and sat down in the middle with a few other students. She set up her belongings, getting ready to write down her schedule and organized her planner, highlighting the two syllabi she placed on her desk. Someone tapped on her shoulder, making Sara glance up at them. It was Nyssa again. Sara quickly moved her backpack out of the chair next to her and smiled up at her.

“You stalking me, Nyssa?” She joked.

“I mean you saved me a spot.” She taunted back. “Were you expecting me?”

Sara chuckled and went back to fixing her planner as their teacher spoke to a few students. She glanced at her phone, two minutes before class, and their professor had already begun to hand out the syllabus and a few other papers. Once they made their round to Sara and Nyssa, it seemed that the extra papers were meant to introduce the students to their teacher. It was a Getting-to-Know-You page off of the internet. Sara filled out the survey and re-read her answers again.

“Alright, I want you to go to seven people and learn their name and one thing off of that paper.” He proclaimed, sitting back in his chair.

Sara turned to Nyssa and asked, “What was your first pet’s name?”

“Levi, he was a frog. What about you?”

“I had a Canary named Tweedie.”

“Like Tweety bird?”

“Yeah.” Sara chuckled writing Nyssa’s answer by the question.

She then went to a six other classmates of hers, learning that a boy named Nicola was born in Montana, a girl named Denise is a Pisces, another boy named James wanted to be a farmer growing up, Rachel has four siblings, Evan would want to rename himself, Charles, and Alex played bass in a Math-Rock band. It was fun, much more fun than Sara thought it would be. She was glad that she could keep the paper, it was interesting to learn more about her peers. As their class ended, they packed their belongings and began out the door.

“Hey, Nyssa, you wanna get something to eat at the cafeteria?” Sara asked, trying to catch up with her.

“Oh, yeah.”

“So, judging by your community college, I’m guessing that you’re not a local.” Sara wondered on their way.

“Yeah, I’m staying in University Court.”

“Really? Me, too. I’m in building 8.”

“Building 2.”

“So, what are you getting?”

“I haven’t tried their pasta choices yet.” Nyssa shrugged.

“Might I recommend the manicotti? It’s stuffed with ricotta and Italian sausage. It’s really filling.”

“How much do you get?” Nyssa asked pulling out her wallet.

“Like,” Sara began trying to size it up with her hands, “this big, and you get two.”

“Wow… I mean I’ve never had the manicotti?”

“Yeah, and they’re really good. Especially the ones they make here.”

“I think I’ll get it then. What about you?”

Sara glanced at the menu and shrugged. “I’m gonna get a burrito, or… nah, I’ll just stick with a Ceasar salad. After this, we should head back to the dorms.”

“Oh, why?”

“They close at 8:30.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s in, like, fifteen minutes.” Nyssa nodded before going up to order.

“So,” Sara began, unfolding a paper in her pocket, “while our food’s getting ready. ‘What is your favorite holiday?’”

“The questionnaire?”

“Yup.”

“Halloween. You?”

“Christmas.”

“Wasn’t one of the questions, like, what’s your least favorite holiday?”

“Yeah, mine’s Christmas again.”

“Why?”

Because my birthday’s Christmas day and it’s kind of annoying to constantly be compared to Jesus by religious friends, the antichrist by regular friends, and a Christmas miracle by distant family.”

“I bet you only got Christmas presents, too. Not much of a birthday celebration?”

“Yeah. No parties either because everyone traveled for the holidays.”

“So,” Nyssa asked glancing at the paper. “You can hotwire a car?”

“Yeah.”

“How’d you learn that?”

“From some friends in high school.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. What’s a weird fact about you?”

“Well, it’s not really weird more as it’s just a fact about me.”

“Anything will do.”

“Well, I did jujitsu until high school.”

“Really? Why’d you stop?” Sara asked grabbing their food.

“I started wrestling. It became too much to play a sport and do another one outside of school. Did you play any sports in high school?”

“No, but I did use to fight. It helped that had learned some basic skills from my dad.”

“Wait, like fist fighting?”

“Yeah, I’d fight for money.”

“Wow, were you good?”

“My stats were pretty good. I could beat most people, but I wasn’t great, just had a lot of stamina.”

“I did not expect that from you, you look like… well like…”

“A princess? Yeah, just to the public, but in private I’m not so nice and proper.” She joked.

“Are you a secret queen of underground fighting rings?”

“Depends, are you gonna 21 Jump Street me?”

Nyssa rolled her eyes and took a bite of the manicotti. “Oh wow, that’s pretty damn good!”

“I know right?” Sara chuckled looking at the paper again. “So, we did one weird fact, siblings?”

“I have an older sister, Talia, and a younger brother, Saracon.” She told her, rounding the corner to University Court.

“I have an older sister, too, Laurel.”

“So what’s she up to?”

“She’s a lawyer. Right now she’s working for a small company. Last time she texted me, she said that she was getting ready for her first case defending a divorce settlement.”

“Wow, my sister works for my Dad’s business and my brother’s kind of AWOL, well to my dad and Talia, that is. My turn.” Nyssa said changing the subject to look at the paper. “If you could rename yourself what would it be?”

“Sara with an H.”

“So people don’t-”

“Don’t get my name wrong, yeah. What about you?”

“Amaal, I don’t know I just wrote down a random name.”

“Why Amaal first?”

“It’s a common name in my community.” She shrugged as they came upon the dorms. “Well, this is my stop.”

“Mine, too.”

“See you on Wednesday?”

“Yeah, I’m not planning on dropping any classes, so.”

“Alright, night, Sara without an H.”

“Night, Amaal,” Sara smirked, going to her dorm.

She went into the dorm and began to room 124. She took out her card key and placed it against the sensor, waiting for the beep, the green light, and the sound of the lock clicking out of place. She walked into the low lit room to see her roommate and “Big Sister” Sam Santos on her bed with her blankets pulled up her legs, her laptop slapped onto her stomach as she typed something onto the keyboard. Her hood was pulled over her head. She glanced around her device at Sara and gave her a large smile and closed the lid. Sam sat up and took a swig from her hydro flask.

“How was the first day?”

“Good. I met a new student who’s in my first and last class.”

“Cool.”

“What about you?”

“Very easy, so far.” She smirked brandishing her laptop.

“When’s your next class?”

“Well I have an online lecture at 9 and then an art class at noon, and finally my history classes back to back from 2 to 6.”

“I have the same schedule.”

“I don’t know how you do the early bird-night owl schedule.” Sam huffed.

“I enjoy it. Hey, when’s our first meeting?”

“It’s Sunday at noon. We have to sign up for shifts for Club Day.”

“Don’t we also have to elect a new leader?”

“Oh yeah, well, in the Spring.”

“Ally texted me that she wanted to start early.” Sara inquired, looking at her phone. “Dina said that they were talking about it… anyway, I don’t know though.”

“They’ll decide soon enough.” Sam sighed looking down at her laptop and opened it up again. “Oh, so about your new friend, what’s she like?”

“She’s nice and weirdly serious and laid back at the same time.”

“Sounds mysterious.”

“I don’t know about that. She’s a criminal justice major like myself,” Sara shrugged pulling on her pajamas, “she seems kind of nerdy though.”

“Sounds like a good girl,” Sam noted peeking up from her laptop.

Sara paused halfway pulling her shirt on. “It’s not like that.”

“Okay, okay, that’s not what you said about Riley Appletree.”

“First of all, it’s Riley Oglesbee. Second, he wasn’t too bad.”

“He was one of the messiest people I had ever met.”

“I liked him, he was really nice.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah… we went out to sushi a lot.” Sara shrugged.

“You liked him because he took you out for food and bought you stuff.”

“Yup.” She huffed sliding onto her bed.

“Honestly, I don’t blame you… but I do judge you.” Sam chuckled opening up a bag of kettle corn Popchips.

“You know I can’t let just you eat those.”

“I know.” She nodded scooting over for Sara.

#Nyssara #Arrow #Arrowverse #Nyssa al Ghul #sara lance #lgbt #fanfic #femslash #wlw #sfw fanfic

[gukptune]

— i never asked (m.)

Pairing: jimin x reader

Genre: highschool!au, volleyballplayer!jimin, friends to lovers to enemies, angsty smut

Warnings: explicit language, mentions of abuse, abusive behaviour, semi-dom jimin, brief explicit sex, jimin’s dirty mouth and prying hands.

Summary: you watch everyday when park jimin leaves the gym with bruises and cuts on his face...he tells you it’s just practice, things get rough, you didn’t believe that a simple practice could result in broken bones. so you do whatever it takes to know the truth.

Words: 4k~

Note: eeek!! as you read you will understand why i wrote things the way i did! hope you enjoyed this fun little experiment into angst and domestic shit!!!

There he is again, struggling to carry his backpack and gym bag stumbling out of the gym with fresh new bandages. The ivory white bandages wrapped around both his wrists tightly, your eyes barely managing to catch the thicker bloodied one hidden underneath his black knee pads.

You knew he usually takes them off, but today he kept them on to hide what happened in the gym. You always knew it was sketchy, you’ve seen it nearly every day for the last year.

You may have been nosy for always watching the boy’s volleyball team leave the gym after their practice but you wanted to see if what the students mumbled about were true. If those rumours were true you were bound to do something about it.

You also had an excuse to be here, you were the school paper’s photographer. Whenever you’d lack any kind of event or drama to keep record of you’d be wandering around inside the gym for the beginning of practice. Of course during this time the coach wouldn’t be showing any kind of suspicious activity, the boys only running laps and stretching. 

Until you left, you could hear the whistle rip through your ear drums signalling that the real practice was about to begin. You could hear it, the thunderous claps of the ball against the waxed hardwood floor and against the poor team’s skin.

You’ve been trying for so long to stay through the entire practice but the coach would always make an excuse for you to leave, something along the lines of ‘the boys practice hard, the ball might hurt you’. It was ridiculous, even parents weren’t allowed to watch.

You were bound to get something on that cruel man, Coach Kim. He treated the students like peasants. The boy’s were his soldiers, being thrown around in the court for his own ego—when they’d win, Coach Kim would get praised. All the glory would go to him, because he’d ‘coached them to victory’.

It was sad that faculty and parents couldn’t see past the ex-champion himself to see their students and kids suffer. But of course, they didn’t see that shit that man did at games. The team would win, always. Breathing heavy sighs of relief as if they had managed to slip out of trouble.

Rumours were if they’d lost their punishment could result in broken bones.

The parents and faculty didn’t see the fresh marks left on them as they left their practice. You heard that they’d blame themselves, saying it was their fault to their parents who blindly take it trusting in the vile Coach.

What could a Gold Olympic Medalist do wrong, right?

Everything.

He’d pray on the weak to better his ego, his pride, to look like he was the pacifist taking in students in need. Reality would reveal the exact opposite.

Biting your tongue, you take the leans cap off your camera, setting your camera to snap a picture of the team’s libero, Park Jimin. 

Through the mirror display of your camera you couldn’t help but feel guilty. Feeling guilty for using him as evidence, he didn’t deserve to be in this position, none of them did but to you he was different than all of them.

So different.

Watching as he walks himself towards the main building, he leaves the school entirely. You still sat on the halfly wet bench, soaked from the rain shower earlier today. Feeling your shoulders drop with failure, another day, another wound yet nothing has changed.

You’d hope that one day, with enough evidence of the student’s wounds you could convince them all that it would be better to destroy that man’s life. You needed to start with him, with Jimin.

The morning came with another sprinkle of rain. Umbrella’s curtaining the sky when you come out of the train station in front of school. Students dressed in hoodies instead of blazers due to the colder air, no teacher would hassle shivering kids.

You put your wet outdoors shoes into the shoe locker, pulling out your slippers to halt at the sight of the brunette Class President. Known as well as the volleyball team’s Captain, Libero and the head of the student council. He was also your boss.

“Good Morning,” Jimin smiled, his ever so enthusiastic and intoxicating personality immediately drawing many’s attention. He was looking at you though, was he directing the greeting towards you.

Slippers in hand, you blinked mindlessly at him. Realising after a few seconds of staring that he was waiting for a response from you.

Dropping your slippers to the ground, trying your best to replicate his smile in return, “Morning to you too.”

Jimin’s smile somehow got bigger, “You look great today, by the way.”

He turns towards his own shoe locker, proceeding to change out of his outdoors shoes. Your breath hitched with his compliment, a hand brushing over the crown of your head at the braid you spend your entire morning on. Heat rushing to your cheeks, someone had given you a compliment already, and it was Park Jimin who did that.

You didn’t know how to respond to that, murmuring a quick thank you to him. Your slippers slipped onto your light pink socks and a book bag in hand, you didn’t know if it would be polite to just leave entirely. He was also in the way you were heading.

With himself ready for class, he turns to you with a surprised expression. He must’ve not expected to you still be here. His eyes drop to the camera hanging over your neck, proceeding to look around.

“Want to walk to class together?” Jimin suggests, already turning his body to leave.

Well, you weren’t about to say no to your class president, as awkward as this was you opted to not pay attention to other prying eyes. You politely nod, allowing him to take the lead.

In silence, you two walked towards your homeroom, which you shared. The halls were mostly quiet with low chatter. Students were rather respectful in this sense.

Jimin’s eyes again, peaking from the side, eyeing your camera, “You take your job very seriously, I commend you for that.”

He was definitely referring to how you always had your camera on you. It was always either around your neck, in your hands or at least near you. Always ready to capture every moment. If only he knew what the true purpose of always having it out was.

“Thanks,” You replied, “But I mostly seem to because I enjoy it.”

Not completely a lie, nor it was completely the truth.

Jimin chuckles, “If only everyone in student council would enjoy their job like you. You should’ve stayed within the main body, we would at least get things done that way.”

You knew what he meant, exactly what he meant. Your closest friend was the student council’s treasurer, therefore she deals with how the funds are spent. Most of the time spent in the student council room is spent arguing amongst themselves and getting nothing done. As President, Jimin is seen as a delightful prince, never seen to do any wrong in the eyes of everyone yet somehow during meetings he couldn’t get anyone to agree on their discussions. Of course you didn’t know what goes on there, you were only apart of the branched student council. Leading the school paper, which was more of a school article.

Only having a few members due to the demands and little rewards of the club. No matter, at least you knew anyone who joined cared enough about writing, photography and journalism.

“Well you guys did manage to get the donations up for charity, right?” You said, “Being able to organise a full friendly volleyball match with your rival and even winning.”

Jimin huffs, tightening up his tie, “Right. It wasn’t difficult by any means, Coach showed up at the game and donations rolled in by the parents.”

He seemed trouble by this. You felt selfish, bringing up Volleyball in hopes that he would somehow slip and tell the truth. With that you recalled the wounds he had yesterday, of which they were all covered up by his uniform. The limp didn’t go unnoticed by you though.

“But you still won, it was all you.”

“Coach lead us through the game, as always,” He strains, biting his lip.

Even outside the court, the team members had to ride the coach’s dick at all times. It made you fume.

Jimin shakes his head, giving you a tight smile as you reached the entrance to homeroom, “Nevermind that, you’ve been taking pictures during practice right?”

You nod, wondering where he was aiming.

“Would you mind if I look through them...with you?” Jimin asks, his charm playing well to get him what he wants, “If that’s okay with you.”

“Sure.”

It was easy to say yes to him. His tight smile breaks, finally giving you the same expression he gave you this morning. Allowing your shoulders to slack off the nerves and unease for trust, in him. He thanks you, walking into homeroom without you.

You wonder if he wanted to see how he looked in those pictures, Park Jimin was not that narcissistic to care for how he looks in lame school papers.

Transferring all the data from your SD card was probably the most boring part of your job, you just sit and wait. Of course with the help of your fingers tapping away at your phone to cure the boredom at least a little.

Your laptop already overheating from the bare minimum, fantastic.

Sighing, you drop your phone against the desk centre of the studio. In your school paper studio, which most just refer to as the studio, the tables were set in a rather meeting like configuration for teamwork purposes. Allowing all the members to work around eachother and have easy conversation, also being centre of the room meant it was easy to have presentations of future projects when the board is right in front of you.

Being the head of the school paper meant you sat at the head of the table obviously, but everyone had left by now. Only you and your computer warming the room at this point.

A few knocks breaks you out of your trance, turning around you lay eyes on Jimin, leaning against the frame of the door. In his hands the keycard used by student council members to get into the studio and other rooms. Only the important figures had it, of course Jimin would have one too.

“Still working hard I see.” His pushes off the frame, shutting the door behind him with a click.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, you weren’t actually doing anything at all, “Sitting around is totally working hard.”

Jimin’s face seems to tell you that he appreciates the little bander you had, instead of the nervous awkward back and forth you had every now and then. You were only able to be so bold due to the fact that you two were alone, very alone.

He settles himself in, pulling a chair next to you instead of sitting in one of the unoccupied ones around the table in formation. He sat himself very close to you, maybe even uncomfortably close. He was leaning in to your laptop with a mission.

“You really want to see those pictures, huh?”

“I’m just curious.”

You ignored the others pictures loading, if you remembered correctly he wanted to see the photos from the most previous practice. Opening up your files you entered the code to access it before clicking to open all the photos.

“Do you want it up on the projector or—”

“It’s fine like this,” He rushes.

Alright then, you kept going. Enlarging the pictures to fit the screen, his curiosity seemed to grow. He was breathing down your neck at this point. From the corner of your eyes you could see how he looked extremely determined.

That was when you clicked past so many pictures to land on one that seemed to peak his interest, Jimin loses as sense of manner, swiping your hand out of the way. You were forced back on your seat, watching him zoom in on the photo, his shoulders tensed up right away.

“What is it?”

Jimin stutters, clicking randomly before he speaks up, “Could you delete this?”

“What, why?”

“Just delete it.”

You didn’t understand why, trying to get a look at the photo that had suddenly made him so defensive. Yet, he wasn’t allowing you to, his fingers diligently trying to delete it himself.

“Fuck! Why can’t I delete this.” It seemed like he was mumbling to himself, nearly everything on your laptop was passworded and backed up anyways. You didn’t worry about loosing the picture but more worried of what’s making him this way.

“Jimin—let me see.”

You push him out of the way finally to lay your eyes on the photo he’d been so keen on keeping to himself. Your chest clenches, staring at the photo. Jimin seemed to have noticed your change as well, he begins to breathe heavily and look back and forth between you and the image.

“Is this what it looks like?”

“Of course not! It’s not—it’s—” “It looks like the coach is threatening your teammate Jimin.” That was exactly portrayed in the photo, the extremely zoomed in photograph. The coach with his hand around a poor boy’s collar, choking him whilst his other hand held a volleyball threatening pushing it up against his face. The coach’s face was red, strained, veins popping out of his neck. It was undeniable, this was evidence. You wouldn’t never noticed this yourself. 

What worried you most was the fact that Jimin, did all of this to try to get the picture removed. He knew what the coach did, he lets the coach get away with it, burying the truth as well. 

“He’s not, y/n, don’t make things up!” He bursts out of his chair, giving you quite the fright.

You didn’t understand why he was so angry at you, you weren’t the ones abusing his teammates, “What else does this look like to you!”

“Nothing, it looks like nothing, just fucking delete it.”

“No.”

His face twists, as if he’s just been betrayed. His eyes drape down from this standing form towards you, a fist in hand, sending shivers down you back. Was he going to hurt you? Class President Park Jimin, golden boy, sweetheart truly can be terrifying.

“Just delete it, y/n. It makes things easier.”

“Easier? What easier? The fact that you, the team captain that should have your teammates backs let the coach get away with shit like this—”

“It’s not that—”

“He hurts you too, you think I don’t see it. I have pictures—”

“Fuck!” He runs his hand through his perfectly gelled hair, rustling it apart, allowing himself to look undone and frustrated. He bends over, gripping the desk allowing his white knuckles to blister red, “Why do you have to pester.”

“It’s my job.”

Jimin spits out a mocking chuckle, “Your job? I’m technically your boss, y/n, so shouldn’t you do what I say, as a good little employee?”

Little, he’s speaking as if he was looking down at you. Like you were insignificant, you were, to him. Only today did he finally notice you, to gain something. You were dumb enough to think, you were worth him.

“So do you job, do what I tell you, and delete everything—” His hand brushing away the hair that had fallen down off your braid behind your shoulder, his fingers tickling at the skin of your cheek. The hand that slides down your face, rolling into your neck with a tight grip, you nearly choke from the pressure, “Okay, pretty girl?”

Yours eyes sting with tears, gripping onto his wrist with your own hands trying to pry him off, “Jimin—stop you’re hurting me.”

His eyes were tinted red, without any expression he only watches you suffocate. Only when your eyes shut and you cried out did he snap out of it, dropping you onto the ground.

“Why don’t you just do as you’re told!”

“I care more for what’s right than my job, Jimin!”

Sobbing you pat the floor, seeing your own tears littering the marble floor. Jimin on the other hand, stares at his hand with blood shot eyes realising what he had nearly done.

“Y/n, shit, I’m so sorry,” He pleads, dropping on his knees. You flinch away from him, his eyes widening with fear.

“Why—why did you do that,” You weeped, “Just for a photo, I can’t—who are you.”

It finally sank in, all the shit that had built up inside Jimin finally comes out, yet he releases his frustrations on the wrong person, you.

You begin to stand from your fallen position, legs shaking you held onto the table for balance. You were able to hold yourself up from this point, ignoring the boy beside you, you just wanted to go home now.

Grabbing your bag off the floor, Jimin finally sees what you’re trying to do. 

“Y/n, please don’t leave.” Jimin tries again. His voice calm and soothing. You didn’t want to look at him, knowing that if you did it was over and he’d have won.

You can feel warmth lingering by your wrist, his palm flat against it encasing your wrist in his hand, “Hey, I’m sorry, I don’t know what got into me.”

His breath fans over the shell of your ears, he was right behind you, lingering. He rubs his thumb into your wrist, hoping it will calm you, sooth you of course. He’s good at that.

He pushes himself against your back, nudging his head into the crook of your neck, “Y/n—I never fucking asked for this.”

The hair he’d pushed away previously allowing him to pepper kisses up your neck to your jaw. Freezing up, you didn’t know how to react to such affection from him.

“Please—just delete those pictures and we’ll be fine.”

You whip yourself to face him, his hand falling off your wrist during it. He looks down at you with the that expression again, pity, disdain, showing the slightest impatience.

“That’s all you want, isn’t it.”

“It is.”

You bite your tongue, wanting to lash out at him but knowing it wouldn’t do anything at all. Especially now that you were still on the fence on whether you could trust him.

You sigh, closing your laptop, “I’m just—I’m going to leave.”

Of course he was faster than you. He knew that you weren’t so easy to verbally convince, “I locked the door, y/n.”

“I have a key too.”

Jimin was quick to change that, trapping you in using his body. He pushes himself against you, his crotch right up against your bottom, he fishes for the key card before you could take it.

Ripping it from the belt loop of your skirt, he tosses it behind him, “You don’t have one anymore.”

Feeling confused, he was manhandling you again. It was so easy to him. Yet, the feeling of his strangely prominent bulge up against yourself, you didn’t want to move.

His hand flat against your shoulder, he runs it down your back towards the hem of your shirt. Following the curve of your body when he stops at something he likes, way too much.

“They’ve said stuff, that you have a crush on me,” Jimin mutters, “Is that true?”

You swallow hard, you were unsure what he was trying to get out of you again, but you nod anyways.

“Good,” Jimin grunts, “Can I convince you to delete those pictures then?”

It was better than him exploding again, “Convince me how.”

“I could kiss you, finger you? Eat you out or—” He sucks on the sensitive part of your neck, “I could also fuck you?”

You twitch, unknowingly bucking your hips back into him. Hissing to yourself, how could you just do that.

“So you’re keen, fuck, I would be lying if I said I didn’t want this either.” He pushes the hem of your skirt up, revealing the shorts you wore underneath, he could still get a good look of your bottom and lining of your thong, “If you want this, you tell me, I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do.”

You think over it, was this right. He was going fuck you to get you to delete those pictures. How was he okay with this—

“Y/n, I don’t have all day, pretty girl.”

“Okay.”

“Okay...”

“We have a deal, I’ll delete the pictures if you—”

“Kiss you? Finger you, eat you out or fuck you?” He teases.

“All of that.”

He lets out a staggered breath, “Fuck, alright. We have a deal.”

The evening proceeds to drift into a blur. Lips against one another in such heat and rush, it felt like flame ablaze. He didn’t hold back, nor did you. Stripped clothes thrown amidst the studio without a care, lips attached on lip, sucking and nipping.

Hands gripping onto each other’s skin enough to bruise. More flesh and more skin against one another allowing heat to brew between you. He didn’t even bother with the skirt, keeping it on as he fucked himself into you like an animal starved, the crinkling fabric shielding both of your eyes from the motions.

His eyes were burning elsewhere, burning into yours like he doesn’t want the moment to end. His hand holding your hip against his to feel as his ridges and thrusts. The other caressing your neck, crooking it upwards as if he wanted you to only look into his eyes as you became undone.

His hand were unresting, palming your ass cheek as if he wanted to rip the thing off. As he rolls into you with his cock, he guides your body with his hands to meet his pace. It was a lot, too much for a little room to hold the sounds.

He sucks at your skin like it was his, holds you like he doesn’t want you to go and looks at you like a love he can’t have. 

It didn’t slip past you, the way he only took his pants half off, completely covering his knee. His shirt was unbutton by your doing, his packed stomach bruised at the sides. Whenever you’d slip your hands underneath his shirt to feel him, he’d moan, only in certain spots did he whimper in pain not pleasure.

He was closed off. Only mumbling out dirty things for himself, calling you pet names under his breath, ‘pretty girl’, ‘good girl’.  

He wasn’t quiet by any means, after he was unable to hold himself back anymore.

The bandages on his wrist rolled up when he held onto your cheeks when he came, staring into your eyes as he fucks the cum out of you for your own release. He didn’t notice them himself, he was so drunk on pleasure. His growing hair brushing against your forehead when he sucks your lips into his before it ends with peppered kisses and sweet nothings.

He puts himself together without a word, leaving you slouched over the desk watching him. He was catching his breath yet he seemed in a hurry. He wouldn’t dare to look at you, trying your best to put back together the nearly torn apart uniform from Jimin’s doing. The rising sense of shame, how would you ever look into the studio the same way again.

His tossed backpack over his shoulder, he glances at you once before he leaves the room. His shoulders tensed, he didn’t even bother waiting for you, or even waiting for a response. He only a few words he muttered, reminding you that all he did was for gain, those words that made you feel worse than you already did.

“Don’t forget, y/n, please.”

#park jimin #jimin #bts #jimin smut #jimin angst #bts smut #bts angst

[n0-eyedtaissa]

Lethal Charm: Chapter Two (Serial Killer!Reggie Mantle AU)

Disclaimer: This story is in no way intended to romanticize Bundy or his crimes, all details about victims and their death have been tweaked and changed out of respect for the deceased + as a loose attempt to follow canon.

Warnings: Mentions of drinking/smoking, blood, depictions of violence/death.

Word Count: 6,634

A police siren rings out in high-pitched bleats that are long and loud enough to make people in the surrounding areas press their palms flat against their ears to muffle the sound. Blue and red lights cast over the front of the building, illuminating the circle of squad cars clustered together as they waited for the coroner’s van to pull up to the scene. There usually wasn’t all that much excitement around the UW campus; school security officials held their police scanner radios close to their chests and wished for better circumstances. 

There’s blood on her bed — Midge Klump’s bed. Her pink silk sheets are dried and stuck together from where the blood soaked through the fabric. The dorm room is thick with the smell of it. One of the officers was wondering if the girl bled to death, another said that if the victim bled out, “You’d know. This ain’t nothin’” There’s a white nightgown hung up over one of the drain-pipes, bobbing and weaving on the man-made breeze that came with so many people bounding in and out of the basement bedroom. The fabric is old and weathered, a hole worn into the side seam, a browning ring of dried blood around the neck. A crime scene photographer flits around the room, taking pictures of any and all little inconsistencies, anything that could be used as evidence eventually. 

There’s pictures of the nightgown in the newspaper that week; the dried blood, the broken lock on the basement door. Midge’s pillowcase was gone. So was her backpack and a handful of clothes. Her body was not at the scene of the crime. 

“You listen to me, and you listen good now: The same bastard who attacked that little girl at the beginning of last month has now taken Midge Klump. People saw him. He was outside of both houses.” The city had started up a help line, open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week for University students and surrounding people of the neighborhood to call in case they remembered something, or came across any other shady behavior. There was a few crank calls, some kids are just bored and downright twisted, but it was mostly helpful information. Suspect was an Asian male, 26 to 28. Little over 6 foot. Muscular build. A few of the neighbors had seen the perp lurking around the area in a little VW Beetle. 

Midge Klump was the textbook definition of a “Nice Girl”. She was bread and butter, had a small but tight-knit family that mattered to her more than anything. Never having been the girl in the spotlight, Midge flourished in college, no longer kept at bay by fruitless fake friends turned home-town enemies. She let her hair down, found her voice; when she got to the University of Washington she decided to do things that would challenge her comfort zone. The first week of school she got her hair cut short by a student beautician in the lounge of the girl’s dormitory, the next week she found herself writing her name and phone number down on the sign-up sheet for the university’s theatre program, and after smoking a little bit of pot, Midge actually had the guts to audition. She’s first understudy in the Spring Musical…it hits a little too close to home, but she’s always appreciative that she’s even able to be apart of the action. 

She was diligent and hard working; never all that much of partier, always made sure she got a recommended eight hours of sleep, always was looking bright-eyed at her professors as she sat in the front row for their early morning lectures. Midge was full of promise and life, something that was agreed upon by anyone who encountered her, regardless of their relation to her. She was a pillar in the inner-workings of the UW theater troupe, helped with the outreach program in place at the local elementary school; Midge liked helping the kids out so much that on Monday she bounded into the admin building asking for the paperwork to fill out to declare her major in Child & Adolescent Development Studies. Midge thought she was gonna be an actress…and a teacher…and a Mother. She would have been great at anything she set her sights on. She could have been, but that was taken from her. 

After it happened, the police made a comprehensive timeline of Midge’s whereabouts leading up to her disappearance. The cops were trying to cover all of their bases, talking to all of Midge’s friends and housemates, her shift supervisor, her store manager, her professor; anyone who had seen her in the hours before her disappearance. The officers were aggressive, trying to leave no stone unturned as they grilled on about Midge’s life, asking if there was anyone who would want to hurt Midge. Each person that was questioned swore up and down that Midge didn’t have any enemies, that she wasn’t that kind of girl. Whether their statements were a correct testimony to the circumstances behind the girl’s disappearance was a different story though, because the police pressed on further. There was a big suspect board tacked up on the bulletin board down at the station, though it was looking a little blank. Midge’s senior portrait from high school was posted up in the middle of it all, blue string connecting to the crime scene photos; the bloodied nightgown swaying eerily from where it was hooked onto the drain pipe, the Midge-shaped indent in a vacant bed, the broken lock — Sheriff said it looked like the perp cut the pad-lock with bolt cutters. Besides the old portrait of the missing girl and the sparse number of crime scene photos, the only other solidified evidence the police were working with was an outline of the victim’s confirmed whereabouts:

[1:35 PM] KLUMP leaves place of residence to commence her walk to campus; roommate confirms that victim was running late. [1:50 PM] Victim sets foot on the University of Washington campus, due east towards the Humanities building. [2:00 PM] University Professor MARY ANDREWS confirms that KLUMP was present for attendance and through the class period. [4:45 PM] KLUMP exits building, heads north towards the Student Union [4:50] KLUMP sits down for coffee with KEVIN KELLER, the two started discussions about the upcoming musical theatre production 

—

Midge slung her schoolbag over her shoulder, taking in a deep breath between her teeth as she quickened her pace. A brief glance at her watch was enough to alert her that she was late, officially having left Kevin hanging for approximately three minutes and forty-five seconds. Kevin Keller was a theater major and it was obvious, but despite his grand talents and his ability to match pitch, he saw something in Midge from the first day she walked into the  auditions for Guys & Dolls. He didn’t give her the part of Sarah Brown, but she ended up being the understudy. After one of the dormitory buildings goes under quarantine for mono, Midge ended up in the spotlight for the closing night of the musical; her rendition of "I've Never Been In Love Before” garnered a full standing ovation. Kevin sure had his clipboard handed to him, not casting Midge in the first place. He was determined to rectify that this semester, even if he was doing it for somewhat of a selfish reason: The department head said that if the musical pulled good numbers this season, he'd work with Kevin on a plan for expanding the budget and allotting more funds to be applied to costume and set design for future productions. Kevin hated to say it out loud, but he needed Midge. He sees her hobbling towards him across the quad and sends a polite, tight-lipped smile her way as he waited for her to approach. 

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Midge apologizes, fluttering into the area on a gust of wind. She huffs and reaches a frazzled hand up to pet down the loose hairs of her bangs, flinging her book bag onto the wooden table, “My Professor decided that the perfect time to hand back midterm papers was the last five minutes of a three hour class and demanded to talk to everybody about the grade that they got”. Midge rolled her eyes before smoothing down the back of her skirt in order to sit across from Kevin. He finds her personality to be endearing but this was more of a business meeting than a friendly gathering and Kevin meant business. 

“That’s not a problem,” Kevin brushes off her tardiness with a homegrown smile and a small sip of his cappuccino. “I actually had something that I had been meaning to discuss with you…about the upcoming musical.” 

Midge’s eyebrow raised in inquisition, “Did you and Fogarty decide on what production’s gonna be put on?” It’d been a point of tension for the small troupe of students for a few months now, since people started hearing whispers about casting rumors. 

Kevin sat up a little straighter and cleared his throat, “On behalf of the entire theater department, I’d like to —informally— announce that this spring we’ll be putting on a production of,” Kevin does a mock drumroll against the table, “Bye Bye Birdie!” His megawatt smile beams over at Midge as she clapped her hands excitedly. 

“Oh that’s so exciting!” She tittered, the toes of her sandals tapping excitedly against the pavement. Midge was quite pleased, two weeks ago when the little paper ballots were handed out, she checked the little box besides the classic show before folding it neatly in half and handing it to Kevin. The group was an uneven split and Midge was sure that the co-director’s choice was going to win the draw, but she was in luck! 

The initial excitement wore off pretty fast, and as the two college sophomores knew virtually nothing about each other besides a shared joy for acting, things quickly grew awkward. Kevin looked across the table at Midge, who’s smile had faded to more of a grimace. “And!” He clapped his hands together like one of the excited tour guides that led groups of potential students around the school grounds. 

“And?” Midge questions, eyebrow raising with inquisition. 

“I wanted to talk to you about casting,” Kevin started earnestly. “I know that with the last production you were a little upset by the fact that we stuck you with the role of first understudy, but you came through when we needed you to the most and absolutely blew the house down, so I was wondering…” He paused for emphasis and took a quick glance over at Midge to gauge her reaction, “Would you do us all the honors of being our Kim?” 

Part of Midge wanted to refuse the offer, to rub it in Kevin’s face a little more now after all of the times that Kevin took advantage of her. But she knew that she had talent, no matter how many times she wasn’t the one in the spotlight; now she had had the chance to show everyone the skills she had been working so hard on since the winter musical. “I’d love nothing more!” She sighs, feeling dreamy before giving Kevin a quick embrace. The two make idle chatter about auditions and rehearsal schedules before Kevin excuses himself and lets Midge get on with the rest of her day. 

__

[5:40 PM] KLUMP exits school grounds and begins her walk back to place of residence. [5:50 PM] Victim is offered a ride home from roommate, GINGER LOPEZ, approximately six blocks away from their shared house at 5823 Healy Avenue. LOPEZ and KLUMP commence their drive and arrive back on Healy Ave around [6:00PM]. [6:10 PM] KLUMP retreats to her bedroom, located in the basement of the residence. [8:00PM] Both KLUMP and LOPEZ exit the premises, with LOPEZ driving the two the local college bar, The Maple Club. 

—

The sound of the gravel crunching under the car’s tires is enough to make Midge wince and grit her teeth, her knuckles having gone white after holding on for dear life as her housemate sped along the main road as the two girls made their way to the old college bar for an after-school pint. 

“Remind me to never drive with you when you’re angry” Midge huffed, flipping down the sun visor to check her hair in the small mirror. She pulls her tube of lipstick out from her pocket and purses her lips as she applies the shimmery pink tint. 

Ginger wasn’t listening, which didn’t come as a surprise to Midge as she hoisted herself up and out of the vehicle, pausing to smooth down the back of her skirt and check out her reflection in the window. The short-haired girl watches as Ginger stomps out her cigarette, and soon the two girls are locking their arms together and preparing to take the nightlife by storm. 

When the two girls cross over the bar’s threshold, their senses are accosted by the bitter smell of smoke and the static boom of voices as they tried to overpower the loud, smooth rock music that was playing over the blown-out speakers. 

“Look who it is” Ginger leans down to whisper-yell into Midge’s ear, gesturing to a handsome young man sipping frothy beer from a frosted glass. 

—

 [8:30] LOPEZ confirms that the victim was spotted with long-time suitor, MARMADUKE, “MOOSE” MASON, no history of violence, harassment, or foul play. 

—

Moose Mason was a nice boy. Homegrown, the kind of man that most girls would dream of bringing home to their mother and father. He was a pressed linen shirt and a white picket fence, an old beat-up Ford truck that he spent the summer after high school fixing with his father. He was meat and potatoes. Moose Mason was good. He met Midge when he was recruiting potential new brothers from his fraternity; asked her if she wasn’t a part of any school sororities because they’d all be competing to have a pretty girl like her. Moose Mason was clumsy, heartfelt, not good with words but never shying away from expressing his hopes and dreams. It took him over a month to ask Midge out on a date: The two went dancing at the Maple Club and he was a perfect gentlemen. Moose didn’t drink anything because he wanted to make sure he’d be able to get Midge home safe. Didn’t smoke, didn’t try to make a move on her (though he did give Midge a goodnight kiss on the cheek after walking her back to her front door). His Christian methods of courtship were proving to be lackluster to Midge. She was waiting for someone to take her breath away, someone to sweep her off her feet and break her out of her suburban comfort zone. Moose Mason wasn’t quite there yet, but that didn’t mean he was going to stop trying. 

“You look real pretty tonight, Midgie” Moose says as he walks up to the pair of girls, drunk on confidence and Coors Lite as he teetered, slinging a heavy arm around the short-haired girl’s shoulders.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Mason” Ginger scoffs, rolling her eyes as she pulls out a cigarette. Moose laughs at the pinch-faced girl but can’t help but waft the air around him to clear the thick stream of smoke. "Find me when you’re ready to spend some time with more exciting people” 

Midge nods, silently preparing herself for the damage control she would have to face with the backlash of her roommate’s harsh words. But like always, Moose Mason is there standing tall, with his puppyish brown eyes and his sad smile.

“I’m sorry about her, must be her time of the month” She fibs, biting at her painted lips. 

Moose chuckles, “No, I think she’s always that unpleasant”

Midge is taken aback by the young man’s sudden bout of unabashed honesty, so much so that her gut reaction is to laugh loudly and without regard for who may hear her. She shuts up quickly and claps a hand over her mouth. Moose has a wry look on his face and it confuses Midge because she didn’t think he had a mean bone in his body. It didn’t suit him, but maybe that’s what made it so much more enticing. She lets Moose buy her a beer, lets herself be led onto the dance floor, lets him rest his hands on her backside as they swayed to the in-house band. 

—

[9:45PM] LOPEZ confirms seeing MARMADUKE MASON exit the MAPLE CLUB, sans KLUMP. LOPEZ claims that KLUMP was spotted in a darker corner of the bar with an unknown man: Handsome, over 6-foot, dark hair & eyes. NAME UNKNOWN]

—

Midge dangles her feet off of the tall barstool as she watches Ginger flirt unabashedly with the fraternity meatheads that were always regulars at the Maple Club. She watches how the guys leaned into Ginger when she spoke, a protective hand covering the small of her back. It’s not that Midge needed the attention, or that she wanted it even, just that it seemed to come so easy to her roommate. Watching Ginger tote one of her suitors to the back corner of the bar to feel her up, Midge can’t help but sigh.  When Moose Mason left the Maple Club early that evening, he barely gave Midge a kiss goodbye. She got a half-hearted peck on the cheek and a side-hug. Knowing how old-fashioned the boy was, this behavior made sense, but Moose treated her less like someone he wanted to date, and more like a sister or a cousin. All Midge wanted was to feel desirable, to feel beautiful and confident after all of her adolescent years spent in the shadows of her so called “friends” from grade school. Her head hands low and woeful as she watches the couples dancing under the red lights to the music of the surprisingly good in-house band. 

“Is this seat taken?” A smooth voice knocks Midge out of her self-deprecating trance. When she looks up, she’s surprised to see a tall, handsome man smiling down at her. 

“It’s yours now” She smiles politely, glancing away from the man and assuming that he was most likely waiting for some beautiful girl he was on a date with.  

“You come here often?” The man asks again, with more intent, shifting his weight towards Midge as he sits atop the rickety barstool. 

“Sometimes, yeah” Midge answers honestly, “Though I’m not usually alone” She gestures broadly to her roommate Ginger at the other side of the bar, who was letting her suitor feel her up over her turtleneck sweater. 

“Well, you’re not alone now, are you?”  The handsome man smirks at Midge and she finds herself leaning in closer and opening herself up for conversation. She looks up at the stranger dreamily and takes in his appearance: Statuesque build, broad shoulders, clean-cut with his shirt tucked in and his hair slicked back. Pretty, pursed lips that would make the cosmetology students jealous, a smirk that made Midge weak in the knees. 

“I guess not” She giggled in response, toying with a lock of her cropped hair. 

“I’m Reginald” He skips over his last name but Midge doesn’t think anything of it, moving forward with introductions to give the man her name and to talk about college-related things, like choice of major and prospective carer paths. 

Reginald was a photography student, though his father wished that he would have chosen to study law like the rest of the men in his family. The way Reginald spoke about his father, it was clear that there was some resentment there, but it wasn’t anything Midge felt comfortable pushing as she knew it wasn’t her business. 

“I bet you have a really good artistic eye!” She pipes up, trying to ease some of the tension. “I’d love to see some of your work someday…” She hopes that the prospect of seeing each other another time doesn’t come on too strong for Reginald, the last thing she wanted to do was seem desperate and pushy, especially with someone as handsome and charming as he was. 

“I’d quite like that” There was a twinkle in Reginald’s eye that she couldn’t seem to place, but it made her feel hopeful nonetheless. 

The two carried on conversation for the better part of a few hours, laughing and talking casually while exchanging freshman year horror stories and hometown gems. When Reginald asked if he could buy her a drink, she wanted to be coquettish and refuse, but she didn’t, not wanting to run the risk of offending the man and scaring him. That one pint turned into a whole pitcher, and Midge was feeling loose and bubbly, not even ashamed to say that she was playing in to Reginald’s relentless flirting. 

Every so often Midge would cast her gaze towards Ginger, in part just to check in, but because she wanted to brag about being courted by a looker like Reginald. "Find me when you’re ready to spend some time with more exciting people” Ginger told Midge when the two girls split ways, and that was exactly what she did. 

“So you said you were an actress?” Reginald cocks a curious eyebrow at Midge, leaning in closer to hear her over the music. He seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say, which was refreshing to her. 

Midge laughs at the notion. “You’re looking at the University Theater Department’s favorite first understudy.” She shrugs and takes a hearty swig of her beer.

“Wow, I’m honored to be with such esteemed company” Reginald jokes, giving a megawatt smile. 

“If you must know,” She starts, laughter bubbling up in her throat as she continued, “Opening night of the Spring Musical, I came to the rescue when the leading lady came down with a bad case of mono. Blew the house down and received the only standing ovation!” Midge gives a comical bow when Reginald starts clapping.

“Thank you for gracing us with your presence tonight, Miss Big-Shot Actress” Reginald laughs, lacing his fingers with hers as their hands sat on top of the sticky covered bar. “You know, all the big time actresses have really nice headshots. Glamour shots, they’re called — It’s what you send to casting directors when you audition for the movies” His thumb massages the back of Midge’s hand as he explained.

“They’d never put me in the movies” Midge looked down at her feet to avoid Reginald’s eyes when she felt the heat creep up her neck as she blushed. 

He hooks a finger under Midge’s chin, tilting her face towards him and forcing her to maintain eye contact with him, like he wanted to make sure that his words would mean something and be remembered. “You’re beautiful, Midge. Don’t deny it to yourself.” She doesn’t refute it, shy away from it, or say thank you; Midge nods to herself, like she was trying her best to process it and take his words to heart. 

The conversation flows easier as Midge continued to emerge from her shell, but as soon as she was feeling more confident, there was Ginger waving wildly at her from the other side of the bar. The girl gestured towards the exit, hoping that she was good enough at playing charades to convert her message to Midge. It worked of course, because Ginger was flapping her arms very obviously so it was impossible for Midge not to notice. Reginald was talking animately about a debate that sparked up in his psychology intro course, but Midge was only really half-listening, as she was more concerned with how she was supposed to interject and remove herself from the conversation. 

“A-are you…?” Reggie breaks from his long-winded monologue and picks up on Midge’s hesitation, turning over his shoulder just as Ginger whips around as to not be noticed. Midge feels her face heat up with embarrassment, but Reginald acts cooly. “Duty calls?” He questions with a chuckle and another knee-buckling smirk.

“Something like that…” Midge bites at her lip as she stands up and smooths down the back of her skirt. Folding her jacket over her arm, she grabs a dry napkin from the bar and writes down her phone number with her brown eyeliner pencil. “You should call me sometime…” Midge blushes as she looks up at the tall man standing in front of her. 

He raises his eyebrows in surprise, not having been used to this kind of confidence radiating from the young woman. For most of their conversation it had been Reginald who had been putting in the extra effort, asking Midge questions about school and about the theater program. “I’d like that.” He quips as the short-haired girl gazes up at him hungrily. “Maybe I can help you out with those headshots.” he gestures to the camera bag at his side. 

A blush raised to Midge’s cheeks when he hands her over his ballpoint pen, prompting her to grab one of the square, white bar-napkins to write down her phone number. “You promise you’re gonna call?” She pulls her hand away a little.

“Scout’s honor” Reginald smirks, holding up the three-finger salute. “Hell, I’ll even call you right when I get home just so you know I’m the real deal.”  

“I’ll hold you to that, Reginald!” Midge quips with a coy smile, leaning to give the young man a final kiss on the cheek before retrieving Ginger and retreating to the car. 

—

[11:30PM] KLUMP and LOPEZ exit tavern, return to residence at approximately [11:40] Fellow resident of the home, MELODY VALENTINE, confirms talking to both KLUMP and LOPEZ in the kitchen following their return. Both women recount KLUMP taking an unknown phone call.

—

The ride back to the small house on the Healy Avenue was quiet, with Ginger gabbing on incessantly about the boys she was getting on with that evening, about how some showboat boy with a football scholarship was going to escort her to her sorority formal. Midge nodded along politely, knowing when to appease her friend with quiet affirmations though she wasn’t really listening. She nabs a sleek, long cigarette from the pack in Ginger’s purse and lights it up, ignoring the curious stare she receives, never really having been a smoker. Exhaling a dainty plume of smoke out the car window, Midge can’t help but ruminate on the events of her day: First Kevin gets over his own pride and offers her the lead in the musical, and then at the bar that same evening she was lucky enough to catch the attention of a person as grand as Reginald. Midge couldn’t help but feel as if something was different this time, it was like he saw her, saw her for what she truly was. She pulls a little too hard on the cigarette and sputters out a cough. It humbles her a little bit, pulls her back to the reality where she was just a small-town understudy and he was another good looking boy who only chatted her up because he was too drunk to know better. Midge tosses the butt out the window of the moving car and focuses her gaze on the grid-work of light poles and electrical towers, fully convincing herself that she would never hear from Reginald again. 

When the two girls pull up in front of the household, they exit the car quietly and stumble inside through the side door of the house, which led through Midge’s basement bedroom. The two girls are in a fit of giggles as they make their way to the main floor of the house, both in dire neat of some carbs to soak up the alcohol. Midge peeks around the corner stealthily, not wanting to disturb or wake up one of her other three housemates in case they had called in an early night. Things were going all fine and good until Ginger’s heel gets the best of her and her ankle rolls, twisted up in the carpet. She lets out a small yelp as she falls to the side and grabs the wall for support to recover. Midge claps a hand over her mouth when she hears a doorknob turning from down the hall.

“What kind of trouble are you two getting in now?” Another housemate, Melody Valentine asked, clearly irritated at the disturbance. Pulling her tortoiseshell glasses from their resting place on the tip of her nose, Melody takes in the sight of Midge: the pink tint to her cheeks, the glimmer in her eye, “What’re you all smilin’ about?” She questions again with no detectable malice laced in her tone like before. 

“Our girl Midge met a boy tonight and he was a real looker, definitely puts Moose to shame,” Ginger hiccuped. 

Her comment is received with a pointed look from Midge, leading Ginger to grimace as she limped back up the hallway to get herself a glass of water. The phone rings suddenly and the intake of Midge’s breath is audible. It wasn’t him, it couldn’t be. She had convinced herself that she was just another girl that Reggie would forget by morning. The phone lets out three more sharp bleats before Midge hesitantly reaches her hand for the receiver;

“Hello?” She whispers, her throat feeling dry from anxiety of it all. 

“Scout’s Honor,” It takes Midge a minute to put the pieces together, but she knows it’s Reginald, the same smooth-talking boy she had met a few hours earlier. He promised to call her and he did. “I’m a man of my word, what can I say?” 

“Reginald” She’s beaming as she wraps the red plastic chord between her fingers as she presses the receiver even closer to her ear, wanting to be even closer to him. “I didn’t think you were gonna call…” 

“Why wouldn’t I?” Reggie mutters like it was ludicrous that Midge would think otherwise.“You were the prettiest in the whole room tonight…The Actress. You’ve got it.”

“Got what?” Midge pinches herself because at that point, she can’t help but think that she was dreaming. 

“Star power.”

There’s a beat of silence as Midge tries to regain her breath, heart swelling in her chest as she pressed the phone receiver even closer to her ear. “I don’t have star power” She denies it adamantly, not because she believed it, but so he would say it again. 

“Yes, you do, Midge. You do.” Reggie’s breath is heavy through the phone receiver and it gives Midge chills down her spine. “You should take me up on that offer, I think I could capture you well” 

“Your offer?” The beer and the anxiety have her thoughts swimming.

“Headshots, I’m a photographer. You were telling me all about how excited you are about the upcoming musical, imagine how great it would feel for you to open the programs and see a fresh, new picture of your pretty face” Reggie hums contently on the other line, like he too was picturing it, dreaming of it.

“It’s a nice offer and all, but if you’re half as good of a photographer as you say, there’s no way I could pay you” Midge can’t help but feel guilty, like she was waiting the time of the gorgeous man that she met earlier that evening. She was expecting the conversation to come to a halt after this, that Reggie would make some excuse as to why he needed to go, and it would be mutually understood that the longevity of their relationship was over as soon as the dial tone hit. 

“If it means I get to see you again, Midge, I’ll do it for free” Reginald lays the charm on thick but Midge can’t help but happily lap it up. Something about the way he talked to her — about her— made her feel more confident, sultry even. It made her think that she was successful in reinventing herself. The old Midge wouldn’t let some stranger get her in front of a camera, she tells herself, pushing away her anxieties in hopes of a romantic new beginning. 

“You want to see me again?” Midge questions, chastising herself immediately for her lapse in self-confidence. 

“Definitely” Reginald promises. 

“What are your plans for tomorrow?” Midge stutters over the line. “If you’re free maybe we can get a bite to eat — or something? If you’re busy that’s okay too, I understand.” The minute she asks the question she backtracks immediately, somehow still under the assumption that Reginald would refuse. 

“I’m free” Reginald replies cooly. “What’s your address, I’ll come and pick you up. What d’you say, 4 o’clock?” 

“5823 Healy” Midge says too quickly before recovering, “I’ll see you at four o’clock sharp, Reginald” She tries to sound flirtatious but isn’t sure if it’s working for her. The man on the other end of the line laughs, low and even, sending a wave of nervous butterflies taking flight. 

“I’ll be there, Midge” He promises 

“Scout’s Honor?” She posits, calling back to their little joke from earlier. 

“Exactly”

—

Witnesses LOPEZ and VALENTINE confirm that after taking her phone call, KLUMP retreated to her basement bedroom of the residence, approx. [12:25 AM]. This is KLUMP’s last known whereabouts. 

—

He only lived three blocks away. He liked it better that way, it gave him easier access to Midge, made it easier to watch the girl from afar. If this was going to work, he needed to stick to his comfort zone. This wouldn’t be like last time. It’s what he tells himself as he sits three rows behind her in the lecture hall, when he trails the girl as she walks across the University campus to meet up with her theater friend. He passes Midge casually and walks to deposit his check from work, but the girl was gone once he circled back. 

Running into her at the Maple Club was a complete coincidence; or maybe by some stoke of luck it was fate. He knew that Midge would be receptive to his advances, though he figured he would have to work a lot harder. 

He almost felt bad, that there would be no date for the two of them to go on. 

When Reginald hung up the telephone, there was a sick sort of excitement pulsing deep through his veins. Adrenaline and anxiety were a deadly mixture. Well, not for Reginald…

He flits around the dimly lit garage as he gathers his materials. The black duffle bag was filled with everything Reggie thought he would need in this situation: wool ski mask, leather gloves, nylon stockings, bolt cutters, and red handled ice pick. A crowbar in case she tried to fight back. White clothesline rope, an orange electrical cord, strips of thinly torn bedsheets, and a pair of handcuffs as methods of restraining her. Trash bags and a small bottle of bleach for the clean-up process. Slinging the back over his shoulder, Reggie opens the garage door as quietly as possible. He starts the engine of the old VW Beetle and sits in silence as he made the quick drive three blocks over to the house on Healy Avenue. He kills the headlights when he turns into the courtyard. Parks three houses down as to not garner any suspicion. Before he exits the vehicle, Reggie pulls down the sun-visor and checks his reflection in the small mirror. He runs a hand through his hair and he smiles. 

He pulls the ski mask over his head and everything changes and suddenly he is angry and he is invincible. 

His footfalls are trained and quiet as he approaches 5823. He knows he’ll have to jump the gate. He knows that there’s a side door to Midge’s basement bedroom. When he hoists himself over the cherrywood fence he tries to be as quiet as possible, waiting an achingly long moment before making his next move, just in case a neighbor’s unsuspecting ear perked up at the noise. The bolt cutters work quickly and quietly through the metal padlock on the basement door, but again he waits to make his next move, trying his best to not wake up Midge (who he assumed was sleeping close by). Reggie moves at an agonizingly slow pace as he tries to open the basement door. Inch by inch he twists the rusty knob, the excitement bubbling now that he knew his favorite part was starting.

Who can be the quietest? It used to be Reggie’s favorite game to play as a child; taught to him by his mother as she held him close to her chest, the two of them sitting on the floor of the closet while his father went on another one of his drunken rampages. 

It was a skill that proved to be helpful to many situations such as this, because by some grace of good luck he was inside the basement with the door closed behind him and somehow Midge hadn’t even moved a muscle. Reggie paused again, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. He takes in the appearance of the room: the cold cement walls and the water heater, the bedsheets she hung over the grey in order to give the place a little more life. Christmas lights, the good kind, the ones that popped and cracked like glass when you threw them. Midge had pictures and posters, a stack of records that was collecting dust.

And then there was Midge. 

She slept on her stomach with her long arms wrapped around her pillow, and Reggie can see her nightgown from where the duvet pulled up around her legs. He watches her worry-free features and feels a deep sort of pleasure knowing that she would never see this coming. He sets his duffle bag on the ground with a thump and Reggie’s heart drops to his stomach, thinking this would be the moment that he blew his cover. Heavy sleeper, Reggie noted as he heard nothing but a snore from Midge. He picks up a stray pillow from the floor and looks at it in his hands. 

It was like she was making this too easy… 

Reggie moved suddenly, shoving her sleeping body to flip her over onto her stomach; he wanted things to get a little bit more interesting. In wake of the movement Midge had become more alert now, eyes snapping open at the sudden weight present on top of her. With a quick movement, Reggie presses the feather pillow over her face before Midge could do so much as take a breath, not giving her a chance to scream. Her arms and legs flail wildly, trying to make contact with Reggie as her fight or flight instincts kicked in. One hand came down to grasp at her throat, the other still holding firm over the pillow. Midge’s nails claw at the old pillowcase, sharp enough to leave runs in the fabric. She manages to get a few good kicks in, and that made him angry. Reggie pulls his ice pick out of his back pocket and there’s a sick sound of skin splitting and blood gushing as he drives it deep into the flesh of her stomach. He repeats the motion again and again until he feels the languidness of her movements, can tell that the flight is almost over. Because when the fight was over, that’s when the real fun began…

#fic: lethal charm #reggie mantle au #midge klump au #reggie mantle fic #riverdale au #serial killer au #riverdale veggie fic #reggie mantle #midge klump #kevin keller #melody valentine #ginger lopez

[rydiin]

'Why Meadow Died: The People and Policies that Created the Prkland Sh**ter and Endanger America's Students' By Andrew Pollack & Max Eden

(This info is in addition to a previous post that emphasizes a specific chapter from the book).

Information about NC:

One female student was so afraid of him that she often wanted to stay home. 

- One day a rumour spread like wildfire: Cr*z had killed his cat. This student worked up the nerve to ask him, "What happened to your cat?". He replied, "I took it in the backyard. I have a lake. I put it in its cage and I drowned it.” "What do you mean?" "I killed my cat." 

- NC showed them a series of pictures on his phone. His cat. His cat in the cage. The cage going into the water. The cage coming out of the water. The cat, wet and dead. This student was horrified. NC was transfixed, both by the pictures and by her horror.

As seen in his educational record, he was diagnosed at age 3 with developmental delays and later with a speech impairment, a language-processing deficiency, and attention deficit disorder.

After February of 2013, he was suspended for nearly half of the next calendar year.

"I never had him as a student. But everyone knew who he was because he wreaked havoc." -Teacher at Westglades

In September 2013 he banged on a classroom door so violently that the glass shattered, striking students inside. This was characterized as vandalism but never formally recorded on his disciplinary record.

On October 21st, his teacher (Carrie Yon) emailed assistant principle Atonio Lindsay, "I wanted to let you know about Nick's behavior today. He seems to be getting worse with each day. Following is what took place in the first 10 minutes of class". She explained that when he wouldn't stop screaming, she told him she'd have to ask him to leave if he kept up the disruption. When he stuck up his middle finger, she went over to the phone. Cr*z ran over, took the phone from her, tried to dial 911, banged the phone on the receiver when that didn't work, and then ran out of the classroom.

Several teachers, in exhasperation and perhaps fear, tried to refuse to let him into their classroom. But they were informed by the school administrators that this was not permitted.

In November he was referred to the PROMISE program for vandalizing a bathroom faucet, but did not attend for reasons the school district refuses to explain. If a student skips PROMISE, district policy requires that he be referred to the juvenile justice system, but he was not for reasons the school district refuses to explain.

On November 20th, 2013, he ran into the middle of a busy road during a fire drill. Students were terrified as he could have died if an oncoming car had not stopped in time. Teachers assured students, "Don't worry, he's going to go somwhere he can get the help he needs now". But this was merely optimism. Another teacher wrote a disciplinary referral categorizing his suicide attempt as "Gross Insubordination" and "Aggresive and Dangerous Behavior." But school administrators rejected that categorization and categorized it instead as a minor act of disruptuption."

"If Cr*z had been involuntarily committed for psychiatric observation under Florida's Baker Act in response to his suicide attempt, it could have accelerated the process of sending him to Cross Creek. But he was not. It took until February 2014, five months after Westglades began the evaluation process and one year after his misbehavior became so severe that he was suspended essentially every other day, to send Cr*z to Cross Creek."

When teachers of Cr*z were asked what he was interested in or enjoyed, almost every single one of his teachers mentioned guns, the military, or war.

This excerpt speaks to the insanity of mainstreaming a student like Cr*z back into a traditional school like MSD. These things did not happen before Runcie became superintendant and brought more social justice ideology into the mix:

"According to Ms. Campbell, before Robert Runcie became superintendent, she had never seen a student mainstreamed from a school like Cross Creek in less than three years. The process typically took several semesters, with the student’s IEP team *gradually* adding class periods at the traditional school and carefully monitoring any changes in the student’s behavior. Cr*z spent his first semester at MSD taking two classes, largely unsupervised, and then began attending MSD full time the following semester. Ms. Campbell said that she had never heard of anything like it. This all bears reiterating to emphasize the insanity of it: Cross Creek staff were well aware of Cr*z’s profoundly disturbing behavior at Westglades. They knew about his obsession with guns and dreams about killing people. They were so frightened that they took the extremely rare step of contacting his private psychiatrist. Yet not only did they return him to a traditional high school at an unprecedented speed, they also enrolled him in JROTC, a course in which he would learn to shoot using an air gun that resembled an AR-15."

On December 14th, 2015, Cr*z's IEP team decided to allow him to attend MSD full time. He had made progress in the intensive therapuetic setting of Cross Creek, where well trained professionals could watch him like a hawk.  But when he transitioned to MSD, his old "beheavior management" plan was discontinued and no new plan was created. Teachers were left uninformed about who the student was, what to watch for, and how to support him. 

Looking back on the transition, a staff member lamented, "They just threw him to the wolves."

Cr*z bragged about getting a gun to sh**t up the school in Feburary 2016. The officer who recieved this alert told the concerned woman that Cr*z's instagram post was "Protected by the first amendment right of free speech". The woman asked if there was *any way* to prevent Cr*z from getting a gun when he turned 18, and the officer said that Cr*z’s right to purchase a firearm was protected by the 2nd amendment and *nothing* could be done.This officer was WRONG. Threatening to shoot up a school is a felony that could have prohibited him from buying a gun. (And even IF he wasn't convicted, an arrest could have gone a  long way toward LE taking future reports about NC seriously.) This officer didn't even write a police report about the call.

NC often came to school dressed in full camoflauge gear, mask included, and jumped from behind poles to scare other students.

He would bring dead animals in his lunch box and give it to another student, telling her there was a treat inside.

Dana Craig submitted statements about Cr*z's threats to her and her friends but administrators did nothing. One day she was sitting in class when NC came in and walked straight toward her, and stood over her, staring and breathing loudly, as a hush fell across the classroom. After what seemed to be like a long time, security monitor Anna Ramos entered and said, "Someone here isn't where he's supposed to be" and took him out of the classroom. Records don't show him being taken to the office for this.

When MSD math teacher Suzanne Giorgione found out she was teaching Cr*z, she went to school administrators and told them she refused to set foot in the same classroom as a student who had previously threatened to kill her. As a result, Admin rearranged his schedule. 

Several students reported having friends whose parents had complained about having Cruz in their child's classroom, and the school responded by changing *their*  schedules.

At the beginning of the school year (a month before his fight with Enea), he approached Enea to shake his hand and call a "truce", telling him that "he could have her".

However, on September 20, 2016 Cr*z threw a water bottle at Enea and then jumped on top of him, punching him. Enea stood up to try to throw Cruz to the ground but NC held on tenaciously, *attempting to bite Enea's face*, only to catch Enea's hair in his teeth and hold on that way. The infamous fight video only catches the end of it when students jump in to break it up.

After the fight, administrators searched his backpack and found bullet casings. He explained he used his backpack to go hunting. According to MSD documentation, when asked why he liked to hunt, he replied that he liked to get food, then asked, "Isn't that what normal people would say?"

Before he attacked Enea, he told students at his table what he was about to do and they recorded it from the beginning. Students who took these videos were called down to the office and told to delete them. These videos would have provided clear evidence of a hate crime (NC repeatedly threatened him, called him a n*gger and other racial slurs, and had now attacked him). But MSD wanted to be seen as a school without crime and chaos, so they demanded evidence of fights be deleted.

Enea received an out-of-school suspension, while NC only received a two day ISS. 

At this point, NC's safety plan included banning him from having a backpack at school: "The obvious rationale: if he has a backpack, he could bring a deadly weapon to school and kill people. They decided that Nikolas Cruz was too dangerous to be allowed on campus with a backpack but he should *not* be arrested. This may seem astonishing, but it is actually entirely faithful to philosophy of the Broward school district, as expressed by Superintendent Runcie: “We are not going to continue to arrest our kids” and give them a criminal record.

He brought binocluars to school and stared at people through them.

One student had nightmares about NC, "shooting me or stabbing me...every single night. I couldn't go to school because I was afraid." These concerns along with many others were brought before administrators but nothing was done.

When he decided to revoke his ESE protections, he appeared incapable of providing written notice "perhaps due to his language-processing impairment".

When being confronted about destroying other students model bridges, NC stated, "I am not mentally stable! I am fucking crazy, yo! I love to see people in pain and I have two shotguns at my house." (As previously reported)

He'd often walk around the courtyard at lunch making "bang" motions with his fingers as though he were shooting at birds.

He called Cross Creek after his mother Lynda died and told them, "Before my mom died, I promised her I would graduate high school. I get that Cross Creek is the only place where I can do that. How do I get back in?". They didn't help him get back in.

Lynda's responses to Westglades social worker:

What is the child's problem behavior? He can't control his temper, especially when faced with frustration. He has frequent anger outburts.

How would you describe these behaviors? He starts screaming, kicking, throwing things, and punching holes in the walls.

What are the most problematic for you? "Destruction" when he throws a tantrum, things get broken, nothing is safe. I have polka dotted walls from all the Spackle I have to use to fill the holes in the walls.

How often do these behaviors occur? Every day, especially while playing Xbox.

Are there situations in which the behaviors never or rarely occur? No, if he is losing at Xbox there are no two ways about it.

What do you think needs to be done to help this child? He needs to be properly diagnosed before he can be treated. I know ADD is not the cause of all his problems. We need to know what is wrong with him.

Victims:

Anthony Borges survived after being shot 5 times by taking his shirt off, ripping it into two pieces, and using the pieces as tourniquets for his legs. Anthony had been a boy scout in Venezuela and had taken his survival training very seriously.

Aaron Feis was found deceased with burns on his hands, indicating that he managed to get a grip on the shooter's AR-15 before being fatally shot.

Cara Loughran had been shot prior to Meadow shielding her. This is why she did not flee with the other students. "Meadow had been right next to Joaquin in front of the woman's bathroom. She tried to cross the hallway, but was shot four times. She crawled to a classroom, but the door was locked (as it was supposed to be). Next to her was freshman Cara Loughran, who had also been shot. Meadow draped her body over Cara's to protect her. Five more shots went through both of their bodies."

During the shooting one of the MSD staff members stated over the radio, "It sounds like fireworks.". Aaron Feis replied, "That's not fucking fireworks".

Aaron Feis's brother Ray recalled that Feis "wasn't scared of anyone, but he would talk about that 'crazy motherfucker who threatens everyone' and shouldn't be at this school".

A survivor recalled, "But then you also heard, like, moaning from the shots. I don't know if it was, like, the shooter making that noise or if it was someone who got shot. And, but, then, that's also, you also heard...heard, like, laughing. And we all look at each other in the classroom we're just like, "Oh my God, is someone seriously laughing?" (Previously seen in witness statements)

Notable Quotes:

Royer Borges (Anthony's father) on activists blaming the NRA: "This makes no sense. You're telling me that all these groups will pour money in to a national political battle against a powerful organization over things that had no connection to what happened? And then what? Maybe the gun control people will win some changes, but what about what actually happened? What about the people responsible in Broward? What about justice?"

In the middle of his 5th grade year, Cruz's teachers had to make a choice that would define the future of his education... 

“In an earlier era, a student like Cruz could continue to receive specialized attention in a self-contained classroom for students with similar disabilities for at least part of each day in Middle School. However, between the pressure on schools to assess students using standardized tests under the federal No Child Left Behind Act and the pressure on schools to put students in the "least restrictive environment" possible under the federal Individuals with Disabilities Education Act, spending part of the day in a specialized classroom was no longer an option for a student like Cruz in a Broward middle school. It was either full "inclusion" at Westglades Middle School or full "exclusion" at a specialized school for students with emotional and behavioral disabilities: Cross Creek."

"...social justice activist groups frame this issue as a black and white question of "civil rights". Putting students like Cruz in schools like Cross Creek is alleged to be "ableist" (discrimination against the disabled) and keeping them in schools like Westglades is the self-evidently virtuous practice of "inclusion".

When Westglades staff heard that Cruz had committed the massacre at MSD, some couldn't believe it. The fact that he became a mass murderer wasn't what surprised them. They were surprised that he attacked MSD. "How is that possible?" one Westglades educator recalled thinking....

"We did our jobs. It took forever, but we got him where he needed to go. We couldn't believe they ever let him into MSD."

"Cross Creek is one of 3 specialized schools in Broward for students with extreme behavioral disabilities. It serves about 150 students in grades k-12, most of whom have been diagnosed with mental illnesses and take psychotropic medications. It has a two-to-one student-to-adult ratio, including eleven counselors, fifteen behavior technicians, and three therapists. There was NO question this was where Nikolas Cruz needed to be. The question must be answered. How was he sent back to a normal school?"

"Officers from other departments told us that, if they received this many calls about the same juvenile, they would watch him like a hawk and not be shy about making an arrest. But if Sheriff Israel judged his success by how well he kept juveniles out of jail, then up until February 14th, 2018, Nikolas Cruz was perhaps the most striking success."

"Martinez respected the March For Our Lives gun control students, but he had mixed feelings about the course of public debate after the shooting. Reflecting on how Sheriff Israel and Superintendent Runcie blamed the NRA, Martinez lamented, “What the students don’t know is that the people who are telling them to go out and protest are the ones that are endangering them.… They’re the ones who failed. These failed policies failed students miserably. Then they deflect the whole event and try to build their political careers on top of it. The students are being misled.”

“I’ve been over every inch of what happened. The NRA had nothing to do with it...

This happened in a Democrat county with a Democrat sheriff, a Democrat superintendent, and a Democrat school board, implementing Democrat ideas on criminal justice, Democrat ideas on special education, and Democrat ideas on school discipline. And after Democrat voters gave all these Democrats a resounding vote of confidence in the school board election, the Democrat teachers union president, Anna Fusco, wrote in a Facebook group about our campaign for accountability: “Now you can all shut up!”....Meanwhile, at the national level, Democrat organizers swooped in and weaponized my daughter’s murder for their Democrat agenda and to fund-raise to elect more Democrats.”

"It is astonishing that 18-1958 only took seventeen lives that day. The death toll could easily have been 170. He had ten minutes alone with eight hundred children. The only one who stopped him was himself."

[manggojooz]

Take My Hands Now (Part 5)

pairing: Jungkook x reader

word count: 2,291

genre: drama

summary: You were born with a condition that allowed you to feel the pain someone else was going through when you touched them. Jungkook, on the other hand, looked like he could not be any less bothered with other people’s feelings and was a well known playboy of the school. One night, at a party, while he attempted to turn you into his toy for the night, he grabbed your hand and pain crashed through you, making you wonder whether behind the facade of this pleasure seeker, he could also be hiding something.

warnings: none 

With an absolutely arbitrary deadline in mind, Jungkook dutifully headed to the bookstore the next afternoon. He bought you a caramel macchiato. “Last one”, he said as he left it on the counter for you.

You have started to get used to his wandering around the bookstore now. You still weren’t sure what kind of stunt he was trying to pull but you were fairly certain this will probably die down after a while, once he got bored or finds something better to do.  

He sauntered around the children’s section and found the book he saw you perusing that first time he came here. "Pfft, Winnie-the-Pooh", he scoffed in a murmuring volume.  

But he still ended up taking a copy and flipping through it. Jungkook was focusing more on the pictures than the words, eventually he landed on one page that looked similar to what he saw you reading that day:  

“All I can tell you, Pooh and Piglet, is that right now I feel really rather Sad, and Alone, and Not Much Fun To Be Around At All.

Which is why I haven't bothered you. Because you wouldn't want to waste your time hanging out with someone who is Sad, and Alone, and Not Much Fun To Be Around At All, would you now."

Pooh looked at Piglet, and Piglet looked at Pooh, and they both sat down, one on either side of Eeyore in his stick house.

Eeyore looked at them in surprise. "What are you doing?"

"We're sitting here with you," said Pooh...”

---

Another day. Jungkook must have gotten tired of loitering in the bookstore, so he sat on the bench in the atrium of the mall facing the store, sipping on his iced chocolate while playing with his phone.  

You knocked off from work and contemplated sneaking off without him noticing but somehow you felt that would be too mean. So, you walked over and said, “Are you not leaving?”  

“I’m waiting for someone”, he replied matter-of-factly still looking at his phone.  

Oh, he was? Guess you weren’t the reason why he stuck around then, you were mentally reprimanding yourself for assuming.  

Just then, a low and refined voice came from behind you, “Why are you waiting here, you could have just waited at the restaurant”, the man who said this walked up to Jungkook. He was middle-aged, dressed in a bespoke suit and had a pleasant disposition.  

“I was waiting for this one to finish her shift”, Jungkook pointed at you while replying. So, was he waiting for you or him? This is so confusing.  

“Y/N, this is my dad. Dad, you wouldn’t mind if she joins us for dinner right?”, Jungkook said.  

“Nice to meet you Mr. Jeon”, you blurted out, at the same time suppressing your urge to just run away.  

“Nice to meet you too young lady. We are going to the hotel’s restaurant. Care to join us, Y/N? The chef we hired there is really good”, he asked as he gave you the friendliest smile you have seen from anyone of that stature. And wait, so they own the hotel annexed to the mall too?

Once you were seated at a corner table with a superb view of the city, the manager of the restaurant came over personally with the menu.  

“What would the two of you like to have today?”, Jungkook’s dad said while turning the pages.  

“Jungkook always gets the grilled steak here, Sir”, the manager said confidently, “medium rare again?”, he asked. Jungkook simply nodded his head without even opening the menu.  

“Oh, does he? I’ll take the lamb chop instead, what about you, Y/N?”, Jungkook’s father added.  

You ordered a pasta and his dad insisted on getting everyone a cup of coffee, although you really didn’t want one when it was already dinner time. The rest of the meal was cordial. A little too cordial.  

His father seemed genuinely kind, gentlemanly, fatherly, but he was as much of those things to you as he was to Jungkook; it was almost as if he treated both of you with hospitality. Your dad will probably know your favourite dish at a restaurant or if you didn’t like a particular drink. But then again, this man looks like he carries half the world on his shoulders. Maybe rich families were just like that.  

At the end of dinner Jungkook’s dad said the car was ready at the foyer, he reminded Jungkook to drop you off first at your hostel and excused himself to attend to a meeting.  

Jungkook and you were taking the elevator down when it stopped at a random floor. The door opened and revealed a man and a woman waiting for it. The woman was clearly older but was very attractive and you couldn’t quite guess her age, the man had his arms around her waist.  

The woman paused at the sight of Jungkook in the lift, and you could feel the intensity grow in the air surrounding him. The couple entered and the door closed.  

“You came here to have dinner with him?”, the woman said after a while, her words cutting the awkward air, evidently aimed at Jungkook.

“Definitely not to see you”, he replied and you could almost feel him seething.  

Who was she?

That was when the lift door finally opened at the ground floor, Jungkook contemplated dragging you out of there as quickly as possible but he stopped short of grabbing your wrist. He marched out past the two strangers and you were left to try to catch up to him.  

“Jungkook, Jungkook!”, the woman shouted after him. “What time are you coming home tonight?”, her steps wobbled, which could be a result of the high heels she wore or could be something else.  

When you caught up to Jungkook at the car, he shoved you in by the handle of your bag, and he got in hastily after you. The car drove off before she could make it through the lobby door.  

Was she his mother?

---

Two days passed after that, and with each you felt like Jungkook was different from what you thought he was.

You slowly learnt a lot more about his father; he never spoke of his mother.  

His father was the idol of his childhood. Even though everyone said his father married his mother for her riches, it never felt that way to him. His father would attend Jungkook’s school events, pick him up after classes and they would often hang out at an ice cream place after that. But then when Jungkook turned eight years old, his father became the CEO of the company one day and these things stopped. He hardly even saw his father around the house anymore after that.  

“You don’t blame him for priotising his work over you?”, you remember asking Jungkook once.  

He conveniently pulled out a Spiderman comic from the bookshelf next to where he was leaning against, “With great power comes great responsibility, Y/N. He's to me what Peter Parker is to Mary Jane, but to the company and all the people relying on him, he’s supposed to be Spiderman.”  

Jungkook never blamed his father and he learnt that riches may bring some privileges but they also come with immense burdens.  

---

You were heading to lecture with Namjoon one day, and Mirae came running up to the both of you in the middle of the stairs leading to the lecture theatre.  

“Have you guys seen the news? Daebak…”, she whispered.

From your expressions she could tell that you both had zero idea what she was alluding to.  

“There’s so many articles up now about Jungkook’s mom, only daughter of the BH group”, Mirae moved closer to the two of you, “She’s having affairs. And yes, it’s affairs, not just one. There was apparently a singer called Julian Yoo, a trainee from some big company, can’t quite remember his name, oh and also the actor Daniel Park. And this is just apparently the tip of the iceberg. What even? Come to think of it, maybe this is why Jungkook acts this way”, Mirae was rattling on and on until she could see the look in your eyes turning annoyed at that last sentence.  

“We don’t know the full picture, and even if it’s true about his mother, should we really be dragging him into this?”, you questioned.  

“Even if we don’t the others will still. Wonder if he’s gonna be coming to class today after all this”, Namjoon said objectively.  

You sat in the lecture theatre constantly craning your neck to see if he was coming. Just a few minutes before the lecture was due to start, Jungkook strutted in in his usual posture. A backpack over one shoulder, hands in his pockets and looking as if the entire world can come at him but he wouldn’t bat an eyelid.  

The murmurs in the lecture hall became discernible, Namjoon leaned towards you and said, “Got to admire him for that couldn’t-care-less attitude he has.” Meanwhile, you watched him with worry.  

He glanced at you momentarily, registering your look of concern as he sat down at his usual spot at one of the rows below.  

Jungkook was in fact indifferent to what had happened, it was about time anyway. If he had no qualms about everyone calling him a trashy playboy, why would he be any more bothered by them gossiping about her? He was her son after all; promiscuity must be genetic.

Regardless, he turned his head ever so slightly towards the back row where you were seated and thought to himself, “but what great timing for this news to break.”

---

He didn’t show up at the bookstore that afternoon. After the lecture, you saw him walk out, blending into the crowd of people, and that was it.  

You tried to focus on your work. There was a new title that just came out and you were busy setting up the book display.  

The people who looked the calmest may bear the strongest storms within them. What if he wasn’t as indifferent to the situation as he looked on the outside? You were so deep in thought that you didn’t even notice your finger bleeding from a paper cut caused by one of the freshly-minted book covers.  

“You alright there?”, your store manager asked, eyes staring down at the droplets of blood pooling at your fingertips.  

You looked down and thought for a moment, “no I’m not, actually”. You took your phone out from your jeans’ pocket and decided to message Jungkook.

“Where are you?”, you actually just wanted to know this one thing. Maybe he’s fine and out partying somewhere, you hoped.  

Your phone buzzed.  

“Why? You worried about me?”  

At least he was alive.  

“Not exactly”, you typed but then deleted the message before you could send it. You were still deciding what to reply when your phone buzzed again, another message from him.  

“Last room, basement, arts faculty. Come if you want, it’s fine if you don’t.”

Arts faculty? Wasn’t he in business school? It didn’t really matter because there was a more pressing question – were you going to go?  

---

The room was clearly different from the other practice rooms, for the reason that it no longer resembled anything close to a practice room. Jungkook was sitting alone in the dimly lit chamber, cans of beer were strewn across the table and the floor. You walked in like you were entering a dragon’s den for the first time, trying very hard to make sure not to cause the dragon to stir.  

Your shoes brushed past a crushed can and the jarring clattering noises has Jungkook looking up at you. He exuded the same vibes as the first night you met him; eyes the usual shade of darkness, moat of nonchalance and arrogance surrounding him.  

He stared at you intently, and he spoke challengingly.  

“Are you going to ask if I’m alright again? I’m not. So, for the second time, what are you going to do about it?”  

What were you supposed to do in a time like this? What could you do for him? You walked over and sat next to him quietly.

Jungkook watched your every move closely. Were you just pitying him? Or does this mean his plan is succeeding?  

You two sat in silence for a very brief moment.  

“You know, Y/N, you should really take a page out of the other girls’ books. No guy will want you to just sit next to him when he is feeling down. That was not what I had in mind when I asked you what you were going to do about this”, his elbow was anchored on the armrest of the couch but his hands were waving around as he uttered those words.  

He always spoke with a tinge of frivolity, you wondered whether it was his defence mechanism.

“If you called me here for that sort of reason, then I’m sorry, you may have gotten the wrong person. And honestly, I don’t know what can actually make you feel better, Jungkook, really…”

It was the first time you said his name. He was surprised that he wasn’t even getting frustrated about you rejecting his advances.

“But, if I can’t comfort you… I can try to share your pain”, you said as you held out a hand.

A beat passes.  

“If that will make you feel less lonely, then take my hand.”

All he could do was stare at the hand you had extended to him. He said nothing, because what you said felt like everything.

#take my hands now #series: tmhn #jungkook fan fic #jungkook scenarios #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #jungkook x reader #bts #jungkook #jungkook angst #jungkook drama #kpop fan fiction #bts angst #bts drama #bts x reader #namjoon #bts rm #bangtan #jungkook fanfic #bts fan fiction #jeon jungkook #kpop fanfic #jungkook fan fiction #kpop #angst #drama #fan fiction #fanfic #tmhn

[rayesketchit42]

When you befriend the king part 5. Final. 

“Home”

Oc Fic| DarkWing Duck 91’ universe.Zeke Corvo and Dave “dorky” Curant @dorky-crow

Mentions of abuse, and suicidal thoughts 

 A/N: Some culture shock for the dracula parrot. There is more to come this is just their start. But as for this story its at its end next time we see these two will be more romantic~ 

____________________________________________________________________________

"So zeke I was wondering, since the weekend is coming up if you would like to come over to my place."  

Dave had suddenly asked Zeke, though the way he went about it seemed very rehearsed. Zeke kind of smiled when seeing Dave mentally prepare himself beforehand. Mumbling some pep talk to himself under his breath.  

"You want me to go over to your place?" Zeke asked Dave to give him some slack.

The little black bird simply nodded in response as he nervously fiddled with his fingers. Finally daring to look up at Zeke waiting for his answer. 

"Well I don't see why not." 

"Re really?" Dave asked smiling brightly 

"Do you think I'd really lie to you?" Zeke egged on a bit as he leaned down to look over Dave.

Dave just smiled even brighter, if that was possible. 

"That is gonna be great! So um tomorrow is okay then right? My mom said she’d cooked something special" 

Zeke just smiled more listening to Dave ramble on. He hated to admit it but it was kind of cute the way Dave used his hands to talk the more excited he got. 

After sometime he was cut  off by the  honk of a car. Dave said bye and took off after giving his address to Zeke. Zeke watched him climb into the car where he was greeted by his father. The latter happily greeted Dave in and even ruffled up his hair before driving away. 

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

Dave was quick to answer the door when Zeke knocked on it, though he saw him watching out the window the whole time he walked up the driveway. Dork. 

“Zeke hi welcome! Oh uh come in!” Dave said his excitement basically poured out from every word as he stepped back to let Zeke enter. 

Zeke just nodded and walked into the house, it was small. Unlike the house he grew up in but it had a much different feel to it then Zeke’s place, the word just escaped him on how exactly to describe it. Before he could think more the little black bird grabbed Zeke's hand and pulled him along into the small living room, where two others were sitting Dave’s parents. Zeke had seen his father before from when he would take Dave to and from school. This was the first he ever saw of Dave’s mother though They were sitting and talking together when Dave dragged Zeke into the living room. Both turned their attention to the two boys. They seemed to smile just as brightly as Dave had been since Zeke showed up.

“Mom, Dad this is Zeke!” Dave nearly shouted out as he was failing to hold in his joy.

“Ah Zeke so good to finally meet you” Dave’s father said as he got up and walked over to Zeke offering his hand out to the young parrot. “Dorky tells us so much about you when he comes home from school. We’ve been dying to meet you.” His mother chimed in as she got up as well and lovingly hugged Dave. 

Zeke just blinked; this was all unnatural to him. He reached out and shook Dave’s dad hand, his  hold was so warm and gentle, so odd. The way Dave’s mother spoke was so sweet and kind, so forgien. Dave just smiled as his dad commented on Zeke’s grip playfully saying something to Dave about how he needed to learn to improve his own handshake. 

They were so abnormal. Or was this normal? This was nothing like Zeke’s home life, as the three of them talked Zeke took a moment to look around the place. The furniture was a bit mismatched not all from the same set but worked together at least. The walls were full of family photos; there was even a picture of Dave as an egg on the wall. An assortment of nicknacks and other decor placed a bit randomly definitely not decorated by a professional at all. There were books and papers and other items laying out and about, it was easy to tell this place was lived in. He then looked back to the family a bit thrown off when seeing they were all staring at him now. 

Shoot they were talking, did they say something to him just now? Zeke tried to see if he could figure out what they said. The parents expressions were a bit harder to read but Dave looked like he was hoping for a yes. 

“Yes?” He gave hoping that would work out.

“Oh good I made up a cot for you just in case” Dave's mother answered with 

Wait what? Zeke wondered after she said that. 

“You kids can even watch some movies all night if you like. Dorky and I stopped yesterday to rent some for you two.” Dave's dad added in.

Oh shoot I agreed to staying over just now.

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

“Oh and this is my bathroom since mom and dad have one in their room” Dave explained, he was giving Zeke a tour of the house. Making sure to share every little detail of the place.

Zeke just followed him quietly still at a loss of the situation he was finding himself in. The living room was one thing but the whole house was the same. There was even one of those size trackers on the wall of the kitchen. Zeke had seen in tv shows before, he thought that was just a tv thing but seems some people actually do that.

Dave continued on with the tour of the bathroom and Zeke just thought about his own home compared to the Current family. It was huge with tons of space and rooms, that now didn’t seem to be as full as their house was. All the furniture was imported and made top of line every single roomed matched in style and look. Unlike this house, the walls of Zeke’s home were bare, only studies or meeting rooms had portraits hung up. They were so stiff though unlike the picture of Dave dressed up for halloween in a homemade costume his mother made him. You couldn’t even tell there were kids who lived in Zeke’s home. No evidence of toys or even a place to hang up their backpacks when they got home. 

Dave led Zeke to his room as the final destination of the tour. It was pretty much what Zeke expected it to be. It seemed like his parents decorated especially for him, the walls were painted differently than the rest of the house, he had a bed full of stuffed animals and more personal looking furniture. Seemed Dave tried to clean it up a bit but there were still some messes here and there. Dave mentioned something to Zeke that he didn’t catch and quickly ran off. Zeke just walked into the room and looked around more. It was cute and childish. 

Zeke's room was so bare he had a bed and a desk in his room but it didn’t have ugly brown carpet with a juice stain on it. He didn’t have shelfs full of stuff he owned or glow in the dark stars stuck to the walls. This was such a weird place for Zeke, yet somehow familiar to Zeke he just couldn’t understand why. The whole place and even Dave and his parents, it was.

“Warm.” Zeke said out loud, finally finding the right word. Nothing like Zeke’s home. A place he was meant to belong but didn’t. He didn’t belong here either just standing in this room, he was ruining it. He should leave and go back to his house where things made sense. 

Logically he knew that wasn’t true, the way his family was, wasn’t normal his home wasn’t a home it was a business at best. It used to be different, Zeke knew that it used to feel warm too. Zeke would run in from school and hear the laugh of his grandfather echo in the halls. Zeke always had a place to be when he was alive. That loving affection Zeke saw from Dave;s parents he used to have that as well at one time. It had only been now three months since his death but suddenly it seemed to really hit Zeke on how much he missed him. 

“Zeke are you okay?” Dave’s voice cut through his thoughts softly as he could feel the little bird’s hand on his shoulder. 

Zeke opened his eyes he didn’t know were closed shut, able to feel the tears that were running down his cheeks. He was just looking over to Dave who gave him a genuine look of concure. Why, Zeke wondered. No one cared about Zeke not since his grandfather passed away. His brothers would be happy if he was gone. His mother wouldn’t even know if he was gone. His dad, his dad would be absolutely delighted if Zeke just dropped dead one day. That didn’t seem like such a bad idea though, then maybe there was an after life he could be with the only person who cared about him. 

“It’s okay you don’t have to tell me what it is but I’m here.” Dave said again 

Zeke dropped to his knees and slowly sat down, unable to stand up any longer.  Dave sat down next to him on the floor not showing any signs of moving away from Zeke’s side. Thinking of it that was just how Dave always was with Zeke. Always stayed next to him, even when he beat up kids or scared them away. Dave never got scared of Zeke himself. If Zeke wanted to sleep during lunch Dave made sure to wake him up. When did Dave become that to him Zeke wondered. As his tears seemed to get more heavy Zeke hadn’t felt alone since meeting this kid. 

“I’ll stay right here Zeke, promise.” Dave said again as Zeke realized he grabbed the small bird and pulled him into a hug. 

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

“Sorry about that,” Zeke said as he and Dave were laying down watching the movie Dave picked out. It was something with a princess who was locked away in a tower. 

“You don’t have to be sorry Zeke, I’m sorry if we did anything that upset you.” Dave answered peaking over his bed to look at Zeke. 

Zeke just shook his head, the comfort of the place and how safe it felt was what did it to him, but he wasn’t going to admit any of that. It  was bad enough he couldn’t deny the crying. He would rather die than admit the hugging too. Zeke felt so stupid for that break down and yet.

“Hey,” Zeke said as he  sat up so he could look over to Dave. “While back you asked if we were friends right?”

Dave nodded to answer Zeke.

“Well. Are we?” Zeke asked this time around.

Dave’s eyes widened and he sat up smiling at that question, nearly tossing his covers right off from how fast he moved. 

“I um yes I mean of course, least I think of you as a friend..well my only friend but I mean your like the bestest friend to have so”

Zeke just smiled as he rambled on. “Good I, well I like having you as a friend too. I’d like to come over again too if thats ok”

“It’s  definitely okay!” Dave cut him off happily to answer 

Zeke smiled and laid back down. It might be a weird environment but Zeke was taking a liking to it all. 

Zeke left the next day Dave happily waving goodbye to him and his parents wished him goodbye. Dave’s mother made sure he had everything he came with and hoped he ate enough for breakfast. While his father kept offering to give him a ride home he didn’t like the idea of a kid walking by himself in the city. Zeke finally assured them all he was going to be fine before finally leaving. He knew he’d be in for it when he got home since he never said he would be gone all day but Zeke felt he could handle any hits he would receive because right now he felt lighter. The heaviness he had been carrying was no longer there anymore.    

#zeke corvo #oc fic #dave curant

[emma-nation]

I Almost Do (Mona x MC)

Summary: Inspired by the song, “I Almost Do” by Taylor Swift. Mona’s life and reflections after the events of Ride Or Die Book 1.

Genre: Romance/Fluff

Rating: G

MonaxMC Tag List: @zoe6111, @simsvetements, @whoinvitedalx, @abunchofbadchoices, @kamilahmademedoit, @talkinlikeateen, @eagle-one-1, @andreear17, @monagf, @nighthunterss, @fal-carrington, @crazzyplays, @honorablebicycle, @averyswilshere, @iam-the-fuckin-queen

Notes: I had this forgotten on my drafts for quite a while now. I just found it and as I miss Mona a lot, I decided to post.

“Why do I even have to learn this useless shit?” The moronic High School teenager threw her pencil across the table and rolled her eyes, frustrated because she was unable to solve a simple math equation. “Who cares about SATs? I’m gonna be a model, jeez!“

She stood up, kicking off the chair and went back to her bedroom, where she began to talk dirty to her boyfriend.

“Why do I have to do this again?” Mona thought to herself. The answer was obvious. Community service. Tutoring kids in poor financial conditions, who were close from failing school. Some were tolerable and willing to learn, but another…

She sat down at the couch, staring at her watch as she counted the hours to complete one more day of her alternative penalty. Filling the report, she lied, marking it as achieved task. She had done her part after all.

It was a little bit over 7 PM when she arrived at her mother’s small apartment in Bronx. A stupid incident at the subway caused her to be late, violating her 6 PM curfew. If only she was allowed to drive again.

“You’re late,” her mother complained. “What if the officer had called you and you weren’t here to pick up?”

“Trouble at the subway,” Mona told, throwing her backpack in some corner in the living room. “It wasn’t my fault.”

Her explanation wasn’t enough. At the kitchen, her mother scowled at her with her arms crossed and narrowed eyes. It was time for another lecture. Another scolding.

“Do you ever consider I had to humiliate myself to your father, so he could get out of jail?”

“Never asked for it,” she made her way to the small corridor that lead to her old bedroom.

“You ran away, you got yourself involved with a gang, you got shot… as if it wasn’t enough, you managed to get in trouble with the FBI. The FBI! I wonder, every single day, where I went so wrong with you. If that was because of your father, you’ve got what you wanted after all. He used his money to bribe a judge and ease your penalty.”

It wasn’t completely true. Mona was declared innocent in the Brotherhood case. She also disclosed all the information she knew about Jason Shaw and his gang. She refused to speak about Mercy Park Crew. They had no concrete proof of her involvement with Kaneko’s crew. Only witnesses’ reports and suspicions.

Being influent and rich, her father, the very same douchebag that abandoned her when she was just a toddler, worked on his ways to send her back to New York. Where she was punished with community service and parole. She was also forced to attend classes for High School drop-outs, in order to get a GED, and sessions with a therapist.

Mona slammed the bedroom’s door shut. She threw herself on the bed and stared at the ceiling. There wasn’t much she could do after all. Her mother had forbidden any access to internet or cell phone. Watching TV was her only option, but the channels were very limited, considering their budget wouldn’t allow them to pay for more.

She sat at her desk. Evidence of her old life was still all around, as a reminder of her past mistakes. In the drawer, she still kept the acceptance letters she received, from multiple universities, shortly before her first imprisonment. She grabbed an empty paper and a pen, attempting to start another letter.

“Dear Allison…” she started.

Within the weeks Mona spent in prison in California, she received a few letters from her lover. She refused to read or even open them. It was like putting salt in a open wound. That affection was temporary. Allison had just started college, why on Earth was she supposed to remember her criminal ex-girlfriend? The desire for a healthy and normal life would never allow her to keep this passion going for too long. There was also her father, Detective Wheeler, that hated Mona to his guts. He would never allow them to be together.

Mona crumpled the paper and threw it in the trash can. She couldn’t do that. Even if Allison wasn’t so far away, studying at Langston University, it wasn’t a good idea. She couldn’t bear the thought of learning she had moved on, or the thought of having to say goodbye again.

Dinner was ready. Another insult session with her mom. No matter how hard Mona was trying, their relationship would never be the same as before. She’d never look at her as her loving and smart daughter again. All she could see was a dirty criminal, who she was ashamed of.

“I called your therapist today. She told me you won’t say a single word during the sessions.”

“I don’t need therapy.”

“Your parole officer thinks so. Your current behavior is inconsistent with the person you used to be, two years ago, there must be something wrong.”

“I made my own decisions. I’m an adult.”

“Then start behaving like one.”

The late hours of the night were Mona’s favorite. She would sneak out to the building’s rooftop, only to look at the stars.

“What are you doing at this time of the night, nerd?” She spoke to the Universe. “Probably so bored and tired as I am.”

Being such a nerd, Allison was probably studying for a hard exam. Of course, even in college, she needed to work hard to maintain her #1 position in all her classes. Mona liked to imagine the picture they took at her Prom was lying somewhere on her desk, and that she’d look at it once in a while, to keep herself motivated.

“Wishful thinking,” in reality she should be making out with some rich frat guy.

In the next morning, her mother left early for work, as usual. After speaking to the parole officer over the phone, Mona checked her schedule. No brainless teenagers to teach. No therapist to analyze her. She had an entire day of freedom.

Wearing her best outfit and full of determination, she went to the subway station. She was going to Langston. It wasn’t doing any good for her mental health to have unfinished business. Maybe that would even help her to get discharged earlier from therapy.

Before she could enter the subway though, she took a step back. It was stupid. Completely stupid. Her presence would only embarrass Allison in front of her new group of friends and teachers, maybe even cause her trouble.

Upset, Mona turned around, ready to go back to Bronx, when a voice called her.

“Mona?!”

It was strangely familiar and… soft. She felt her cheeks blushing a little bit. Before turning around, she stared down at the floor for a second, only to be sure she wasn’t hearing things.

“Mona,” a pair of arms embraced her from behind, confirming she wasn’t dreaming. “It’s really you!”

She finally faced her. The girl she took to a stupid school Prom. The girl she got in trouble for. The girl she took a bullet for. The girl she loved.

“Allison,” she spoke. “Hey.”

Allison’s eyes were a little bit teary, after hugging her tightly again, she looked inside Mona’s eyes and stroked her cheek.

“I heard you were back in New York and I managed to get your address. I was just going to visit you.”

“Why?”

“Because I miss you? Because…” the embarrassment didn’t let her finish the sentence, but Mona knew what she meant, because she felt exactly the same.

“Yeah, ‘cause… that. Those three stupid words. I know, right?”

Allison smiled and nodded in confirmation. For the first time in months, Mona managed to smile for real. She took Allison’s hand.

“So… I was thinking…” she bit her lower lip. “Let’s start this again. The right way this time. Would you like to go out for a coffee?”

“A pretty girl is asking me out?!” Allison laughed. “How could I say no?“

#ride or die #mona #rod mona #mona x mc #playchoices #choices stories you play #ride or die fanfiction