#Last 20 pages will be posted soon

[plasticfangtastic]

Can We be Lonely Together? Ch. 12 2/3

A Homelander X Stalker! Reader fanfic

This is a G/N reader but male leaning for crack purposes.

A/N: Part 3 soon, long chapter ahead, part 1 is currently a pin post on my blog as of 30/7/2023. prev. chapters in the #My Fic tag and #can we be lonely together tag on my blog. Thanks to all the ones who have read this.

R18+ S.A and rape mention, child abuse and child death mention, murder. long chapter ahead

Chapter 12 cont.

Entering wasn’t difficult– no more difficult than co-ordinating with The Deep in order to steal a minor dosis of V and placing it in your car the day prior without the boss finding out, clutching at your bag, and the SD card in your pocket you began to re-play a collection of tragedies.

You needed to sell this and as controversial ‘The Method’ acting technique was, it worked in a pinch– these weren’t just enemies of Vought, or Homelander but of all Supe kind. Even on a microdose of V you could suffiencently heighten your powers. Vought had plenty on this group of FBSA contractors, their rap sheet miles long: terrorism, murder, assault, kidnapping, speeding, drug and gun peddling and now social media influencing.

Your escape plan virtually nonexistent, this was a do-or-die situation counting on Starlight having some humanity left… after all she was a Supe too– and that one man might just be pretending to be making exceptions to his genocidal goal.

If this didn’t work out then Homelander would never learn, you repeated over and over drilling it into your skull as you got closer to your goal.

It was for his own good, you repeated.

Welcome by the assault of a bloodtrail of thoughts you shook, gagging at the vividness of it all. These people were brutal, you had resided in carveries, dozens of bodies had gone past you yet their attitude was too much when compared to Dolores and Kent. One so odious and angry you began to reconsider your plan, yet you stepped foot out of the elevator as the ornate doors opened before you.

You had a catalog of tragedies to draw out tears, playing death on command feeling those final memories, the pains of love with nowhere to blossom, screams atop of lungs, and torment and pain of your own and others, you stood in that hallway until your eyes welled up, until your reflection must’ve looked haunting, each step forward meant a death without witnessing your sun once more.

‘Greywal & Co.’ Your hand shaky as it challenged itself to knock– how hard should you hit it? how desperate should you look? did your clothes look composed yet disheveled? How clammy was your skin? Thankfully you’re still sweaty and achy from sex.

Your knuckles hit the door lightly, shrinking, making yourself small, leaving out all of your pesky bravado.

You waited knowing you were noticed but each member grew increasingly silent, looking at each other– who could’ve possibly known their location? Sinking your teeth into your madness, you knocked again.

One already had a gun in his hand as he approached, a tiny jumpy thing, his mind clear but quick, a myriad of narcotics still fresh in his system from last night bender, he opened the door, you made eye contact, noticing the dark circles under his eyes, and his tight bright coloured shirt, he offered a jumpy glare-- this one was a functioning addict.

He opened his mouth speaking with a thick french accent.

“We didn’t order anything.”

“Is… Is…” Your voice so small and breathy each letter caught in your tongue, the man leaned forward to catch your stuttering–… Is William Butcher here?”

His index creeping closer to the trigger.

“I must speak with him!!” Oh that cracking so good you earned your cookie– please…” you pleaded.

As the scene grew, Plan B entered the play– Starlight stood from her desk, narrowing her eyes, it took so much of you not to grin. She moved quickly, recognizing a nobody like yourself; Which made sense considering how the last time you both had made eye contact was back before restaffing efforts in the analytics department.

“You’re from Vought… yeah… I remember you, you were with Analytics!”

“Starlight!?” you took a step back, clutching at the straps of your backpack– thank god… I… I… Please help me.”

Your knees wobbly from before, wobbling at the perfect moment, thankful for the aching on your back and hips.

“I’ll giv’ you one minute of my time, luv– before I ask you to get the fuck outta of ‘ere.” the English man put his boots down from his desk, signaling to the two to let you walk in.

You could see why Homelander found him tantalizing, he was too much of a bad boy, practically screaming that he would ruin you with that somber look in his eyes, but deep down you could tell he was a softy if you dug and hated yourself enough– you could’ve tried that without breaking too many nails.

Marching towards your butcher, you took a SD card out of your jacket cradling it in your palm, swallowing the knot in your throat.

“Nobody at Vought would help me…” You swallowed– I… I don’t want to die… if… if they don’t kill me… he will” Your eyes reddened, lying like this pained you– I-I-I can-can’t do this anymore." you stuttered-- I learned you guys dealt with supes! The cops can’t help me and I'm a nobody so the press would never believe me… the FBSA won’t do nuthin’ about him either.”

He stared at the SD card in your hand yet still uninterested.

“... please… I beg you… please help me” You cried lightly, your whole body shuddering knowing what was about to escape your mouth would hurt him– please…”

“Who's the cunt? What could you possibly ‘ave here that would make me wan’ to ‘elp you? Not even a sob story?”

“Homelander. He… He did things to me…” you cried– I needed to find a way to get away from him… I thought if I found something dirty on Vought or him, they would put me on witness protection or something!! But they will… they will fucking kill me for this! God I wanted to get away from him, not this!!”

His whole body stiffen, your tears far too genuine, their eyes too uncomfortable to look at you for a millisecond longer, exchanging worried glances urging a brave soul to approach you.

Starlight's hand took you by surprise, flinching and slapping it off of you, she clutched her hand staring at you looking like a caged animal.

“So-sorry… I– I– I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Is that true?” the Englishman asked with a low voice, and forced sarcasm– quite the story you got I almost bought it.”

A quiet rage invaded you, furiously unbuttoning your dress shirt, dropping layers in excess, flashing him, his mouth dropped at the sight of a hundred strokes– this was more than he had hoped for, leaving him nothing more to want.

“I’m not lying!!” You growled– does this look fake to you, asshole!?”

Your torso imitated a car crash victim, turning in shame just enough for him to catch a glimpse at the sore bite marks around your shoulders and neck.

“I’m losing it…” you cackled with your sobs– am so fucking dead.”

“Jesus Christ Butcher!” Starlight shouted picking your clothes to cover you– hey! hey come sit down.”

The bastard had actually thought you weren’t his type.  

Turning his love letters into weapons, brought you into a screaming fit of tears, it hurt you, he would not forgive you… he shouldn’t… but… he did it first.

In his desolation he would go back to you, nobody would love him like you, he would understand he could only belong freely in your arms.

Following her to the gross little couch, while making little notes on the names of their family members, passwords, embarrassing secrets– all the juicy things you needed to start Plan R.

A handsome man, the family oriented one offered you tea. Both him and Starlight’s voice were nothing but a buzz, your sight glued on Butcher.

“How did you found out ‘bout me…?”

“You've been after him and Vought for a while…” the crack on your voice harsh– you killed Stillwell… Translucent… Mesmer… the Payback bitches… but  I read that they kidnapped your wife– so I put two and two together and assumed you had a vendetta.”

“What y’know ‘bout my wife?”

“I read she was kept in a facility to help rear Homelander’s son– something about providing a stable environment that supported his emotional needs. From the look in your face I gather I’m not the only one.”

You cleaned your tears.

“So that’s what you found? You think that’s gonna do shite againts them? As if they won’t spin it as my Becca being a heartless harlot who ran away with his kid!”

You were too angry for your own good, maybe just as angry as him.

“ I’m not stupid… I stumbled upon some files called ‘Project Patriot’ and ‘First True American Program’ leading me down a rabbit hole– back in the 70’s and 80’s Vought conducted research using high spec Supe sperm and eggs on… unwilling participants” You cleared your nose, your voice sounding detached– they took runaways and girls from ‘Sage Grove’ to help make what would become ‘The Homelander’… they- they were other kids… he was the only survivor. His mother… she was found a few weeks ago… she was a missing girl called Frida Gillman…”

You looked up, clearing your nose loudly. The Englishman gave a commanding look to his group, the tall black guy did a quick google search on his phone, the first result was a youtube video talking about old unsolved mysteries finally solved, it seemed for many years Frida had had a following in the true crime community.

Showcasing an old grainy picture of Frida, both men could immediately see the family resemblance.

“How confident are you that you don’t got the wrong girl?”

“He killed her in front of me. He… he found her… I have the autopsies pictures too… it…”

“He laser her brains off?” He scoffed, for all the bullshit talk he had in front of him with Soldier Boy… that had been rich to hear.

“She looked the same. She didn’t age a day… I think Vought briefly considered using her to make anti-aging face cream… he didn’t like that.”

The lab had been repainted after you whispered it to Homelander.

Butcher took a seat across from you, already finding twelve different ways to kill you before his men could stop him, disliking the tone of your voice far too much.

“Kept goin’’”

“The American program…” You took a short sip of your tea, never lifting your face for too long– they collected his kids, he told me once… he thought he… he couldn’t make babies… Vought lied to him. Something about his DNA, basically fused with Compound V! So his offspring would always be born natural Supes– in theory… so they took the kids and put them in Big Brother’s house… forced the moms to agree to the experiments once the kids showed powers– if not dispose of them and continue without them.”

He could smell the pretense in your delivery, he was sharp, you liked the challenge strangely enough, it made your heartbeat jump with excitment.

“His son… Ryan… he seems like a good kid. As much as I hate him… as much as I wanna see Homelander dead… I cannot be the reason an innocent child goes through what they did to him and his kids.” You whimpered– The things… you can’t even imagine the things they did to him and those kids!! They were babies!! Like how can anybody do that to a child!!? You wouldn’t even do that to an animal!! I saw a fucking toddler be hit with a sledgehammer!! Shot at! Poisoned! Drowned!! I saw his kids being hooked to generators!! Have you ever seen a kid's eyes bursting!!!??” You stood up, your skin turning green. This couldn’t be faked– have you ever seen what happens to a body after it experiences a sudden atmospheric pressure change? not talking scuba divers… talking submarine chambers.”

You plop down, sinking in the leather seat, holding your clothes in place, watching their disgust and horror. You offered the SD card, the man struggled to take it off your hand, thinking of how dead he would be as if wasn’t already on a timer.

“– Vought has too many ears… after the V scandal… and I can barely get away from him…”

You could practically hear the victory bells, with clumsy fingers you took your phone out, the burner one that only served Roman. Too many selfies of you and Homelander, too many short texts between you two on your current phone.

“Wait you walking ‘roun with that shite on your phone!?”

“Well if he kills me, maybe the cops would find this in my phone… I… I was sort of counting on Homelander just not caring to check.”

You played a single video, a little blonde kid no more than eleven sitting in front of a row of shot glasses, a younger Jonah Vogelbaum sat beside him holding a bag of Peach gummies, for every shot the kid took he earned a gummy and a pat in his head, it wasn’t until the third shot glass when the group that had huddle around understood what was taking place– as the boy spat furiously, droplets felt across the metal sizzling whatever they touched, the kid crying with a painfully hoarse voice that it burnt too much. Vogelbaum stood up offering a single candy then forced him back into the chair, telling him that he shouldn’t cry, that he must do this for him if he wanted to earn this week’s reward.

The kid cried slowly, calming down as he took the next cup, snot covered bright red lips and cheeks as he tried looking strong for Voguelbaum.

“It goes on for five minutes.”

“Is that Homelander?” The lanky white boy spoke nervously.

“Yeah… that’s not even the worst… even if you kill me for the files only I got the password and good luck cracking it. I’ll give you the files if you can get me protection…”

“You think you can run away from him?” Asked the englishman– "can't even get rid of him now– those bruises look fresh.”

So here you could tell more awful lies, little tears soiled your cheeks, he just simply did not like you, not liking that you now held their price hostage, but it didn't need to turn bloody.

“I liked him… but one day he got loud, he scared me… and since… no matter what I did he would just get more angry. Before I knew it… he did this to me, and if I cried he would get worse… I… I want him to stop but am just a mudperson.” Starlight tilted towards you at the mention of that word– Nobody can kill him… or lock him, there is no prison built for him… but if Vought dies, if there’s no more Vought then there’s no more Homelander. He seems like the kind of guy who would kill himself if he found out about what they did to the kids… Even if I don’t make it… I could be okay with that if that meant Ryan would be safe– Let me at least go to hell with one less sin.”

He briefly considered torturing you to get you to reveal it was an act, but watching you, watching this divine offering, knowing this would never happen again he had to agree, Homelander would kill you, watching the look of anger and defeat brewing reflecting of your face, his walls began to crumble. He hated Homelander, watching that clip didn’t change anything but Ryan remained… The thought of his Becca forced to agree, to comply as they forced Ryan to drink acid– Butcher imagined the same scene, his wife holding the gummies in place of Jonah encouraging the small kid to take another sip. His stomach churned.

“I can make some calls to the FBSA…” he muttered, his mind in another timeline.

“The one run by the head popping presidential candidate?”

“How do you—?” asked Starlight.

“He talks… I think he thinks I'm his therapist– he says a lot of things… as if nobody ever did so much as pretend to listen. He was nice…” A saddened smile unnerved Starlight– a guy like that doesn’t look at somebody like me– it wasn’t hard to like him. It was hard to learn he was a monster… he says a lot of things. Too many. ‘bout the company, ‘bout himself, ‘bout the people who serve him.” You looked up– you. That’s how I learned your name… you’re the big bad wolf trying to blow his house of straws.”

He chuckled.

“So he kept comin’ back because yer a good listener? Give me a day and I can reach some contacts in the CIA that might be able to get you out the country– can you survive until then?”

“Don't have much of a choice.” You wrapped yourself in your clothes properly this time, your eyes sore from all the tears– the kid… the kid will be alright, no?”

“We’ll do everything we can to help you…” Starlight spoke, her hand sticky on your shoulder– you can trust us.”

“Certainly hope so. I can’t wait to get the matching set” You hissed scratching at the bite mark on your left shoulder– thank you…”

“Have to ask… what’s your name?” William asked– for the paperwork of course.”

He still didn’t trust you, good things don’t come this easily, these were jaded people but your carrot was too big and tempting, he had no qualms killing you, he had no issue with Homelander knowing this address, for he seemed far more interested in playing house and running Vought to the ground than to pay him a visit.

You gave them your current cover… only Homelander knew your real name.

You had liked that name, ideally it would be replaced by his last name, you watched him grin and offer you a tissue, the french man telling you where the bathroom was so you could wash your face. They wasted no time aiming for a background check speedrun world record, your name led them to various social media accounts, your usage was sporadic but consistent on topics, even a personal update about starting work at Vought, soon after that you posted less and less. 

They could possibly find everything about you, all the fake shit you carefully build, and if they had weeks they could possibly find the new one you’ve crafted to get away from Roman earlier on. With their CIA connection as limited as they were, it wouldn’t be impossible to uncover your many past lives in time, at least your original self, that have once been sealed in the Vought records of your Pusher days were permanently deleted.

As your face dried your phone chimed, a short  message: ‘Can’t you come back early? Babe, I want both you and Ryan to meet the surprise. Oh and should I get some from that cake shop in Sydney? the one you like??’

You looked around knowing nobody had come close.

‘Get the lemon pistachio. I can be there at 4. will try to finish this quickly tho. Luv u.’

Starlight was quizzed on who you were, she mentioned noticing Homelander descending to the lower floors, but she was more busy about everything, after all you had arrive on her last weeks of work soon after Edgar stepped down, you didn’t stand out but she saw you– after all there were only like five people down there.

You re-entered as M.M. lowered his computer screen, heading towards his desk you handed him the SD card.

Clutching at your bag straps, looking wounded and exhausted.

“How do we know we can trust you? Maybe I believe you or maybe I don’t, luv.”

He was going to give you a final jab.

“Margaret and Elena recently purchased a homestead… 8 acres of land down in Colorado and are rearing llamas for fur… I could’ve given Homelander her address, phone number, new social security number, the license plate to her blue 1999 Chevy Silverado, even down to the last thing she ate at Taco Bell last saturday at 4:33 pm based on her Bank of America account transaction. I also know she texted her three days ago.” You pointed at Starlight– If I was your enemy I would’ve gotten her killed. My supervisor deleted the footage of a van picking her body but she missed one from a Ring doorbell camera one store away”

You showed him the clip, different angle, dark but obviously them.

“Trust me or not, don't care… just help me get away from him, if I had contacts with the CIA I would’ve tried running away on my own, but the worse part about working for Vought is that the people in my department are fucking good at their job. Call Maeve if you like to confirm she’s alive, if you want.”

The room tensed.

You took a couple steps back, your phone ringing and ringing, you had said no and even if your message was reasonable, it didn’t matter.

The more it went on the more you could sense this ending very poorly.

“That’s him, Isn’t it?” Hughie asked.

“... the password is ‘limerence’ no caps… I… I have to go.”

The phone kept going and going you stood there for a whole minute while it rang incessantly, taking a deep breath, you began walking away.

Your eyes, two whole red saucers, the french man followed you to the door, watching your eyes welling up, your arms trembling as you took the phone to your ear.

“You answer when I fucking call you!” John shouted into the phone, making you jump.

Loud enough they could hear his unmistakable voice echoing down the halls.

You ran for the stairs, knowing there was a camera set up, looking down as you heaved in your sprint. M.M. looked at the security feed watching your jacket fade as you run and seemed to apologize.

Hughie took an old computer from one the many filing cabinets, if anything was to be destroyed by a virus it wasn’t going to be one of theirs, there was no denying those bruises in your body, Annie had winced, her sight fixated on each patch of skin and its unsavory coating– some fresh some ancient, some barely there until the light hit it just right, all your wounds in spots that your clothes could cover, it made her stomach churn thinking of what he had done to get you like that and even as you runned down the stairs you could hear them so clearly.

The SD card opened up displaying three folders within, Hughie and company tried typing the password on all of them, getting lucky on the last one.

Inside hundreds of files, documents, images and videos on ‘Project Patriot’.

Even as the city grew sleepier, they were fixated on the screen, even without the other folders, even without anything else– Vought could be done for.

It left a bitter aftertaste… he lost sleep watching recordings and recordings of nameless kids, fading from history, kids that had never formally existed outside of God’s gaze.

Just overwhelming misery.

Inside that now emptied office, he took a cigarette out to the sounds of a little boy taking an oral test, a light stutter had to be eliminated out his mouth, made to read out loud passages from some American history book, made to repeat everything if the stutter presented itself watching the child grow more stressed and embarrassed.

He was living on borrowed time, he considered for longer than he could afford to do.

“scorched earth” the smoke drew swirls in the air– what should I do Becca?”

Homelander's nose and ears ached, the thought of taking another step inside this shelter was genuinely agonizing, the excitement, the fear and fecal rainbow of the four-legged beasts all around, smacked his senses.

This was quicker than getting one from a breeder, it would look good for his new fanbase-- he was told, the lady's jittery motion gave him a headache– shut up!! He wanted to scream as she spoke non-stop leading him to the cattery, rows of stainless steel boxes… cages… rows and rows of cages. 

Not even enough space to walk away from the litter box, his tongue dried thinking of his own cage, the latrine always visible.

“This donation truly means a lot to us, Homelander, sir.” she said excitedly.

 A hundred-thousand dollars was chump change to him– a lot for this independent shelter, watching these tiny cages he might double it on the promise they would make them bigger.

Rows of kittens and cats mewl and screamed, too many noises, too many smells, it was dizzying, he had to hold unto Ashley’s shoulder as his ears were assaulted by screams and purrs, hisses and yowlings, barking, and scratching, this place was a violent, his chest tightening as his ears ached– his eyes pressed tightly. John’s mind was so quiet, his brother still ignoring him squeezing his knuckles until they cracked. Homelander gave the room a quick glance, picking a random cage that housed two older cats.

These creatures screamed the loudest, demanding to be seen.

“Oh those two they were surrendered to us last year… not a lot of people want to take older cats, much less bonded pairs.”

He read the tag, a pair of seven and ten year old cats– a brother and sister. The brother a fat slob of a beast, its long fur made it look like a scraggly cream coloured cloud, its whiskers just as long and curly at the tips, its nose too long and its eyes big and green while his sister a skinnier but not by much… still more fur than it should have, just a boring brown mackerel.

“We’ve been trying to get them to lose weight but they aren’t very active during playtime, still lots of improvement from last year.”

This was just to make you happy, they would only last a couple more years and by the time they died you wouldn’t want more. Ryan would get the pet experience but as most children he assumed he would grow disinterested in a couple months.

“Do they get along with dogs? And kids?”

“Kids, yes!! Dogs not big ones” she blurted, already opening the cage– want to hold them?”

Forcibly smiling, he took the fat girl, hefty, she talked displeased, just blubber and fur, the lady made a motion encouraging Homelander to press her against his chest, chirping and chattering, the eye contact was intense, as he wanted this weird tuna smell away from his face and the cat was clearly puzzled by his presence. Its tongue was so strange, he flinched lightly as the animal licked his nose, sniffling at his face.

From the cat's perspective the man had no aroma, nothing but a fawn wearing human clothes.

“Perfect, I'll take them!” he handed the creature back– my boy cannot wait.”

“well… sir… we usually have an interview pro–

“I said I’ll take them– Ashley give the lady her check!”

An assistant handed him a cartoonishly large check, this was after all going to be a PR opportunity at least. Ashley, still processing what was happening, all she knew was that after a light lunch he came and ordered her to get this organized.

He waited outside the cattery texting you and getting nothing, he was inside this place for you and now you didn’t answer inmediately.

He shouted.

“Sorry!! Trying to organize some ingredients for Dolores she needed my help!!” 

“What's with your voice?”

His anger melted instantly.

“I’m running down the stairs!!”

“Are you okay…?”

“Yes! I just don’t think I can talk with you while they’re around– I’ll call you when I can. I love you.” 

Hanging only made it worse.

Three floors under them, you are still close enough to listen to the French man, his knowledge of chemistry inspirational.

Homelander entered the room again to get a photo taken with the cats, each animal more displeased than he was.

By the time he made it back to the tower, he searched for your heartbeat.

Still not there, but Ryan was busy with after school activities, and going to the library with his buddies Jaythaniel, Haoran and Oaklynn to do their homework.

He watched the men set up the cats' stuff, Ms. Cha making sure they didn’t leave a mess, cursing in Korean how the cats were going to make her work more than she ever had yet still throwing them an adoring look.

He sat on his couch after letting the cats out, not paying much attention to what they were doing.

“Ms. Cha, could you keep an eye out for the cats? I still need to run some errands. If Y/N gets home don't let them in until I get here.”

Never in her twenty years of working for this man, had he ever called her anything. Assumed the hero didn’t even know her name... much less she existed.

Running across the city looking at your phone for the time, you jumped on the subway until you made it to Dolores's restaurant, two staff led you quietly to the back as the lunch service was still happening. 

A young woman shouted commands in code, the staff moving like extensions of their voice, Dolores examining each plate before a waiter took it, she had no need to taste for her nose did all the work, she pulled her second in command and placed them in charge walking away for you to follow into a cramp fridge.

“Supe.”

“Soup?”

“I can get you Firecracker for the next epulary.” you bluter excitedly.

“Get out of here.”

“Her editor and script writer lives in Queens… She goes every Thursday to her house for wine and discusses the next episode of their podcast. Vought might be running the show now but she still needs her best friend’s input.”

She looked at the labels around.

“How are you going to do it?” She moved the trays around dictating freshness thus urgency– she got bulletproof skin.”

“Tetrodotoxin… a couple drops in her wine”

“I can get you some puffer fish by tomorrow. I know that on a normal human the meat will be useless but… a Supe like her… am curious.”

“Her friend is a supe too, they met at Godolkin their power is stupid– X-Ray vision but overall normal.”

“Don’t get me too excited, babygirl.”

“I’ll deliver it in two days then, just need to get away from John for a minute and you do your part, right?”

“I’ll have the clean up crew just text me when you’re on your way. And ‘John’? Oh… not just Homelander this time.”

“I think he was gonna buy a cat for me.”

“Jesus christ what did you do to his dick? Any tips?”

“Just gotta suck it like you’re a repressed middle aged man with two kids and a wife at a dingy truck stop gloryhole.”

“Damn.”

“That or just tell him he is a good boy.”

She opened the door with a wide smile, jumping at the thought of tasting Supe meat again, it had been a long time since you guys met and you’ve help her..

“Oh I gotta make dinner… Can I?”

She lowered a tray of porterhouse angus for you.

“I take this as my advancement.”

“You should take our mash potato and brown buttered carrots– I’ll have them pack you some”

“Oh I got this Cassolette recipe I just stole from a killer”

“How good?”

“Remember Lil’ Nina from the Russian’s?”

“Oh the one she tried having me make? and who fucked us over with the Czech back in the day.”

“That one… small world indeed.”

“Fuck the angus take the dry-age wagyu.”

Time slips away but it's still four o’clock but shy of 5, by the time you rushed past the security check he was already waiting for you, dozens of eyes looking at you.

You lifted the grocery bag.

“You’re late.”

Still a quarter to five. He looks lost and upset, trying to keep composed in public.

“My apologies sir… I had to take the subway.”

“Your car doesn't work?”

There’s many people around you to speak comfortably.

“Sorry, I thought it would be quicker if I didn’t drive, sir.”

You looked away, clutching at your belongings, his glare was not worth the Uber ride you paid to get here.

“I’m going to go get Ryan from… whatever the fuck their names are… you don’t go inside until am back.”

“Jaythaniel, Haoran and Ooklynn.”

“What?”

“Those are his friends' names. You like Ooklynn, she is a well behaved one.”

“Those can’t be real names…” he softened his posture, taking a fancy paper bag from behind him– we’ll talk later.”

Seeing him take the front door out was a terrifying look, you stood there for a couple minutes trying to understand what just had happened, his mind had been so quiet.

The ride up was uncomfortable, the walk home just as bad.

“What did you do to him?” Ms Cha asked, already waiting for you outside– "I had it easy for years and now you make him give me more work!”

“I clean up after myself.” you defended.

“He has lost his goddamn mind.” she blocked the door– not allowed until bossman comes back.”

“How pissed was he?”

“Quiet. Just looks ready to kill somebody for the hell of it.”

“We both know that doesn’t narrow it down.”

“Not murder for funsies but premeditated.”

You both looked defeated just standing in awkward silence.

“Since when does he take the elevator?” Ms. Cha nudge at you, waking you up.

“It was nice knowing you.”

Ryan shot you the same look Ms. Cha gave you before, John's brows just buried enough yet not touching, his lips a thin line and he was looking straight at you without much blinking, the thrree of you huddling together as the door opened.

“Go in! come on.”

Ms. Cha bolted out at the opposite direction, she was not going to clean that up. Ryan wondered what could you’ve possibly had done, for him to be so absentminded when he picked him up, there was no urgency this time… heck he would had agreed to stay there for an extra 10 minutes without complaint.

It didn’t hit you at first until you noticed the cat tree by the window towering over the living room, and a child squealing as he spotted the two cats hiding under the coffee table.

“Toaster and Blender.” he gestured towards the worried cats– now you and I let's go to the kitchen for a chat.”

“You… You… oh my god…” 

Fuck him, you ignored him live this time– you jumped after the cats, Ryan aready snatching the fat tabby the moment it lifted its neck out the table, taking the other and squeeling like a lil' girl.

“I love it… oh my god you are so cute!! Can we keep it!?”

“Dad are we keeping them!!?

A thousand yard stare cemented in his eyes, underestimating the power of cats had in people, even Ashley had cooed at the critters.

“Yes. But you two have to clean the litter boxes.”

"I love you, Dad!!"

That conversation did not take place until after dinner, something about childhood excitement being shared by you two was far too overwhelming and hectic for the already stressed hero, you washed dishes as Homelander entered the kitchen.

“What was that today?”

The cats eat by the entrance, and it seems that wet food alleviated all their anxieties, specially at 4 dollars a can.

“A lot of mob front restaurants use high quality ingredients– I was organizing something for Dolores' private Epulary.”

“Bullshit.”

“Look I was in a room full of mobsters who could’ve killed me before you broke their door.”

“You could’ve called me later.”

“John. I’m Sorry but I was busy–

“I did that for you!” He pointed at the cats– what else do you want!? You’re still ignoring me! Acting distant– like what the fuck!” He shouted sounded more wounded than angry, exasperated in his panting.

“I wasn’t ignoring you, I was busy! I told you I was going to be busy!” You dried your hands, bothered that he was in his suit– I was hunting!! God fucking dammit John I been tagging these two whores for days!!”

You threw the towel.

“Hunting?  Wait you– you’re still killing people?”

“Not since you and I. God I thought the drugs made me happy but… ” You slumped onto the kitchen floor, just letting your legs give up– I need this. I need it… this is a different sort of adrenaline than sex or drugs and I like it. Oh god I fucking love it– I didn’t think I actually did! and you kept coming home covered in blood like you’re rubbing it in my face that I couldn’t!”

He stood frozen, his chin tucked, looking down at the mewling cat as if it asked him if they both heard the same thing.

“I love this. I love you.” You whined– I love domesticity but god I need to feel high!!– I don’t mind it, I am stressed and I haven’t hung out with my bestie in a while, either. Look, I'm just gonna kill these whores, have a girls night and then I’m all yours… is not fair you get to have all the fun.”

“Oh. Pumpkin you could have said something– communication is key to a successful relationship!”  There he was signing with relief blowing raspberries trying not to chuckle– "If you needed it, you could have asked me I could’ve brought you somebody!”

“No!” He looked offended suddenly– Look. Is the hunt that makes the kill fun, the trailing, the selecting, the ever fluctuating levels of difficulty… you do this in perpetual ‘easy mode’-- I don’t.” You smacked your head back– I got these girls, they got lots of friends, close family who will notice the moment they are missing, full-time work with lots of close colleagues and dependants… when girls like that go missing and nobody ever finds out what happens– that’s my bliss.”

A few red flags waved in his head but he ignored them because at least you were being honest with yourself and him, your speech back during your first fight must’ve been denial he thought.

“As long as you see their beady little eyes cloud–

“Boring!” you sang.

“Thought you hated it.” he picked the cream feline– Poor Toaster had to hear us scream.”

He takes his place beside you, cat still in arms.

“Me too. You remember the cat’s name before your own kids bestfriends?”

He had no reply to that.

“Why kill people for dinner?”

So he didn't.

“Rich fucks pay a lot of money to see pretty girls murdered while they eat spaghetti… they bid to select the method.”

“Can I help? I mean if you needed to kill people you could’ve asked me instead of being a bitc– being so mean to me.” He caught himself but you didn’t mind his slip.

“Maybe next time…?” you bit your lips– I was worried that if I was embracing this side of me… you… would be grossed out, and you wouldn't like me anymore.”

“Babe. Pumpkin.” He cooed, He kissed your temples, nudging closer as he softly petted the cat’s side– I said I would take all your bad… I bet you would look so beautiful covered in blood.”

“You certainly do.”

You took your phone showing him a picture of Firecracker’s friend.

“She has lots of followers on Instagram… and her feet pics sell really well– just look at that ass!”

“Wow! You think is better than mine?” he pouted– I bet she would even look pretty when you kill her.”

“Oh fuck no, Your ass could cause an earthquake with that bounce.” you kissed his chin laughing into him– I’ll take some pictures for you, if ya like…?”

You purred, he pictured your tasteful nudes arriving in the middle of a meeting, seeing your sensuous shape covered in this cheap whore waiting for him to clean up.

Oh there was a prideful glimmer in his eyes, his hand stroking the fur– addictively soft, there was a lot of fur throws around the house, perhaps in the recess of his mind a deprivation of textures had brought a subconscious fascination with fur, he mindlessly stroke the feline and you wondered if somehow your powers had influence his decision, this cat looked somewhat like his mother’s– the cat began to purr, and you both sat there looking at the overweight animal as it nestled itself comfortably in defeat.

Your cheek resting on his arm with an eagle picking at your scalp.

“Ooklynn is not a real name.”

“Well her parents are white… her middle name is Meribeth if you prefer.”

“Becca did right by calling him Ryan. Ryan is nice, simple, easy, perfect.”

to be cont.

[inkdrinkerworld]

post!prison Spencer realizing you’re not always sunshiny and happy when one day he spots you crying in the hall before wiping your eyes and walking into the bullpen with your usual megawatt smile like you hadn’t been balling your eyes out five minutes before

It’s a call with your brother that really gets you started.

Spencer watches you take the phone call that starts off pleasant, you’re all smiles and then you frown, dark and full of an anger Spencer hasn’t ever seen on you.

He knows humans are capable of all emotional spectrums but it’s so foreign on your face and in your body language that he’s shocked a little still.

You walk to a secluded part of the office, hushed, rushed, heated words that Spencer feels horrible for straining his ear to listen to but it’s a strange sight.

He’s never seen you like this.

“How is that my fault? I can’t drop everything and take a plane over there every time shit hits the fan. They’re big kids now.”

What’s worse is your voice cracks and he wants desperately to rush to you, comfort you but he forces himself to stay where he is.

He strains his ear and hears you whisper,

“I’m not doing this again. I can’t be that person anymore. They’re 20, I can’t move back home just to baby them again. I’m not going to be walked all over by them anymore.”

You’re not together, you’re just friends- not super close but closer than anyone else on the team. Spencer feels like he should be comforting you when he moves to the kitchen and watches the first tear tumble down your cheek.

“Hey have you seen, Y/N?” Emily asks and Spencer turns his body to block you from view.

“She went to the bathroom, do we have a case?” He asks, stirring a pound of sugar into his coffee.

“Yeah, when she comes out tell her meet us at the jet.” She hands off a file to him and Spencer glances through the pages quickly.

Spencer watches you compose yourself, swiping at your face, fixing your hair and rolling your shoulders back.

Then he watches almost sadly, as you plaster a smile back on your face.

“Hey, Spence. Where’s everybody?” You open the fridge like you usually do and reach for the canister of whipped cream you keep tucked away.

“We have a case,” Spencer watches you shake it and spray some into your palm, connecting the dots over the many times he’s seen you do that in the last couple of months.

You’d always said it was just a, ‘pick me up’ and Spencer hadn’t thought twice about. You all have little things you do to keep you going in the job, but he realises now it’s less to do with work and more to do with your upset.

“Oh shit,” you spray another heap of cream in your palm. “I’ll get my go bag, can you fill me in while we walk, Spence?” You’re already turning to your desk, fiddling about the last draw for your go bag.

Your eyes are still a little red, and he watches you switch your contacts for glasses as soon as you get hold of the bag. “They burn a little right now,” you supply when you catch him looking and he nods like he doesn’t know the truth.

“Alright, let’s go,” he opens the case file Emily handed to him and starts, “So the unsub seems to be a woman hater? I’m not sure how no one figured him out before this is his sixth victim.”

You frown as you tuck your go-bag over your shoulder, “And the geography is all the same? No crossing state lines?”

Spencer admires how easily you slip back into work mode, but as soon as the case is over he needs to find a way to have you talk to him.

[railingsofsorrow]

drabble #11

summary: you are caught red handed squinting while reading and your coworkers don't let it slide.

w.c: 682

warnings/content: no warnings just fluff and bickering between friends; annoyance towards dirty lenses (based on a personal experience); secret relationship (implied).

navi

masterpost

cm masterlist

━━━━━━━━━

“pretty girl.”

you were writing something down in a post-it note that you thought was relevant for the investigation before derek's voice came out of nowhere, startling you.

you look up at him, frowning, “why do you have to sneak up on people like that?”

“where are your glasses?” he inquired, narrowing you down with a suspicious look. his arms crossed over his chest as he had the serious stance he usually carried when he was trying to figure someone out. you straightened your back slightly, choosing to go back to your reading since you didn't have a reading speed of 20 000 words per minute and you also didn't want to answer that question.

see, here's the thing. glasses are annoying. dealing with dirty lenses is the worst part of wearing them, because as soon as you clean them up, they get absolutely filthy in the next second. also, you broke your lenses at least three times given your line of work.

so, yes, you purposely forgets them a few days a week to not deal with these issues.

maybe more than just a few days a week.

and your coworkers decided to make a comment or give you a look every time they catch you squinting up at a page.

“hey,” you glared up at derek morgan as he flickered your case file much to your annoyance. “i'm talking to you. where are your glasses? can you even see me right now?”

“shut up, derek.”

“do I need to get you a new pair to leave it here in the office?” he asked with indignation written all over his face. “that's the only way you'll wear them!”

“I don't need to wear them.” you practically hissed at him before he broadcasted the conversation into the entire bullpen. “they're reading glasses, it's not like I need to have them on all the time.”

“the strength of your glasses recently increased to 2. so you do need to wear them if you don't want it to get worst.” spencer dropped his things on his desk, butting in on the conversation as if he had been invited. you scowled, not the slightest amused. he only shrugged.

“see what I'm saying, pretty girl?” derek gave you a look. he resigned with a ruffle to your hair then walked away to make some coffee.

you let out a sigh, fixing up your strands in frustration.

“here.” you looked down at the object placed in your lap. “you forgot it at my place last night.” you blinked up at him, mouth agape.

“i-what?”

“at the bedside table?” spencer gave you a look. the faint memory of your eyeglasses case on top of his bedside table came to your mind.

which was why you couldn't recall where your glasses were at home. you had been late for work and decided to give up on the search.

but they weren't even at your place.

“I cleaned them up.” he added.

“oh. right.” you took the case from him, a coat of pink painting your cheeks. you hoped he didn't expect you were going to wear them. “thank you.”

“thankfully you didn't purposely forgot it at home, right?” spencer softly teased, poking your hip which earned a kick in his ankle.

“shut up.”

he chuckled, stealthily eyeing the bullpen that was fairly empty because it was still early in the morning. he leaned down and quickly pecked your cheek then the corner of your mouth.

“spencer!” you hissed, a warning in your tone as you looked around for any prying eyes.

grinning cheeky at you, he took a few steps back. probably to go to the kitchen to grab the coffee derek was taking too long to bring. “movie night at 8 again?” he mouthed.

with a roll of your eyes, you nod “yes.” you mouthed in return, sticking your attention back to the twenty files to be finished at your desk.

“put your glasses on!” he said out loud on purpose, now attracting attention.

you groaned, hiding your face between your hands.

idiot. an absolute idiot.

━━━━━━━━━

taglist: @lilyviolets

[slytherinshua]

YOU WERE ALWAYS CUTE

genre. fluff. warnings. none. pairing. seunghan x fem!reader. wc. 971. a/n. seunghan baby photos are THE MOST ADORABLE THING EVER SKDJKSK I LOVE HIM

“Look at your little hoodie! You were so small!!” You gasped, an infectious smile plastered on your face as you flipped through pages of an old photo book from the mid 2000s. Seunghan’s childhood was documented in candid photos, starting from when he was a newborn to around his 8th birthday.

You were having the time of your life adoring how precious your boyfriend was as a baby. Seunghan, however, not so much. He had been hiding his face in his hands for the last 5 minutes, begging you to stop just seconds after his mother had handed you the book. He dug his head into your shoulder, getting clingier out of embarrassment. You paid no attention to him, only having eyes for the much smaller and just-as-adorable baby version of him in the photos.

“Y/n, can’t you do this later?” He whined, clinging to your shirt as if he could possibly change how you spent the next hour.

“Nope— Oh my God! You’re so cute!” You squealed this time, eager to hold the page open for Seunghan to also see the photo. The date tells you he was around 2 at the time, playing with toy dinosaurs in an adorable fuzzy onesie pyjama set. The sight was almost too precious for you to handle. Seunghan took a glance at it before hiding his face even more into your shoulder. 

“Stop looking at them.” He pleaded in a weak mumble, his voice almost completely muffled by your shirt. You giggled, reaching your hand up to stroke his hair, gently leading his head to lay in your lap.

“Just 5 more minutes. They’re too cute not to!” You bargained with him, flipping to the next page with a grin. He sighed and closed his eyes, resting the back of his hand over his forehead, trying to relax while simultaneously staying tense each time he hears you react to another photo.

“Some things never change, huh?” You commented, attentively looking at the next photo— 4 year old Seunghan holding a packet of jellies in his hand, smiling happily at the camera. “You’re so precious.” You gushed, your hands combing through his hair, messing it up slightly and causing him to groan and swat your hand away.

“It’s been 5 minutes.” Seunghan said as soon as the second passed, quickly snatching the photobook out of your hand. You frowned. You would have rather spent another 20 minutes looking through them, as you knew his mother had several other photobooks of the same sort. But, your boyfriend was stubborn. You let up for now, mentally reminding yourself to look through the rest of the photos later after dinner.

Seunghan placed the book back on the shelf with the others, glaring at you once you made eye contact with him. You cracked a smile at him and opened your arms.

“You haven’t changed at all, you know?” You reminded him as he settled back on the couch.

“I have! I’m much better now.” He pouted. He let you wrap your arms around him, but he didn’t hug you back, still putting up an annoyed front. He wasn’t really that mad at you, just incredibly embarrassed. There were all kinds of photos saved in those books— and even though he knew you were the one, it didn’t cut back on the humiliation. 

“I was going to see them sooner or later.” You persuaded him, kissing his cheek softly to try to cheer him up. It doesn’t quite work as well as you would hope, though it does get you a reciprocated hug back.

He was pouty for the rest of the evening, sending you glances all through dinner and post-dinner board games as his mother and older brother teased him to no end. You heard endless stories about his childhood, both funny and heartwarming. It wasn’t until you were getting ready for bed that Seunghan seemed more cheerful.

“When we visit your parents… I’ll get to look at your baby photos as well, right?” He asked while you were brushing your hair for bed. You looked up to the doorway of the guest room you’d be sleeping in, seeing Seunghan leaning against the doorframe. 

You laughed, “Why? You barely let me look at yours.”

He scoffed and walked closer to you, “I let you look at it for a long time!” 

“10 minutes is not a long time.” You corrected, “But, alright. I guess you can see my baby photos too. Why do you want to, though?”

“For the same reason you do, I guess. You’re just cute.” He said simply, smiling at you.

You were the one scoffing this time, turning your attention back to your hair, studiously ignoring your boyfriend as he gets even closer to you. He planted a kiss on your forehead silently before walking out of your room, mumbling a casual ‘goodnight’ and ‘sleep well’. You shook your head with a smile, fondness for him bubbling up in your stomach

At times, Seunghan was the most attractive boy you had ever seen. He had smooth pickup lines for days, and was sweet enough to melt anyone’s heart. But it was times like these that you liked a little more— when he showed his more vulnerable side. He got embarrassed and petty like any other person would, and you liked the reminder that you had that effect on him.

You were happy that Seunghan hadn’t noticed the stack of photo books sitting on the bed. Once you were sufficiently ready for sleep, you dipped under the covers and grabbed the first one you were looking at, flipping back to the pages you left off on. And a thought came into your brain as you scanned over the last photos— it wasn’t even a fair competition; Seunghan was objectively the cutest baby ever.

↳ riize taglist: @eternalgyu,, @kangtaehyunzzz,, @weird-bookworm,, @haecien,, @seolboba,, @cyberpunksunwoo,, @cosmicwintr

[transformers-earthspark]

The last of Season 1 has finally begun airing on Nickelodeon, starting with episodes 19 and 20.

(All of that yellow is SpongeBob. All of it. Everything on the page except for one hour of Earthspark-- it's all SpongeBob.)

Hopefully this is a sign that we'll be getting some news on Season 2 sometime soon, maybe after all of the current episodes finish airing on Nick.

-----

Note: I know Paramount and Nickelodeon have removed a ton of animated shows suddenly in the past week. With Earthspark, however, I don't think they can legally drop the show before Season 2 since it's already been greenlit. Even so, separate digital copies are good to have, and you can find links to the entirety of Season 1 free for download in this blog's pinned post.

[a-magpie-in-gravesfield]

I finished the 20 pages Wittebane lore document 😆

I’m having a few people go over it to make sure there aren’t any grammar mistakes and to see if I want to add any last minute things in there, but I should be able to upload it soon

I was gonna wait until my next project is finished because I also included some headcanons for the times in between portraits (I made sure to specify which parts are headcanons and which parts are canon in the document), and I figured sharing all my headcanons might be a bit spoiler-y, but then I figured I already shared a bunch of stuff anyway and it’s probably more interesting if people know why I made the writing choices I did ahead of time, so hopefully, the doc should be posted here some time this week :)

[woman1festo]

big info post about the Maryland mall shooting and the shooter, Darion Aguilar.

( i have compiled this post in my notes from all different news articles, sources and google searches. it wasn't too easy to find much, but i hope this is enough insight/info.)

Darion Aguilar was a 19 year old, as described by his mother as a as 'a gentle, sweet kid' who has never been interested in guns.

'If you were to go in his room you would see what a gentle sweet kid he was,' she said, adding that he was a vegetarian because he was concerned about animal welfare.

He was also described as a "good kid" who "is quiet, kept to himself. Nice, normal, calm demeanor."

That was until January 25, 2014. He took a taxi around 10:15am, then he had entered the The Mall in Columbia where he was dropped off.

He went downstairs to a food court directly below the store, authorities say surveillance tapes show him sitting and walking around for nearly an hour. this may have been due to the fact that he was obsessed with the Columbine shooting. it's suspected that he waited until the time of the shooting had lined up to the original one in 1999.

(Investigators found thousands of searches on Aguilar's computer related to mass murder, school shootings, guns and explosives.

He also looked up websites for people with mental health problems, and he told a doctor he was hearing voices in the months before the shooting.)

Reports have said that Aguilar took a picture of himself inside the dressing room at Zumiez in the minutes leading up to the shooting and posted the photo to tumblr with a caption reading,

"I had to do this. Today is the day. On previous days I tried this I woke up with anxiety, regret and hope for a better future this day I didn't, I woke up felt no emotions no empathy no sympathy. I will have freedom or maybe not. I could care less."

It was said in mentioned selfie that some of way he is dressed, wearing a white t-shirt, boots and cargo pants with his shotgun in a sling around him, is reminiscent of one of the Columbine killers.

Police say he bought a shotgun last month – a 12-gauge Mossberg – and kept it hidden as a taxi cab dropped him off at the mall. before exiting the dressing room, Aguilar dumped his backpack out, changed his clothes and assembled the gun.

As soon as Aguilar stepped out, he raised his gun, took a few steps, aimed at his first victim, Brainna Belolo (21), and fired, killing her instantly.

He continued on to aim at his next victim, Tyler Johnson (25) , who was said to be near the front of the store, hitting him multiple times. he also died instantly.

Aguilar then stepped out of the store and fired two shots across the mall on the upper railing. One struck a railing while the other struck a woman in the heel. He then turned towards the food court, fired one shot and struck a wall right outside the Great American Cookie store, very narrowly missing more victims.

Next Aguilar turned back to Zumiez and fired through the glass at a mannequin before re-entering Zumiez, sticking the shotgun in his mouth and shooting, killing him instantly.

A total of nine shots were fired by Aguilar, out of the 54 rounds of ammunition he brought with him. The backpack he had with him contained homemade explosives, most likely made with fireworks, but were not powerful enough to cause major structural damage, police said.

"(Aguilar) was just silent. Focused. There was no sort of expression or emotion," an eyewitness recalled.

Despite officers arrived less than two minutes after the first 911 call, they entered to find Aguilar dead.

Desperately searching for a motive, police discovered his journal, which was about 20 handwritten loose-leaf pages in roughly chronological order. In a portion police released, Aguilar makes an angry, expletive-laced statement in which he anticipates the killings in "a couple of hours."

"I'm going to [fucking] kill you all in a couple hours I'm anxious, I hate you all so much you are pathetic pieces of [shit] who deserve to die. Worthless you all are [fucking] worthless. Everything seems fake. I think that I may already be dead," one journal entry read.

He apologized to his family for what he was about to do, that he wrote he was ready to die, that he wanted to die and hated others. He never mentioned to his family that he needed any help for his mental illness. While he talks about killing people, he never gave any specific targets.

Sources say it also shows a hatred of certain groups and a general unhappiness with life. 

[hoeforseungcho]

BMIs of Mass Shooters

Redoing this because:

1. The last BMI post wasn't 100% correct, sorry for that (I'm 99% sure it is now though) 2. It's been 2 months anyway, and Thanksgiving is soon, which is a holiday where people get fat 3. The previous sources linked to r*ddit

List:

Adam Lanza: 15.2

William Atchison: 15.7

Devon Erickson: 15.8

Robert Crimo III: 16.7

Brenda Spencer: 17.0

Randy Stair: 17.1 (self reported)

Dylann Roof: 17.7

Dylan Klebold: 18.1

Elliot Rodger: 18.3

Nikolas Cruz: 20.5

Salvador Ramos: 20.5

Eric Harris: 20.6

Audrey Hale: 21.9

Travis Reinking: 21.9

Connor Sturgeon: 22.5

Patrick Purdy: 22.6

Alec McKinney: 23.0

Mauricio Garcia: 23.6

Anders Breivik: 23.9 (self reported)

Devin Kelley: 25.1

Connor Betts: 26.2

Micah Johnson: 26.8

Christian Marper-Mercer: 27.2

Stephen Paddock: 27.4

Payton Gendron: 28.3

Brenton Tarrant: 31.4

Nathan Gale: 31.8

Omar Mateen: 33.5

Jeff Weise 33.9

Bruce Pardo: 34.0

Sources:

Adam Lanza: https://www.nytimes.com/2014/11/22/nyregion/before-newtown-shootings-adam-lanzas-mental-problems-completely-untreated-report-says.html

William Atchison: https://www.autopsyfiles.org/reports/Other/atchison,%20william_report.pdf (pg 4)

Devon Erickson: https://www.courts.state.co.us/userfiles/file/Court_Probation/18th_Judicial_District/18th_Courts/2019CR451/Redated%20PC_Redacted.pdf

Brenda Spencer: https://medium.com/the-wicked-truth/the-first-female-school-shooter-in-the-u-s-said-she-did-it-because-she-didnt-like-mondays-6a870c45b33a

Randy Stair: https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf (document pg 64) https://files.catbox.moe/ipv6ux.png https://files.catbox.moe/i4be6l.png (ignore him saying 127)

Robert Crimo III: https://files.catbox.moe/5q2czl.png

Dylann Roof: https://www.courthousenews.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/DYLANN-ROOF-JAIL-RECORDS.pdf (page 1)

Dylan Klebold: https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/dylan_klebold_autopsy.pdf (page 2, external examination paragraph)

Elliot Rodger: https://i.looksmax.org/attachments/2023/01/3260596_Elliot_Rodgers_autopsy_report.pdf (page 1)

Nikolas Cruz: https://files.catbox.moe/6q01z8.png

Eric Harris: https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/eric_harris_autopsy.pdf (his weight was an estimation, took the center)

Audrey Hale: https://www.autopsyfiles.org/reports/Other/hale,%20audrey_report.pdf (page 3)

Travis Reinking: https://files.catbox.moe/xur5as.png

Connor Sturgeon: https://louisville-police.org/DocumentCenter/View/3643/23-103-Old-National-Bank-Shooting-Investigation---Redacted (page 33)

Patrick Purdy: https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Purdy%20-%20official%20report.pdf (page 89)

Alec McKinney: https://files.catbox.moe/ujumb4.png

Anders Breivik: file:///tmp/mozilla_h0/2083-1.pdf Page 959 of manifesto

Connor Betts: https://www.scribd.com/document/517385637/Dayton-Shooting-Autopsy-Reports (page 129)

Christian Harper-Mercer: https://files.catbox.moe/obn4tl.png

Payton Gendron: https://archive.org/details/jimboboiiidiscord/pre-april-29/page/n568/mode/1up (page 569)

Brenton Tarrant: https://files.catbox.moe/4zzmfb.png

Nathan Gale: https://www.autopsyfiles.org/reports/Other/gale,%20nathan_report.pdf (page 2)

Omar Mateen: https://www.autopsyfiles.org/reports/Other/mateen,%20omar_report.pdf (page 4)

Jeff Weise: https://www.nbcnews.com/id/wbna7275159

Bruce Pardo: https://www.autopsyfiles.org/reports/Other/pardo,%20bruce_report.pdf (page 4)

Paddock/Johnson/Kelley/Ramos/Garcia: https://files.catbox.moe/5bupir.png https://files.catbox.moe/qterjs.png https://files.catbox.moe/dau3ik.png https://files.catbox.moe/0pokmb.png https://files.catbox.moe/rupq9u.png

[carminecherry]

THE LAST TRAIN | mikey sano

this is part two of the series kill the lights

⇝ PAIRING: timeskip!biker!mikey sano x fem!reader

⇝ SERIES SYNOPSIS: after moving by yourself to tokyo, you black out at a party and wake up with a new friend. as she sweeps you up in her fast-paced city life, you feel yourself falling deeper and deeper for her mysterious brother. but something dark is brewing in the city. as his past threatens to resurface, mikey must fight not only physical enemies but the mental battle of his feelings for you. he can't resist you , but could he ever forgive himself if something happened to you? he'll love you selfishly and protect you savagely.

⇝ PART TWO LENGTH: 7.5k words

⇝ PART TWO WARNINGS: Alcohol, suggestive content (18+ minors do not interact):

all characters are 20+; Alternate Universe! Canon Divergent. a friend from university invites you to his house party. as the drinks flow, you slip into a pleasant buzz. that is until a particular masked man makes his appearance, unveiling himself.

⇝ AUTHOR'S NOTE: some world building and character introductions. I upload to AO3 first and i'm slowly but surely cross posting here. iiif you can't wait and want more, check out my AO3. more chapters coming soon! keep an eye on the tags and stay safe! <3

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You glanced over at your illuminated phone screen, soapy dinner dishes in hand and a podcast playing over your headphones. The name flashing on your screen made the corners of your mouth turn up. You and Yuuki had been chatting a little more here and there. The tone of your conversations confirmed your sense that this was purely friendship with no nuance or hidden intention. Not overthinking the messages anymore allowed you to relax. You rinsed the bubbles from your hands and wiped them on your work pants.

Unlocking your phone, the message read, 

“Party tomorrow night starting @9:00. Bring something to share.” 

You liked his message, sliding over to your calendar app to put in the details. You typed up a quick message to Emma, 

“Hey, are you going to Yuuki’s party?” 

As you were typing, a bubble with 3 dots appeared from Emma’s side. You hit send right as you received a message from Emma saying, 

“Yuuki’s tomorrow night?” 

You cracked a smile, happy the two of you were on the same page. You liked each other’s messages in confirmation.

Tomorrow was Friday, the welcome end to a very long week. The bookstore and cafe were enough to make ends meet but business was slow. Moreover, you were trying your damnedest to get a job as an interior designer. The competition in the city was fierce and your sanity and sleep were suffering. One more rejection letter might tip you over the edge.

As long as the bills are paid on time you could push through. You slid out of your work clothes, discarding the garments into the washing machine. Pulling on a light summer night set, it took the remainder of your energy to perform your skincare routine and brush your teeth. You practically fell into bed, the promise of a party conjuring imaginative scenarios in your mind as you drifted off to sleep.

***

Work had been uneventful. This was arguably worse as it meant you had been counting down the minutes until you could clock out. You had spent hours listlessly tapping on the counter with your nails. It had been a solo shift which meant you didn’t have anyone to keep you company.

You had a bad habit of getting lost in your imagination, your attention swallowed up in the pages of whatever book caught your attention.  A few uncomfortable conversations with your coworker Shinji about “ignoring customers” had left you feeling uneasy about reading on the clock. Luckily you were working the book-side of the shop today which meant you could leave work after counting the drawer and locking up. 

The minutes ticked down and the shop remained empty. You practically cartwheeled over to the door to flip the sign to “closed.” With trained fingers you count down the drawer; perfectly even. You shouted a farewell to the barista as she mopped the cafe floor. Pausing, she waved goodbye and you were on your way out. She’s a new hire and you had wanted to chat with her during the shift but had stayed dutifully at your counter. 

You had made it home in record time to change and freshen up your makeup. Last time you had felt underdressed, so you decided you wanted to show up and show out tonight. Yuuki’s a fashion guy so why the hell not. You check your outfit and makeup one last time and then you’re hustling out of the door. 

You stopped at the convenience store outside of the station and bought your “something to share”. Or, in this case, things to share. Hopefully a bottle of Jack and a 2L of Diet Coke would suit everyone’s taste. You cradle the bottles in your arms and make the train ride to Yuuki’s apartment in the city. You do your best to ignore the eyes on you, at least you’re giving them something to look at.

It only takes 20 minutes before you’re being buzzed into Yuuki’s building and riding the smooth elevator up 15 floors. There’s no mystery about which room is his. A pulsing beat is already vibrating the walls and sleek black door situated at the end of the hall. You wondered if there would be any noise complaints from the neighbors before banishing the thought from your mind. Tonight is about letting loose and relieving stress, not being the fun police. Tonight, it’s not your problem. 

You move to adjust the bottles to one arm, freeing up a hand to knock on the door. Before your knuckles make contact it swings open, startling you. A large figure is backing out, calling back to the guests already inside. At full height, your head reaches just between his shoulders. Broad shoulders that were rapidly on a collision course with your face. 

“So, two more 6 packs, some more bags of ice, and- Oh!” He dodges you at the last minute as you sidestep straight into the wall; a failed attempt to move out of his way. “Hey, sorry about that.” He steps back to give you more room. He’s even taller when he faces you. Long, silky, black hair thrown up in a messy updo. His eyes are sharp and a unique rusty-brown color that are highlighted by his thick, dark lashes. The man knew how to dress too.

He moves again to hold the door for you as you try to play off your wall collision. Before you can enter, another man casually strolls through the open door, “If you think too hard you might hurt yourself, B. I’ve got the list; you just need to carry everything.” The dark-haired man, “B”, makes a face at the figure who stands a couple inches shorter than him. 

His hair is bleached in chunks and styled with a slight wave. It’s one of those trendy, choppy haircuts that only a small percent of the population can pull off successfully. It makes him look like a vogue model. Which he could be. This man is pretty. His features are softer than the other’s. He has plump lips, round cheeks, but his eyes were the most captivating. They were large and an interesting shade of yellow-hazel. A perfect beauty mark under his left eye. Despite his cherubic features there was a deviousness to those eyes. Another hint that he may not be as angelic as he appears is the massive neck tattoo peeking out of the collar of his shirt.

“You’re paying though, Kazu, and I expect a tip.” B sneered. His canines have a sharp snaggle to them that is unique and… Attractive. “I always tip the help.” Kazu responded nonchalantly before he turned those eyes to you, looking you up and down obviously. “Get out of the way so she can go in.” B says, pulling his companion from the doorway. 

“Sorry about him, I guess you can’t buy manners.” B quips to you, earning him an elbow to the ribs from Kazu. You make your best attempt at a natural smile and manage, “It’s all good, thanks.” You duck into the party, a little out of your element after seeing such good-looking men.

You hear, “Who is she ?” in a not-quite whisper between the pair as they walk from the closing door. The intended meaning of the comment is not clear and acts as a big motivator to get a tall glass of literally anything ASAP. 

The apartment is cast in low mood lights set to smoothly fade to the beat of the music. There was a haziness to the air. Did he have a smoke machine or something? If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you were at a high-end club and not a college buddy’s house party.

You make your way into the spacious living room that is already thrumming with bodies. You set your “somethings” on the table and pull out your phone to send a quick message to Emma about her ETA, social anxiety already sinking its claws into you. Before you can hit send, two hands clap down on your shoulders.

“BOO!” Emma exclaims as you whip around to face her, startled for the second time that evening. She laughs, “She’s so cute when she’s scared.” Tossing the comment over her shoulder to the man standing behind her. Draken, the biker from the other day, her boyfriend. His features are hard to read but you notice a slight tick upwards at the corner of his mouth. 

In a flurry, Emma is on you, pulling you into a big hug and spinning you around. “It’s so good to see you again! Thank god you’re here, it was turning into a total sausage fest.” She pouts, pushing you to arms length. “It’s good to see you too.” You smile. She looks you up and down, surveying your outfit before giving you two thumbs up and mouthing, ‘you look great! Wow!’.  You return the compliment with  dramatic hand movements to indicate she , in fact, is the one who looks great.  

You lean conspiratorially towards her, a glint in your eye, “Speaking of sausage fest, I just saw two absolute SMOKESHOWS when I came in!” You say in an excited whisper. The gossipy tone that can only be achieved between women. Draken chokes a bit on his drink and turns away from the two of you. His reaction draws your attention before Emma’s twinkling laugh brings it back to her. 

Grabbing you by the arm and swaying with you she laughs out, “Don’t let them hear you say that~ Their heads will get too big. I guess it’d be fine if it’s Baji, but Kazu is already insufferable.” Your eyes go wide, “Wait! Do you know them?! Uhg of course you do” You bring your hand to your head. “When will it be my turn?” you whine with faux drama. “God is so unfair in the gifts he gives to his children.” Emma gives your arm a few playful slaps leaning into you while stifling a laugh, the action drawing the gaze of a few of the other party-goers. 

Draken further turns his back to the two of you and you notice a slight bounce in his shoulders. “You have to stop. It’s too early and I’m too sober.” Emma manages. “Come on, let’s get a drink.” With that, she guides you to the refreshments table and sets to pouring two drinks.

Living in the city, you have gotten used to seeing more beautiful people than in the suburbs. But as you scanned the room, Yuuki’s apartment looked more like a runway show than a “bring something to share” house party. You thank yourself for taking the extra time to get dressed up. The extra eyes on you during your train ride had been worth it. Fears of being overdressed swiftly quelled. Emma gave a quick speech about friendship. A plastic tap of your cup as a ‘cheers’ and you're bringing the drink to your lips. 

You have to hold back a fully-body shiver as what smells like a fruity drink tastes like straight strawberry vodka. You swallow hard, the drink making your throat and chest feel warm. You turn to look at Emma who is sipping her drink like juice. You brave a few more sips before looking into your cup. You already feel like you’re getting buzzed and you gauged the remainder would spell your death. You actually want to remember tonight. 

You attempt to discreetly set your cup on the table and move to pour your own drink.  But Emma quickly notices and boos quietly at your mixology, You make your way back to the pair, a more reasonably portioned Jack and Coke in hand. 

“Not a fan of Strawberry Absolut?” Draken offers as you rejoin them. Surprised to hear the stoic man engage you first, you reply in a voice slightly too loud, “Not a fan of not remembering things.” Responding with a nod the man picks up your abandoned cup, pouring it into his. He takes a big sip and in your mind you say a silent prayer for him. Given his size, he’d probably be okay. 

Emma jumps in with a pout, “Well I LOVE strawberry Absolut. What even is that?” She asks tapping the rim of her cup to yours. “It’s a Jack and Coke.” To which she scoffs, “That’s like an old man drink.” “At least it’s a drink and not one big shot.” you quip back to which she takes an exaggeratedly big swig of her drink. The three of you chat there for a while. Your cup empties as time fades in and out like the party lights casting the walls with shadows and silhouettes. After bottoming out, you refill your drink. 

On your way back to the pair you survey the room again, the crowd growing in the time since you’d arrived. Emma’s attention moves with yours. “Say, do you know anyone else here?” you ask. Her eyes scanned the crowd, “Hmmm, most of these people are posers hoping to rub shoulders with actual cool people.” Emma’s candid take almost had you spitting your drink out of your nose. You have difficulty imagining these model-level gorgeous men and women, most of which are dressed head-to-toe in designer clothes, as posers. 

They carried themselves with an air of confidence that made them utterly unapproachable to you. You laugh a little, appreciating her brutal honesty. Her eyes turn to you as she continues, “I really just know the boys that Mikey and Draken hang out with and Yuuki, of course. Most of these other people aren’t worth the time.” Speaking of, “Oh, is he here tonight? Mikey?” Your curiosity gets the better of you.

For the last few days your mind had wandered back to the dark figure on his bike. The way his masked gaze had put you in a near flight or fight response. Truthfully, you were also curious what was under the helmet. If he’s related to Emma, he was sure to also be a solid 10. AND he has the biker thing going for him. The image of him in that leather jacket that had been tight in all the right places appeared in your mind; an image that you’d spend a lot of time with over the last week. As if in response to the memory, the familiar feeling of eyes locking onto you sweeps over you; as strong as the first time. The hairs on the back of your neck raise.

“He gave some half-assed reply when I told him about it earlier.” Emma shrugged, pouring herself yet another drink. “He knows it’s happening so he might show up.” You knew it though. He was here. As if on cue, you turn to face the now open apartment door. Three figures filled its frame. The taller figure, Baji, carried three heavy looking bags and was shoving the smaller figure, Kazu, who was noticeably carrying nothing. Kazu seemed to spit back an insult, his furrowed brow indicated they were bickering. The 3rd figure was slightly shorter than Baji but had a presence that made him seem larger. There was no mystery, that was Mikey.

It was your first time seeing him without his helmet on. You must say, your imagination had not done him justice. He had bleached hair like honey. His bangs are up and out of his face while the rest of his hair curved in gentle waves, ending just below his jawline. The light from the hallway trickled into the hazy apartment, casting his locks in a gilded glow. It almost looked like a halo. 

His eyes were different though. He was too far to see any real detail, but they were dark. Dark in a way that gave stark contrast to those of the pretty blonde sipping her drink next to you. What is gentle on her face is defined and sharp on his. He had a hollowness to his cheeks that made his cheekbones stand out strikingly in the low light. 

You’ve seen many beautiful people in your life, more after moving to the city. Fuck, half of them you see in this room tonight. But there was something special about him. He stood in front of the pair, his eyes locked with yours as he stepped through the threshold. 

Yuuki appeared as if conjured from thin air and brought Mikey in for a firm handshake in greeting. You were pulled back to reality by Emma whispering over your shoulder, “Speak of the devil.” Draken leaned down to whisper something to the blonde before moving past the two of you to greet his friend. 

You turn to Emma, eyes wide. You mouth dramatically, ‘That’s your brother?!’ She rolls her eyes and rests her head on your shoulder, “For better or worse, that’s my big brother. I’m kind of surprised he came.” You adjust to offer the softer part of your shoulder to her, turning your gaze back to the group that just entered. You jump slightly as you lock eyes with Mikey once more, your heart flutters and you quickly break eye contact, cheeks warming at being caught. 

She pulls back at the movement. Her honey eyes scanning you with an intensity, you note, she and her brother share. A devious glint appears in her eyes, a smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth. She turns from you with intent and pours a tall cup of, you lean slightly to see. Yup, straight Absolut Strawberry vodka over ice. She tops her cup off as well before she turns back to you with a mischievous look, handing you the cup.

“Emma, please, you’re going to kill me. I feel my organs shutting down.” you whine. “Go give it to Mikey. Like me, he has excellent taste. I’ve gotta go to the bathroom real quick.” The sarcastic comment you were loading about her “excellent taste” disappears as you turn quickly, panic flashing across your skin. “I’ll go with you, girls’ code.” You offer. “Nah, just go, I’ll be right back.” 

She turns you by the shoulders and gives you a nudge of encouragement and thumbs up before disappearing in the crowd of bodies. Traitor. You walk towards the group of tall men. This is your worst nightmare. You distract yourself, the smell of strawberry bringing your gaze to the cup in your hand. A smile plays at your lips. If you ignored the fact it was straight vodka, the contrast of a scary biker sipping on a sweet, strawberry drink tickled the part of your brain that managed absurdist humor. 

The distance was closed too quickly. You were lost in your imagination and hadn’t game-planned anything in way of an introduction. You look up to meet the gaze of Mikey. You stood there, frozen. The conversation of the group fizzling out around you. You feel eyes on you and your face begins to heat. You extend a cup to him. Realizing it’s the wrong cup you quickly withdraw and extend the other, splashing a bit of liquid out with the too-quick motion. Anxiety is clawing at your chest.

He looks from you to the cup and back to you. You realize how odd it must be to be offered a drink with no way of introduction. You attempt, “Emma…” You clear your throat. “This is from Emma...” You’re drowning. At this point you can feel you’re beet red. Yuuki steps in, placing a hand on your shoulder and with a laugh he supplies, “This is my friend, Y/N. We went to university together. She just moved back to the city.” Bless him. Baji jumps in first, volunteering, “I’m Baji, it’s nice to meet you.” He seems polite, sweet despite his appearance; towering stature, sharp features and all. 

“Kazutora, but cute girls like you can call me Kazu.” he says, leaning in to invade your bubble slightly. What a flirt. “Don’t be a dick, K.” Baji says, putting out an arm to push Kazutora back to a standing position. Sensing tension forming between the two, you offer, “It’s nice to meet you two.” “It seems you already know Draken.” Yuuki continues. Draken tilts his cup in acknowledgement. “Mikey.” the final figure states, taking the drink from your hand to finalize the introduction. 

Yuuki clocks the beverage immediately and offers, “How about we get you something nicer. I’ve been saving some Patron for the night you finally made it to one of my little parties.” He gestures dismissively to the sea of bodies behind him. Little party? You survey the room to confirm he was in fact talking about this full blown rager. How humble of him you think, sipping your drink. “This will do.” Mikey says with a definite tone, signaling the end of discussion. He takes a sip from the cup like it’s water and not straight liquor. These siblings are built differently. 

Speaking of, Emma appears behind Mikey and jumps on his back in a sneak attack hug. “Heeeeyyyy Miiiiikeeeeyyyy~” She drawls. His face softens in a flash and you see the resemblance more clearly. Now that you’re closer you can get a better look. His lips have sharp corners with a fullness like his sister’s. His eyes are different though, his are more angled and a slightly deeper shade like whiskey or amber. They share the same thick lashes though. He catches you staring again and you flick your gaze to the left, only to see Draken who eyes you in a knowing way. You avert your gaze to the safety of your cup. 

Mikey swings his sister around to set her down in front of him. “Hey, Em. Good to see you’re having fun.” She nods enthusiastically. Finding Draken without looking, she leans back into his tall figure. He drapes his arms over her before saying, “Y/N works at that old cafe we used to kick it at.” This causes a stir in the group.

“Oh no way! How nostalgic.” Baji says. “Huh, I thought they closed that place after what happened.” Kazutora said in a puzzled tone. “Seems like they rebuilt and renovated. They even added a bookstore.” Draken offered. This seemed to satisfy the former who shrugged, “Hopefully it’s less of a dump in that case.” This comment earned him a slap to the chest from Baji. Kazutora turned his eyes to you, “No offense.” You wave a hand in a ‘none taken’ motion. “It was rustic ” Baji said, lacing the word venomously. You get the impression this was an argument they’ve had before. “More like rusty I felt like I needed a tetanus shot every time we went.” Kazutora bit back. 

There was a lot to unpack. This was the first time you heard any history about the cafe. Admittedly, you chose to work there purely on vibes and the fact the hourly rate was above average. Your nosy side wanted to know more. “What happened there?” You ask innocently. All eyes turned to Mikey conspicuously. Maybe the question wasn’t as innocuous as you thought. 

Mikey shrugged, “There was an incident. The place was nearly torn to the ground afterwards. I’m glad to hear they could rebuild and salvage.” It was a non-answer with no real points to ask follow-up questions without giving away your nosiness. The delivery was also not one that left anything up for discussion. You simply nod, shoving the prodding questions down.

Emma piped in, eyes closed, “We should go back~ For old times sake~” Her words were blending together. Her drink must be hitting her harder than she anticipated. Mikey gave Draken a look which was returned with a nod. Wordlessly, Draken took the drink dangling from Emma’s hand which earned him some soft booing before Emma resigned herself to snuggling into his arms. You chimed in with, “If you come when I’m working I’ll sneak you guys some cafe goodies.” 

“How long do you plan to work there?” Yuuki asked, pulling you out of a daydream of the attractive group lounging in the cafe. A harmless enough question, but you felt a sudden wave of self-consciousness. You had momentarily forgotten where you were; this chic apartment packed with beautiful, rich people. Your gaze dropped to the floor as you replied, “Oh, you know. Until I can get a foot in the door at a company.” You realize you’re being vague, but you didn't want to risk betraying how lost you really felt. 

“You’ve got a show coming up, right?” You masterfully change the topic, shifting the spotlight to Yuuki. “Yeah, I’m working on the Autumn collection now.” Yuuki says, rubbing the back of his neck, telling the group more of the details as they engage him. Happy to have succeeded in avoiding that uncomfortable line of questioning, you look around, taking everyone in. Baji and Kazutora dip out of the conversation and seem to be bickering about something new on their phones, too quietly for you to pick up. 

Yuuki draws your attention again with a sweet smile. He says, “You should come.” You blink, nodding a ‘yes’, not entirely sure what you’ve agreed to. “Typical, Yuuki. Only inviting cute girls.” Kazutora teases, rejoining the conversation. You peer past him to see Baji pacing near the door, his phone pressed to his ear. 

Yuuki claps back at the accusation, “I’d invite you, but no doubt you’d end up acting like a damn dog.” “I’ll be good.” Kazutora whines playfully. “Ask Mitsuya then.” Yuuki dismisses, smirking at Kazu. Kazutora pouts. In that moment Emma lurches from Draken’s arms and throws up directly into the pot of a neatly pruned house plant. In a heartbeat, Draken is next to her, holding her hair back, eyebrows knitted in concern. Nearby party guests turn to see what’s happening. 

“Damn, Em, party foul.” Kazutora whoops sarcastically. Mikey gives him an icy glare that shuts Kazutora right up. Baji appears behind Mikey and whispers something in his ear. Mikey turns to respond and points between Kazutora and Baji, clearly giving some instruction before the pair are making a swift exit. Baji throws over his shoulder, “Nice to meet you, Y/N.” Kazutora simply winks at you as the door shuts behind them.

You wave absently at the closed door before you hear a weak, “Y/N~.” You turn quickly and kneel on the other side of the pretty blonde, still hunched over the expensive-looking pot. You rub small circles into her back. Feeling like you’ve sobered up slightly. She turns to you and cutely says, “Oops.” You can smell the strawberry liquor on her breath. You let out a small laugh and look at Draken. 

“Alright babe, I think it’s time for us to get home.” He says in a voice as soft as velvet. “Nooooo~” She protests. “I wanna stay with Y/N~ The night is yooooung~” He scoops her up. She nuzzles her head into the crook of his neck, mumbling something incoherent. He whispers in a soothing voice, “I know, baby. I know” before standing.

He turns to Mikey and they share a look. He offers to Yuuki, “Sorry about your plant. I’ll take care of it.” Yuuki brushes it off, “Don’t worry about it. I’ve seen my fair share of party fouls and this doesn’t even make the list.” “I can attest to that.” You add, hoping to ease any guilt Emma may be feeling. 

Her bobbing head and lazy smile give you the sense that she doesn’t have a care in the world. Draken stoops slightly to whisper something to Mikey who simply nods. With that, Draken carries a very sweet, very drunk Emma from the apartment. Before the door closes, Emma peeks her head over Draken’s shoulder and waves a goodbye to you. 

Everything had happened so fast, your senses dulled by the alcohol. It’s then that you realize your group of seven had dwindled to three. You turn just in time to see Mikey slide something into Yuuki’s pocket. You look at your friend with curious eyes. Yuuki’s laugh is strained but he takes no action to challenge the man before him. You see movement in the distance and notice a guest flagging Yuuki down. Your heart jumps into your throat as Yuuki too notices the man. 

 Yuuki welcomes the distraction. And with a, “thanks for coming, enjoy the party you two” is making his way across the room. You stand there, feeling abandoned. You chance a glance at the tall blonde standing next to you. He notices. Your mind goes blank. He holds you captive under his gaze. As if reading your mind and finding it empty, Mikey finally breaks the silence with, “Let’s sit down.” You blink, coming back to yourself. “Oh, I don’t think there’s any-” But Mikey is already on the move. 

The crowd of people naturally parts for him. He caught the eye of some guests but stares were quickly withdrawn. You trailed after him, grateful that you didn't have to elbow your way through the crowd. An edge of claustrophobia made a bid for attention in your fuzzy brain as the mass of bodies closed behind you. 

Absorbing the two of you and cutting off your way back to the door. Mikey stops abruptly, causing you to bump into his back. His back is muscular, like walking straight into a wall. You maneuver your cup to avoid a spill. He doesn’t seem to register the collision. His head turns to scan the room, locking onto something in the distance. And he’s off again, forcing you to quicken your pace to catch up.  

The crowd parts to reveal an elegant lounge sofa. The pair sitting nearest to you were deep in their flirtations. The woman is in a revealing cobalt satin dress, a dramatic slit trailing up her leg to end at her hip. Her long, chocolate hair falling in a curtain around her and her partner’s face. She’s sitting in the lap of a well-groomed man. He’s wearing a dark patterned suit and a black button-down shirt, though most of the buttons are already undone. 

The man’s hand rested high up on the woman’s leg, kneading small circles into the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. One of her hands was stroking a pattern into the silky material barely covering his chest, the other running through his short, dyed blue hair. He has an interesting design shaved into the side of his head that her fingers trace absently. It started at the temple and twisted behind an ear punctuated by several piercings. Their faces barely inches apart, conversation clearly hot and heavy. 

The PDA makes your face feel warm and you look away. Getting the feeling you were invading their privacy. Though, this didn’t seem to bother Mikey who stood, unmoving, over the couple. Perhaps noticing the shift in energy, the man’s gaze is ripped from the woman on his lap. Immediately the man is on his feet, moving to hold the woman close to his side. She seems confused, but what objections may have been spoken die when she sees the blonde man before her. 

“Mikey! I didn’t know you’d be here. It’s good to see you m-man.” The man spoke quickly, stumbling over the end of his statement as his eyes swept over you. Mikey sized the two of them up. You couldn’t help but notice how the woman adjusts herself under his gaze, angling to give a better view of her chest to the blonde. 

Her boldness surprises you, given she has the arm of the handsome man whose bones she was about to jump still wrapped around her waist. You weren’t the only one to notice, as the grip around her waist tightened. Her mouth twitched mischievously, as if a goal had secretly been accomplished. 

“Hakkai.” the blonde responded with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Turning his sole focus to the man. You too looked at him, his eyes a pretty shade of blue. He has thick lower lashes that are heavy and give him a permanently sleepy look. You wondered if he had dyed his hair to perfectly match his irises on purpose. You see now that he has a large scar over the right side of his mouth that twists slightly as he talks. The scar took nothing away from his handsomeness. If anything it made his appearance unique, hotter.

The man, Hakkai, smiled sheepishly. “Here, have a seat.” Offering him the spot he had just occupied. “We’re actually going to head out.” He says leaning into the woman at his side suggestively. At this, the woman stops undressing Mikey with her eyes and returns her attention to the blue-haired man, giving him a sultry laugh. Mikey’s face is unreadable. 

The couple walk around Mikey who doesn’t move for them. The woman brushes against him and in a voice dripping with honey says, “Bye bye, Mikey.” He doesn’t acknowledge the advance. Instead, turning to Hakkai, “Monday.” He says, emotionless. The other man freezes, “Monday.” He confirms, not meeting Mikey’s eyes. With this, Mikey nods and waves them off. The pair disappear in the crowd. Mikey sinks into the plush sofa, brushing off the parts of his body the woman had touched. Seeing you still standing, he pats the spot next to him. You sit, eager to split from the crowd, head spinning with questions. 

You run your hands over the lush velvet to calm yourself, taking in the room from your seated position. The modern lighting fixtures, not currently in use, hang high on the lofted ceiling. The dark furniture devoured what little illumination was being cast from the party lights. The silver accents twinkled prettily. 

You scanned the bodies in the crowd, form fitting suits and dresses with the occasional designer logo popping out of the mass. Your gaze drifted to your left, meeting a pair of amber eyes now alarmingly close to your face. You hadn’t realized you were swaying, leaning into the warmth of the body next to you. You snap back to reality, the proximity causing you to abruptly lean back. Some of the brown liquid spilling from your cup . “You’re pretty clumsy, huh.” He commented. “Yeah, and you have a staring problem.” You quipped back. The silence that followed signaled the lighthearted nature of your jab hadn’t landed.

You busied yourself, drying off your lap. By some miracle you managed not to get any liquid on the sofa that surely cost a month or two of your rent. “So… Bookstore.” “So… Bikes.” The dry statements hung in the air. You offer, “So, I don’t know anything about bikes. Do you like, maintain it yourself?” “Yeah, something like that…” He replies. The silence that follows makes you squirm. 

You feel like the undulating mass of people is about to swallow you whole. Reaching your limit, you rise, “...Well, it was nice to meet you... I hope Emma feels better. I’d better leave if I’m going to catch the last train.” You lie. You hadn’t checked the time for awhile. If you were more sober, this fact would have worried you. 

“I like bikes.” Mikey says. “…That’s nice.” you reply, shifting your weight between your feet. “Working on something, building it from nothing with your hands. It’s nice to have control that way. When something breaks, I know I can fix it. If I mess it up, I know it’s my fault.” He says thoughtfully. You return to your seat, Mikey’s crumb of vulnerability being snatched up. 

“So, how long have you been into them, bikes?” He pauses, responding, “I guess since middle school.” It takes a moment for you to key into the math, “And what got you into them?” “My brother did.” A hollowness to his voice. “Oh, that’s cute.” The word was one that rarely described him. “Cute?” He repeats. 

“Yeah, I don’t know, I guess I’m like picturing you playing with motorcycle figures or something.” “Not figures. I started riding when I was in middle school.” He says flatly. Maybe he did have a sense of humor. “So, what, were you like a 12 year old biker?” You tease. “Yes.” His tone is unchanging. “Stop playing. That’s, like, super illegal.” “Yeah, I guess it was.” He says under his breath a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “So what, were you in a little biker gang or something?” “Not little.” He said, sipping his drink. Was he being serious? The conversation petered out. 

“Well, I for one, know nothing about bikes.” You say, hoping to fan the flames a little longer. “Wanna learn?” The question caught you off guard. He hadn’t said it in a teasing way. “Oh, uh, yeah. Yeah that actually sounds really cool!” You say, excitement unmasked. To your surprise, he rises from the sofa. You look around before you mirror the action, catching up to the blonde before he’s absorbed into the crowd.

You trailed behind him like before. The beat of the music hummed pleasantly on your skin, the sensation mingling with the warmth of the liquor from your drink. You made your way to the door and let him hold it open for you as the two of you exited. 

***

Yuuki’s eyes trailed after the two figures who had surreptitiously made their exit. A silver pair matches his. The handsome man next to him hums, “How indecent, Mikey. Making us all watch your foreplay.” He teases, bringing his cup to his lips. “Is that what that was?” Yuuki asks sarcastically. The awkward interaction of his friend and the blonde not conjuring the same image as the icy-white haired man.

“If you knew him.” The man says with a smile, leaning into the body of the man next to him, wrapping an arm around his waist. “Either way, it’ll be interesting to see how it plays out.” Yuuki leans into the man’s touch. “Indeed.” He says with a soft smile. “Back to the festivities, darling, your adoring fans await.” The white haired man says, giving Yuuki a peck on the cheek. The romantic gesture goes unnoticed by the inebriated crowd.  “They can wait a little longer, Mitsuya.” Yuuki says in a low tone, bringing a hand up to toy with the silver earring hanging from the ear of his partner, stealing a proper kiss as the party continues around them.

***

 You stood next to the tall blonde, waiting for the elevator. The cup in your hand is nearing its end, the dangers of senselessly sipping. The elevator dinged, doors sliding open to welcome you to the mirrored space. Entering, you steady yourself on the hand rail. Using the reflective surface, you check your makeup and fix some smudged eyeliner. Mikey hits the button for the ground floor. With a ‘ding’ the two of you are descending.

You turn your attention to the blonde in front of you, doing your best to be discreet, taking in the view of his back. The fabric of his shirt is thin and taut over his muscled shoulders. There is a pretty shimmer the way it catches the low light of the elevator. You see the taper of his waist and how the dress pants accentuate his long legs among other things.

 “And I’m the one with the staring problem.” You tear your gaze from his back to see him clearly watching you in the reflective surfaces of the mirrored walls. You’ve been caught yet again, red blooming across your cheeks. He snickers.

Before you can defend yourself with a snarky comeback, the doors open with another ‘ding’ on the ground floor. He strides with intention out of the sliding doors and rounds the corner. Again, you have to quicken your pace to keep up. As you turn, you see him circling the bike from the other day. It's midnight black and glossy. The shine is the only thing that gives away its presence on the unlit street. 

He sets his cup down on the barrier between the sidewalk and shrubbery. Y ou stand there, admiring the vehicle before he beckons you over. He points to the bike, “This is a motorcycle��, AKA, a bike ” You blink. Is he messing with you? “This is the seat . You sit on it.” He holds up the sleek helmet and taps on the top. Drawing out the words he says, “ Hel-met .” Your jaw dropped, a wide smile spread across your face. He was messing with you.

You decide to play along, bringing your unoccupied hand to your ear, leaning towards him, “What? Hel … Sorry, one more time?” His face is stoic but you see his eyes light up. “Helmet. It protects your head. Like this.” He wrestles the safety wear over your head before you can move away. You try to fight off the headwear in vain, protesting, “No~ my hair! My makeup!” He bites back a laugh, one side of his mouth being pulled up before it’s covered by a hand. Huffing, you pull the helmet off, cradling it in your arm. You pout. “And did you really just mansplain a helmet?”

“You might want to keep it on,” he says, fighting his crooked smile. “Even if you had left earlier, the trains stopped running about an hour ago.”  He seats himself on the vehicle. “Hop on, I’ll drop you off at home.” Warning bells cut through your tipsy brain fog. You heard your parent’s voices lecturing you about the dangers of motorcycles, and strangers for that matter. As if sensing your hesitation he adds, “Emma will kill me if she finds out I left you stranded at the party. I’m sure she’ll feel bad enough already that she had to leave early. That and the hangover she’s about to have tomorrow.” 

Remembering Emma eased your nerves slightly. Nonetheless, your grip tightened, making the cheap plastic cup in your hand pop slightly from the pressure. That reminded you, “You’ve been drinking tonight, do you really think you should be driving.” With this, he rises from the bike, walking over to his discarded cup. He gives it a hefty slosh around before presenting the contents to you. It was nearly full. “As much as I love strawberry, I don’t really like drinking at parties.” “Real party person, huh.” You shoot back, your last real hang-up flying out the window. 

“Gotta stay sharp.” He says pouring his drink into the bushes. He moves to take your cup to do the same. Before he can, you finish it in one shot, needing the liquid courage. He raises his hands, backing off as you look around for a place to discard your cup. 

Damn, you’re eternally mystified by how clean the city can be despite there being no trash cans. Seeing this, he swipes the cup from your hand, stacking it in his own before crushing them with a satisfying crunch. He discards them in the bushes, earning a disgruntled noise from you. “Someone will clean it up.” He dismisses moving back to take his position on the bike, the engine turning over. “No one would have to clean it up if you threw it away properly.” “Just keeping your hands clean, darling. Leave the dirty work to me.” He says, a tone of sarcasm peeking through. 

You huff, pulling on the helmet to cover the blush spreading across your cheeks. You climb on to the back of the bike, unsure how to situate yourself. After a moment of you adjusting, trying not to sit too close to the blonde, he grabs you by the wrist and pulls you flush to his back. It’s warm. The thin fabric is like a second skin.

“Hold on or you’ll fall off” he says seriously. Thank god you were behind him, in the safety of the helmet. You could feel your ears turning red. “R-Right.” You feel yourself getting cold feet. “Hey, you know, I never said goodbye to Yuuki.” You ramble. “I mean, you can go up if you want, but I have a feeling he’s busy playing the gracious host.” Mikey responds. “Yeah… Yeah, I guess I can just text him.” You say mostly to yourself. 

“Hey, we can just call a taxi if you’re uncomfortable. I don’t mind waiting with you.” You visualize the cost of a taxi at this time of night and that’s much scarier than riding on the back of a stranger’s motorcycle. “No. No. It’s okay.” You say, wrapping your other arm around him, signaling you were ready. 

“Where should I drop you off?” “Near the 7/11 next to the station, the one with that awful statue.” You say, steadying your voice. You feel him rev the engine before you hear it. The thrum sends fireworks of adrenaline shooting through you. You tighten your grip on the figure in front of you. “Nervous?” he teases, chuckling. The vibration mixes with the engine. “N-No.” You sputter. “You’re a bad liar.” He replies. Without another word, the two of you peel off into the night.

[loveothislife]

You’ll be in tears by the end of André Aciman’s 2007 novel Call Me By Your Name. Turning that last page feels like being rudely cast out of the love story between Elio and Oliver, two men who must be together, who have to be together, because, in the words of Faith Evans, “I never knew there was a love like this before.” But if you’re going to be heartbroken, at least let it be via Call Me By Your Name’s audiobook, read gorgeously by the upcoming film adaptation’s star, Armie Hammer, whose voice is the audio equivalent of ordering a Lyft Line and having it all to yourself.

In this new excerpt from the audiobook, out October 3, teenage Elio (played in the film by Timothée Chalamet) describes having sex for the very first time with Oliver (Hammer), the 24-year-old graduate student studying under his father for the summer. Elio’s had a crush on Oliver for weeks, and in this scene, we finally learn the significance of the book’s title. In this excerpt (and at all times), Hammer’s voice is brimming with such melody that, if you listen to it long enough, you can probably get drunk off it. Because you’ll need a way to explain to your friends why you have to cancel on your plans because you have a date with Armie Hammer’s voice, here are 20 descriptions of that supernatural sound:

1. Armie Hammer’s voice sounds a little like Jon Hamm’s voice, if Jon Hamm’s voice was dunked in honey.

2. Hearing Armie Hammer say “fuck” in the Call Me By Your Name audiobook makes it totally fine that he had to say “Let’s gut the friggin’ nerd” in The Social Network, because, you know what, some things are just worth the wait.

3. To hear Armie Hammer say “languorous” is to feel like Obama is still president, he’s just taking a vacation, but he and Michelle will be back in the White House soon.

4. Armie Hammer’s voice is the physical manifestation of those wooden decorative signs at Marshall’s or TJ Maxx that sell for $24.99 that say “Your Husband Called And Said It’s Ok To Buy Anything You Want.” Armie Hammer’s voice sounds like the fantasy of luxury.

5. Sometimes, when Armie Hammer is in the heat of a particularly vivid description, Armie Hammer’s voice sounds a little like the man who does the Men’s Wearhouse commercials. You know, the guy who says, “You’re going to like the way you look,” and now you kinda want to Google the nearest Men’s Wearhouse. You know, just in case.

6. I suspect that Armie Hammer’s voice would smell like linguini, seasoned with Tasmanian pepper and lemon with Parmesan cheese on top. I’d need to speak with Armie Hammer in person to confirm this. 7. You know when you’re a regular somewhere? And there’s a long line, but, say, the barista or the clerk or the tailor motions you around the long line because they’ve got your order ready? That’s what Armie Hammer’s voice sounds like.

8. Armie Hammer’s voice is so deep and viscous it sounds like when Beyoncé performs “Love on Top” live and she sings the chorus again and again and again and again, but that last time she sings “Baby it’s you,” she switches it up and goes to a lower key!

9. Armie Hammer’s voice sounds like it’s soaked in maple syrup and — surprise! — you’re at Bubby’s, and there’s no line, and lucky for you, your James Beard pancakes with peaches have just arrived to your table.

10. Armie Hammer’s voice sounds as euphonious as Oprah’s voice, which is quite possibly the highest compliment you could ever pay another human.

11. The way Armie Hammer says “kiss” feels like you have literally been kissed, not by his lips, but by the sun itself. You took a picture of this sun-kissing, posted it to Instagram, and you’ve gotten a lot of likes.

12. The way Armie Hammer says, “Call me by your name and I’ll call you by mine,” feels like a shared secret too tender for this savage and cacophonous place called the internet, but here we are.

13. Armie Hammer’s voice feels like when you’ve decided to take a nap, but to hell with setting an alarm! You’ll wake up when you wake up, and everyone texting you will have to deal with it!

14. Armie Hammer’s voice sounds like when the violins come in on Nelly’s “Grillz,” which is to say that it sounds like the ideal combination of highbrow and lowbrow.

15. Armie Hammer’s voice sounds like the opposite of that swish-swish a nylon sweatsuit made in the ’80s, because Armie Hammer has never worn nylon, he exclusively wears corduroy or linen.

16. The timbre of Armie Hammer’s voice is identical to the timbre of the bells ringing on the last day of school, when you could dump the entire contents of your backpack into the dumpster right in front of the teacher who wouldn’t round your 89 percent up to an A-.

17. Armie Hammer sounds so sumptuous and moneyed, you might think you’ve paid off all of your student loans.

18. Armie Hammer’s voice inexplicably sounds like he’s both speaking to you and listening to you and deeply interested in every fleeting thought that pops into your head, even the ones about Mother!

19. Hearing Armie Hammer’s voice is like going to the salon and getting a really good shampoo, where they use a little bit of tea tree oil and massage your temples and then say it’s on the house.

20. There’s such melody in Armie Hammer’s voice that the devil has to work overtime to get a new Nickelback song in the world, just so everything stays in balance.

Vulture (September 21, 2017)

[khawla-gfm2]

🫂🙏❗Help Khawla's Family In Gaza ❗🙏🫂

I'm organizing and running this fundraiser on behalf of Khawla's family in Gaza. I'm in direct contact with Mohiy, Khawla's brother. [who has his own campaign @/mohiy-gaza2].

The goal of $20,000 is in place for caring for Khawla's family while they save money to register to evacuate together as soon as possible. The campaign has been officially open since August 12th and hasn't yet met it's halfway mark.

Please consider donating even just $5, $10, or $20 to help the fundraiser along to reaching it's goal!

Currently $452 away from $4,500 as a short term goal!

last donation was 11hrs ago

[for more information about the campaign, check out my pinned post; the campaign page itself; or dm me directly if you like. feel free to follow this blog for daily posts and updates.]

[yelspyder]

˚‧⁺.- Nah, just killing the boredom

↳summary: basically Miles having a (big) crush on his classmate (you ofc)

↳characters: Miles Morales

↳Gn! Reader

↳notes: i finally posted something after so long 💪 im not posting as often here on tumblr because of my lack of motivation, but I promise to try to post as much as possible 😼 i swear i'll try to avoid disappearing again and work on my asks. this one is short but i hope you like it

MILES peeked to the side, seeing the book you were reading hidden from the math teacher, which he didn't blame you for doing since this class was super boring.

You were a transfer student who recently joined the school. The first time he saw you in the halls, Miles froze for a few seconds. It wasn't his fault you were pretty. Since then, Miles has tried everything he can to interact with you, but to no avail. He absolutely hated his shyness in those moments when he was prevented from having any interaction with you.

Miles tried to recognize the book by its cover, only to read the title and stumble upon a book he's never heard anyone talk about. Tearing a piece of paper from his notebook, Miles quickly grabbed a pen, writing the name of the book you were reading. Just in case, he thought. He then took the piece of paper and folded it, putting it in his pocket so he don't lose it.

Also bored with all the equations the teacher was writing on the blackboard, Miles surreptitiously grabbed his sketchbook and opened it to a blank page, making sure the teacher didn't see him. Pencil in hand, he began making small squiggles on the page. Absentmindedly, Miles ended up being quite entertained with the drawing, detaching himself from the class while focusing on drawing.

This didn't last long, until the bell rang, indicating the end of the last class of the day. Miles didn't take long to pack up his stuff and get up, ready to go home.

Three days later, again in math class, Miles spied on you. He felt his heart flutter, watching you absently chew on the tip of your pencil as you looked around the room, looking for something to entertain yourself with. How can someone look beautiful without even trying?

Miles then gathered all his courage, and threw a crumpled piece of paper on your desk. Your attention returned to the crumpled piece of paper on your desk. Looking at Miles, you could see him nervously motioning for you to unfold and read the paper. As soon as you opened the paper, you saw impeccable handwriting on it.

I see that you like to read books, and that book you've been bringing to school recently is one of my favorites! The protagonist is definitely my favorite character, even more so after chapter 20, not to mention that the turnaround in his personality in the third book of the saga is incredible 0>0

When you read what was written, you smiled, without delay to scribble something on the paper and crumple it up again, throwing it to Miles' desk. He eagerly unfolded the paper, and read what you wrote, before writing back - in a not-so-pretty, more hurried stroke this time - and throwing the paper back to you.

At the end of the day, Miles had the dumbest smile on his face as he read and reread the notes exchanged during class.

Little did you know that he had spent all of his allowance and the last two whole days dedicated to reading those books to get a good first impression.

[sweetmariihs2]

Cedric The Sorcerer's age debate; 22 or 37?

This is an old debate in the fandom in regards of Cedric's age. I'm not really sure why is this such a big thing, but it is... I have some theories I'll be leaving for later in the post.

We have two different points of view: Cedric being around 21-25 or being 30-40.

Cedric is 21-25 years old theory:

The arguments used to defend this opinion are in this specific YouTube video:

My theories about why his age might got confusing for a part of the fandom:

Imagine you're watching a show for a long time and since the beginning you always saw a certain character in a certain way (in this case, having a certain age), and the creators of the show confirm without warning that your view was wrong the whole time, specially if the show left that info so ambiguous and open for interpretation for such a long time. It's frustrating and you might find it confusing and think it makes no sense, but in Cedric's case, the show never really implied the fact of him being in his 20s.

There is also that other group of people who saw Cedric as young as a way to justify his innapropriate shipp with Sofia. When the fans of this shipp discovered that he was 40 they denied it to themselves. I found some posts here on Tumblr about this some time ago that I'll add later in the post. That's one of them: (credits of two of Craig Gerber's tweets screenshots that I added to the post)

Edit: and you know what's funny? The YouTube channel that made this video is called "Cedfia Enthusiast". How ironic.

Cedric is 37-41 years old semi-canon:

We have three different semi-canon sources of this information: Craig Gerber's twitter, the STF pitch bible and Disney Junior instagram account.

Why are they semi-canon? Because all of them are directly related to Disney Junior but doesn't count as canon, and I'll explain why.

Craig Gerber's Tweets:

This last screenshot was found by @shychick-52

I like how he choose the words "probably closer" because he's not saying that this information is exact.

Why it's semi-canon: Craig Gerber usually told a lot of stuff to STF fans on twitter, and some of the info he shared was later denied in the show (probably due to the fact that the writers were still deciding if it would be in the show or not but in the end they decided that it wouldn't... still, it's coming from the main writer of STF).

Sofia The First Pitch Bible:

You can find the whole STF Pitch Bible in these two posts: part 1 and part 2

The Sofia The First pitch bible is a document with the "sketch" of the show, inclusing characters, appearances, plot, places, that stuff, including the ages, and a lot of info got changed from this document since the show was still being created and it was in constant change; for example, Cedric's parents had other names and they were supposed to be dead, but in the show they're called Winifred and Goodwyn and they're very alive. So the ages mentioned in that document are also not exactly canon, but directly made by people involved in the show to organize stuff, so it is related to canon in a way. It's extra content? For sure.

Disney Junior Instagram post:

This is the link to the post in case you want to see it.

The Disney Junior instagram page made a meme base for the followers to add their ages, names, favorite Disney character, and share with them via Instagram. The Disney Junior account itself tried with their characters as an example, including Cedric, and they said that his age is 41. But even though it was made by the Disney Junior Instagram account, the account is only responsible for making posts to promote the shows, the info they share is not considered canon, and Cedric's profile wasn't even correct because it said he would like to be a "magician" (he is a sorcerer) and his favorite Disney character was "Dr Facilier", when clearly it was always Merlin (he is a huge fan of Merlin in the show itself).

Arguments used to defend this info:

Sofia is said to get older as the show goes on, which means that four years have passed. I'm not sure if this information is canon or not (since her being 16 during STF: RM is not confirmed) but it's mentioned in different sources, and reinforced by Disney Junior's Instagram account (semi-canon)

The first season starts with Sofia being 8 and Cedric being 37. In the last season, she would be 11 and he would be 41, which makes the argument that he is 41 years old viable because Disney JR is referring to his age at the end of the show.

Cedric and Roland's age is close to one another: Cedric and Roland were children at the same time in the show, and Roland is the father of two 12 year old children. For Roland to have two 12 year old children and be Cedric's age at the same time (I'm talking about the supposed 22 year old age), he would need to have children before he even got to his 20s (or even 15), which does not make sense at all, specially in a toddler's show. In fact, Roland was a full adult when Queen Lorelei got pregnant and died after giving birth.

It's more likely that Cedric is around 37-41 since this information is coming from three different semi-canon sources, like the meme says: "If I had a nickel for every time [Cedric is said to be 37-41 yo], I'd have [three] nickels. Which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened [three times]" (Dr. Doofenshmirtz)

The show doesn't give concrete arguments for Cedric being in his 20s, in fact the information the show gives about his age is open to interpretation, it also welcomes the idea of ​​him being 37-41 as it doesn't go against that thought either. Even though it's not canon, if there was a scoreboard, it would be written "20s- 0 | 37/41- 3"

Thank you for reading the post, I'll add more stuff if I need to.

[nuri148]

My Take on Levi's Age

I originally wrote this as a rb addition to another post. I've been meaning to make it a stand alone post since then, and with all the talk about Levi's age since the publication of bad boy, here it is, finally.

If you ask me, Levi could not have been more that 4-5 years old at the time Kenny found him around 829.

Why?

He's severely malnourished, probably spent several days cloistered in the room with Kuchel with nothing to eat. So my guess is that, though he was old enough to speak and understand Kuchel was dead (even if he could not quite grasp the bigger concept of Death), he was too young to go out and procure himself and his mum some food, be it by stealing or begging. And for that, he's need to be very young.

I lived in Greater Buenos Aires more than half of my life (the infamous "conurbano"), and I've seen lots of very small kids, 4-5 years old, begging like pros for either change or food. It's unfortunately very common in impoverished areas. And I wasn't even in the bad ones. So, in that aspect, the Underground wouldn't be different from our villas or Brazil's favelas.

Kuchel was a prostitute. She wouldn't want Levi to witness her at work. It is fair to think that as soon as he was old enough to cross the street she'd let him roam and go play with other kids while mummy's busy. There, he'd quickly learn how to come by a piece of moldy bread to stave hunger.

So in order to just sit starving by his mother instead of going out looking for help, Levi must have been young enough that his mum could still keep him under wraps; too young to know his way about the Underground's streets, too much of a rookie in terms of using his charm or his cunning to get a bit of food.

Uri Reiss inherited the Founding Titan in 829. BUT, nowhere does it say that Kenny's encounter with Uri happens right after the latter became a titan. So Kenny might have joined Uri up to a couple of years after 829 (not many, as Rod Reiss still looks young in that flashback).

So Kenny finds Levi between 829 and 831; And Levi is 4-5 then, meaning he was born, at earliest, in 823 (considering his b-day is only one week before the year's end, that'd make him 5 in for most of 829) and latest in 825 (same if Kenny found him in 831). That makes him 10-12 years older than Eren and company. , ~20 when he joins the SC, ~26 during seasons 1-3, ~30 after the time skip, and ~33 in the epilogue.

"But Yams said he was thirty-somethiiiing!"

TLDR: I wouldn't consider canon some spur-of-the-moment answer given by Yams in a panel where he's probably tired, nervous, and doesn't have his timeline handy.

Allow me to speak here as a writer: the whims of your imagination often don't align with the logic of what needs to go on the page. So it is perfectly possible to imagine your character in a way that is inconsistent with your timeline. You see them with short hair and summer clothes fixing lunch in their sunny kitchen in a scene and, when they move to the dining room you see them with hair 4 inches longer and serving supper as a snowstorm rages outside. When you write it, you're going to have to pick up one, and go back to your notes often for continuity after, bc your brain keeps forever placing the kitchen in sunny summer and the living room in a winter night. Oh, and they're both simultaneously on the ground and the second floor. Escher pictures make more sense.

The story of AoT spans many years, so we don't know which year Levi is the default Levi in Yams' brain. It could even be the Levi from the time skip, or from a future after the last chapter that only exists in his imagination. Also, Yams has bungled up numbers before so, personally, I don't trust him much in that department.

In any case, Math is a hard science, so if Kenny found Levi with 4-5 years in 829, he can't be 30+ in 850. 5+21=26. No matter what Yams says.

Additional notes:

The original post. With additions. I recommend reading the quoted twitter thread.

Another, recent twitter thread on Levi's age

A lengthy post by an actual psychologist providing scientific foundation for Levi's age when Kenny finds him.

I saw yet another post on Levi's age recently, but I can't find the link rn and I have to make lunch. if/when I find it, I'll add it (and others I may come across)

[crapscicle]

I am nurse reham Please help us by sharing . Reblog the last post me on your page so that we can collect donations and get out of the war. You are our hope. I will be very grateful to you . I lost my brother and I don't want to lose anyone else in my family please Donate 10$\ 20$ enough the change my life❤️🙏🏼🇵🇸 Verified by : @90-ghost @soon-palestine https://gofund.me/a08653d7

please help nurse Reham!! she has done so much for others, and its time we helped her!!

[cat-vase]

Hi. I've made a post about this before, but I have more information now (and hopefully I can organize it better).

Ghoul is a n//zi. Only censoring because I tried to make this post already and it didn't show up.

Here is a list of all the social media accounts I could find that he uses so you can block/avoid him.

There is a possible tumblr sideblog I might be unaware of (edit: this has been found!). Click the read more for more details/evidence.

Twitter: xGOREGHOULx

Tumblr: previously d34d-d06-404, now gunk2d34th (warning for bright/eyestrain theme on desktop)

(Edit) Tumblr sideblog: fourexforevrrr

(Edit) Another Tumblr sideblog: dreamobjectshow

Discord server: OBJECTZSPACE

Discord username: gir4life

Pinterest: deranged_number4 + xX4_1STH3B35T1NT3G3RXx

Youtube: xGOREGUNK2009x + xGOREGHOULx

Soundcloud: xUR LOCAL GABBER KIDx + GORE GUNKZ

Pronouns.page: xGOREKIDx

Rentry: DERANGEDFOURNER (warning for bright/eyestrain/flashing gifs)

(Edit) Strawpage: gunksite (warning for flashing gifs/eyestrain)

Carrd: goreghoulquest (warning for moving/spinning/rotating background image. i'm dizzy/have a headache from it. it's a first person video game perspective of somebody spinning in circles in a brick maze.)

On October 21 2023, Ghoul posted these to his pinterest. I looked at the website page data in order to get that date, because I don't think pinterest has a clear way of showing when things were posted (and if it does, I don't know about it).

That's the n//zi salute from Kratcy (CFMOT) and n//zi uniform from Yoshka (CFMOT), complete with a red n//zi armband.

In the last one of Kratcy, the caption is HEIL, MEIN FÜHRER!!! In English, this means HAIL, MY LEADER!!! Führer is the title Hitler gave to himself when he came into power.

On October 22 2023, Ghoul posted this to his twitter.

Three drawings of Four (BFDI/BFB) wearing a n//zi armband. It's censored out in two of them, but Ghoul forgot to censor out the first one. This is an indication that he knew it was bad to draw/post, but did so anyway.

Later that day, he posted this.

Another drawing of Four wearing a n//zi armband, with a caption to spell it out for you.

On October 23 2023, he posted to his twitter again.

Another one.

On December 20 2023 (two months after all those posts), somebody on twitter pointed out the armband in Ghoul's post. The callout post got a little traction, some of the other art was found, and Ghoul was asked why he drew n//zi art. This was his "apology." I included the second screenshot so you know I'm not intentionally cutting anything out with the first screenshot.

Mania does not suddenly make you antisemetic. Mania does not suddenly compel you to draw n//zi imagery. Ghoul tried censoring two out of the three images, trying to hide it. He clearly knew it was a bad thing to do. He is using mental health issues to excuse his actions.

On December 21 2023, he answered this ask on his tumblr.

And then left this in the replies of the ask post.

Again, using mental health issues as an excuse. If you felt bad for it, wouldn't you have deleted it as soon as you got into a clear headspace? Would you not have addressed it sooner instead of waiting for people to call you out on it first? If you were truly trying to ruin your reputation, why did you try to censor some of it? It isn't "old art", either. It's from three months ago.

I'm including this screenshot so people know what the discord server looks like. I am not in this server, I only clicked the link to get the screenshot. I do not know if anybody is co-running this server along with Ghoul, or if it is only Ghoul himself running it.

I'm including this poll because I don't know if he ever made that sideblog or not. If he did, I don't know the url. If anybody does know it, please tell me. I'll leave your name out of it. I just want people to be able to block it if it exists.

(Edit) This sideblog has been found! It's @/fourexforevrrr

As of writing this post, it is January 7 2024. Ghoul has not said anything about this since and continues to post art like normal. I don't want this to be swept underneath the rug. I'm not allowing a n//zi to exist in the object show community. I don't care that he's a minor (16). This is vile.