#and Mathew is asleep in that school office

[lots-of-fandoms-ps-help-me]

just finished mister impossible btw what the fuck if you even care

[rejected-originals-archived]

~

Name: Derrick Smith

Face Claim: Doppo Kunikida (Bungou Stray Dogs)

Age: 29

Birthday: August 10th

Gender: Cis Male

Sexuality: Heterosexual (He says he’s hetero, but there’s also potential that he’s aromatic and asexual)

Height: 6’2

Weight: 175 Pounds

Background: Derrick was born into perhaps the most average life imaginable. Middle class, single child, mother stayed home while his father was the breadwinner of the family. By the time he was in high school, he had no real aim or purpose in life, but this part of him was hidden under the gruff persona of the stereotypical jock. He was on the football team, but he wasn’t particularly good at the sport. He also started a relationship with a girl named Annabelle, although in spite of appearances and how Annabelle may have perceived things, Derrick felt very little in terms of romance towards her. Derrick and Annabelle are originally from a small suburban town where everyone was pretty close together. Children were often groomed into carrying on traditional family values and were also sold the lie of the teenage dream/perfect high school experience. In essence, by getting with Annabelle, Derrick was just doing what he had been taught to do all of his life. After high school, Annabelle and Derrick got married when they were only nineteen years old, but in their town, marrying young was pretty commonplace, so once again, Derrick was just doing what he had been taught to do all of his life. Years passed, and by the time they were both twenty-six, Annabelle had given birth to their fifth child (in order of oldest to youngest, their children are; Tucker, Conrad, Tira, Mathew, and Nicole). As time dragged on, Annabelle and Derrick’s relationship became more and more strained. Despite doing a few years of college and getting a decent degree, Derrick was only able to score a decent-paying nine-to-five office job in the city a drives away from their hometown, so Annabelle and Derrick moved away sometime after Tira was born. Every day, Derrick gets up to get ready for work, goes to work, and then comes home late. By the time he gets home, he’s too exhausted to really do much else, aside from eat dinner, watch some TV, and then fall asleep. Nowadays, him and Annabelle rarely sleep in the same bed, as Derrick has mostly relegated himself to the couch. On weekends, he goes to the gym (he’s not at the physical peak he was at in high school, but he’s still relatively in shape) and then he comes home. He might help with vacuuming and taking care of the kids, but otherwise he kicks back on the couch and watches whatever sports game is on T.V at a given moment. On the subject of his children, he feels pretty detached from them. He tries to spend time with them, but whenever he to sits down to play with them, he doesn’t feel very enthused. He obviously remembers all of their names and birthdays, but their specific interests and personalities elude him.

Personality/Additional Info: Though he was loud and boisterous in his youth, in his adulthood, Derrick has since mellowed out, becoming a rather quiet individual. On average, it’s unlikely to find him instigating conversation, he’s a very “won’t speak unless spoken to” kind of person. In general, he’s a very uninterested in the world around him, and he’s not the most interesting person. He is as average as a man can get. In gamer speak, he is an NPC, only doing what he was programmed to do in life. He doesn’t really have hobbies or interests. Whenever people at the office talk about sports, he’s able to make standard banter, but that’s about it. He’s also come to have very little desire for intimacy, something that has put further strain on his relationship with his wife. When turned twenty-seven, he began to start feeling a soreness in his lower back and legs, both of which according to his chiropractor were remnants of old injuries from his days in high school football. His vision started to slightly fade when he was in his mid-twenties, so he was prescribed glasses.

Appearance: Derrick is a tall man, broad shouldered man. Some people at the office go as far as to say that his build is “imposing”. Though not quite as muscular as he was when he was in high school and in spite of his back and leg soreness, he’s in better shape than most people. To the office, he usually wears plaid, sleeveless button-up vests, with a long sleeved black button-up underneath and plaid pants. At home he wears an assortment of old t-shirts with either khaki shorts or jeans. He has a few sports-team hats that he might wear if he has to take the kids out. His hair is blonde with natural brown highlights, and is long enough to keep a thin ponytail.

(Please note: Derrick will most likely never get divorced in his main canon. In any shipping canon, he’ll be divorced.)

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Lullaby

Keanu Reeves x Reader (Chapter Summary- Two months later and one person is still being affected by a decision they made and another’s apparent rejection bothers them more than they’d prefer to admit.) (Warning- slight NSFW)

Chapter1     Chapter2

Chapter 3

A breathy sigh escaped her parted, plump lips. The silkiness of her legs rubbed against his thighs and her breasts felt firm and warm, just enough to fit in his palm with room for him to knead appreciatively. The slick heaven between her parted legs was so tight, cocooning Keanu’s member perfectly as he slid in and out of her in controlled thrusts. Her little gasps bounce of the walls, joining his low throaty grunts. Oh the sounds she makes. Y/n’s hair haloed around her on the white cotton pillow, messy and wild. She looked so divine in the most corrupted way. She’s so young, beautiful, oozing with youthful appeal.  And she’s all his.

Except, she’s not. Not really.

With startle, Keanu awoke, sitting up in his bed, drenched in sweat......and something else. “Fuck,” he breathed, scrubbing his hands harshly over his face, proceeding to rub sleep out of his eyes. It was just minutes away from five in the morning and the sun hadn’t even risen yet, but Keanu knew that there was no chance of him falling back asleep.

It had become almost routine by then, his slumber being interrupted by dreams of Y/n, naked in his bed, or other parts of his house. The location never mattered, but for two months, it had been her. His mind had taken it upon itself to conjure up a slew of different sexual fantasies, ideas never seemed to be in shortage, much like his body’s gullibility when it came to believing them.

With a disgruntled sigh, Keanu shook the covers off and took a minute to offer his deflating crotch an annoyed stare. There was a stain at the front and those would be yet another pair of sleep pants that he’d have to hold back of the laundry hamper and deal with himself, lest Linda find out that she was actually working for a thirteen year old boy just discovering the mechanics of his body and not a grown man with the ability to not nut in his pants. 

“The fuck is wrong with me?” He asked himself as he striped lazily, heading for the shower. As he got in, Keanu turned on the hot water, looking up as the water rained down from the entire ceiling of the sizeable cubicle. The shower in the master bath was one of the many things he loved about his house. It mimicked rainfall and could be easily controlled by the sleek silver knobs on the dark tiled wall. 

As Keanu washed himself, his hands rough hands passing over his body, his mind flashed to the night from not too long ago, when he had gotten off the mere memories of a dream of Y/n. Since then, he had refrained from masturbation, at  least to her image. It felt wrong, like he was violating her somehow. Y/n had probably forgotten their encounter by then, returning to....whatever women her age did. Shopping, dating men who weren’t fifty-something- learning how to run multi-million dollar empires. 

He had refrained, yes. And Keanu liked to think that he was normally a man of great, strong restraint, but that morning, as he stood in the shower, hot water washing over him, his fingers brushed his member and thoughts of Y/n took a racy turn. He closed his eyes and started imagining that she was there, her hands touching him, settling to circle his growing erection, pumping slowly as her lips pressed to his, and she mumbled against him, “This what you want, huh? Let me make you feel good baby.”

Throwing his head back, Keanu groaned, his imagination running wild, his vison going white. 

Men. They were all the same, weren’t they? Y/n was starting to believe the archaic stereotype. They had to be, else, she wouldn’t be in the position she was in. Sitting in a boardroom, eyes blank and teeth clenched as she listened to rantings of an ancient CFO, who apparently didn’t understand the concept of seasonal changes. As he spoke, Y/n found it hard to stay in the moment.....until he called her out on it, “You know, Miss Warren, if you don’t want to stay, the door’s right there. I’m sure kids your age want nothing more than to run wild all, boozed up.”

At his comment, Y/n sucked in a deep breath, closing her eyes as she tried not to snap. After a minute, she plastered on a wide smile, “Run wild?” She quoted, malice edging her tone, “I can assure Mr. Priestly, I’m not bored, just in awe of you’re.......stupidity. I’m not sure if it’s ignorance or if you’ve never watched the news, but the reason we aren’t making in the tropics is because of the hurricane season. You know, hurricanes; big scary storms; lots of wind and rain, really dangerous and we’ve had to close three braches so far because of them,” her words drew down, her tone grew whiney and mocking and an episode of quiet laughter ran across the table as other board members snickered.  

The older man’s face grew hot pink with either embarrassment or anger, and from a mile away anyone could see that his jaw was clenched. The stocky, sausage fingers of his wrinkled hands clenched into his fist before he stuffed them into his pockets, fuming, “Michael, maybe teach your daughter a little respect,” Priestly glared at her father who sat at the head of the sleek glass table, combating his own proud smile.

Michael cleared his throat, leaning back further into his impressive leather chair, folding his arms and nodding, “Yes. Of course. Good observation Y/n,” he tried to look serious, clearing his throat and nodding stiffly, “But perhaps there are better ways to correct our colleagues,” before Priestly could grumble a remark about Y/n not actually being his colleagues, Y/n’s father continued, “But Roger, maybe next time, read the brief first,” he tapped his tablet screen knowingly.

The rest of the meeting went by mostly uneventfully, save for a few snide remarks traded back and forth between Roger and Y/n. At the end of it, everyone gathered their things, dispersing; heading back to their respective offices. After a quick word with her father about the rest of her tasks for the day, Y/n did the same. Usually, they’d ride the elevator together, but he’d promised her mother a lunch date, and Y/n had opted to stay back at the office.

As she stalked past the receptionists’ desk, one of the young girls, just about Y/n’s age or a little younger; Emily, called her back, “Oh! Miss Warren-”

“Emily, we’ve been over this, you can call me Y/n, we went to middle school together,” Y/n chuckled, rounding back to the large shared desk.  

“Y/n,” Emily smiled politely, “You’re cousin is here, she’s waiting in your office.”

“Great! Thanks,” after pleasant good byes, Y/n went straight to her office, pulling open one side of the mahogany doors, the long silver handle cool in her palm, “Jill I-”

“Surprise!” A cluster of voices yelled in cheery unison. 

Taken a back, Y/n jumped, stumbling back into the already closed door. It took barely a minute for her expression of pure shock, with just a bit of fright mixed it, before her face took on a more excited expression. There in her office, was almost everyone she had called a friend over the past ten years; a few girls her age from the country club her parents frequented, a couple people from college and just some others she’d met at parties and other snazzy events, “Oh my god! What are you guys doing here?”

“We’re here for you, obviously. Jill told us that you’ve committed yourself to these four walls,” a guy, someone who Y/n had met on her very first day of college, Mathew, broke from the small crowd, pulling her into a sideways hug, “And we’re here to tell you, that we won’t stand for that.”

“Matt,” Y/n yelped, hugging him back, “It’s been forever. How is the world of venture capitalism?” She laughed lightly.

“About as fun as it sounds,” he grinned, finally pulling away, going to a cooler that they had somehow managed into her office, and getting out a couple beers, “I’m serious though. We’re taking you on a vacation.”

“In May?” Y/n’s brows furrowed in confusion, “We can’t just-”

“Nuh uh,” Catharine, a young woman her age, who Y/n had known since she was sixteen cut her off, “Relax Y/n/n, it’s a week, not a month. You need to unwind and relax. And you’ve missed at least two birthdays, so you have to make up for those too.”

Y/n sighed, a little excited for the activities in the near horizon, but also a little worried about what her father would think if she just stole away from her work for an entire week. Seeing her tormented expression, Jillian stepped in, placing her hands on Y/n’s shoulders, “I already asked Uncle Michael; he’s okay with it and Aunt Heather thinks that this could be good for you,” Jillian's hands rubbed up and down the silk sleeves of Y/n’s blouse and her eyes pleaded with hers, “Come on cuz, all you’d have to do is pack a bag and grab your passport.”

Y/n worried on her bottom lip, thinking that it might be nice to get away for a week, to wear something other than high heels and skirt suits. Sighing, she rolled her eyes, pretending to be annoyed, her friends seemed to be holding their breaths in anticipation of her answer and a smile tugged at the corner of Y/n’s lips as she spoke, “Well, where are we going?”

Excited cheers erupted and someone popped a bottle of champagne, quickly handing her a glass. Jillian was the one to propose her toast, and answer Y/’s question, “To beautiful, sexy people, old friends, and yachts in Greece!”

At that, glasses clinked, and everyone drank.

“Hey, whatever happened between you and you sexy movie star friend?” Y/n along with Jillian, Catharine and a couple other ladies were gathered in her closet, helping her pack while everyone else made last minute preparations.

“What sexy movie star?” Amanda, another one of Y/n’s college friends, who had taken her business expertise to Silicon Valley after they graduated asked, “We talked on the phone last week and you didn’t tell me about a movie star. Who was he?”

“He’s hot right?” Catharine interjected, holding up a deep green sundress with happy colorful flowers on it. Briefly, she examined it, then, satisfied, she tossed it into a suitcase.

Another friend, Tracy, the lone doctor of their group giggled at their questions, before asking a couple of her own, “I think the real question is; which one of Hollywood’s silver foxes is Y/n hiding from us. Tell me his last name, an I’ll tell you if I’ve seen his dick.”

Y/n, who had taken a quick shower when they got back to her place, stood in her bathrobe, surveying her selection of bathing suits, “Why would you have seen his dick?”

Tracy scoffed, “You’d be surprised, I make a lot of money on penis enlargements. I’ve seen some pretty famous cocks.”

At that, the girls laughed and Jillian shook her head, “I too have seen famous cocks,” she laughed, “But don’t you have some kind of doctor-patient confidentiality?”

Tracy shrugged and it was Catharine who spoke up again, “I think we’re losing focus here; Y/n slept with a movie star and didn’t tell us. And she won’t even tell us who he was.”

“Or if she’s seen him again,” Amanda inserted.

When Y/n turned to face her friends, holding a bathing suit in each hand, one with a colorful pattern from a season ago and the other a timeless, black, designer bikini, all eyes were on her, expectant and awaiting an answer. Even Jillian, who knew exactly who he was and that Y/n had in fact not slept with him, look amused. “Well, I didn’t tell you because it didn’t happen. We almost had sex. Almost as in someone,” she shot an accusing eye at Jillian, “Interrupted us. And he was Keanu Reeves.”

“Excuse me?” Tracy laughed loudly, dropping the pair of denim shorts she had been holding, “As in Johnny Utah, Jack Traven, and my newest favorite; John Wick. Wow,”  she paused breathlessly, “I’ve actually never seen his dick.”

“Oh” Catharine, an eternal romantic exclaimed, clapping her hands together, “He’s in my favorite movie-”

Before she could even finish, everyone was saying, “Sweet November,” then a little more disconnected, “We know.”

“You should call him,” Amanda suggested matter-of-factly, “That’s a once in a life time opportunity right there.”

“Yeah, okay,” Y/n began sarcastically, “I’ll just pick up my phone and call him, with a number that I don’t have, and ask him to come fuck me on the way to the airport. Hope seven isn’t too much of a crowd,” she ended with a chuckle.

“Like Y/n Warren who has everything at her fingertips can’t get his phone number,” Amanda argued lightly, “You could have anything you want. Any phone number, any address, anything. And that’s what’s stopping you?”

“Yeah,” Y/n gasped, not believing that she was actually being pressured about something like that, “What do you think it is?”

“Fear. He’s nice guy, at least according to everyone who’s ever met him. What if it doesn’t live up to whatever you imagined. You know what they say about nice guys,” Amanda winked and Y/n could have sworn that Tracy whispered something about over achievers.

Jillian was the one who spoke up next, “Well let’s not breath down her back, while we take a minute to consider that this might not be all her fault. Why don’t you tell them what you did.”

Y/n’s cheeks took on a bright pink tint, heat rushing to her ears, “How do you know that?”

“I heard, I was standing like, a foot away.”

Scoffing Y/n shook her head, zipping her suitcase closed and pulling it to the floor, “I.....invited him over. And he never came. There,” she finalized, moving on to finding something to wear to the airport, “He essentially rejected me and that’s it, it was two months ago and I don’t wanna talk about it anymore.

Before anyone in the room could propose otherwise, Mathew was poking his head into the doorway, “I swear I’m not looking,” he put a hand over his eyes, “But we need to get going, the car’s downstairs and the jet’s ready to go.”

Hurriedly, they finished packing and Y/n quickly got dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a grey cable knit sweater, hustling down the stairs, hoping to put the lingering disappointment from Keanu not showing up in the rearview. 

******

Tagging- @baphometwolf666   @a-really-bi-girl​  @paanchu786​

[staygoldponebone]

Soda's Kid Sister

Pairing: n/a

Request by: anonymous

A/N: i don't really like how it turned out...oof

"Sandy, your picture looks fine." You state, rolling your eyes.

"No it doesn't. My hair's all messy and my makeup's smudged and I-"

"Well, let's not forget who you were with the night before."

"What're you talking about?"

"Remember what you told me?" You raised your voice, doing an impression of Sandy. "Well, I was at a party, but Soda took me home and then I fell asleep. That's it!" You rolled your eyes.

Sandy gasped, nudging you. "That was it!"

You laughed. "Yeah, yeah, yeah..."

You and Sandy were standing at her locker, looking at her school picture. Everyone had gotten their pictures back, but apparently, Sandy's picture was the one that was the worst.

"Let me see yours." Sandy tells you.

You handed the packet to her. She looked through the photos, making commentary on your bright smile and your signature blue eyes.

In the corner of your eye, you noticed a couple girls whispering and motioning towards you. You turned to them. "Can I help you?"

"You're Sodapop's kid sister, right?" One of them asks.

"Who's askin'?"

The other girl walks over. "Me. I have a message for him."

Sandy stepped up beside you. "What kinda message?" She spat.

"Well, ya see, Soda told my sister that she was hot stuff last night. Said he'd take her on a date. And I told her that he was the type to get around." She eyed Sandy. "But she didn't believe me and he stood her up."

Sandy took a step forward, but you pulled her back. "That's a lie." You say plainly.

"Is that so?"

"It is so. My brother didn't work last night. He was playin' poker with Mr. Steve Randle at our kitchen table." You huff.

The first girl turned to the other. "I can't believe that stupid greaser had enough smarts to-"

"What'd you just say?!" You yell.

"Y/n, don't do anything stupid. Your brothers would have a fit." Sandy whispered, pulling you away.

"You should listen to Blondie. You wouldn't wanna do anything stupid. Like your brother." The girl that stood in front of you laughed bitterly.

You brought your arm back, then your fist made contact with her jaw. No one expected it.

~ ~ ~ ~

"We have contacted your guardian. Someone will be here to get you in around 20 minutes."

You nodded, then looked down at the ice pack on your knuckles.

You could hear Sandy through the wall. She was talking to the principal, saying how she wasn't really paying attention. He replied by saying that multiple witnesses put her beside me in this "fight."

As you waited, you saw Steve and Two-Bit walking past the office. They saw you behind the glass and went to talk to you. You started to get panicked. You didn't want them to see you there.

"What the hell'd you do?" Steve asks.

"She got into a fight. Duh!" Two-Bit responds, pointing to your fist.

"But why? Over what?"

"Some girl take your lipstick?" Two-Bit grinned and Steve laughed. "Someone talkin' smack about your outfit?"

The principal stepped out of his office with Sandy, and the two boys went quiet.

"Mr. Mathews, Mr. Randle? Can I help you boys?" Principal Rogers asks.

They shook their heads.

"Then get to class."

"Yes, sir." Lept from their mouths as they left the room. Sandy followed behind them after she delivered a sad smile to you.

~ ~ ~ ~

"A fight?!" Dally exclaims.

You rolled your eyes. "It really wasn't a fight."

"You knocked a girl on her ass. That's called a fight."

"Whatever."

"That's pretty tuff, y'know? Beating up someone."

You rolled your eyes. "Darry probably doesn't think so."

"Of course he doesn't. You're dead meat kid."

"Yes, Dally. Thank you for that."

He let out a laugh and took you home. He even walked with you to the front door and took you inside. You stood in front of Darry and Soda.

"Y/n, I'm very-"

"I know." You tell Darry.

"And you're-"

"Grounded. I know."

"Well, it better not-"

"It won't." You sighed. "I'm goin' to my room."

Once your door closed, you could hear Darry and Dally talking softly. You soon heard a knock at your door. "Come in!"

Soda's head popped into your room. "Can I talk to you?"

You nod, pulling your knees to your chest.

He came in, closing the door behind him. Then he took a seat on your bed. "I heard you got into a fight because of me."

"I'm just tired of people talking about you like your some kind of asshole. You're not Dally, you're my brother, I had to do something."

He laughed. "You shouldn't listen to other people." He elbowed you. "It gets you in trouble."

"I know." You sighed. "Is Darry mad?"

"At you? No. He's more mad at Dally for encouraging you to get into more fights."

"Oh." You touched your knuckles lightly.

"Don't beat yourself up, kid." He whispered. "I'm proud of you."

~ ~ ~ ~

@steveandsoda

@starryrevelations

@the80sgold

@willowlikesdallaswinston

@yawannaseewhatshangingbaby

@salladwinston

@unique05sstuff

@darrybutgay

@darrycurtisappreciation

@mocurlyshepard

@mushrooms-iscat

@dallaswinstonsgirl724

@leeb10111

@ponyboyvhs

@ponybabyy

@ponydoyourhomework

@omni-hamiltrash

@hufflepuffpridedude

@s0uthside-princess

[eliniei]

Those Hard Days - Chapter 33

Summary: Rae’s brother always made sure she was tough as nails. But when her father flips her world upside down, will she find that there’s a limit on how strong she can be?

Warnings: Rape/Non-con (non-graphic, fade-to-black), child abuse, underage drinking, underage smoking, drug use, violence, major character death

AO3: here Fanfiction.net: here

Masterlist

Previous Chapter |  Next Chapter

Chapter 33 - Foster

The house the police car pulled up to was, for lack of a better word, neat. Neat and bright. It made Rae cringe. Seriously? She looked over to the white-painted, metal mailbox for a name. Douglas. She looked around at all the other houses in the area as she stepped out of the car and slung her bag over her shoulder. Rae couldn't figure out where she was, the neighborhood unrecognizable to her. 

The screen door creaked open and a woman around Mrs. Mathews’ age appeared, a warm smile of her face. Following behind her, two boys came outside. They couldn’t have been any older than thirt-

Rae tilted her head to the side.

The kids who ran into her shoulder the day after the rumble. Two-Bit yelled at them-

They were both staring at her with wide eyes. The kid with a bad attitude opened his mouth. 

“Y-”

"Oh, hello, honey," the woman said, cutting him off.. Patricia stepped out of the car as well. 

“This is Ms. Douglas and her son Bryon. Mark is another foster. You’ll be staying here until we’ve determined that it is safe for you to go back to Mrs. Mathews.”

“Wait-so, I can go back to Barb’s house?”

“Well, it’s not official but-”

"Why don't you all come inside?" Ms. Douglas asked. Rae’s caseworker held up her hand. 

“That won’t be necessary. We’ll let you take it from here.”

“Suit yourselves,” the other woman said with a shrug. 

“Don’t put yourself at risk,” Patricia said, pointing at Rae, who stayed silent. “We’re trusting you to be mindful of your situation. If I find you’re squandering your chance here, we’ll ship you out of state.” She opened her car door again  Rae walked up the few steps from the curb. Ms. Douglas put a hand on her shoulder and ushered her inside as the caseworker’s car pulled away from the sidewalk. 

“Come on inside and let’s get you settled.” 

“You’re that girl-,” Bryon started.

“What girl?” his mother asked as she led them through the house. Rae looked around at her surroundings, trying to get a feel for the house.

“”I think you’ve got me confused with someone else,” she said, a sharp tone in her voice. She looked at him with her piercing eyes.

“Oh-yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Now,” Ms. Douglas said, stopped next to a closed bedroom door. “I don’t know where you come from, honey, but I’ve been made aware of the situation and there are rules in this house you will be expected to follow.” Rae crossed her arms over her chest and leaned on one foot.

“Okay. What are they?”

“Curfew is nine.”

“Nine?!”

“Yes. No skipping classes. We’ll take you up to the high school tomorrow and get you registered.”

“Okay.”

“You must get permission before leaving this house.”

She pursed her lips but didn’t argue. The older woman opened the bedroom door.

"We’ll let you unpack, if you’d like. When you’re finished, why don’t you come to the kitchen and I’ll make you some lunch?” She nodded, curtly, and walked into her new bedroom. 

Once Ms. Douglas was gone, Rae sat down on the bed and stared at the blank wall in front of her. She let her backpack fall to the floor and laid down on top of the covers, shoes, jacket, and all. She curled up on her side, thinking about her brother, her friends, her father. She wasn’t sure how long she lay there before she fell asleep.

When she opened her eyes again, the room was dark except for a porch light across the street. There was a knock on the door. She assumed that was what woke her up.

  "What?" she asked, a little nastier than she meant. She heard the knob turn and the door open.

"Mom asked me to come get you for dinner," Bryon’s voice said behind her. She sighed loudly through her nose. "I’m sorry that Mark hurt you that day.”

"He didn’t hurt me but, I wasn’t wearin’ a sling for no reason."

“It still wasn’t right.”

“It’s fine, kid. Just go away, please.”

"Should I just tell mom that you're not hungry?"

"I don't give a shit what you tell her," she snapped. She tried to be nice at first, she really did. The tightness in her chest was back, the anger climbing up her throat. "Just leave me alone." He stood in the doorway for a few silent moments, but finally closed the door.

In the morning, Ms. Douglas drove them all to the school. She shooed Mark and Bryon away to go to their classes as she walked with Rae to the main office. The woman talked as they walked, but she only half listened. 

“And you’re gonna have to start eating, baby. I know this is not an ideal situation for you, but you can’t let yourself waste away. Oh, here we are.”

She followed her new guardian into the office and took a seat by the door, ignoring everyone around her while Ms. Douglas filled out some paperwork.

Ignoring everyone, that is, until she noticed a kid walk in- leather jacket, long dark hair slicked back with hair oil- When the caseworker said she’d be going to the other high school, it never even occurred to her that-she hadn’t had time to think about-

“Back again so soon, Mr. Shepard? A bit early for trouble isn’t it?” the secretary behind the desk. 

“It’s never too early for trouble, Mrs. Adams,” Curly said. Rae almost fell out of her chair. She could just hear that stupid, lopsided, cocky grin in his voice. She tried incredibly hard not to laugh. Hard enough that Ms. Douglas turned to her.

“Are you alright, honey?”

“Y-yeah, fine.”

Curly peered over his shoulder at the commotion behind him. His eyes widened and mouth dropped open the second he saw her. For a split second, she gave him a sly smile, but dropped it, giving him a warning look and a barely perceptible shake of her head. 

“Rae?” Her foster parent’s voice filtered into her mind.

“Huh?”

“I asked what your middle name is.”

“Oh. It’s Lee.”

“Okay, all done.” She got up and handed the paperwork back to the secretary. 

“I’ll get all this filed away and get her a class schedule. Ah, Curly, the principal is ready to see you.”

“You betcha, Mrs. Adams.” He started towards the door behind the desk, but saved a second to wink at Rae.

“Alright, honey,” Ms. Douglas said, picking up her handbag. “Find Mark and Bryon after school and they’ll show you the way home, okay? Straight home.” Rae nodded as her eyes followed her boyfriend. 

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” 

Once the older woman was gone, she received her schedule and locker assignment. As she gathered her stuff, she saw the door to the principal’s office open out of the corner of her eye. Mrs. Adams motioned to Curly with her hand as he sauntered out.

“Honey, do me a favor and show Miss Winston around.” He looked at Rae for a second, a small smile appearing on his face. 

“Of course, Mrs. Adams.”

She lifted her backpack to her shoulder and walked with him into the hallway, the tightness in her chest starting to vanish. A wide smile spread across her lips as he stretched his arm across her shoulders.

“Let’s get you to your classes, Miss Winston.”

[rejected-originals]

Name: Derrick Smith

Face Claim: Doppo Kunikida (Bungou Stray Dogs)

Age: 29

Birthday: August 10th

Gender: Cis Male (He/Him)

Sexuality: Heterosexual (He says he’s hetero, but there’s also potential that he’s aromatic and asexual)

Height: 6’2

Weight: 175 Pounds

Background: Derrick was born into perhaps the most average life imaginable. Middle class, single child, mother stayed home while his father was the breadwinner of the family. By the time he was in high school, he had no real aim or purpose in life, but this part of him was hidden under the gruff persona of the stereotypical jock. He was on the football team, but he wasn’t particularly good at the sport. He also started a relationship with a girl named Annabelle, although in spite of appearances and how Annabelle may have perceived things, Derrick felt very little in terms of romance towards her. Derrick and Annabelle are originally from a small suburban town where everyone was pretty close together. Children were often groomed into carrying on traditional family values and were also sold the lie of the teenage dream/perfect high school experience. In essence, by getting with Annabelle, Derrick was just doing what he had been taught to do all of his life. After high school, Annabelle and Derrick got married when they were only nineteen years old, but in their town, marrying young was pretty commonplace, so once again, Derrick was just doing what he had been taught to do all of his life. Years passed, and by the time they were both twenty-six, Annabelle had given birth to their fifth child (in order of oldest to youngest, their children are; Tucker, Conrad, Tira, Mathew, and Nicole). As time dragged on, Annabelle and Derrick’s relationship became more and more strained. Despite doing a few years of college and getting a decent degree, Derrick was only able to score a decent-paying nine-to-five office job in the city a drives away from their hometown, so Annabelle and Derrick moved away sometime after Tira was born. Every day, Derrick gets up to get ready for work, goes to work, and then comes home late. By the time he gets home, he’s too exhausted to really do much else, aside from eat dinner, watch some TV, and then fall asleep. Nowadays, him and Annabelle rarely sleep in the same bed, as Derrick has mostly relegated himself to the couch. On weekends, he goes to the gym (he’s not at the physical peak he was at in high school, but he’s still relatively in shape) and then he comes home. He might help with vacuuming and taking care of the kids, but otherwise he kicks back on the couch and watches whatever sports game is on T.V at a given moment. On the subject of his children, he feels pretty detached from them. He tries to spend time with them, but whenever he to sits down to play with them, he doesn’t feel very enthused. He obviously remembers all of their names and birthdays, but their specific interests and personalities elude him.

Personality/Additional Info: Though he was loud and boisterous in his youth, in his adulthood, Derrick has since mellowed out, becoming a rather quiet individual. On average, it’s unlikely to find him instigating conversation, he’s a very “won’t speak unless spoken to” kind of person. In general, he’s a very uninterested in the world around him, and he’s not the most interesting person. He is as average as a man can get. In gamer speak, he is an NPC, only doing what he was programmed to do in life. He doesn’t really have hobbies or interests. Whenever people at the office talk about sports, he’s able to make standard banter, but that’s about it. He’s also come to have very little desire for intimacy, something that has put further strain on his relationship with his wife. When turned twenty-seven, he began to start feeling a soreness in his lower back and legs, both of which according to his chiropractor were remnants of old injuries from his days in high school football. His vision started to slightly fade when he was in his mid-twenties, so he was prescribed glasses.

Appearance: Derrick is a tall man, broad shouldered man. Some people at the office go as far as to say that his build is “imposing”. Though not quite as muscular as he was when he was in high school and in spite of his back and leg soreness, he’s in better shape than most people. To the office, he usually wears plaid, sleeveless button-up vests, with a long sleeved black button-up underneath and plaid pants. At home he wears an assortment of old t-shirts with either khaki shorts or jeans. He has a few sports-team hats that he might wear if he has to take the kids out. His hair is blonde with natural brown highlights, and is long enough to keep a thin ponytail.

Ships with: Annabelle Smith

AUs: None at the moment, feel free to request

(Please note: Derrick will most likely never get divorced in his main canon. In any shipping canon, he’ll be divorced.)

[itsjustkaotikme]

NaNoWriMo 2019: Someone - Day 3

Marge woke up at least five times before her alarm went off the next morning. She'd barely slept despite all her best efforts to calm her active mind. She'd read through the A's in her old school dictionary, drank hot tea, had a warm bath, but none of her usual tricks helped. She eventually settled on watching a light comedy until she was exhausted and distracted enough to doze off around 3 am. Even asleep, the day's events had worked their way into her dreams, causing her to jump awake only to drift off into another troubling dream. She rubbed her bleary eyes and checked her sleep log on her phone – 3 hours of sleep, 1 hour restless. Ugh, she grumbled, Definitely not a great start to my first, err, second day of work. She figured she may as well get up and start getting ready though.

The room was still dark, that was the worst part about this time of year, the sun taking so long to come up in the mornings. She wasn't used to having to leave the house this early, or deal with the sun being so lazy when she woke up. Even with the distraction of getting ready for work and pondering solar cycles, Marge couldn't stop her thoughts from drifting back to everything that happened the day before. Two days ago, she'd bemoaned her boring and jobless lifestyle; now, she'd very much like things to calm down just a bit. An attempted robbery, a new job, and now this strange ordeal over a simple envelope.

Ever since she got home last night, she'd been kicking herself for not opening it before she took it in to the police. When she saw it amongst her things yesterday, she'd been terrified, but by now she was certain she'd overreacted and felt very embarrassed she'd made such a fuss about it. In fact, after thinking about everything over and over last night instead of sleeping, she realized it *could have*, *maybe*, *possibly* been one off her new coworkers slipping her a friendly note. She was certain she have have noticed if someone had gotten that close to her, but maybe they'd been really sneaky? Surely this was far more likely than a sinister stalker message from a random career thief? There must be a reasonable, non-threatening explanation, right? She really needed to lay off the true crime podcasts and tv shows. She tended to gravitate towards worst-case-scenarios in general, so she really didn't need to give her overactive imagination any more material to work with.

Just the thought of getting a phone call from Officer/Detective/Whatever-His-Title-Actually-Is Luke made her feel nauseous. Had he been thinking she was being overly paranoid the whole time? If he calls just to tell me it's a welcome package from the office, I will literally crawl into a hole and never come out ever again, she silently resolved. Or maybe I should just not answer if he calls? she shook off the line of thought for the umpteenth time. Focus, Marge! .. or else you are going to be late! she chided herself as she chugged the last of her breakfast smoothie and grabbed her keys. Her roommate likely wouldn't be up for another couple hours, so she locked the door behind her when she left.

--

"Welcome back!" It was the manager that hired her yesterday, he greeted her cherrily as he opened the door. "Remind me before you leave to give you a keycard so you can get in and out on your own."

Marge was pretty sure his name was Mark, but didn't want to risk getting his name wrong. She smiled warmly and replied, "Thank you, and good morning!" She had decided on the way over that she should ask him about the envelope and here he was, but she couldn't seem to form the words fast enough before he started speaking again.

"I believe you got your desk and computer all set up yesterday, all your work accounts created and operational too - correct?" He asked as they walked towards the the desk she couldn't tell believe she could call hers.

"Yes! and Lucy from HR sent me some paperwork and the handbook as well," she replied. He nodded, distracted by a notification on his phone. This gave her a perfect opportunity to plan her question, she tried out a few options in her head while she traced the faux wood grain on her desk with her fingers in effort to calm her nerves.

"Sorry, had to deal with that right away, now where were we?" he asked.

"All good! I was just saying that I'm all settled in," she took a quick breath as she worked up the courage to ask, "I do have sort of a strange question," she paused to gauge his reaction, then rushed on when she saw his concerned expression. "Do you know if anyone would have put like, a welcome package, or something like that in my purse yesterday?"

He seemed surprised, then puzzled, "I don't think so, why do you ask?"

"You remember I told you about my bag getting snatched yesterday?"

He nodded.

"Well, I found an evelope in the bag when I came home, and I thought maybe the guy who snatched it put it in there, but then I wondered if maybe it somehow it came from here.. somehow..?" she trailed off her question.

"I can ask around, what was in it?" he asked.

"I don't actually know, I was pretty freaked out after everything yesterday, so I ended up taking it to the police." she replied sheepishly.

"No worries, better safe than sorry, right?" he said kindly. "I'll ask around the office and let you know if anyone here knows anything about it. What size and color was it? And did it have any markings?"

"It was.. you know what? I actually took a picture of it." she pulled out her phone and opened the app with her photos, "I can email it to you, if you'd like?"

"Sure, that's even better," he nodded as he pulled his phone out of his pocket as well. "I've got to get going, but stop by my office if you need anything. Tyler and Kate are going to help you get up to speed today, I think you met them yesterday?"

"Yep, I'll let them know I'm here," she answered. He gave an absentminded thumbs up and started walking away. "Sorry, I know you need to go, but I don't think I have your email address," she called after him.

"Oh, yeah. I keep forgetting you're new!" he grinned as he turned back. She smiled bacc while tapping the side of her phone in preparation to type his reply as quickly no accurately as possible to appease the the blue line blinking impatiently in the address field on her phone. "It's Mathew at SMSolutions dot com," he said pausing after each part to let her typing catch up. She repeated it back, and he nodded.

"Okay, sent!"

"Got it," he said a few seconds later.

"Thanks for checking into this, Mathew!" she was so glad she avoided using names earlier, mentally reprimanding herself for getting his so wrong.

"Yeah, anytime," he smiled, then made his way to his office.

Mathew the manager, she thought while picturing him in her mind. She'd read about this strategy to commit faces and names to long term memory somewhere online one sleepless night a couple months ago, and now she was hoping it was based on something scientifically sound. She now has a whole company's worth of faces and names to keep straight, after all. Tyler and Kate were easy to remember, since she'd spent most of the day working with them yesterday. Maybe one of them put the thing in my bag? she wondered.

[purple-socks-and-sandles]

My Horrific Psychiatric Experience at Shands Vista

PLEASE READ ALL OF THIS, OR JUST REBLOG IT. IT’S IMPORTANT. It might be hard to read, so be advised: this post deals with suicide, depression, and abuse.

I’m going to supply background, for any people who stumble upon this post because of the tags. My name is Sarah, I’m 15, and I’m generally a very happy person. I have two sweet dogs, an amazing boyfriend, a great family, and many kind friends. I don’t like high school, I get stressed by tests, and I’m involved in my school’s drama program. I’m a normal teenager. In general though, I love life. But when I was 12, I was depressed. I’d been depressed ever since my parents divorced in the third grade. I lived my life in a haze of apathy. I quit soccer and withdrew from my friends. I stopped reading, and baking became something I only did when my mom asked, instead of the pastime I used to enjoy. I missed school often because I had to fake stomach aches and colds. I couldn’t force myself to go to school, I could hardly leave the bed to eat or pee. I had started to believe that no one cared about me. My parents preferred my brother. My friends only tolerated me because of our small school. I even convinced myself that my dog didn’t love me. I remember some days I couldn’t even feel anything, physically or emotionally. I would hold my hands under burning hot water from the sink, desperate for any kind of feeling. I live in Florida, and there were times where ever though it was blazing hot outside, all I could feel was cold. 

I got more and more tired of life. All I wanted was to go to sleep and never wake up. I began planning my suicide attempt. At the time, there were men working on our house. I rode the bus, and I made the decision that, if I came home the day after Easter and they were there, I wouldn’t do it. If they weren’t, I would. I planned to take 14 ibuprofen pills. When I came home after Easter, the men weren’t at our house. My brother was, however. I didn’t know what to do. I decided to go through with my plan. I took 10, and then panicked. I texted my mom and told her what I did, but got no response. I texted one of my friends, and then I took 4 more pills, adding up to the 14 I had planned. I don’t know why I did, except that I wanted to go through with the entire plan. As soon as I swallowed the last pill, I realized I wasn’t ready. I walked over to my brother and told him what I’d done. He was 15 at the time. I had him call our mom while I called paramedics. They arrived, along with police officers. I made my brother stay home with our dog while I rode to the hospital alone. The lady paramedic gave me charcoal to drink, and it stained my teeth for 3 days. She asked me questions about my insurance and where my parents were, and tried to call my mom but got no answer. She left a message, and when we arrived at the hospital my mother and father were both there. My mother was crying, and my father was angry. They didn’t understand why I had done what I’d done, and I couldn’t figure out how to tell them why. They explained that I was going to have to stay in a psychiatric hospital. 

My parents are, for the most part, good parents. They knew I was depressed. I was in therapy. They were doing their best. 

Soon, I was hustled into a shuttle van for Vista, the psychiatric hospital I was being taken to. I remember during the drive, I was puzzled by the seat setup. It was a van, and I was alone in the back on the one seat they had. Two orderlies were in the front. There were multiple seatbelts in the back, and I remember thinking it would be easy for someone to strangle themselves. My mother was following us, and we pulled into Vista around midnight. They led us to a room, where we said our goodbyes and took the stuff I wasn’t allowed to have. I was led to the main room in the child ward, where I sat at a table and read a piece of paper. I think it was the rules. I don’t believe I was ever shown my rights. After the paper stuff was done, a male nurse led me to another room and took my vitals and talked to me. He then offered me some pills to help me sleep. I declined them, and he led me to my room. I was told I would have to sleep on my mattress on the floor so I could be on eye watch, because they needed to be sure I wouldn’t hurt myself. I was too tired to care. I fell asleep at around 1:30 in the morning, only to be woken up a few hours later for bloodwork. I fell asleep again, finally woken up for the last time at 6 in the morning. I wasn’t told what was happening, only to get up and get dressed, brush my teeth and hair, and get ready. I was barely awake when I heard some girl sobbing. She was being ;ed out of a room, and another person took her place. The next person came out crying too. I could hear yelling sometimes, and I resolved to not be hurt by whatever was in there. It didn’t work. 

I walked into a small room with a large table, surrounded by adults. An asian man in professional clothes stood by the table with a computer on a tall desk. He ordered me to sit at the front, and I did. I admit I had an attitude when I first walked in, but that changed quickly. The man, Dr. Mathew Nguyen, began to yell at me. I was in tears within seconds. I tried to talk back to him, to stand up for myself, because I knew what he was doing was wrong, but he only yelled more. He told the social worker, a man named Gary, to send word to the nurses that I was not allowed to talk to any of the other kids that day. I was to sit by myself in the corner at a desk, completely isolated. He ordered me out of the room after making me feel worthless, worse than I’ve ever felt in my life. The first day I was there, I sat at that desk and cried nonstop. I sobbed, and when I was too dehydrated to shed tears I cried soundlessly. Every time a nurse came to make sure I was doing my work I asked to call my mom. They told me no, I wasn’t allowed. I had no idea at the time that it was illegal for them to do that, that it violated my rights as a patient. I wasn’t even allowed that day to call my mom at the time that they allowed (8:00 PM). When my mom and dad came to see me later that day, I was a wreck. I’m sure my face was puffy and red, and my voice hoarse. They tried to comfort me, but eventually they had to leave, and I was all alone again.

While I was there, I was forced to write essays that demeaned me. I still have the essays, and could transcribe them if anyone was interested. At first glance, they seem reasonably. Subject matter such as letters of apology and how to gain my mother’s trust back. But reading the letters, it’s apparent that I was forced to write them to punish me. I promised to not go to extracurricular school events so as not to inconvenience my parents. I would never argue with her. But this wasn’t enough for him. I was forced to rewrite ‘How to Gain my mother’s trust back’ three times, and read it aloud each time. I was forced to write about how I was planning my own murder, why I get my feelings hurt so much, why I was crying, I am acting childish, and I judge everyone other than myself. I’ll post pictures of all the letters later, so that people reading this have a clear image of what I was forced to write. I remember I was forced to write an essay on why I hate my mother, but he kept that essay, likely so I wouldn’t ever have proof that he made me write it.

Every day we had to go to an hour of group therapy. The group was run by Mr. Gary, the social worker on the unit. We were supposed to talk about any of our feelings. I realized very quickly that they really wanted us to pretend we were feeling better. Once in group, I spoke about how I was afraid of Dr. Nguyen. The next day, when I went to my daily morning meeting with Nguyen, he screamed at me. He told me I had no right to be afraid, that I’d done this to myself. I realized everyone at Vista was always listening to what the kids were saying, even the social worker that we’re supposed to trust and that is supposed to be there for our safety. Vista preached that they wanted you to express your feelings, but they would punish you if you spoke about anything negative that you felt. 

The first couple of days I was there, I was put on Prozac. For any of you who know, Prozac has a long half-life, and takes a while to come into effect. Apparently, people at Vista weren’t satisfied with it after only 3 days of me on it, so they switched me to Celexa. Unbeknownst to me, after another couple of days they called my parents; they wanted to put me on Abilify. Abilify isn’t recommended for children unless they absolutely need it, such as an anti-psychotic. Dr. Nguyen wanted to put me on it because he was concerned about my rapid mood swings in the morning (me crying after he screamed at me). Thankfully, my parents are well informed. My mom called him out on this decision. “What are you thinking? My daughter’s crying in the morning because you scream at her. That’s a normal response to a traumatic event. What are you thinking, advising me to put her on Abilify?” My parents refused to consent. The next day, I was punished for it. I was sitting at my desk, alone, when the head nurse, a woman named Deb, came over. She starts ranting to me about how dare my parents think they know more than the doctor and her. She’s been a nurse much longer than they’ve been alive, even (I don’t believe she realized my parents as as old or older than her). She’s blaming me for my parents decision. I couldn’t even believe what I was hearing. My parents are a social worker and a now-retired DCF employee. I knew she wasn’t allowed to speak to me about this, and certainly not allowed to blame me. It was a broach of conduct. When my parents visited later that day, I told them what she had said to me. They were stunned and angered. They told me later they chewed Dr. Nguyen out about his nurse blaming me for my parents’ choice.

It wasn’t just me he treated horribly. All of the other patients, the other kids, suffered. One boy, a huge, muscular guy who’s name I won’t say, was never allowed to sit with the rest of us. I was released from the desk after a few days. Dr. Nguyen never let this boy talk to any of us, not even in group. He made him sit at the desk all day, from when he woke up to when he went to sleep. And he cried nonstop. He was so, so sad. I smiled at him once and he only cried harder. Dr. Nguyen isolated him only because he couldn’t stop crying. One boy, who had an eating disorder, had a feeding tube down his throat. He vomited it up one day, and was scheduled to have it put back in by dinner time. I was talking to him at breakfast and he said it was so much easier to eat food without it. He even seemed excited to eat! But Dr. Nguyen forced him to have it put back in, even though he knew it was easier for this kid to eat without it. 

After two weeks, I was transferred from an inpatient to an outpatient. I only went to Vista during the day, and I was allowed to sleep at home. I was so excited! One of the days I was home, I wanted to wear a dress I had. I tried it on and I was so excited to wear it. My mom, however, thought it was too revealing. She told me to take it off, and we got into a huge fight. Finally, she said she would have to talk to Dr. Nguyen about it. I begged her not to, I was in tears about what he would do. She told him, and he yelled and yelled at me. I wanted to rip up every dress I had. He screamed about how I shouldn’t show off my body, and I wanted to exchange every article of clothing I had with baggy pants and shirts. I never wanted anyone to see me again.

The last day of my inpatient program, my mom told me in the morning before she dropped me off that I was probably going to be released, but Dr. Nguyen wanted to wait until he saw me to decide. It was true, though; I was being released.

But I don’t remember that. I don’t remember much of that day, or any of the two days after. Because here’s the kicker, the worst thing he did: He almost killed me. My mom came to pick me up that day, and she knew, from across the room, something was wrong. All the way home, I had a tremor in my leg, I was jiggling it, something I never do. I had no idea it was happening until she asked me if I knew I was doing it. I remember that, and that’s all. She says we went out to eat at a local restaurant that I liked, but I don’t remember. I don’t remember the ride home or my mom asking me questions or her phone conversation with my new psychiatrist. I don’t remember the ride to the hospital the next day, to see what was wrong with me. I don’t remember the doctor explaining to my mom that I was showing signs of serotonin syndrome, and that my serotonin levels were way higher than they should have been. All of this is a blank for me, except for the images I can piece together from what my mom said. She immediately took me off Celexa, and waited until we could talk to my psychiatrist to figure out what to do. If not for my mom, who is informed about medicines and side effects, I would have continued taking Celexa, maybe until it was too late. Dr. Nguyen’s care could have resulted in my death, the very thing he was “trying to prevent”. 

I left Vista worse than I came in. I could have died, and I was more depressed than I had ever been. Even now, 3 years later, I still have a phobic response if I see a man who looks like Dr. Nguyen. My heart starts to race, I feel light headed, and I feel so terrified. I had my first panic attack in Vista because of him. It was Sunday, and I’d been told he doesn’t come in on the weekend. But I heard his footsteps while I was eating breakfast (he wore heeled shoes because he was short), I froze. Terror poured through my entire body. I had trouble breathing. Even now, I still get scared at the possibility of seeing him again. I don’t think I’ll ever get past it. 

I want people to know what he did to me, to the kids under his care. I want this post to come up when people search him, so they know what he’s doing to their kids. I want to make sure no one is treated like this again, at least not by him. I don’t have a lot of power, as a kid, but I do have this. I can let people know what he did to me, and hope they show others, so that he never does to anyone else what he did to me and my friends. Please reblog this, show your friends, make it popular. Let the world know what kind of a doctor he is.