#the inspector wears skirts 4

[we-arethenewheroes]

I Hate Bullies part1

Stray Kids Felix Imagine

bully!felix x reader

Synopsis : you just got a scholarship (thanks to your amazing grades and talent at handball) and just got transferred to one of the most prestigious high school in Seoul Korea : Inchang Highschool. But of course, life couldn't be so wonderful. (ft enhypen, theboyz, clc and more)

>> Part2 Part3

"The score is 17-17 right now, if we mark, we win, if we don't, they win."

"B-but we have only 1 min left ! Coach, it's impossible !"

"Y/N, do you think you can do it ?"

All eyes turn on you as the coach calls your name. You look at her, straight in the eyes.

"Of course I can."

You hear the high pitch noise of the whistle, signaling to the teams to go back to the field.

Okay, we have the ball, and we've been playing safe so... i just need to...

You look around a little, and as soon as the ball touches your palm, you sprint to the goal, throwing the ball to your teamate who already ran to the other side. The opponents gets it back be you quickly stop the action and get the ball back.

20 second

You get back on your feet and run to the goal again, sprinting and dribbling as fast as you can, you face three other girls trying to stop you, quickly blocked by your teamates.

5 second

You get to the zone, jump and throw the ball. You close your eyes and hear the whistle, ending the game, Then the whole stadium cheering on your side, as your teamates run to you.

"Y/N Oh my god you did it !"

You open your eyes back open to see the ball in the goal, as your opponent goes to shake your hand. You turn to see your coach talking to two inspectors, locking eyes with you, signaling you to join them.

"I must say, you impressed me today Miss L/N"

"You turned around the game and saved your team. You truly have a potential"

"That's why we want you to be part of our handball program, the Hope Pole. It's a girl's scholarship only, it can get you to great universities, and even get you to the national handball team."

"In the meantime, you'll get to study to Inchang High, looking at your grades, you will fit right in. You're actually the first one to get this scholarship, we don't usually go to other schools, but we give it a chance, and we were not disappointed."

You look at the inspectors, shocked of the news.

I did it... I finally got my scholarship...

Your coach looks at you.

"I already talked to your uncle about it, and he wanted the decision to be fully yours. So what do you say ? You're in ?"

She smiles at you.

"Of course I'm in ! Where do I sign !"

You're new trophy in hand, as well as your scholarship papers, you finally get home.

Home sweet home

"Uncle ! I'm home !"

"DON'T GO IN THE KITCHEN !"

This, is my uncle, Kim Jisub.

He's very fun to be around, a great dad to his son and I, and a real, real, loser. He's been trying to be a chef for over 5 years now, with no results.

"Oh my god what did you do..."

"He tried to do some flambé noodles or whatever, didn't really work as you can see"

And this is my cousin, Kim Junho, he's 8 and just starting to get sassy, too sassy actually. He's my uncle's one and only son. His wife dies giving birth to Junho, so for my uncle, his son is very precious to him.

"Uncle ! You can't just burn stuff in the kitchen like that, at leats do it outside, I don't know! Now the only pan we had left is ruined"

"Yessss I'm sorry Y/N, I'll do a few extra shifts at work and I'll buy ten pans, I promise!"

You sigh, seriously...

"Well... Maybe you won't have to do extra shifts...."

"No way.... Don't tell me...."

Your uncle looks at you with big eyes

"You got a job ??"

You sigh again, more annoyed this time.

"No ! iI got my scholarship you idiot !"

Your uncle's eyes get even bigger

"Oh my god- well first of all, don't call me idiot- and Oh My God ! Y/N congrats!"

Your uncle smiles at you and hugs you, congratulating you on your scholarship.

"Hum, am I gonna benefit from your 'scholarship' ?"

You turn to your cousin,

"Well, yes? Probably ?"

"Then, congrats Y/N, I knew you could do it."

He outs on a fake smile, but you know he is actually happy for you. This little brat, I swear

You sitting at the kitchen counter, as your uncle tries to save the burnt pan, while your cousin is in his room.

"So, what's in this scholarship exactly?"

"Well, first, I get to be in the Seoul Girls Team training program, I get to study at Inchang High, AND, I have a big fat check every month to pay for 'school supplies, books and clothes', but we all know here that we just gonna buy some new furniture and pay the rent."

"Oh noo, come one Y/N, you earned it, you do whatever you want with it."

Your uncle goes to clean the burnt pan.

".... How much is it?"

"1 000 000won a month." (~1000$)

Your uncle stop his action and goes quiet for a moment, then turns to you.

"say what now ?"

"You heard it well, Jisub."

Your uncle turns back to the pan, then looks at you, then look at the pan. He picks it up from the sink, goes to the trash can and put the pan in it.

"Uuuh ??? Excuse me sir, you can't just give up like that-"

"Y/N, with 1 000 000won a month, we can pay and the rent, and water, and the gaz, and the electricity, and 20 pans, heck, we can buy new forks and knives, new beddinds- new BEDS"

"Don't go to far"

"You get the point !"

"Yes, I get it. I'll give you the money so you'll be able to pay for everything and don't have to worry about extra shifts."

"Y/N..."

"I knoew your dream is to have your own restaurant, well now you can save your job's money to buy one, and we won't have to worry about money ever again!"

Your uncle looks at you and sits next to you. He sigh.

"I know I'm not the best parent ever, amd can't keep a job to save my life, I forget your birthday, or can't nake it to graduations, but I try my best, to keep you and Junho safe."

You look at your uncle, letting him talk.

"I promised your parents and grandparents to keep you feed and warm, no matter the cost, and I will keep doing that. But this scholarship- this money, you earned it yourself. You accomplished what I couldn't accomplish. This money is yours, keep it. Buy clothes and makeup, video games, new handball outfits- whatever you want to have, have it. Live your teen years. You shouldn't worry about money, you should worry about grades and boys. You'll have plenty of time to worry about money, but this time is not now. Over my dead my body."

You look at your uncle, his eyes tearing, probably sad that he made you worry about money too, also sad talking about your parents.

"Don't worry uncle, I will. I promise."

You smile at your uncle and hug him.

"I hate to see you guys grow up"

"Ookay that's enough sads for today, I'm gonna take a shower"

You get on your feet and head to the shower.

"A few years back I used to shower you ! You were just a little baby!-"

Inchang High, one of the most prestigious school in Seoul, in this school it's just rich kids, sons and daughters of CEO, conglomerates, lawyers, surgeons, heck even politicians. And here I am, daughter of deceased parents, adopted by her jobless uncle. Wow, impressive.

You look at your new school for a few seconds then make your way into the building. You look around and search for the teacher's office. You knock at the open door and get the attention of two professors.

"Ah ! You must be L/N Y/N right? Come over here."

You approach a tall men, pretty young, wearing round black glasses. You stand next to him

"I'm Mr. Choi, your homeroom teacher, and English teacher. Are you excited for your first day?" He asks, smiling at you.

"Yeah, kinda nervous but very excited."

"Don't be, the students are nice, and seeing your excellent grades, you'll get used to this school in no time."

Mr.Choi turns to his well organized and neat desk and get a few books and papers from a drawer.

"Come on, I'll get you to your class, it's the 1-4"

You then follow your teacher out of the office, and into the corridors. He talks to you about the school's history and building but you can't seem to focus.

You look around, seeing all those rich kids. They all look so neat and clean, they all have expensive shoes and bags, jeweleries, immaculate white button ups, well ironed skirts, their uniform all looks so nicely fited. Next to them, I just look like a homeless men, like a fly in the soup..

"Ans here is your class, not everyone is here yet, you can take a sit next to the window, at the 5th row, the class president is at the front row doing some homework, is name is Heeseung, if you need anything you can just ask him, now I gotta go, but I'll see you around, okay?"

You nod at your teacher and bow to him goodbye as he leaves. You take a deep breath before entering the class, you try to look as presentable and open the glass door.

From the outside you could only see the front row, but as you sneak your head inside, you see that every single one of your classmates are already in class, as they turn to you, all going completely silent at the new arrival.

Oh my god they're all looking at me waht do I-

"You must be Y/N," you turn to the voice, "I'm Heeseung, the class president." He stands up,

"Mr.Choi told you about me ?..."

"No" you look at him, quite confused "The principal came to the class lasy friday to tell us you'd be here." Oh boy

"Yeah" you turn to the other voice in the class, this time a girl. "We missed half of our math class because of it."

"O-oh hum well, I-" I'm sweating wdid-

"We should thanks you for that hahhaa" the tension get down immediately as your classmates giggles at the student's comments

"Yeah, the teacher was so pissed, we were supposed to have a test but we couldn't do it"

It's actually goind better than I expected...

Yo see the same girl approaching you "I'm Eunbin, and this is Chanhee, my best friend"

She points at a shy guy with blond hair. You wave at him and he wave back at you.

Heeseung, still standing next to you clears his throat

"Do you know where you have to sit ?"

"Oh, hum yeah, Mr.Choi said I had to sit at the 5th row, next to the window."

Heeseung looks at EunBin, who looks at Chanhee, who looks back at Heeseung. They all seem very... Scared ?

"Wha-what's up guys..?? Is something wrong ?"

Heeseung looks at you "Maybe we should ask the teacher to change your sit or-"

Then, a girl with one of her friend pushes Eunbin to the side to get a look at you. She's scans you from head to toe, cleary judging you.

"Hum, excuse me? Who are you and why are looking at me like I just ran over you dog ?"

"Where did you get those shoes ?"

"Uuhh the store ? Where do you buy shoes, dumbass"

The girl looks at you dead in the eyes "Do you know who I am?"

"well, no, that's why I asked, 'Who are you', or do you not understand ?"

Eunbin holds back her laugh.

"I am the daughter of the-"

"I don't care, actually. What do you want ?"

Even Heeseung can't seem to keep a straight face, turning his back at the girl a little.

"Hu- well- How dare you-"

"Oh my goooood what. do. you. want. Let's get this over with please."

The girl stutters a bit, she clearly didn't expect for you to respond like that.

If she thought that I'd be impressed or scared then she's wrong.

"Look, if you're here to be intimidating, it's not working, okay ? You got here because your the daughter of some conglomerate men, I got here thanks to my talent and hard work, so you're not scaring me."

The girl humphs and turnd on her heels, get out of the room.

"Oh my god, Y/N, you have some balls wtf" Eunbin says, looking at you with her to thumbs up. "You were really cool just now." She looks at Heeseung "She'll do just fine with Lee Felix"

"Lee Felix? Who's that ?" You look at Heeseung.

"He's... Humm your class neighbor !"

"And also a bully." It's the first thing Chanhee ever says to you.

"A bully ? Seriously ? I'm next to a bully? Damn I HATE bullies.."

Chanhee stands up and stans before you. "If you could shut him down like you did with the other girl, I think you could do a lot of good in this class, heck even the school"

You look at Chanhee, "Don't worry, I won't let him bully anyone under my sight, that's for sure."

As you finish talking, you hear the bell ring, and the teacher coming in the room. You take a sit. He's not here yet-

As you think of it, you hear the back door sliding open, seeing a tall guy with black hair, looking at his phone, followed by two other guys talking to each other. The two guys takes sit next to the door as the other guy sit next to you. I assume he's Lee Felix..

You try to not pay much attention to him and concentrate on the lesson.

You can feel the ray of the sunrise shining on your the left side of your face, the warm feeling giving you chills down your back.

You then hear a low voice "You're blocking the light." Lee Felix...

You sigh, not even giving him a look. "Not my problem."

Felix sighs, clearly annoyed at your response. "Who the fuck even are you-" he says as he turns to you, but as his eyes gets to you, he's amazed. It's like seeing an angel...

He's never seen a beauty like your yours, as the sun hugs your features so prefectly, you hair falling on your shoulders, the concentrated look on your face. Everything he sees is perfect.

I found an angel..

A/N: hope you liked it ! Follow me to know the story, part 2 coming very soon !!!! (Class 1-4 is nothing serioussss it's just because my class is the 104 so yeah)

[nikkzwrites]

Yesterday Once More | Dark Fix-It Fic Series | Chapter 13

A/N: This fic is one that I started with my OC because honestly, I personally didn’t like how season 3 ended. So I am rewriting all of Dark with my OC Annalise Dahlheim. I hope you all like it. Some things will be expanded more on just for more depth to Dark that season 3 kinda skipped over so…. yeah.

CW: Canon Typical Triggers: Smoking, Sex, Language, Drugs, Drinking, Death, Violence, Suicide Mentions, Cutting, Violence.

Word Count:  4.4k

[First Chapter] [Previous Chapter] [Next Chapter]

“I’ve seen you grown up,” Noah told the small boy, “Become a man. The whole cycle of your life. Time chose you. God chose you. That’s why David saved you.” He continued to strap him into the chair version of the time machine that Helge would later help the man develop to work once more, “Don’t forget that we are your home now, too. No harm will come to you. We’re watching over you. Time is always with you. Wherever you go. You carry it in you. And it carries you. It sees and hears everything that you do and say. Tick tock.”

The small Helge repeated after him, “Tick. Tock.”

Doris lay in bed blissfully happy as Agnes removed herself from beneath the other woman’s skirt. The two giggled until Claudia opened the door. Doris hurried up off the bed as Agnes quickly pulled away. “Claudia,” The mother exclaimed, “You haven’t left yet?”

Claudia shifted uncomfortably, “I forgot the milk money. But it’s okay.” She turned to leave.

“Wait,” Agnes turned and grabbed her purse. She handed Claudia some money and told her, “Get yourself some fruit drops.”

The two women smiled at the young girl who harshly thanked the woman cheating with her mom on her dad and walked away. Agnes hurriedly closed the door behind her. Doris started to panic, “Oh God. Do you think she noticed?”

Agnes held the other woman’s hands in her’s, trying to comfort her, “Don’t worry. Every family has its secrets.” They nodded at each other. Agnes then realized the time and started to leave.

“Going somewhere,” Doris asked.

Agnes grabbed her bag and coat. She told the woman, “Nowhere special. Just some errands.” The two gave each other a tender kiss before Agnes pulled away, “You’re beautiful.” She giggled and walked out the house.

Doris, slowly, slid down the drawers and giggled.

Helge slowly limped his way back home. There was only 4 days before the Apocalypse left. He stood in the entry waiting for his mother. Greta hurried down the stairs. When she saw her son, she ran to him. She dropped to her knees and held her injured son. She started to pray thanking the absent God that her son had been returned back to her.

Daniel sat in the police station talking to Egon, “Seven months on and we still have no idea who this monster is.” He placed the picture of Ulrich down, “Why is he refusing to reveal his identity? Why is no one looking for him? It makes you wonder how some people live. Almost like ghosts.” He looked towards his friend, “Egon?”

Egon sighed and asked, “Can I ask you something? Your wife and you… Are things still... Do you still have...”

“A lot,” Daniel asked.

Egon shook his head, “No. At all.”

“Look at that,” Daniel said, “I didn’t think they still made people like you. Boy, Egon… You’ve got to let out some steam. Marriage isn’t the way it’s sold to us. As soon as they have children they become different people. It’s like they're married to brats. It’s how nature wanted it. But out there… there are still loads of tender buds to pluck.”

Another officer ran in and informed the men, “They found him!”

“Found who,” asked Daniel.

“The Doppler boy,” replied the man, “Helge Doppler?”

Egon stood up and asked, “His body?”

“No,” the man replied, “The boy is alive. He just walked in the door as if nothing had happened.”

Claudia asked Tronte, “Do you like your mother? Mine is peculiar sometimes. She acts like I don’t get anything. When I have kids, I’ll be different. How come you never talk about who it was where you’re from? Before you came to Winden?”

Tronte sighed, “My mother was often sad. I was in an orphanage for ages. She doesn’t like to talk about it, so I don’t either.”

“Don’t you have any family besides your mother,” the girl bluntly asked.

Tronte explained, “My mother has a brother. But I think they hate each other.”

Claudia asked, “Do you think she’s happy here?” Tronte shrugged in response. They paused in the woods. Claudia looked around to make sure the coast was clear. After, she turned to him and asked, “Will you show it to me now?”

Tronte stood there uncomfortably. He complied with her and lowered his pants for her to look at his penis. He shifted his eyes away as she looked.

In 1987, Regina stormed through the house yelling, “Where are those damned ghosts?!” Claudia stood up and closed the suitcase with the time machine in it. She looked at her daughter when she asked, “Have you seen my book?”

“What book,” asked Claudia.

“ ‘The Ghosts,’ “ replied the girl, “You don’t have to gawp at me like that. I know I’m late.” She checked around the room only to find her book beneath some stacked newspapers. She turned to her mother and accused, “Did you put that there?”

Claudia shook her head, “No, I… I thought maybe… Maybe you’d like to skip school and we’ll do something nice.” This gave her daughter pause. Claudia continued, “I don’t know. I just thought we haven’t done anything together in so long.”

Regina shook her head and explained, “I have a German exam today and I wanted to go to the lake later.”

Claudia nodded, “Maybe another time.” When Regina turned to leave, Claudia grabbed onto her wrist, “Regina, wait.” She used that time to pull her daughter into a hug. Regina froze in her mother’s arms not actually able to process what was going on. She stared at her mother when Claudia complemented her, “I like how you wear your hair now. It makes you look so...grown up.” 

Taken back, Regina really had no idea what to say. She just held her mother’s hands for a second and took a step back, “Thanks.” She looked down at her watch and told her, “I don’t have any time. I have to go.” She turned and walked away to head to school.

Claudia turned and thought. She had a revelation. “Time…” She rushed to her bookshelf and grabbed the book that Helge had given her on her first day and looked at the man who wrote it.

Egon sat at his desk with the vinyl that Ulrich was talking about. He shook his head slowly putting the pieces together as the younger him checked in on Helge in 1954.

“Good evening Ms. Doppler,” he greeted Greta.

Greta folded her arms, “I’ve already told your colleagues everything.”

Egon explained, “I’d like to ask Helge a few questions.”

Greta shook her head, “He still hasn’t said a single word. Something is odd about the boy.”

“It won’t take long,” Egon assured her. He forced himself to swallow his anxiousness.

Greta walked the man to Helge’s room where the boy solitary sat staring at his train set.

“Helge,” Egon asked, approaching the boy slowly trying not to scare him, “Remember me? I’m Claudia’s father.” Helge looked up at him then back down. Greta stood outside watching as Egon knelt besides the boy. The officer asked, “Won’t you tell me where you were all this time? And with whom? Who did that to you?”

Greta told Helge, “The inspector asked you something.” She screamed at the boy, “Say something, for goodness sake!”

Helge sat remaining silent holding his ground like David would have done. 33 years later, Helge could still remember that day as if yesterday. 

Claudia told the man, “I just wanted to see how you were doing. It may sound peculiar, but I...” She placed the book down in front of him, “The book from last year. Why did you give it to me?”

“I…” The man started, “thought… you may be the only one still in Winden who understands me.” Helge touched the book, “Time… is always with you. Wherever you go. You carry it in you. And it carries you. It sees and hears everything you do and say.”

Claudia asked, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Helge took in a breath through his teeth, “He said… it’s a battle between good and evil, between light and dark. That the travelers can undo everything that happens. If we succeed, it will all never happen.” Helge fought back his tears.

“Who said that,” questioned Claudia.

“Noah,” replied Helge.

Claudia asked, “Who is Noah?”

Helge’s hand lurched out and grabbed onto her arm. He stared at her in the eye and said, “You mustn’t trust him. Never! Do you hear? Never!”

He started to hurt her without realizing. “Helge,” Claudia called to him. She had to rip his hand away.

“I’m sorry,” Helge looked down ashamed. He rocked himself back and forth to self sooth, “I didn’t want all this. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.”

Noah walked out of the church and put on his hat. He was getting ready to go to the Doppler’s.

Agnes looked around her to make sure she was not followed as she climbed down the stairs of the bunker to meet the elder Claudia.

The white haired lady asked her, “Did anyone see you?” Agnes shook her head. Claudia nodded and commented, “They sent Helge back today. Noah is back, too.”

Agnes shifted, “I’m not scared of him anymore.”

Claudia scoffed, “You carry the same blood.”

Agnes replied, “You can’t choose your family. Renouncing your blood means freeing yourself. You said so yourself.”

“Still,” Claudia said, thinking more of the grander scheme of things and how to place the pieces just right, “our family shapes our entire lives.” She watched Agnes nod as she continued, “Sic Mundus… They’re preparing the next cycle. In four days.” Claudia walked towards her, “Your brother is a blind fool. All the suffering he causes people. But it will have an end.” Claudia sighed and said, “You must give me this. Not now. There is still time.” Claudia handed the woman a newspaper article.

As she looked down at it, she looked up with a furrowed brow. “Today,” she asked.

Claudia nodded, “I wanted to thank you. For everything. My mother loves you, do you know that? She will make you happy if you let her.” Claudia held Agnes in a soft embrace before pulling away to go on with her business.

Tannhaus sat in his store working on the pocket watch for his granddaughter in 1987. Claudia walked in and stared at him. She placed her suitcase down as he slowly approached the woman.

“Are you H.G. Tannhaus,” she asked.

Tannhaus nodded then commented, “Heterochromia. One blue eye, one brown.”

Claudia looked down embarrassed. She pulled her book out of her pocket and asked him, “Did you write this book?”

“I wondered when the day would come,” He commented, “When we’d meet again.”

Claudia shook her head, “I don’t even know you.”

Tannhaus nodded, “But I know you. A never-ending cycle.”

Daniel, in 1954, shook his head, “Peculiar. And he didn’t talk? What do you make of it? He just turns up out of nowhere.”

“Maybe,” Egon commented, “They are unrelated after all. The madman who killed the children and the Doppler boy. How could he have done it? He’s been doing time for six months.”

Daniel made a face then shook his head, “Maybe he wasn’t alone?”

Egon asked, “You mean he has an accomplice?”

Daniel took a breath and said, “Visit the madman again.Maybe he’ll talk now. An accomplice. Yeah.”

In 1987, Egon visited Ulrich again and showed the man the vinyl. “I want to know what it all means,” he told the man. When Ulrich opened it up, Egon clarified, “These lyrics. You said those words to me in 1953. But this… It was only released last year. You said… you had a son yourself. Why did you murder the children?”

Ulrich handed the man the vinyl saying, “I didn’t murder the children. I wanted to save them.”

Egon set the vinyl down on the table and commented, “You said I was going to die. How did you come to learn that I have cancer? The White Devil? Who do you think that is?”

Ulrich laughed, “You’re more deranged than I am.”

Egon shook his head and asked, “Why did you never tell us what your name is? Who you are?”

“Ulrich,” he answered, “Ulrich Nielsen. And I come from the future.” This rang a few bells in his head. He went into Michael Kahnwald’s file and looked at the initial report which recorded the boy saying that he was Ulrich Nielsen’s son.

Tannhaus explained to Claudia, “I am what one would call a fraud. Have you ever heard of the bootstrap paradox? In the bootstrap paradox, an object or information from the future is sent back to the past. That creates a never-ending cycle in which the object no longer has any real origin. It exists without ever being invited. Put simply, this book traveled back in time. It found me before I even wrote it. It’s all a question of origin. Where is the beginning? When is the beginning? Is there a beginning at all? The world is full of such paradoxes. Only most of the time, we choose to look away. Don’t you want to tell me at last why you’re really here?” 

Claudia looked towards the suitcase giving him a clue.

“You want to know how it works,” Tannhaus asked. 

“How did you know what,” Claudia asked.

Tannhaus explained, “She told me you would turn up here one day and that I should explain the device to you. That is you, yourself. Your future self. The paradox is that a short time ago I wouldn’t have been able to explain it to you. But last year, someone else explained it to me. Another… time traveler. I think she knew it. She knew everything would happen again right up to the present moment. She knew that you would show up here for me to tell you, and therefore her, how the device works.”

In 1954, Greta explained to Noah, “I find him creepy. As if he were empty inside now, merely a husk. He was never the brightest child, but you could now believe him to be mindless. He scares me. And without Bernd at home, I don’t know how to deal with the situation. Perhaps the devil himself has possessed him. Please look at him and tell me everything is all right with him.”

Noah’s brow raised as he asked, “And he hasn’t said a word?”

Greta shook her head and walked to the side. She called her son down, “Helge. Come downstairs. Someone wants to talk to you.”

Helge ran and held the man seeing that it was Noah. Noah knelt down to him and said, “Time is always with you. Wherever you go. You carry it inside you. And it carries you. It sees and hears everything that you do and say.” He stood up and told the boy, “Your mother is worried about you. Shall we show her she has no reason to be?”

Helge nodded up at the man remembering that he agreed to follow the man so that he could possibly get to see David again.

Noah pointed out a verse in the Bible and told the boy, “I would like you to read this for me. Will you do that?”

Helge read aloud, “‘You are my protection, my shield. I hope for your word.’” This quote reminded him of the older boy. He had no idea that Noah was lying through his teeth about being able to see David again.

Surprised, Greta stepped towards Noah and whispered, “He speaks!”

Noah smiled and pet Helge’s head, “Give him a little time. I’m sure he’s just choosing his words with great care.” He lifted the small boy’s chin to look up at him, “You can keep it.”

“Why don’t you stay a while,” Greta pleaded with the man.

Noah held her hands and told her that Helge was a miracle. He turned and walked away. He walked back to his church to see that Agnes sat in the pews. He asked the woman, “What do you want? Did Claudia send you? If you think Adam will let you back in, you’re wrong. You picked your side. There’s no salvation for you.”

Agnes walked towards him and said, “I know where the final pages are. I also know how long Adam’s been looking for them. Don’t you think he’d do anything to get them?”

“I don’t believe a word you say,” Noah commented, shaking his head, “She would never have told you where they are.”

Agnes took out the news article and handed it to him, “Claudia has them on her.” She watched as he saw the sketch of Claudia staring back at him, “In return, I want you to tell Adam I want to come back. Before the new cycle begins.”

Noah looked up at her, “You’re sacrificing her?”

Agnes touched the man’s cheek, “You can’t hate your own sister the way you hate her.” She looked down then said, “Consider it a peace offering.”

Agnes walked away with Noah watching after her.

Something bugged Egon about this case. He stared at Ulrich’s picture as if something was missing. Soon he received a guest. A fragile looking old woman sauntered into his office and sat down. She just stared at him for a while taking in how he looked.

Claudia finally spoke after he compared her to her younger self, “You’re too good of a person. But you always have been.” She started to cry, “The world doesn’t deserve you.” When he asked if she knew him, she replied, “I am here because I have to tell you something. I’m sorry.”

“What are you talking about,” Egon asked.

Claudia explained, “Everything. You don’t deserve any of this. But sometimes the good ones get hit the hardest.”

“I don’t understand,” He said.

Claudia nodded, “You will one day. And then I want you to know that I’m sorry that things turned out the way they turned out.”

Egon started to become impatient, “Either you tell me this instant what this is all about or I’ll ask you to leave immediately.”

“I’m sorry,” Claudia told him, “I really am.” She turned away and thought about how one simple person could make such a difference in this world that would leave only pain and destruction behind. 

In 1987, Claudia walked through her work. She got news that her father was there and rushed to her office. She placed her bag down and asked, “Why are you here? Why didn’t you call first?” Egon tried to assure her that it wouldn’t take long but she interrupted him, “This is a really bad time. You can’t just show up here. Why don’t you make an appointment with my secretary that suits us both? Next week for example.”

“I have cancer,” Egon blurted out to her. When Claudia turned surprised at him he explained, “Prostate. I didn’t want to upset you. But now the cancer has spread. And I thought it’s best for you to know that.”

“I…” She shook her head, “I don’t know what to say.”

Egon nodded, “It’s okay. I just wanted you to know. I’ll be on my way then. I’m sure you have loads to do here.” He turned to leave, but stopped when Claudia called to him. He froze for a second when Claudia held him close. She hadn’t done that in so long.

In 1954, Claudia turned when Egon kissed her head. She happily exclaimed, “You’re back!” She held her father close but for some reason, something or someone felt missing.

“Hello, my precocious princess,” Egon greeted her with a smile. He looked around and asked, “Where’s Mom?”

Claudia looked down and shrugged not wanting to tell him.

Egon placed the flowers he got his wife on the table and sat next to Claudia. He had a weird sense of deja vu happening, “Can you keep a secret?”

Claudia smirked and nodded at her father.

Egon explained, “I think I saw a witch today.”

Excited, Claudia smiled, “There are no witches.”

“There are,” he exclaimed, “This one was very real.”

His daughter asked him, “How did she look?”

“Long white hair,” Egon started to describe, “Like in books.”

Claudia giggled and asked, “And what did she say?”

Egon shook his head, “That she was sorry.”

“That doesn’t sound like a witch,” Claudia explained. 

Egon laughed and asked, “How’d you know? You’ve never seen one.”

Claudia blushed then looked at the flowers on the table, “Are those for Mom?”

Egon looked at them and nodded, “Yeah.”

“You’re too good a person, Dad,” Claudia told him, “The world doesn’t deserve you.” He sat back with his brow furrowed prompting Claudia to ask, “Is everything okay?”

Egon nodded, “Yeah.” He smiled, “Just deja vu.”

In 1987, the same man explained, “I used to think the worst thing that could happen to a person in life is to lose your own child. But we can’t do anything about that. No matter how hard we try to hold on to them, they still leave, sooner or later. Parents… Children… They only share a common path for a part of their lives. In the end, they are miles away from one another. Last winter, a boy came to Winden. A stranger. He said something peculiar to me at the time. It makes no sense, but…” Egon sighed, “Maybe my cancer is already driving me crazy.” He took out the picture of Michael and showed it to Ulrich, “Do you know this boy?”

Ulrich looked at the picture of Mikkel staring straight at him. He looked up at Egon and asked, “he’s here?” Egon nodded causing Ulrich to yell, “Where is he?! You knew he was here? You knew the whole time? Where is he?” He grabbed onto the other man’s throat and begged, “Where is he?”

Egon started to scream, scaring the other patients. Nurses soon pulled Ulrich away from the man and Egon struggled to catch his fleeting breath once more.

The bell in Tannhaus’ shop rang causing the man in 1954 to explain, “I’m closed for the day.” He was bent over his desk working on the time machine based on the plans the woman had given to him. He turned around to see her and he stood, “It’s you! I… It’s not ready yet.”

She smiled, “It will take another 33 years before it’s ready.”

Tannhaus explained, “This thing… The blueprint… I don’t really understand what it is.”

Claudia walked to him and handed him his book, “All our lives we wonder what our journey will be. This is yours. Keep it. I don’t need it anymore.”

The man shook his head and asked, “Why are you giving it to me?”

“I’ll be dead soon,” Claudia explained, “You will understand one day. Then we will meet again.”

Tannhaus nodded and asked, “Before you die?”

Claudia shook her head, “No after that.”

“How… How can that be possible?”

Claudia explained, “Time is just an illusion. Then you’ll have to explain the device to me.”

Tannhaus called after her, “But I don’t know what it’s for. Why don’t you tell me what it’s for?”

She smiled, “Because you told me someone else explained it to you. Things take their courses as they always have.”

Tannhaus shook his head, “No, I didn’t tell you anything. No one explained anything to me.”

“Not now,” she explained, “but in the future. All this will come to an end soon. But until then everything must remain as it always has been.”

“Wait, please,” the man begged her and walked behind her. But she left him there to do his work.

Young Helge prayed at night with the penny clasped in his hand. Egon stared at the Kreator vinyl slowly realizing his mistake all those years ago. Ulrich stared at the picture of his son. Young Egon slowly descended down the stairs to catch his wife with Agnes. Claudia stood in the caves and started up her machine for the first time.

The older Claudia walked to the cabin when Noah’s voice rang through the trees, “You thought you could trust her. She betrayed you. She didn’t even bat an eye.” He cocked his rifle and pointed it at her, “You took everything from me. You’re going to die. And everything you stand for will die with you.”

Claudia shook her head, “I know that I’m going to die. But am I going to lose this match? Or is here, our meeting, you and your gun, only part of a game you still don’t know how to play?”

“You think you can manipulate me with your words,” Noah told her, “I am no longer one of your pawns.”

She replied, “But you’re still one of Adam’s. The paradise he’s promising you is nothing but a lie. He’s selling you the illusion of freedom. Ask yourself if you are really free. If you were really free, you’d have a choice. Do you have a choice?”

Noah lowered his gun for a second, but shot her anyway.

Agnes looked over to her son to make sure he was still asleep. She took out the news article that explained Claudia’s death and where it happened. She knew that it must have happened now because it was still with her.

Noah searched the body and found the last pages. He slowly looked through them and realized that Adam had been lying to him for all of these years about what had happened to Charlotte. He felt as though he was going to vomit.

The sun slowly arose the next day in 2020. Claudia walked to her old house and started to spy as Adam explained to his followers, “No matter how much we want to fight it, we are all connected through our blood.” Claudia watched as Annalise helped Regina through her house to the back patio. When Claudia saw Regina remove her scarf to show that she was bald, she started to cry. Adam continued to explain, “We can be alienated from our families, and not understand their actions. Still, in the end, we would do anything for them. A common thread that connects all of our lives with each other.”

The man turned to reveal the board behind him with the five families on it. In the four corners were the Kahnwalds, The Dopplers, The Tiedemann’s, and the Nielsens. There in the middle was the Dahlheim’s family photo. He asked Noah, “Did she have the pages on her?” Noah took a deep breath and lied to the man. Adam nodded and told Noah, “She got what she deserved.” He turned back to the board and said, “In the end, we all get what we deserve.”

[arlome]

From your prompt list, I chose 1 from each category, you can decide if you want to use them all in 1 fic, or several 😜 Angst - 8 Fluff - 3 Random - 4 Kisses - 6 😎

Okay, so, because you’re being a greedy bitch (:P), I’m taking the mother of artistic licenses here and writing for three different ships! Here we go!

1. No’ 8, angst ( “Nobody’s seen you in days.”) + no’ 4, random (”If I die, I’m hunting you first”) - Deckerstar: 

- 1. The penthouse is silent and dark when she arrives, the eerie stillness causing her low heels to echo loudly across the marble floor. There are no dust sheets thrown over the furniture, so she takes this as a tentatively positive sign and ventures further into the luxurious apartment.

“Lucifer?” she calls out, craning her neck and bending a little forward to try and glimpse his silhouette on the bed, or leaning against the railing; he’s not standing at the bar or reclining in his chair, and she has a brief flash of panic rush through her entire system at the thought that he’s disappeared again, after all. 

A few extra steps bring her to the foot of his bedroom steps, and, at last, she spies his long form spread-eagled over his ridiculously expensive silk sheets. 

“Lucifer!” She climbs the three stairs hurridly and enters the open room. “Are you alright? Nobody’s seen you in days!”

The sight that greets her isn’t pretty, for a change. 

His face looks like it’s been used as a punching bag; his left eye is swollen, upper lip split and oozing blood. She gasps loudly at the bloody image he makes and drops on her knees at his side.

“What happened?” she demands to know, her fingers fluttering over the black-and-blue bruise on his forehead; he flinches and winces at the contact and she withdraws her hand, an apology ready on her lips.

“My brother came to visit, Detective,” he rasps, and she blanches.

“Amenadiel did this?” she asks, horrified - she knows the brother’s don’t always see eye to eye, but this is excessive! 

He shakes his head and winces again. Her heart clenches a little at the sight; he must be in considerable pain.

“My other brother,” he clarifies. “I have many, Detective. This little punch-up is courtesy of my brother Michael.”

“Would you like to report him to the police?” she asks softly. 

He laughs quietly, but there’s nothing soft or funny about the sound. The mirthless laugh is followed by charged silence.

“What can I do, Lucifer?” she asks gently; her knees begin to ache due to the unnatural position, but she pays them little heed. 

His hand on hers is warm and surprisingly strong.

“You’re here,” he says simply.

And it’s enough.

- 2. He presses his hand tightly against the gaping wound in her abdomen and curses all the powers in the universe and his Father, most of all. 

“Try not to move, darling,” he pleads with her, pulling her further into his lap. She winces at the movement and blanches in pain, and he starts cursing his own name inwardly.

“If I die,” she croaks, her slick fingers brushing over his in an attempt to distract him, “I’m haunting you first.”

Her attempts at feeble humour are completely lost on him.

“That’s not how it works, Detective,” he grouses, the fingers of his other hand digging into her shoulder, “and you’re not dying.”

She laughs softly and winces in pain.

“Sure feels that way.”

He curses again, this time aloud.

“Hold on, Chloe,” he pleads with her again. “Help’s on the way.”

2. No’ 3, fluff (”Have you seen my hoodie? noooo, You’re wearing it, aren’t you?”) - Carolight:

Dr Dwight Enys is a busy man. He’s a young, overworked ER doctor at Royal Cornwall Hospital, volunteers at a women’s shelter as an on-call physician and works for the Navy veterans program in his very little spare time. He barely has time for social life and leisure, as his rather neglected girlfriend never fails to remind him, but there is one practice he can never pass upon - he runs.

Every morning at five o’clock - even when he’s on call at hospital and should really be sleeping - he dons his suit of sporty armour and goes flying; a 10 km run for both body and soul. He greets all cats and dogs on his way, welcomes the morning ahead of the birds, and arrives back exhausted but happy, ready for the bracing day ahead.

This morning, however, is slightly different. For starters, it’s five-thirty and he’s yet to leave the house. Upheaving sofa cushions and banging wardrobe doors, he curses quietly, trying very hard not to wake Sleeping Beauty up. 

“Dwight?” 

Well, fuck; he didn’t mean to wake her.

“I’m sorry, love,” he calls from the bathroom, head buried in the wash bin. “Go back to sleep?”

“What is it? Why are you making so much noise?”

Her voice is sleepy and husky, and for one long second, all he wants to do is crawl back into bed with her.

“It’s just - have you seen my hoodie, Caroline? I can’t seem to find it...” 

There’s nothing but silence for a few seconds, and Dwight almost thinks that she’s gone back to sleep, but the sound of her stirring in bed convinces him of her alertness.

“Noooo?” comes the high pitched reply.

Dwight sighs and rises from his kneeling positing in front of the bin. He makes his way slowly to their bedroom, only to find Caroline cocooned rather comfortably in a fuzzy duvet.

“You’re wearing it, aren’t you?” he asks, resigned and not a little fond. 

She smiles at him cheekily and throws aside the heavy fabric, flashing him a glimpse of his stolen hoodie.

“Come back to bed, Dr Enys,” she murmurs enticingly and he smiles.

After all, sometimes staying in bed is good for your health. 

Doctor’s orders.

3. No’ 6, kisses ( needing to kiss to hide from bad guys) - Phrack:

The thudding of heavy feet is getting louder and coming closer. There’s two of them, one pistol between them, against 10 thugs from the docks, all heavily armed.

“We’ll never outrun them, Miss Fisher,” Jack pants, almost doubled in half, bracing himself with one palm against the brick wall in the alley they’re currently hiding in. “Where are your red-raggers?” 

Phryne is leaning with her back against the same wall, chest heaving, and shakes her head. 

“Too far away; they’ll never make it in time.”

Shouts and bullets fly close enough to be almost upon them, and Jack straightens and takes a step closer, no doubt seeking to do the honourable thing and try to somehow shield her with his body.

Dear man, she thinks and yanks him forward by the lapels of his coat.

Jack looks at her in astonishment as she tugs both hats off their heads and throws them far out of sight.

“Phryne?”

She smiles almost wickedly at the poor man, as she pulls him downwards to her level.

“All part of the job, Detective Inspector,” she purrs and crushes her lips to his slightly open mouth.

It takes a few moments for him to realise what’s happening, but when he finally clues in, his reaction sends a jolt of pleasure down Phryne’s spine. His arms come to encircle her as he pulls her to him rather enthusiastically, his lips urgent and insatiable against her delighted mouth. He actually moans into the kiss, tasting her with relish, biting at her lower lip with great ardour, as if they are alone in the world and not being chased down by a small mob.

They’re making quite a scene, there’s no doubt about it; one of his hands migrates from her waist and is trailing up her thigh, one of his legs is pressed tightly against her centre. Phryne trembles and shakes in his arms with a force that has very little to do with adrenaline, and everything to do with their waltz. Slow and close indeed.

The thugs pass them by with little notice, except some half-hearted jeers and wolf-whistles, and continue on their goose-chase down the docks. Jack’s lips trail down Phryne’s throat and his fingers slip up her skirt.

“Jack!” she gasps in delight and arches into him. She always knew he was a very passionate man. “Jack!”

But the sound of his name pulls him from the lustful haze and into the present, and he starts a little at their position and takes a step backwards, flushed and a little horrified.

She reaches for him before he can get too far away from her.

“I’m sorry if you think I took a liberty, Inspector,” she throws at him, smiling mischievously, the sound of her voice breathy with need. Jack recognises her jab and smiles ruefully.

“Let’s call a spade a spade, Miss Fisher,” he replies, and Phryne’s is delighted at the gravely sound of his voice. “You kissed me.”

“You kissed me back.”

Jack smiles and leans over just a smidge.

“And I’m not here to apologise.”

She pulls him back to her and pushes her fingers into his coifed hair.

“Come back to Wardlow with me, Jack,” she breathes in his ear and he shudders. “We can discuss the case over drinks in my private parlour.”

His strong hands are warm against her blouse and she flexes a little against his lovely fingers.

He smiles his crooked little smile, his eyes dancing.

“How can I refuse, Miss Fisher?”

AND THAT’S ALL SHE WROTE. PHEW.

[so-wonderful-so-beautiful]

JuleThief Fanfic Ch. 4

Alrighty. So I know I've written Julia in the new A.C.M.E. Uniform, and have her wearing gloves. Even though in the show, it shows the uniform overlay of her without. Even in the trailer for season 2 she doesn't have them. But damn it! The other agents have them! And I just really love gloves. ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Julia woke with a start. Her heart was racing, and she could feel sweat running down her face. She sat up quickly, and tried to take deep breaths. “That nightmare felt so real.” She muttered to herself.

The dream was still running around her mind. She dreamt about Carmen. The night Devineux was attacked. She saw shadows attacking Carmen. Silhouette's of people she didn’t know. They beat and attacked her. Julia was unable to help. Shouting with no voice. Trying to move but frozen in place. Devineux on the ground unconscious. It was awful.

Julia sighed and pulled the blankets back. Laying in bed all day wouldn’t do anyone any good. Maybe she could take Chief's advice and walk around and take a break. She wanted to get a cup of coffee at her favorite café, and maybe walk around one of the small museums.

With a nod, Julia slid out of bed, and went about collecting her uniform. It was very professional for how casual her day was going to be. But she felt important in it. She wanted to be ready for anything. Day off or not.

It didn’t take long for Julia to get ready for the day. A quick shower, light makeup, and her uniform back on. She grabbed her briefcase, and was ready to explore the city.

Julia strode out of the flat, and locked the door behind her. She would enjoy the day. If she wanted to make sure she was useful, she needed to take care of herself as well. Julia made her way to the elevator, and took it down to the lobby.

The young man at the front desk smiled at Julia as she walked through the lobby, and out onto the street. She smiled and gave a small wave back. He was always nice to her when she saw him.

The café was not a far walk, and the morning was still cool and pleasant. It would be a good walk. Julia began her small journey to breakfast.

After a few minutes of walking, she arrived. The smell of coffee, a promise in the air of what was yet to come. Julia pulled open the door, as a bell jingled to announce her arrival. With a deep breath, Julia took in the smells of fresh baked pastries and coffee. Her stomach rumbled as she walked towards the counter to make her order.

As she approached the counter, she felt the arm of a stranger slip around her left arm, and lace fingers with her gloved hand. Julia felt her heart begin to pound as she quickly turned to see who had attached themselves.

A woman with dark red hair pulled back up into a neat bun, a white blouse, and red skirt with black polkadots, and a medical wrap on her arm, had latched on.

“Ms. Sandiego.” Julia greeted, as the surprise began to wear away.

“Good morning Jules.” Carmen cheerily returned the greeting.

“Might I ask what it is that you are doing?” Julia inquired, not having moved from her place on the floor. Her heart had not slowed down from the initial encounter.

“Here to have breakfast with a beautiful woman.” Carmen smiled at her from behind a small set of frames. “I also wanted to check up on you and make sure you were okay.”

Julia offered a small smile. “Yes, I’m fine.” She stepped forward to make her order, as the barista waited for her.

“Deux petits cafés et un croissant, s'il vous plaît.” Julia ordered.

“Oui m'dame.” He smiled as he put in the order.

Julia pulled Carmen to the end of the counter to wait for her order.

“So, Jules.” Carmen began, but was cut off as she saw Julia frown at her.

“No. I get to speak first.” Julia whispered. “Why did I see Zack and Ivy yesterday?” She narrowed her eyes at Carmen.

Carmen blinked slowly at her. She was sharp, and observant. Carmen knew that Julia was smart, but she had to make sure that she didn’t underestimate her.

Julia opened her mouth to prod further, but a woman with their drinks approached and placed them down.

“Merci.” Julia nodded. She reached out and grabbed them. With Carmen grabbing the croissant. There was a counter with cream, sugar, and other things to add in their drinks. Julia prepared them the same as yesterday. She had remembered how Carmen liked it.

Julia gestured to a small table outside, away from listening ears. She stepped outside, and walked to the small table and sat down. Carmen followed behind, and sat down across from her. Julia grabbed the other coffee, and handed it to her.

“To answer your question, they technically weren’t following you. You just happened to be where they were. Zack is posing as a hospital porter to keep a close eye on Devineux. Just in case V.I.L.E. sends more people after him. But seeing as there are now A.C.M.E. agents all over the place, that’s no longer necessary.” Carmen stopped to take a sip of her coffee. “Ooh. You remembered how I like it. Anyway, Ivy was patrolling the area, keeping an eye out for suspicious activity. Zack let her know you were headed out, and so she decided to keep an eye on you.”

This information was hard to process. Carmen and her crew were keeping Devineux safe. That was comforting to hear for sure as Julia listened to her explanation. She took a sip of her coffee, and let that new info sit.

“Ivy told me you weren’t looking well, and told me what apartment she dropped you at. So, I wanted to check up on you.” Carmen finished.

“Thank you.” Julia offered a small smile.

“Think nothing of it.” Carmen brushed it aside, placing her hand on Julia's. “You’re with us now. Whether you like it or not. We look after each other.”

Julia took a sip from her coffee, to try and hide the blush that blossomed on her freckled cheeks. She made no effort to move her hand, but instead interlaced her gloved fingers with Carmen’s.

“It is nice to feel like someone is on my side for a change.” Julia sighed, placing her cup down, and pulled a piece of the croissant apart to nibble on it. She offered some to Carmen, who took a piece as well.

“Doesn’t A.C.M.E. support you?” Carmen asked, taking her piece of croissant and finishing it quickly.

“I suppose they do. But even before Inspector Devineux was captured and tortured, he usually swept my ideas under the rug. Chief never seemed to take me seriously when I brought you up either.” Julia sighed.

“You talked about me?” Carmen gave her a coy grin.

“Hush.” Julia chuckled lightly. “I tried to explain the moral ambiguity of your work, and how you were stealing from other thieves. Chief and A.C.M.E. originally wanted you because they believe you’re their best link to V.I.L.E.. Which I believe as well. But not the way they want to go about it.”

Carmen nodded, and took a sip of her coffee. “They aren’t wrong. But it doesn’t work that way. I’m not just going to walk in to A.C.M.E. headquarters and divulge everything.” Carmen rolled her eyes.

“Oh I believe that. But Devineux had a narrow mind.” Julia frowned. “He sees it this way. You steal something. No matter from who, therefor you are simply a thief that must be apprehended. He never once thought about V.I.L.E. when it came to tracking you down.”

Carmen nodded slowly. “He does seem to focus hard on one thing. But he is relentless.” She gripped Julia’s hand a little tighter. “How is he?”

“Still in a coma. I don’t know when he will wake.” Julia took a deep breath, and let it go as a sigh. “I was told to take some time to relax. I have been at the hospital every day since he was placed there. I am still his partner at A.C.M.E.. I feel like I could have done more to prevent what happened to him.” Julia felt guilt gnaw at her insides.

“He’ll be fine.” Zack piped up from behind them.

Julia leaped in surprise, the appearance of one of the siblings catching her off guard.

“Inspector Cheesewiz is a tough cookie.” Ivy chimed in, as she walked out of the café with two drinks and lots of pastries.

Zack pulled up a couple chairs for him and Ivy to join Carmen and Julia for breakfast. “Here Carm.” Zach offered a breakfast quiche. Carmen grabbed it and gave him a smile as a thank you.

Ivy sat in the chair next to her brother and divvied up the goods. “You can have some too Agent Argent.” Ivy offered with a smile.

“Thank you. Please, call me Julia.” Julia gave her a warm grin.

“You said that you tried to defend me to A.C.M.E.. Did that not work in your favor then?” Carmen inquired.

“After the kidnapping and attack on Inspector Devinuex, and you stomping on the pen, Chief believed you were responsible. After all, you did swipe his keycard. You didn’t make it easy on yourself. Chief still believes you are responsible. But the evidence at the crime scene suggested otherwise. But she saw an Agent down, and you were the last person she saw standing next to him. She was blinded by her want to defend her agents.”

“So, Chief is the woman from the floating pen.” Carmen stated.

Julia felt her eyes grow wide as she realized just how much information she willingly divulged.

Ivy and Zack nodded, as they heard this new information. They didn’t realize they were going to be diving into more details so early in the morning.

“Does she think we work for V.I.L.E.?” Ivy asked, leaning forward.

It took a moment for Julia to answer, she wasn’t sure she had a solid reply. “I am not sure to this point what she believes.”

They sat in silence for a moment. Each one eating their breakfast, and drinking their coffee.

The sound of a vibrating phone caught everyone’s attention. Julia pulled a cellphone from her pocket, and answered. “This is Julia Argent.” She answered.

Julia’s hand flew to her mouth, as she gasped. “Are you sure?” Her eyes were wide, as she listened to the voice on the other end. “I’ll be there at once. Thank you for the call.” Julia hung up quickly and looked around the table. “He’s awake.” She said a little breathlessly.

“That’s good!” Zack piped up.

“See, I knew he would pull through.” Ivy bumped Julia in the arm.

“Let Zack give you a ride.” Carmen offered, “We want you to get there as quickly as possible after all.”

“Eh, yeah! I will.” He frowned a little as he looked at the food he was leaving at the table. “I’ll be back for you.” He whispered to the pastries.

“Zack, the sooner you leave, the sooner you can come back.” Ivy frowned, as she shoved him to get out of the chair.

“Right. Of course. This way Julia.” He gestured towards where he had parked their car on the street. “Let’s get you to the hospital.”

[parkeraul]

hunger – grease!shawn

a/n: anon suggested me grease!shawn on my askbox and as an obsessed person that i am for the 60′s, here i am trying this one little thing. depending on the feedbacks, this might turn into a series. let me know if you like it. pairing: shawn x reader.  words: 1,594 warning: hints of badboy!shawn and badgirl!reader ahead. boldness is going to be well appreciated in here, my dudes. 

One by one, all of the guys were climbing the bleachers to chill after an intense class. A couple of them quickly grabbing cigarettes, enjoying the opportunity as they couldn’t find that familiar figure of the inspector trailing her way all around the schoolyard looking for people to chastise.  Matt appeared right after, bringing soda drinks to everyone and throwing the cans to his friends and Connor followed, fixing his denim jacket as soon as he made his way to the top.  “Where did you get this?” Brian asked, frowning.  “Uhm... my mom got me this.” He could feel the judgemental stare of the boys nearly turning his body into flames as he checked his own outfit. “Had to drop my leather jacket for laundry...” He tried to justify, tilting his head down in shyness.  “Oh!” Ian aggressively held him by the shoulder and wiggled his limbs after whining. “Is momma’s little boy going to show up in diapers tomorrow too?”  “Shut up!” Connor’s arms tried to push Ian away. “This is trending right now, okay?”  “This is pretty much why the both of you haven’t had sex in 3 months.” Shawn’s raspy voice called them out, teasing them and smirking right after. He pointed his chin to a couple of girls looking up at them and grimacing after walking away.  Everybody in that school knew them. Guys would die to be a part of the crew and girls were always daydreaming about them during classes. Even though they used to give the teachers a hard time, they all had a special place in their hearts as well at the end of the day. And it could be shown by the way the gym teacher complimented their performances in a discreet mode or by the way the biology teacher tried hard to hold back a laugh everytime they joked during a test.  People could either eat them up... or hate the group to death. There was no place in between.  The ones who hated had to hate in silence so they wouldn’t get a taste of Brian’s stupid jokes or Ian’s threatens.  “Why is your girlfriend taking so long?” Shawn spoke in a firm tone, bringing Brian back to reality. “Test happens next class and she’s still not here with her fuckin’ notes.”  "Isn’t she down in there running like a dork?” Matt asked and everyone looked down.  She was hanging out with her old friends Lisa and Claire but holding hands with someone... new.  Lisa seemed to feel annoyed by the situation, so she saved herself from being a part of the party by holding her hands behind her back. Claire and Wendy were carrying the new girl around the school with rushed steps as they talked to her excitedly. Apparently, they were showing her all the spots and places inside the school before french class.  The girl couldn’t help being dragged by the two other loud girls and the grouchy one following behind with eyes constantly rolling. Everybody burning her silhouette with hungry and curious eyes as the skirt of her beautiful dress kept on swaying helplessly because, when her legs weren’t tiptoeing fast across the schoolyard, the wind used to show up a little bit rougher just to collapse against the fabric so it could draw the air with the pretty little patterns of her cloth.  They were all smiles and laughs, curiously studying her eyeliner, the style of her hair, the colour on her lips and the new girl pretended to listen whatever they were talking about as her eyes decided to get lost up in there by the bleachers.  “Who are they?” Capturing at least 5 different pairs of eyes inspecting her, she whispered softly to the girls without breaking eye-contact.  “Shawn Mendes’ stupid gang.” Lisa finally decided to speak, still keeping distance.  “Stupid, huh?” She could barely blink now, trying to confirm the ‘stupid’ concept by finding any typical boyish action.  “They’re not stupid...” Wendy said, toying with her dress to avoid looking Lisa in the eyes.  “You say this because your boyfriend is a part of the clownery.” Lisa calls her out once again, giving the boys a disgusting look and they all look away, except for the curly-haired one.  They start arguing and she seizes the moment to put up an internal challenge of who would dare to look away first?  No need to say that he had the same thing in mind.  “Mendes!” Matt called and he just mumbled a quick ‘Hm?’ “Clean up your chin, man.”  Worried, Shawn raises an eyebrow and has to give up on glancing at the pretty girl surrounded by Wendy’s friends.  “Why?” His hand makes the way up to touch his skin and everyone starts to laugh.  “You’re drooling all over the outsider!” Connor shouted and quickly covered his mouth when he saw Shawn’s fingers making a fist.  “Someone’s getting over Ashley!” Ian teases and the guys are now gathering around to make fun of him while they could.  Because Shawn had been always wearing this serious look on his face and acting like a leader so he would never be seen as the foolish member of the squad – and then nobody would ever try to confront him. And the boys learned to treat him like this after finding out that he wasn’t quite the polite guy when people stepped on his damn nerves.  Lots of hands shaking his body relentlessly and he kept the flat look on his expression, breathing deeply and bringing two fingers between his rosy lips, whistling loud and making the boys step back, fixing all of the jackets and hairs as they kept on joking silently.  Wendy catches Shawn’s eyeballs peeking her and he opens his arms in complain, quietly waiting for her to get the hint of his impatience kicking in.  Wendy finds the stairs and goes upwards, promptly taking a small paper from one of her pockets and giving it to Shawn. When he’s about to grab it, she pulls back.  “Three magic words?” Wendy asks, lips slightly apart as her hand goes to the back of her earshell, waiting for the answer.  “Gimme this shit.” His thick arm stretches towards her, palm open to receive the note as he speaks through gritted teeth.  “Wrong answer, mister.” Wendy turns to steal a quick peck from Brian’s lips and hides the paper filled with the answers to the french test inside the pocket of his black shirt. “Pass it on if he behaves.”  Lisa, Claire and Y/N are down in there near the trees. Lisa checks on her nails and Claire tells the new girl about how lovely Connor is and how she thinks that the rest of the group is about to ruin his innocence. Clearly a crush. And she’s not the only one with a crush.  Wendy has to stop in the middle of her way downstairs.  “Who’s that girl?” Shawn’s tone asks her rigidly.  “What girl?” Wendy plays the fool.  “Don’t fuckin’ make me ask you twice.” He throws and Brian is about to affront. Shawn notices and acts ‘cool’ to avoid fighting his best friend, still keeping his unmistakable attitude. “That one in the pink dress!” He points harshly and then lets his palm smack down against his thigh covered by the tight jeans, trying to vanish away the stress somehow.  Down by the trees, the conversation goes the same way.  “Who’s the curly boy?” She asks and Claire is quick to answer, just like when you ask someone about The Beatles: they could tell you all the details from head to toe by heart.  “Shawn Mendes, the one and only.”  “Her name is Y/N. But you don’t wanna get out with her.” Wendy says.  “But you don’t wanna get out with him.” Claire unconsciously imitates.  “Why not?”  “Her brother is a senior! He’s always bookin’ inside this amazing Camaro and he picks her up after the last classes everyday. You don’t wanna piss him off, believe me. He’s super duper jealous!” Wendy explains.  “He’s a piece of shit.” Lisa gets in the middle and warns. “He broke up with Ashley last summer and I had never seen anyone cry that much after vacation.”  “And no one could ever date him. He’s out of everyone’s leagues.” Claire vents, exhaling deeply. “Lucky ones who ever got their chance to place a kiss right onto his beautiful lips...”  “EW! Seriously, stop that or I’m going to throw up right here right now.” Lisa interrupts and she’s back at glancing him one more time.  As his greenish eyes move to catch hers, she can listen something about how unreal his skills were when things came to music and he could hear how she easily learned 4 languages during her whole life.  “She’s a fox!” Matt slips out... “He’s a hunk!” And Claire copies the context again.  “But you better watch out, ‘cause he’s a badass.” Lisa finishes.  “Go slow, she’s a badass.” Wendy gives her final information.  “Maybe we should see about that.” Both Y/N and Shawn are letting these words fly away from their lips in response and the inspector shows up to call everyone’s attention to head back to their classes. The guys were putting the cigarettes down, the girls were rearranging their skirts and people started walking back to the building.  Classroom filled with nervous students as the teacher walks in.  “Bonjour.” The teacher spoke flatly.  “Bonjour, professeure!” Y/N answers, catching her by surprise.  Well, not only her.  Maybe someone’s not going to need notes in a paper anymore. 

[banashee]

I was tagged by @lilolilyr

Thank you very much! 😊❤

Rules: answer 21 questions and then tag 21 people you'd like to get to know better

1) Nickname: Anni

2) Zodiac: Cancer

3) Height: 180cm , 5'11

4) Last movie I watched: Wind River a few days ago, and if TV shows count, Inspector Barnaby last night

5) Last thing I googled: "when to start planting seeds for salad"

6) Favourite musicians: A hard one. But I'll go with Lebanon Hanover, The Cure, Queen, The Beauty of Gemina

7) Song stuck in my head: Right now it's "Somebody to love" by Queen

8) Other blogs? @banasheesnotes

9) Do I get asks: sometimes

10) Blogs following: I follow 2465 blogs, 640 are following me

11) Amount of sleep: either a bit too much or to little

12) Lucky Number: 13

13) What I'm wearing: Shirt, fuzzy cardigan, leggings, skirt, jacket, scarf and combat boots. All black.

14) Dream Job: Something that requires me traveling to other countries

15) Dream Trip: UK. I'll be in Dublin very soon tho! :)

16) Favourite Food: Pizza, fresh fruit, chocolate

17) Play any instruments: I had lo learn to play the flute as a kid and technically I have a guitar but I'm no good at it - unfortunately.

18) Languages: German and English

19) Favourite Songs: Right now: "Bohemian Rhapsody" by Queen, "Trøllabundin" by Eviør, "No one holds hands" by Lebanon Hanover

20) Random Fact: I'm filling this out on the train

21) Describe yourself as aesthetic things: a foggy graveyard, autumn leaves in the forest, too much coffee.

-

If I tagged you and you don't wanna do this, please don't feel pressured to! Otherwise have fun :)

@hawkeyescoffee @xthebasilwitch @undefeatednils @labradoritedreams @labradoritedreams @daughterofemptiness @stufenlosregelbar @littlefeatherasswithwings @annika-of-the-lost @invidiamalice @gehetzterfuchs @forgetmeh @traumtaenzer1990 @spectralarchers @spookyloop @chocolate-eating-cactus @somethingwendythiswaycomes @bambiefangirl @ladylokioftardis @hungryskeletonsinhats @bettykthe21stcenturypinup

[redroseinsanity]

Mafia - Daisuga Week 2018

Last day!!! This has gone pretty well considering that I impulse-joined one day late plus I had fun with the mini challenge that I set for myself to not use any of the prompts except in the title! 

Thank you to anyone who’s read, liked or reblogged my entries, you’ve really made my week (and it’s been a pretty tough one so this has been a great source of comfort).

Hope you enjoy this!

Day 7 | August 26th | Mafia/Kissing

Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7

Sitting tied up to a shaky wooden chair, one eye severely blackened, ribs aching, shoulder dislocated and blood in his mouth, Daichi regretted a great many things. 

He regretted agreeing to go for this raid in particular, regretted not pulling his gun out fast enough, regretted not shooting that guy instead of tasering him, hell, he even regretted wearing this pair of socks today because they were his favourite and now they were all torn and bloody. 

But he didn’t regret his job, he could never regret committing to a life in the force, to protecting his city and the people in it. 

And try as he might, he couldn’t regret falling in love with Sugawara Koushi. 

He felt no remorse for the day he’d stumbled into the man whose smile made you feel the way hot chocolate felt on a rainy day, who had cheerfully discussed corgi butts over cake, and who had a simple tattoo of a symbol Daichi knew far too well just under his ear. 

When he turned to smile at Daichi, wisps of hair like molten silver grazed the edges of that damning sign. 

Daichi had killed far too many men with that mark and put even more in prison for life. 

Others might say that he was blinded by Suga’s stunning features, enchanted by his doe eyes and coy smile, taken in, misled and fooled. 

Perhaps he was. 

But Daichi also knew this. He knew he was in love with the way Suga had straight up handed his umbrella to a lady he didn’t know on the street, carried an old grandma’s shopping bags all the way to her apartment door chattering all the while about gardening tips and whipped out a bunch of Doraemon plasters for a kid who had a scraped knee. 

He was in love with the way Suga gave the best hugs, like he was never going to let go until you felt okay, the way he hummed while cutting vegetables and sang while cleaning the toilet, the way he looking in the morning all confused and grouchy. 

He was in love with the way they had arguments and then patched it up over long talks with ice cream and lots of cuddling, the way Suga got impatient with everything inefficient he encountered and the way he was fussy about how they arranged things on the kitchen counter. 

So they never talked about the tattoo behind Suga’s ear. Like the vase that you want to throw away but leave in the corner of the living room because it holds too much sentimental value, they skirted around it, glossed over it and pretended it wasn’t there.

They hardly spoke about Daichi’s job either, beyond establishing that he was with the Organized Crime Unit in the Police Force. 

The two of them simply willed this tiny snag in their relationship away, burying it under the covers of their bed or smothering it with their laughter over dinner and wine. 

It worked, Daichi worried about it but the force that drew him to Suga was magnetic, irresistible and tasted like honey. So Daichi took a deep breath and stepped into the unknown, where Sugawara Koushi was. 

Except now, Sugawara Koushi had a knife pressing against his throat while he was bound to a chair with the big boss that Daichi had only ever heard about ordering his death to be slow and painful. 

Searching dark brown eyes met unreadable hazel ones, and on instinct, Daichi strained against the ropes although he never flinched from the cold steel at his skin. 

“Any last words?”

The boss’s voice, grating and sneering filtered through his musing. Daichi ceased his struggling and looked deep into eyes that he loved, regardless of where it had brought him. 

“Every moment with you,” he breathed so that only Suga, who was close enough to kiss, could hear him, “Was the best moment of my life.” 

A light went on in hazel depths and with gentle fingers, Suga caressed Daichi’s jaw the way the sunset’s colours trace the edges of the horizon, fleeting, breathtaking and devastatingly beautiful. 

The knife was raised, the boss’s smirk grew and Daichi locked eyes with the love of his life, wanting the last thing he saw to be Suga, only Suga. 

In a flash of pale grey steel and a blur of silvery hair, Suga struck hard and fast. 

Within half a second, everyone in the room was dead, including the boss and leaving only the two lovers. 

Daichi blinked stupidly around him as Suga cut him loose, breath only slightly uneven. 

His fingers were limp as he was handed a gun, another round of bullets slipped over his chest and a knife inserted into his boot. 

“Wait,” he said faintly, as Suga crossed the room to open the door, “What’s- How- I don’t...” He flailed and gave up, brain still attempting to transition from ‘Waiting to die at the hands of his lover’ to ‘Given sudden freedom and means to bring down enemy base’.

“Sergeant Sawamura Daichi? I’m Inspector Sugawara Koushi. I’ve spent the last seven years infiltrating this organization and I say it’s time to take it down for good. Are you in?”

It was only years of training and an inordinate amount of self-discipline that had Daichi straightening, saluting and cocking his gun, all his senses sharpened and focused on what lay beyond the door. 

With an adorably familiar grin, Suga hoisted a machine gun over his shoulder, wrenched open the door and continued the battle Daichi had thought he’d been fighting alone for so long. 

He was still in shock, his shoulder still hurt acutely and his mind was completely befuddled. But he looked out and saw the love of his life slowly but surely making headway in the masses of gang members. 

So Daichi took a deep breath and stepped into the unknown, where Sugawara Koushi was. 

[tiny-cloud-dragon]

Random Bits: FF7 02

Chapter 4

[Setting - Zack and Cloud are introducing Inspector Baerbotamm to all the unique aspects of their new training facility, much to the Inspector's dismay]

[Location - Training field - After a brief and exciting tour of the Plain of Pain, and a mildly worrying introduction to The Course, it's off to a less stressful tour of the Main Building, or so Percival thinks.]

Zack manhandled Inspector Baerbotamm toward the army's main building. A multi-storied structure of steel and glass squatting on a blanket of grass like a diamond on velvet.

"This is the Main Building," Zack said, effortlessly pronouncing the capitals as he walked the nervous Percy up the concrete path. "It's name is 'Main Building'"

Percival followed the line of Zack's finger as it pointed his attention to the area above the entrance. Large steel letters confirmed that yes, this building was named 'Main Building'.

"We thought we'd keep things simple, to avoid any unnecessary confusion." Zack said cheerfully. He could see that this oddly pleased Percival. Points for being clear and concise had just been awarded. There was nothing more annoying to Percival Pinwinkle Baerbottam than the printed word being vague, unclear, contradictory, or worse, open to interpretation.

"Well, it certainly is very correct!" Percival responded, a note of satisfaction creeping into his voice.

"Well, we kind of had to make sure everything was very simply and clearly labeled." 

"Especially for the Cadets," Cloud interjected. "Since some of them come in needing 'front' and 'back' written on their underwear."

"Oh, my..." Percival said, sounding dismayed.

"Yeah," Zack agreed," We decided it would be a good idea after all that trouble with that one Cadet..." he ended with a ellipsis, a tempting trail of conversational breadcrumbs left to entice the Inspector's timid sense of curiosity. 

Percival was quite certain that he didn't want to know what 'all that trouble' meant. Surely it would involve something disastrous, disruptive, or-gods forbid-unstructured!  His fragile sense of Spontaneity, Adventure, and Free-spiritedness huddled in the corner and screamed in panic as Curiosity said "I'll just take a little peek..." and reached for the doorknob of their Panic Room.

"What sort of trouble?" Percival found himself asking  in spite of his better judgment.

"Weeeeell," Zack replied "Let's just say we had to write 'Goes on Head' on his uniform caps, and 'Goes on Ass' on his underwear."

"Goodness gracious!"

"He got the hang of it, eventually." Zack assured him as they climbed the short set of concrete steps," Is seemed that his 'confusion' was just due to a bad case of Petty Obstinance. It took about three days, but his malady was completely cured after intensive treatment using a rather...unconventional method."

"Oh?" Percy said weakly. He was beginning to dislike ellipses.

"Oh, yes. We cured him by allowing him to wear his underwear on his head. After his platoon mate, who just so happened to have a medical condition causing excessive sweating, got done wearing them."

Percival's stomach shriveled up and gave Curiosity a fiery glare as it peeked sheepishly from behind the door, while his other sensibilities had a group vomit in the corner. The rest of his faculties mounted a desperate search for the fabled Brain Bleach which was rumored to have the ability to scrub away even the most horrific mental image.

A sudden blast of cool air distracted Percy from his inner turmoil. Zack and Cloud had just ushered him through the double glass doors of the Main Building.

Percival was rather impressed, in spite of himself. The lobby was  tidy, spacious and brightly lit by both natural light and pleasantly old-fashioned incandescent light fixtures, and furnished in cozy, somewhat informal furniture pieces that punched Percy right in the nostalgia. It was an odd mix of clean and warm elements that undulated up to Percival's ear and breathed in a seductive whisper like a fancy perfume commercial: 'organizaaation!'

"You okay, Percy?" Zack asked as Percival shivered and his eyebrows did a little wiggle.

"Er...Oh, yes. Quite. I was just, er, admiring the design."

"I know, it's great, right? Much more 'homey' and inviting than the old one!" Zack said, pleased.

"I especially like the floor," Percy continued, his attention glued to the lobby floor like a magpie with a shiny bauble. "It's so clean and glossy!"

"It's polished every day with the tears of Cadets and SOLDIERs," Zack said. "It seems like the saltier the tears, the shinier-!"

A strange, halting squeak, like a squeegee on damp glass stuttered through the air, tripping into the conversation. All three men turned, ears following the auditory sputter as it grew steadily louder. Finally, from behind the reception desk's mahogany paneled wall, one of the ELITEs  appeared in his wolf form, slowly dragging his backside across the floor.

Percival's hands flew to his mouth, stifling a sound that was half a gasp and half a gag.

Wrapped up in proctologial locomotion the ELITE let out a startled yelp as he was abruptly grabbed by the scruff and a deceptively calm voice hissed into his fluffy ear, "What by Minerva's bra straps do you think you are doing?"

The wolf tried to play dead, in the hopes that Cloud's ELITE form's preference for moving victims would make him lose interest. No such luck.  Cloud hissed, a sound like a cross between a snake hiss and a piece of paper being violently ripped in half, and gave the ELITE a hard shake. 

"Did I just see you butt-surfing across my floor, leaving your butt-pucker streaks where I have to walk?" Cloud said in that calm, off-handed tone that eventually even Cadets learned to fear.

The wolf whined again and attempted to grovel but deep down he knew there was not getting out this mess unscathed. Hope of a mild punishment bloomed on the wolf's face as Cloud sent a passing SOLDIER off to Janitorial for a bottle of cleaner. The wolf even went so far as to relax as the bottle was brought and Cloud lightly spritzed the floor with it. This wasn't going to be so bad after all! It looked like he was just going to have to clean the floor. That wasn't going to be too hard!

Hope withered as Cloud gave the soiled floor a final misting, then grabbing the wolf by two handfuls of back fur, turned to the 3rd Class SOLDIER who had brought the cleaner and asked "What do we do when faced with hardship, Private?"

The SOLDIER snapped to attention and screamed "Improvise, Adapt, Overcome, Sir!"

Cloud nodded, and said "Well, Private, seeing as I lack proper cleaning equipment, I will just have to improvise."  Then without even a grunt, Cloud gave a heave, slapped the wolf down on the floor and proceeded to use him as an impromptu mop. When he was done, Cloud dismissed the wolf, now damp and smelling of lemony fresh pine trees, sending him scurrying off, tail tucked and belly low to the ground. It could have been worse, the canine part of him thought. He could have used The Rolled Up Newspaper!

With the minor interruption cleaned up, Zack led Percival down the hall behind the reception desk, pointing to the hallways leading off to the left and right. 

"The left wing contains the Infirmary, storage, and the Lab, and the right wing contains the cadets' barracks and officers' apartments. The President's office and rooms are in the upper floors of the Main Building, along with the administrative offices, lounges, and other boring stuff." Zack said as they started down the main hallway. He pointed out the important places, even though they were clearly labeled. 

"That is the Assembly Hall, the Recreation Room, the Restrooms, that's the door to the gardens, and this," Zack said in a very quiet whisper as they started coming up on a plain, unobtrusive door. "Is the janitor's closet where Corporal Wharton arranges what he thinks are 'secret' canoodles because he doesn't know that practically the whole base knows he's banging the President's secretary."

"My goodness!" Percival whispered, scandalized. "That is most certainly against regulations! He should have been reprimanded a long time ago!"

"Oh, I agree," Zack whispered with a sly grin as they paused a good distance away. "But I need solid proof, and not just hearsay." 

A playful titter fluttered out from behind the door. Zack motioned to Cloud, and they both flattened themselves dramatically up against the wall. Zack put a finger in his ear as if using an invisible ear piece and whispered. "Alpha Wolf to Paper Snake, the fox is in the hen house, over!"

"Paper Snake to-! Wait, why am I 'Paper Snake'?" Cloud asked, sounding slightly offended.

"Dude, have you heard yourself hiss?"

"So? I don't want to be 'Paper Snake'. That sounds like a kid's toy! I want a cool code name too!"

"Fine, you can be 'Danger Noodle'" 

"That's not any-!"

"Alpha Wolf to Danger Noodle, I'm going in! Repeat, I'm going in!"

Zack made a few hand signals and then started crawling towards the door. He paused and hopped into a crouch behind an invisible bush, making a show of looking around before rolling out from behind the bush to take cover behind an invisible tree. Cloud made the signal for 'all clear', and Zack waved and began moving again. Arms held out to the sides, he proceeded down the hallway, taking long, exaggerated steps with two little skips in between. You could practically hear the Pink Panther theme playing in the background. He pulled up next to the door, which giggled again, and silently gripped the handle before looking back at Cloud and Percival. Cloud nodded and gave the 'ok' signal.

In one fluid motion, Zack pushed down the handle and yanked the door open. There was a pair of surprised screams as a Second Class SOLDIER fell out of the closet at Zack's feet. A disheveled young woman in a rumpled white blouse and equally wrinkled gray pencil skirt bolted out of the closet, clearing the fallen man with a surprisingly athletic leap before rabbiting away.

"Corporal Wharton!" Zack greeted the man cheerfully. "Finally got caught with our pants down, did we? Wipe that cheeky grin off your face, SOLDIER-! Oh, my bad, that's not your face! On your feet and stand at attention, Corporal!"

Corporal Wharton flipped over and shot to his feet, standing at stiff attention. There was a long moment of silence in which Wharton began sweating nervously. Zack stared him in the eye, unblinking. He could see Wharton thinking: All those horror stories...are they true?!  

Zack Shifted into his half-form. His black wolf ears and tail were held proudly and at a dominant angle. He growled  and gave Wharton a grin with fangs in it. 

Wharton instinctively looked away. 

"You know the rules against fraternizing while on duty, especially with the President's personal secretary." Zack growled.  Wharton swallowed hard and managed a passable "Sir, yes Sir!"

Zack snapped his fingers, and one of his Mako wolves materialized at his side. "You will be escorted to your rooms, Corporal, where you will remain until this matter is handled."

Corporal Wharton saluted, brown eyes staring straight ahead in terror. "Sir, yes sir!"

 "And pull up your pants, Corporal!"

"Sir, yes sir!"

Zack Shifted back and turned to Percival and Cloud, grinning happily. "Alpha Wolf to Danger Noodle, Mission was a success! Repeat, Mission was a success!'

"Copy that, Alpha Wolf." Danger Noodle replied.

Zack patted Percival on the shoulder. He looked a little unsettled, which was nothing new. The man seemed to live in a state of perpetual anxiety, but he was looking a little more anxious than usual. 

 Better get him that drink fast, Zack thought Before Cloud ends up having to mop again!  Percival's eyebrows twitched nervously as they walked to the end of the hallway and stopped at the double doors under the sign "Mess Hall". 

"Here we are, the Mess Hall!" Zack said, flinging open the double doors with flair, to reveal a room with long rows of tables split in two columns. At the tables were more of the large wolves Percival had seen earlier. They were all crouching over the tables, muzzles buried in their chow bowls.

"Oh my Shiva!" Percival squeaked in horror, "There are dogs at the tables!"

Cloud and Zack both winced, and hissed "Shhhhh!"

"We don’t use the 'd' word around here!" Zack whispered with a grimace of distaste.

"The 'd' word?"

"Dog,", Zack clarified. "That's a four-letter word around here,"

"A three letter, four-letter word," Cloud added.

"But..."

"These are wolves, not dogs. Calling a wolf a dog is an insult. It's like calling someone..." Zack leaned over and whispered one of the worst, most profanity ridden insults he knew into the Inspector's ear.

Percival's face took on an almost corpse like pallor as the color drained from his face, his very blood trying to get as far from his ears as possible.

"Acceptable alternatives are 'doggo', 'pupper', and 'majestic floof'" Zack continued as Percival tried to regain his mental balance.

"But, there are animals in the Mess Hall!" Percy replied, clinging to his love of rules like a security blanket, while his sensibilities gagged as he imagined layers of dog, er, majestic floof hair covering every surface in the room, drifting in the air in clouds, and peppering the food.

"It's against Health Regulations!"

"It's cool," Cloud said smoothly, "They're Service Animals, so they're allowed."

"Yeah, we don't discriminate here." Zack added.

"But, the hair!" Percival insisted.

Zack heaved a mental sigh. This guy was way too uptight! "Oh, well, if that's all you're worried about,"

Zack turned, whistled loud and sharp, and barked "Shift!"

All the wolves immediately turned into men, three of which briefly continued to eat with their faces in their bowls before their brains nudged them and whispered Psst! Wrong shape!, and they sheepishly picked up their spoons and continued eating.

"I-is that dog food?!" Percival asked in a scandalized gasp as he witnessed one of the Mess Hall servers slap a heap of mixed canned and dry dog food into a bowl for a waiting ELITE.

"Top shelf quality!" Zack said with pride.

"You're feeding the men dog food?"

"Well, they are animals," Cloud interjected.

"But-!"

"It's nutritionally balanced, is high protein, and it's only served to the ELITEs." Zack said, taking pity on the high-strung man.  "I can get you the formula from the nutritionist, along with the research notes. The notes are pretty interesting, and they detail the research methods quite extensively."

The mention of formulas and carefully recorded notes seemed to appease Baerbotamm, at least a tiny bit. He stopped vibrating like a plucked bowstring and his eyebrows suddenly unscrunched in a twisting motion that made Cloud so uneasy that an involuntary hiss ripped its way from his throat.

It startled Percival so badly that he appeared to just teleport to the opposite side to the room like a bad special effect.

"Woahwoahwoah!" Zack said, looking back and forth between a bristling Cloud and a jittery Percy. "Let's dial it back a little!"

Cloud muttered an embarrassed apology while maintained his death grip on his clipboard, which he was clutching like a terrified Duchess clutching her pearls.

"How about we get a drink, huh?" Zack said, extending the proverbial olive branch before Barebotamm shook himself to pieces.

By now Percy's nerves had gone from merely jangling, to fraying. He desperately wanted to go back to his tidy, quiet office where rules were respected and not changed with total disregard all willy-nilly.  But he couldn't just leave! He had an inspection to complete, which had been assigned to him by the President himself.

"Come on, Percy, drinks are on me and Spiky," Zack said, giving the olive branch an encouraging shake. "You'll be doing us a favor. We need someone official to inspect bar. I mean, it is part of the Army."

A raw nerve whispered to Percival that maybe, this time, it would be acceptable to have a drink while on duty. Just one would certainly be alright. And besides, the host had offered. Then it made up some very convincing BS about etiquette and social interactions, which it submitted in triplicate along with some official looking sources that had just enough truth about them to avoid being categorized as outright lies.

"Do...you happen to have a good dark stout?" Percival inquired meekly.

"We sure do!" Zack affirmed happily.

The olive branch had been accepted, and the party took a good twenty minutes thoroughly inspecting the bottoms of two bottles and a pint. Percival even inspected a second pint, just to be sure that the drinks were up to par.

Once the beverage inspection was complete, and had earned an A+, a visibly less frazzled Percival Pinwinkle Baerbotamm was escorted to the next part of the tour.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

[auskultu]

Political Activism New Hippie ‘Thing’

Michael Stern, The New York Times, 24 March 1968

An invasion of Grand Central Terminal by 3,000 chanting youths that was transformed from a spring be-in to a militant antiwar demonstration early yesterday morning may have signaled a new turn in the hippie movement toward activism in politics and the arts.

The organizers of the be-in — the Youth International Party — said they had planned the affair as a gathering of youths to share songs, popcorn, jellybeans and love for humanity.

But the gathering became a disorderly rally in which the youths chanted antidraft slogans and painted antiwar messages on the walls until they were shoved out of the terminal by wedges of police of the Tactical Patrol Force.

The police, who charged into the youths swinging their nightsticks, reported later that 57 persons had been arrested on charges ranging from felonious assault and criminal mischief to resisting arrest and disorderly conduct.

Two of the arrested youths were hospitalized with concussions, five policemen were injured and two others reported themselves sick.

The meaning of the hippie phenomenon has long been in dispute. Last summer, at the height of the Tompkins Square troubles, it was thought by many observers, that 'hippies were alienated, disorganized and often troubled youths who were against the mainstream values of American life, but for nothing in particular.

Days Were Aimless Living on what they could scrounge from family, friends and middle-class oglers who went to the East Village to be titillated, they spent their aimless days “doing their thing," which chiefly involved introspection aided by drugs, meditation, exotic religion and music.

This year, on the eve of a new influx of youths on spring and summer school holidays, Greenwich Village and East Village policemen, clergymen and social workers, and self-styled spokesmen for the hippies, have said that they sense a new feeling of involvement on the part of youth.

“Many of the kids we had down here last summer are goring into politics," said Inspector Joseph Fink, commander of the East Fifth Street police station. “They sense a real alternative in the McCarthy and Kennedy candidacies."

The Rev. Michael Allen, rector of St. Mark’s in the Bowery on East 10th Street, said:

“The stereotype hippies never really existed in great numbers. What we have down here are several thousand alienated youths—most of them college dropouts—who wear their hair long, but who hold jobs or are trying to write or do something. They are dissenting from American values by withdrawing, but they are very much involved in life."

Allen Ginsberg, the bearded poet, guru and culture hero of many hippies, denies that being a hippie ever meant complete withdrawal from life. “These people are simply seeking another form of social cooperation," Mr. Ginsberg said in an interview.

“They are trying to start a utopian society, in the midst of a locked-in technological society,” he said. “That is something beautiful. It really is a return to earlier American values, to the idea of Thoreau and Whitman that the individual is a state higher than the state.”

A Sense of Urgency Felt Keith Lampe, a 36-year-old former newspaperman and college English teacher who is a leader of the Youth International Party, said he could feel “a special sense of urgency and involvement” among Village youths.

“They have the feeling that the next six or eight months can make a real difference in the United States, in stopping the war in Vietnam and in the Presidency,” he said.

But another leader of the Y.I.P., Mrs. Abby Hoffman, said yesterday that she doubted that many hippies were going to get involved in the campaigns of Senator Robert F. Kennedy or Senator Eugene McCarthy.

Both Mr. Lampe and Mrs. Hoffman are involved in planning the Y.I.P.’s Festival of Life, scheduled for August in Chicago while the Democratic National Convention is in session there.

“It will be a demonstration of an alternative way of life,” Mrs. Hoffman said, “a six-day living experience in a park in Chicago, with free food, tents, theater, underground newspapers and lots of rock bands and folk singers.”

Mr. Lampe called the Chicago festival “a cultural alternative to the Democratic Death Condition.”

While the aims of hippies are hard to define precisely, the outward manifestations of the movement are fully visible on St. Mark’s Place and Second Avenue in the East Village and along Macdougal Street in Greenwich Village.

In increasing numbers as the spring nights get warmer, bearded, long-haired young men wearing bits of cast off military uniforms, beaded head-bands and bell necklaces, and tangle-haired girls in long skirts, leather jackets and winter-stained boots throng those streets.

Dress Not Conclusive Proof Though adult residents and visitors to those neighborhoods assume that all young people in such bizarre dress are hippies, this is far from the truth.

Separating the real from the make-believe hippies among the thousands of young people who are living in the shabby, cheap apartments of the Lower East Side is an impossible task, but some adults who come in contact with them believe that the numbers of real hippies are declining.

The death of Linda Fitzpatrick, the Greenwich, Conn., girl who was slain in an East Village cellar last October, shocked and frightened many would-be hippies, according to Inspector Fink.

Newspaper reports of the possibility of genetic damage caused by use of LSD, the mind-altering drug, turned many others away from the hippie life, said Father Allen of St. Mark’s Church.

But both Father Allen and Capt Brian Figueroa of the Salvation Army believe many left to return to college and will be back in May or June as soon as their classes are ended.

“We expect just as many this summer as we had last year,” said Captain Figueroa as he showed a visitor around the Army’s shelter for homeless youth’s at the Bowery and East Third Street

The shelter, formerly a mission for alcoholics, and a coffeehouse called the Answer on Macdougal Street are the Salvation Army’s chief contact points with runaway youths who are attracted to the Village by the hippie life.

“Many of the kids are just in trouble at home and are trying to get away,” Captain Figueroa said. “But others think, they can lead a life of free sex, or get drugs or escape responsibilities down here. We try to show them a better way.”

Of 86 boys and girls who have been taken into the Army’s Bowery shelter since Jan. 1, Captain Figueroa said all but one had gone home to work out problems with their families. The exception was a boy who was not wanted at home and knew it. He has been enrolled in school here until a more permanent arrangement can be made for him.

Father Allen reported that the arts program at his church that is supported by a grant from the Federal Department of Health,'Education and Welfare is attracting several hundred youths who.had gone to the East-Village after having dropped out of college.

The St. Mark’s program includes a drama workshop, film-making and a poetry workshop that meets six evenings a week and publishes a monthly journal.

Father Allen left his church at the corner of Second Avenue for a sabbatical last summer and returned to find many of the streets around his church filled with young panhandlers.

St. Mark’s Place is the street where most of them do their begging. This kind of life is becoming increasingly hard in the East Village, according to shopkeepers and adult residents. A man who runs a clothing shop on St. Mark’s Place and asked not to be identified said, “the police keep chasing them and fewer come back each week.”

“By summer, I hope they are all gone,” he added.

Mr. Lampe, the Youth International Party leader, said the hope of many hippies to live freely was being frustrated all around the country by police harassment. “It makes us all angry,” he said. “It makes us feel we have to resist.”

The Grand Central Terminal spring festival, he said, was an attempt to “give everybody a celebration because we felt we needed it after all the arrests this winter for draft resistance. It was going to be like a spring tonic."

Mr. Lampe said that almost spontaneously the anti-war chant, “Hell, no, We Won’t Go," began and was picked up in many parts of the domed terminal hall.

Mrs. Hoffman said members of Mayor Lindsay’s staff had been told in advance of the party’s plans, but had neither sanctioned the demonstration nor asked that it be called-off.

“If they had wanted to stop us, they could have had the police shut the doors," Mrs. Hoffman said. “But when we got there and saw all the others we thought, ‘How beautiful,’ they’re letting us do it."

The police said the throng of youths began entering the terminal shortly before midnight. They marched back and forth through the concourse singing songs, chanting slogans and releasing hundreds of colored balloons, which floated slowly toward the midnight-blue vaulted dome of the ceiling.

A little after 1 A.M., firecrackers began exploding over the heads of the police and the demonstrators. Then a band of youths climbed on the roof or I the information booth and began spinning the hands of the four-faced clock. The hands of the clock were broken off and the slogan “Peace Now” and other sayings were painted on the clock faces.

The police began moving in wedges toward the demonstrators, nightclubs swinging, pushing them toward-the side exits. Many youths were knocked to the ground. When the crowd had been thinned, the police pulled back and left the others to leave by themselves. The terminal was cleared by 4:15 A.M.

Although the police reported only two injuries requiring hospitalization, another person, Ronald Shay, a 22-year-old laboratory assistant from Baltimore, was admitted to Roosevelt Hospital with large lacerations on both of his arms.

Don McNeill, a staff member of The Village Voice, who was covering the event for his paper, said that the police had slammed his head against a glass door so hard he had to have five stitches taken to close the wound. Mr. McNeill said he was wearing his press card pined to his coat when he was pushed by the police.

More than 100 men from the Manhattan South Task Force and the Tactical Patrol Force were assigned to the station. They were under the command of Chief Inspector Sanford D. Garelik.

[imterriblypleased-blog]

Sherlock X Reader Self harm fic (REQUESTED)

Request:  Hello, i have a request :))) Sherlock, Fem reader - The reader and Sherlock meet on a case where she was hired by the police to photograph a body (shes a professional photographer or something), she's very shy and barely speaks. She and Sherlock are left alone for a few moments and he see's that she has many old, white self harm scars and confronts her about it, and then deduces the rest of her life story including the self harm, anxiety, abuse, Ect; (the rest is up to you!) Thank you! x

Warnings: TRIGGER WARNING. Mentions of self harm, abuse, eating disorders and cancer. 

A/N: This is SOOOOOO long! i got carried away whoopsss. I drifted a little from the original request (sorry anon lmao). This is like a, Father/ daughterish thing? no incest!! I didn't even mean it to be like hey, daddy sherlock?? ANyywayy. word count - 2063. ENJOY.

From the time it took me to kneel down next to the dead body associated with the case I was hired to solve, I’d already deduced all I could about the situation, and knew all I needed to know. I stood up again, taking off my gloves and handing them to john whilst looking straight ahead at detective inspector.

“wrong” I said simply, heading towards the door, ready to leave.

“What on earth do you mean wrong, what do I have to be wrong about” Whined DI, confused and clearly annoyed at my bizarre accusation and satisfied smirk.

I spun around on my feet. “Murder, not suicide. Are you even trying?” I huff, turning back around.

“Explain yourself Sherlock” “This case is identical to tens of others we’ve dealt with, all signs lead to suicide.”

I sigh, take a deep breath, turn back around, and begin. “This man was rich. He has a wife and three kids that live interstate. His wife thinks he’s in the country for a business trip but this was clearly planned for an affair. He was shot on the right side of his head despite being left handed – ruling out suicide. This was a planned attack. He knew he was being targeted. He attempted to flee the country but he was found before he had the chance.” I pause for a mere moment, engaging the reaction of all three people in the room. - three? From the corner of my eye I briefly spot a young girl standing in the corner of the room, retracting herself as much as possible into the small corner of the wall, listening hesitantly, yet intently. Head tilted slightly towards the floor not directly looking at anybody. She held a camera and had a name tag dangling from her neck. belonging to the local police department. She must have been hired to photograph the dead body for evidence. In the few short seconds it took me to notice the presence of the small girl I managed made out the name on her badge – Brianna Christian. A total of 3 seconds later, after also noticing the dumb found expression on my colleagues faces, I continue speaking.

“The apartment we’re standing in is on the 15th floor and the most expensive room in the building, the suit he is currently wearing is high brand and tailored judging by the delicate black stitching tracing both cuffs of his sleeves. Theres a photo of a woman and three small children on his bedside table that has been turned to face the wall, that along with aroma of perfume and the smell of burnt candles indicate affair. As for him being left handed –“

I take a breath. And begin walking towards the lounge area.

“The plate on the coffee table has the knife on top positioned on the left, all coasters and mugs are placed to the left on his chair. Over on his desk he has his business phone towards the right and a pad and pen on the left so he can take notes with his left hand whilst on the phone. Shall I go on?”

Nobody spoke, only stared.

“There’s a newly packed suitcase half slid beneath his bed and his passport is underneath his pillow. He was planning to leave. He realized that he was out of time to he locked both doors and assumed his safety judging by the height of his room but was horribly incorrect as his balcony window was smashed, judging from the size of the shards, from the outside. He was promptly shot, had the gun placed in his hand and ultimately fell victim to a framed suicide attempt.”

 “Now if you’ll all be so kind, this young woman has a job to do and we’re clearly in her way” I say gesturing to the little lady in the corner, obviously too shy to announce her presence herself. The once  pair of silent men, most likely attempting to digest the information I had just handed them, began to hurriedly apologizing, their voices overlapping and racing out of the room, probably feeling guilty for not noticing her waiting patiently for such a long time.  Brianna’s head shot up at the mention of her presence and her eyes dart around the room, anywhere but into anyone’s gaze, she raises her hand, scratching the back of her head and mumbling a quiet, ‘Take your time. There’s no rush.’ Her head jolts to the side, almost like a twitch as she speaks. A nervous tick.

Both men exit the room but I stay in the exact same position. Staring timidly yet gently at the young girl. Deducing her. She has long dark brown hair pulled back into two braids that are only an inch or two off meeting her hips. She’s wearing makeup, but not enough to hide the dark freckles dancing over her nose and upper cheeks. Her eyelashes are artificially darkened and her eyes are accented with a subtle flick of eyeliner. Topped off a with a nude colored lipstick and a small silver nose ring on her left nostril. She’s wearing a black pair of overalls with a tight denim skirt rather than shorts at the bottom – appropriate for the hot summer weather. Underneath her dress she is wearing a tight maroon shirt with sleeves so long they pass the knuckle of her thumb. A black denim jacket tied around her waist and black Boots on her feet. If I had to guess, Id say she’s 17 years of age.

She squirms under my gaze, her cheeks becoming red as she busily looks down and mindlessly fiddles with her camera.

“So you’re a photographer then?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“M - Yep”, I notice her head twitch again. She smiles politely and looks at the ground.

“well don’t mind me.” I say slightly louder, which I notice startles her. “I’ll just need to look around a little more, don’t let me distract you”. I smile.

She nods and kneels beside the body, capturing the wound on his head. I look over from my position on the book shelf and notice her let go of her camera, letting in dangle by her chest. Yank her sleeve to cover her hand, and begin to clean the screen with the fabric over her fingers. As she does this, I catch a glimpse of her left forearm and notice what appear to be bumps and lumps of sort, raised and molded in the fabric of her newly tightened sleeve. Moments later she releases her sleeves from the grip in her hand the bumps disappear back into the thickened piece of clothing. Self harm.

From then on, my deductions become serious and it isn’t until she quietly announces the completion of her task that I confront her.

“Where do you live?” I ask. Staring her directly in the eye, watching for glimpses of false truth in her answer.

“I – I live on Flude street. With my parents” She stutters, head twitching yet again. Lies. “why?” She questions – Her first voluntary word of the evening.

“Where do you really live?” My voice is soft yet stern.  Caring, with a hint of determination. She looks at the ground.

Without taking her eyes off the dark blue carpet, she mumbles. “Smiths street orphanage.” Regular nervous tick in play. My heart sinks. But I don’t flinch, just continue to star gently. After a short pause I slowly approach her, standing slightly closer then needed, and looking down upon her - purely to test a theory. When she automatically leans backward slightly and her head flinches every so discreetly. It is confirmed. I slowly reach out my hand and take a hold of her left. Maintaining soothing eye contact as to reassure her that she should not be afraid. I gently roll up her sleeve to reveal dare I say hundreds, of raised white lines decorating her olive skin from the very tip of her wrists to right beneath her elbow. The scars were of varying size, from very thin to alarmingly wide, some had obviously been stitched, judging by the small dotted scars on either side of the larger of the marks.

For the first time in a long time, Sherlock had to physically pause and absorb information before continuing.  

“Brianna Christian, Crippling social anxiety and paranoia, - “I  begin.

Still staring at the carpet, not daring to consider my eyes, I feel her tense under my grip. Beginning to tick, in the absence of needed to speak. But taking my words never the less.

“You’ve recently overcome major depression, possibly bi-polar disorder, yet still battling with an eating disorder, bulimia and possibly anorexia. Your mother passed away, likely from cancer and your father is an unfit parent. You were put into an orphanage after he was sent to prison for abuse in the house hold, you, being one of the victims.”

I speak with clearly and with confidence.

“The camera was a gift from your mother, all you have left of her. You’re working with the law because it makes you feel protected, invincible as if no one can hurt you – you feel as though you need to help others due to underlying guilt associated with the abuse your mother endured before she passed away“

For the first time, Brianna looked up into my eyes and I’m suddenly aware of her tears and I feel the sudden need to comfort her in the same way a father would. She opens her mouth to speak, and my heart skips a beat in anticipation.

“how” she says simply. Her voice weak and quiet. Tick still present.

“You shake your head when you speak, a nervous tic that becomes present only when your anxiety is at its peak which has happened to be every word you’ve spoken since you’ve arrived. You don’t look at people in the eye and instead at the walls or at the ground. Your sleeve, When you pulled it tight I could see remnants of scarring, a result of self harm due to suffering from depression, major depression judging by the severity of your wounds. Although your scars on your arms have faded fully, the scars on your knuckles have not, they’re not fresh scars, at least 4 months old, therefore – recently recovered. Anger associated depression leads me to believe you also had bipolar disorder. I can tell that you’re amid an eating problem because your hands tremor, just slightly, in moments of concentration right before you capture a photograph, most likely as a result of malnourishment. All your nails are painted perfectly red in exception to your pointer and middle finger on you right hand, indicating purging and therefore bulimia, this along with your current weight which is observably under average, and certainly unhealthy tells me anorexia as well. The necklace you’re wearing is a locket, it is closed with r.i.p L. Christian engraved in cursive on the front, assuming from the pattern that that is a woman’s initial. On your ankle just above the top of your boot you have a tattoo of a yellow ribbon, the ribbon is the symbol for cancer and yellow means you’ve lost somebody to it. And taking from your current living situation and the engraving on you necklace I can assume it was your mother. You flinch when you’re approached and your natural bodily stance is inverted and vulnerable, basic signs of abuse as a child. Since you’re in a care facility one can assume that your father has either died or is in possession of the government for what I deduce is the abuse of you and your mother.”

“Your camera has the same initials engraved as the necklace followed by a heart, it is an old model, you don’t want to get rid of it because it is special to you, a birthday present”

She says nothing. Only falling to the ground and whimpering quietly in shock. I drop with her, cradling her in my arms. I knew in this moment that this would not be the first time I comfort this girl. I will help her through this. And she will be loved.

John and I adopted Brianna Christian that very night, and made sure, and she never felt anything less than perfect every again.

(lmao some sneaky Johnlock there….I COULDN’T HELP IT)

[all-alone-he-turns-to-stone]

A Milky Way gave me breath - chapter 5

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4

Resume of the fic/imagine: Reader is new to Beacon Hills High School. Her first day starts very badly, and the panic rises. Chance or destiny makes sure that a person well-accustomed to panic attacks passes by at the right time.

But a Milky Way can’t take away all the stress… Or maybe…?

In this chapter: Finally it’s the date! Nothing bad can happen… right?

Word count: 2414 (yeah longer for the last chapter!)

Ship: Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Warning: contains social anxiety, panic attacks, but fluff and supportive subject

A/N: finally, the final chapter! I made it longer, and hope y’all love the ending! I really enjoyed writing this story, and I’m happy that so many people like it too; I didn’t think it would be that popular! So since this story is done, I have more time for requests! And I'll also write a void stiles fic!

It was the big day, and a mix of apprehension, fear, nervousness and excitement habited my whole body. The meeting was at 7 pm, in front of the cinema. It was only 5pm, and I was in front of my wardrobe trying to pick up a suit, for already 25 minutes. What should I choose? Simple, with my usual clothes a little big but comfortable? Remaining myself? Or take out my best clothes, those who haven't seen the light since my parents wedding? A dress? A skirt? Jeans? A shirt?

I bit my lower lip, pensive and nervous, my foot tapping regularly on the floor. I had no idea what to put on. Besides, I had not started to do my hair. Should I put on makeup? But we're going to see a movie, in the cinema, where the lights are off! It was useless to try making myself all pretty. Anyway, he was probably going to be more interested in the movie than me. And then, I was back to stress for nothing, like an idiot.

I sat on my bed, desperate, putting my head in my hands. I had tears in my eyes, I felt stupid to worry like that only for a date with a guy … a terribly cute and attractive guy, and oh how nice.

I blush just thinking about it. I got up, wiping my eyes to stare again at my wardrobe.

I made my decision.

The movie was starting at 7:30 pm, but we agreed to meet earlier in order to have good seats and popcorn. Faithful to myself and my fear of being late, I arrived an hour in advance. I decided to put on a pretty pale blue shirt with a simple pair of black jeans as an outfit. And for my hair, I decided to leave it natural.  I also put some light makeup on the edge of my eyes. So there I was, waiting in front of the cinema, the fear and the nervousness giving me very bad belly aches for almost an hour and this, while glancing at my cellphone to look at the time advancing, or If I had received a text message.

Time passed slowly, and the chill of the falling night shook me. I looked around hoping to see him arrive with his pretty smile, but the street was empty, except for the many people entering the cinema, laughing and holding hands. I watched them pass and sighed while consulting for an umpteenth times my cellphone, which was starting to seriously run out of battery.

19:50.

He was only 50 minutes late, and 20 minutes of missing movie, it wasn’t so bad … he was going to come, he promised me.

I put my arms against my body to warm myself. And the time went on, without any trace of the Milky Way boy anywhere. The sky was covering with menacing clouds and the moon disappeared beneath them.

Then the rain fell hard, something I hadn’t seen for ages. It is true that it often rained at Beacon Hills, but each time I do everything not to go out. I hate rain, I found it cold and sad.

20:36.

I closed my eyes with tears running down my cheeks. He wasn’t coming. Why would he come anyway…?

My hopes melted like a candle under the heat of a flame. And despite my hatred for the rain, I went out my shelter to walk home. I had come by bus, but no one was passing at that time. Stiles were supposed to take me home after the movie, but Stiles was not there and would not come. So I walked, one step in front of the other in the water that was accumulating on the side of the road, as sadness accumulated in my heart.

I didn’t notice, however, that my phone had died a long time ago.

Third Pov

“Shit, it really had to happen today, huh? Today, the only day I just want to spend without werewolves or other supernatural creatures that came out of nowhere to kill us? Is it too much asked? ”

“Shut up and help me walk …”

“No, Scott, I will not be silent! It was you who planned everything so that I could ask her to go out with me, one evening, Scott, and that same evening you asked me to come with you to see a dead body at the morgue? "Oh, it will not be long, you will not be late? ”“

Scott spat blood, holding his belly scarred by four distinct marks, scratches.

"I couldn’t know that the body wasn’t dead …”

Stiles rolled his eyes as he carried Scott on his shoulder to help him walk (stagger) into the empty corridors of the hospital basement where the morgue was, leaving a long streak of blood behind them.

“She will never want to talk to me after that, that’s for sure …”

“Stiles! I think it’s more important to settle our situation now than your missed date! "Scott interrupted as he saw the undead body in front of them, threatening, his yellow eyes shining in the dim light.

"Okay, we’re dead.”

Then, out of nowhere came a short-haired girl wearing short jeans with blue-glazed eyes and another girl with long black hair holding a not reassuring at all katana darkened on the enemy like two super entrained ninjas, and succeeded in putting him down in less than two seconds.

Stiles turned his face to his friend with a bewildered expression.

“You are the alpha and it’s a kitsune and a werecoyote who do all the work?”

Scott grunted, shooting Stiles with his red eyes.

“If he hadn’t opened my belly …”

“Yeah, yeah, excuses,” Stiles grumbled before walking up to the girls. Kira ran towards them (towards his boyfriend actually), and came to unload Stiles from his heavy load.

“Scott, are you okay?” “

"Yes, it will heal,” he replied before grinning a reassuring smile.

For his part, the only human of the group grabbed his cell phone to watch the time.

“Shit!”

He glared at the rest of the pack before looking at what a poor state he was, his clothes freshly bought for the occasion covered with blood.

“Run at your house to change, text all the excuses of the world and go join her,” his best friend said by giving him a friendly pat on the back to encourage him.

Stiles nodded and ran off.

His phone showed 20:03.

By the time he arrives at home, changes and leaves for the place of meeting, half an hour has passed and the rain has begun to fall. He had tried to text her almost twenty times, but all his messages remained unanswered. Stiles nervously poked his thumbs against the wheel of his jeep. He hoped she was still there waiting for him. That she would understand and accepts his apologies.

He hoped, but he knew there were slight chances that this would be the case.

When Stiles arrived in front of the cinema, he rushed out of his car without closing the door. Soon he got soaked by the rain. He looked everywhere, shouted her name, called her, but no answer. He even went inside the cinema. Nothing.

Fear and panic began to gain him and he had to lean against the wall to calm his breath to prevent a panic attack. It wasn’t the time. If Y / N weren’t in front of or in the cinema, she had to be on her way home, walking under the cold rain…

Stiles rushed towards his jeep and lit the headlights.

Reader pov

The road was long up to my house, and soaked like I was, I was going to be sick for sure. I was feeling the cold biting my bones. Luckily, the rain masked the tears that didn’t want to stop flowing.

A bright light lit up the street in front of me, sign that a car was about to pass. I walked away, hoping that the driver would see me and not sprinkle more water on me, but the car didn’t pass near me. It stopped behind, the engine still rumbling and I heard a door open.

“Y / N!”

My feet stopped moving by themselves and I rotated my body to look at the person who had just spoken. The Milky Way boy.

To see him in front of me, I didn’t know if I had to be relieved, offended or even sadder.

“You’re late …,” I managed to say after a while.

His face was defeated, sad and guilty. He kept licking his soaked lips and blinking quickly to clear his gaze from the water that seemed to blurry it. Then, Stiles spread his arms as a sign of defeat.

“I’m sorry … I did my best to arrive on time but …”

He didn’t finish his sentence, as if the reason behind his delay was private. I felt betrayed.

“Why … why have you invited me if you’re not even able to find a credible lie to explain why you’ve let me wait for hours, no news or text messages…”

I raised the tone to make myself be heard under the sound of the rain that buzzed in our ears.

“But I sent you tons of messages!” “

I bent my head and understood.

"My cellphone is dead …”

I passed a trembling hand on my face.

Stiles approached me and put his arms over my shoulders.

“You’re cold … come on, let’s get inside.”

I let myself go, sticking to him more than I thought I could. For the moment I was cold and the idea of ​​getting warm again seemed welcoming.

“But we missed the movie,” I mumbled sadly.

“I have a lot of great movies at home,” he answered, smiling.

It was the first time I went to Stiles. And it was also the first time I went into a boy’s room, which, moreover, apologized for his messy room.

After giving me a towel and lending a few dry and warm clothes, Stiles apologized and went to talk to his father who had just returned from work. He had to tell him why a wet girl in his room was wearing his clothes. I took advantage of it to look around. His bed was against the wall, walls that contained many posters. In the middle of the room, now stuck on the opposite wall for space was a big transparent table that police inspectors usually have to solve cases. It was covered with many pictures and unreadable inscriptions. But it wasn’t my business and despite the curious desire to look, I didn’t. That would’ve been rude of me.

I was waiting since a couple of minutes when I realized I was wearing Stiles’ clothes.

His clothes that had touched his pale skin. His clothes with a peculiar smell, a captivating scent.

I made sure that he was still far from the room to put the sweater sleeve near my nose to smell it. Immediately, a mixture of laundry soap and his own odor tickled my nose and raised the red to my cheeks. What was I doing?

“Everything is in order.”

I jumped more than I wanted when I heard him speak and lowered my arm immediately, not subtle. I hoped he had seen nothing!

Stiles lowered his head and scratched it nervously, looking at the ground before raising it, and stretching out his hand towards me.  He wanted me to take it? I didn’t move immediately, hesitant, but ended up taking it. His hand was large comparing to mine, and it was warm.

“Your hand is cold,” he whispered in a low voice before taking my other hand to warm them. I sniffled, embarrassed, and then crossed his magnificent look. My heart got even more excited, and I really hoped it would calm down.

“Yeah, I … I’m a little cold I think …” I mumbled, absorbed by his eyes that never looked away from me.

“I’m sorry again for …”

I nodded my head, not letting go of his gaze.

“You must have your reasons, I …”

He approached me, and I had to raise my head not to lose sight of his face. He was a few inches away, and strangely, except for my heart that was drumming loudly in my chest, I wasn’t afraid. My social anxiety was gone. I just felt very close to Stiles, safe. I didn’t need to hide. Of course, both of us had our little secrets, but at the time, it didn’t matter that much because I knew that very quickly there would be no barrier between us.

“So, you give me a second chance?” he whispered softly as he approached his face towards mine. My cheeks burned me, my legs became weak and my breathing accelerated.

I nodded positively.

He came closer again and I didn’t draw back. I was tired of running away, of avoiding people out of fear of being judged. I didn’t want to run away from Stiles.

So, it was I who take the initiative. I crossed the few inches that separated us and I put my lips softly against his. It was the first time I kissed a boy, so I was a little clumsy but soon Stiles guided me. He put his big hands against my waist to bring me closer and I found myself sticking to his chest. His lips moved slowly against mine so that I could get used to their shapes, textures, taste.

And it was very good.

I didn’t know what to do with my hands so I didn’t focus on them. I let them act on their own. They rested against his face and I found myself stroking his cheeks gently, and even passing a hand through his hair still wet by the rain.

When our mouths parted, I left my hands against his face, which was very close to mine. Our eyes never ceased to look at each other, magnetised.

I was still stroking his cheek when Stiles broke the silence.

“I … I think I love you, Y / N …”

My heart stopped beating as I understood the meaning of his words. But my gaze was suddenly attracted by something my thumb was touching on his cheek and I smiled.

“I love you too … my Milky Way.”

[mindframe64-blog]

The 1861 Union Army Mustering Office - 79 White Street

Born in England, architect Thomas Thomas had established a successful practice by 1837 when he met with 10 other architects to form the National Institute of Architecture, later reorganized as the American Institute of Architects.  His two sons, Thomas, Jr. and Griffith, later joined him, forming Thomas & Sons.  (Griffith Thomas would be remembered by the American Institute of Architects in 1908 as "the most fashionable architect of his generation.")

In 1861 the firm was commissioned by dry goods importer Solomon Kohnstamm to design a five-story loft building to replace an old two-story structure at No. 79 White Street.   Its cast iron storefront included engaged Corinthian columns that upheld an entablature and cornice (the storefront appeared in Dandiel D. Badger's 1865 Architectural Iron Works foundry catalog).  The stone-faced upper floors married the equally-popular Second Empire and Italianate styles.  Paneled pilasters separated the openings.  A centered classical pediment distinguished the third floor.  Arched sashes within the rectangular openings provided the fashionable arched windows necessary to the Second Empire style.

The storefront originally featured the columns and entabulature pictured in the 1856 Architectural Iron Works catalog.  (copyright expired)

Although the 25-foot wide building would not be officially completed until 1862, the Government could not wait that long.  On April 12, 1861 the first shot was fired that sparked Civil War. 

By the end of summer No. 79 White Street was filled with uniformed officers organizing the newly-recruited Union soldiers.  On August 23 The New York Times announced "Commandants of all regiments accepted by the War Department are requested to call upon Lieut.-Col. D. B. Sacket, at the mustering office, 79 White-st., where he will explain to them all the provisions made by the Department, for facilitating the collection, subsistence and transportation of recruits."

The building was also used as an interim barracks for northern units traveling to the front.  In January 1862, for instance the 1,046 men of the New-Hampshire Seventh Regiment were quartered here awaiting further orders. 

The War Department continued to use the otherwise vacant building for military purposes.  On May 6, 1862 Adjutant General Lorenzo Thomas of the War Department wrote to Brigadier General Harvey Brown informing him in part, "Lieut.-Col. Nichols, U.SA., has a building, No. 79 White-street, which can be used as an office of record and reference, and a temporary asylum for men arriving in the City."

The Union Army additionally used the building for quartermaster purposes.  The Mustering Officer, Captain F. S. Larned, announced that on July 7, 1862 he would be receiving seal proposals "for supplying Cooked Rations to volunteer organizations."  The successful bidder would have to supply more than merely food, however.  "Four pounds of Soap and one pound of Sperm Candles to every one hundred rations is to be furnished by the contractor."

When enlistments slowed, the Mustering Office provided an incentive, or "bounty."  On July 27, 1862 The New York Herald reported "By the middle of next week preparations will be made at the Mustering office, No. 79 White street, to pay each recruit on the spot, immediately after being mustered in, the sum of $28, being part of the United States bounty.  This is as it should be, and will greatly facilitate recruiting."

Gallant soldiers who were captured and imprisoned by the Confederate Army suffered horribly.  The New York troops who were rescued and returned home were paid at No. 79 White Street.  In June 1862 Brigadier General Harvey Brown was ordered "to muster for payment about fourteen hundred returned prisoners now arriving...from the Department of North Carolina."  The New York Herald announced "Payment will be made to these men as soon as the muster rolls can be completed."  Unfortunately for the war-weary men, they were not home for good.  The article noted that they were "granted leave of absence for twenty days."

A year before the war ended the Government left No. 79 and the building was leased, as originally intended, to apparel and dry goods firms.  E. S. Jaffray & Co. moved into the third floor around February 1864.  In March the firm placed an advertisement seeking "100 first class cloak and mantilla makers; none but those accustomed to the best work need apply.  Also two or three assistant forewomen and operators on Wheeler & Wilson's and Grover & Baker's sewing machines."  Decades later, in 1893, King's Handbook of New York City recalled that E. S. Jaffray "had surprised many persons by sacrificing to his patriotic principles the great business interests which he had in the South."

E. S. Jaffray shared the building with apparel manufacturer C. W. Griffiths & Co., which moved in around the same time.  On March 4, 1864 the firm placed an advertisement in The New York Herald seeking "Chenille head net and experienced headdress makers," and six months later it was looking for  "A young man or a good sized boy.  Work light."

The substantial operation of E. S. Jaffray & Co. was clearly evidenced a year later when it advertised for "200 experienced cloak and mantilla makers," on March 13, 1865.  The firm was hiring again in August 1866, looking not only for cloak makers but "25 hands to work on lace goods" for mantillas.  That incredible success necessitated the firm to erect its own building at the corner of Broadway and Leonard Street around 1868.

The upper floors continued to house apparel firms, like B. M. Samter's "balmoral skirt" factory.  In 1871 the firm was the victim of a bold robbery.  At about 7:30 on the morning of March 7 a delivery wagon pulled up in front of the building, laden with cloth.  As the driver went in, an opportunistic thief took the reins and drove away.

By 1877 the Continental Corset Works operated here and would remain at least through 1884.  In 1886 its owners were granted a patent for the "Scented Corset."  The firm had gotten a new landlord in April 1881 when the estate of Solomon Kohnstamm sold the building to brothers Marx and Moss Ottinger for $32,300--about $800,000 today.

The Ottingers brought in a variety of tenants.  By 1887 the ground floor had been converted to the saloon of Ferrigan & Smith (who ran another saloon known as Cobweb Hall at No. 80 Duane Street).  At the same time the second and fourth floors were home to book manufacturer Edward Barr, the third held Hartwig Kantorowicz's cordials firm, and the top floor was home to Kronk & Co., cloak manufacturers.

The saloon was taken over by Friedhoff & Meyer when they signed a 10-year lease on April 1, 1891.  Like their predecessors, John P. Friedhoff and Henry C. Meyer operated two saloons, the other at No. 84 First Avenue.

The popular watering hole served Tribeca workers for decades; operated by a succession of proprietors.  In July 1897 the Lembeck & Betz Eagle Brewing Company took over the lease.  It was common practice for breweries to operate their own saloons in the 19th and early 20th centuries, giving them the opportunity of monopolizing the beers and ales offered.  Another prominent brewer, Peter Doelger, took over the saloon in 1899.

Upstairs at the time were L. Rosenbaum & Son, suspender manufacturers, on the second floor; W. J. & L. Schneidermann, "skirts and dresses;" C. Yuster, makers of cloaks and suits; and trimmings manufacturer Rosenthal Bros.

Forty-five years after its completion, the building's age was taking its toll.  The antiquated plumbing caused major problems for sanitation inspectors in 1906.  The Sanitary Superintendent certified that No. 79 "has become dangerous to life and is unfit for human habitation because of the existence of a nuisance on the premises which is likely to cause sickness among its occupants."  The building was ordered vacated "on or before September 16" and a placard announcing the danger was affixed on the front.

Following the necessary upgrades, tenants moved back in, including the long-time L. Rosenbaum & Son (which by now were operated under the name of Great Eastern Suspender Company.  They would be joined by the Banner Mfg. Co., children's wear makers; and McCherry Co. by 1917, makers of handles for rakes, brooms and other tools.

The opening of the Broadway Subway line on New Year's Day 1918 was immediately reflected in the rent of the store at No. 79 White Street.  A month later, on February 16, The Sun reported that it had been leased to the F. M. Lupton Company "at an increased rental of 70 percent, over what was formerly obtained for it."

The publisher operated its bookstore in the space--a drastic change from the former saloon.  The Bookseller described its books as being "from the pens of well-known writers and in superior dress and bindings."  The firm also produced magazines like the People's Home Journal, McClure's Magazine, and the Periodical Press.

Down the block at the corner of White and Franklin Streets was the Hungerford Building, home to the U. T. Hungerford Brass and Copper Co.  In January 1919 the firm purchased the building at No. 81 White Street and leased space in No. 79 for warehousing.   Its architect, William E. Austin, broke through the walls to join the upper floors internally.  In the meantime, William Mulholland, clothiers, had occupied the second and third floors for at least three years.

In January 1921 U. T. Hungerford Brass and Copper purchased No. 79.  Immediately it brought back William Mulholland whose plans called for altering the building "into offices" for the new owners.

Case Brass and Copper Company acquired the firm in 1927, and it would remain in the combined buildings for decades.  Space was subleased following World War II to the Strahs Aluminum Company.

Nos. 79 and 81 have been internally united since 1919.

Then in 1960 the combined properties were purchased by William Abramowitz, head of the Concord Radio Corporation.  The New York Times reported he intended to use the building "for his other electronic enterprises."  Real change came, however, in 2006 when a conversion of Nos. 79-81 resulted in two apartments per floor above street level.

Times change.  Victorian women once labored over sewing machines here.  photo via Douglas-Elliman Real Estate

Sadly almost nothing remains of the historic 1862 Architectural Iron Works storefront.  The upper floors, however, survive admirably.

photographs by the author

Source: http://daytoninmanhattan.blogspot.com/2019/01/the-1861-union-army-mustering-office-79.html

[glitterghast]

tell me more abt the modern au .... pls

okay so i completely let myself get carried away with this au. like…i need to put it all under a cut so that people don’t wind up with a massive wall of text on their dashboards

so yeah, it’s modern day and a poly au and the best way i can think to describe it all is through dot-points. but essentially, it starts before they all even know each other.

Jenny:

- likes girls and guys, with a slight preference for girls

- wears skinny jeans and oversized hoodies, or pretty dresses and cardigans. no in between

- a nurse at the local hospital, works with patsy

- was dating jimmy before she even knew any of the others

- listen,,, poly jenny/jimmy/alec technically kickstarted the entire poly ship in this au 

- meets trixie through some first aid course she was conned into doing at the school

- they kinda danced around their mutual crush for a while before jimmy and alec did the whole “oh yeah why don’t the four of us go out tonight- whoops we suddenly can’t go, guess it’s just you two” kinda thing

- always has to be the first one awake in the morning

- almost always arguing with patsy over how things should be organised. they can never agree

- she swears the most out of everyone 

Trixie:

- likes girls and guys equally. bisexual and not afraid to call you out on your bullshit stereotypes

- no change of fashion from canon

- dyes her hair weird colours

- has a history of addiction that she’s almost entirely recovered from by the time she meets everyone else

- works as a kindergarten teacher

- has known cynthia for a year; lived in the apartment across from her and gives her lifts to work

- dated cynthia before they met any of the others, even if they’d never admit they were a couple

- drinks too much coffee

- needs to kiss everyone before she leaves for work

- is okay with clutter as long as the Aesthetic™ of the room isn’t ruined

- has a huge dog called max who she dresses up in baby bonnets and carries everywhere

- loves the dog filter, won’t rest until she can get it to recognise max’s face 

- tries to be BFFs with her girlfriends’ mothers 

Cynthia:

- aroace. gets defensive when people think it means she just can’t date people

- has that sort of ‘skirts and peter pan blouses’ look, never really wears anything too colourful, always wears stockings despite the weather

- long history of mental illness; has had trixie drive her to therapy on multiple occasions

- works at the local library and bookstore

- volunteers at the parish hall and animal shelter

- (it’s entirely her fault that trixie has max)

- has a therapy cat named mary

- met jenny through trixie. they were kinda awkward for a while but…well this is a poly au so the rest is history

- often winds up the middle of cuddle puddles 

- officially dubbed the baby of the group by patsy 

- actually gets the angriest out of everyone 

- can remember everyone’s routines and eating habits. knows just how each person likes their coffee/tea/hot chocolate and what mug they like it in 

- knows how to dupe everyone else in every game ever. mario kart? always knows the shortcuts and always chooses rainbow road. monopoly? always ends up with hotels on every space. uno? somehow manages to have an endless supply of +4 cards

Barbara:

- fluctuates between saying she’s bi and saying she’s pan. has a preference for guys

- wears cute pinafores and overalls, huge collection of socks 

- has a huge collection of cacti and succulents, calls them her children

- somehow always manages to have a smudge of dirt somewhere

- likes pineapple on pizza 

- works at a cafe in town, knows patsy and delia from how frequently they eat there

- lived with them for a while after her apartment building was scheduled to be knocked down

- effectively the constant third-wheel

- went to school with trixie, had a huge crush on her 

- it takes her ages to figure out that trixie’s dating jenny and cynthia (and by this point that relationship is sorta starting to merge with delia and patsy)

- so it actually kinda takes her ages to join the entire relationship herself 

- (it’s totally patsy and delia who set her up w/ trixie lbh)

- was kinda scared of max for a while

- tries to be the peacekeeper of the group but it rarely works 

- idk whether or not tom exists in this au or not

Patsy:

- trans lesbian

- wears flannel all the time

- “if people can’t tell i’m gay within a second of meeting me, then what’s the point?”

- the only one who doesn’t celebrate christmas, begrudgingly deals with delia going overboard every year 

- constantly exhausted but “coffee is for the weak”

- will kill a man if she doesn’t get nine hours of sleep 

- delia’s high school sweetheart

- gay matchmaker. are you straight? she’ll find you someone that’ll make you rethink that

- tries to keep everyone else on a schedule, but it never works 

- can’t cook for shit 

- like seriously she nearly burned the house down trying to boil an egg 

- wants to be a writer, can’t find a moment of peace 

- A+ comfort-cuddler (needless to say, she’s really bad at seeking comfort when she’s the one who needs it)

- always has a mini first-aid kit on hand (for delia. she’s the only one who ever needs it)

- kicks in her sleep 

Delia:

- really fucking gay but i don’t need to tell you that

- legitimately gets offended when people think she could ever like a guy

- deaf. she’s deaf. the most concrete headcanon in this au 

- had adhd and a lack of self preservation 

- always covered in plasters

- will climb/drink/eat/do anything for money

- an artist, goes from job to job most of the time

- paints on the walls, the ceiling, the banister

- paints on barbara while she sleeps 

- once painted the door handle to patsy’s room because she wouldn’t buy milk 

- gets drunk and gives herself and/or trixie stick-n-pokes 

- takes super long showers, uses the hot water 

- totally didn’t mean to send those nudes to you 

- steals people’s clothes 

Valerie:

- nonbinary

- likes girls exclusively, but has only had boyfriends before (in high school)

- wears horrid 80s fashion (but will always let trixie dress her up)

- plays old video games. she’s really bad at them

- manager at the cafe babs works at 

- went to school with cynthia 

- join the poly group way later

- starts dating trixie and dates only her for a long while (see: nearly a year) before joining the cuddle puddle and moving in

- she and delia argue about pointless shit a lot 

- someone takes their eye off her for a second and she winds up in some small-town jail in scotland 

- sleeps in the latest 

- takes people on the cutest dates 

- rivals trixie for being the neediest affection-wise

so that’s like. the main group. but then you have jimmy and alec who’re dating jenny (and each other) and they’re like…the OG cuddle puddle so i’m gonna include them too even though they don’t move into the same flat like the rest 

Jimmy:

- small bi trans guy 

- like seriously he used to hold the half-inch he had on jenny over her head, and then they met alec and now he has to come to terms with his shortness 

- been dating jenny for like…a while 

- they kind of told people they were dating just so they’d stop asking questions but then it just sort of…became a real thing

- they came out to their parents together because they’re kind of inseparable 

- met alec through working as a carpenter and was like “holy shit i wanna kiss him but i can’t reach his face”

- eventually they came to the decision that it’d be alright if he kissed alec

- so he did? it was very unexpected for everyone involved 

- weirdly enough jimmy’s the start of the poly au 

- shares trixie’s love for the dog filter 

- has This Look when he wants kisses (it always works)

Alec:

- tall™

- dresses all smart and shit but also has a bunch of hoodies (that jimmy and jenny steal)

- is competitive with jenny over everything: finishing books first, getting through the door quicker, giving jimmy more kisses in a day, putting the most juice in their glass without it spilling over 

- doesn’t Get™ snapchat or any other type of social media 

- actually really good at drawing 

- secret art BFFs with delia 

- building inspector; nearly fell through a hole in the ground because he got distracted by jimmy 

- likes to see how much she can annoy jenny before she says something

then there’s like. extra characters who aren’t part of this giant fucking cuddle puddle they’re just there (but they’re important i promise you)

phyllis:

- lives in the flat next to the one the girls move into 

- a retired nurse 

- tries not to be so stern now that she isn’t a nurse anymore

- doesn’t succeed but at least she has a massive soft side

- lives with five cats 

- looks after mary sometimes 

- doesn’t like max at all 

- tries to teach her cats spanish 

- the others worried that she’d be super homophobic but she adores the giant gay family that lives next door 

- delia’s her favourite, though 

- purely because she witnessed her follow patsy barefoot out into the rain, yell “shoe’s are for pussies”, then proceed to climb patsy’s side like a fucking animal and cling to her while the taller girl kept walking 

dr. turner:

- still married to shelagh with all their children dw 

- works with jenny and patsy at the hospital 

- (i still haven’t decided whether shelagh works at the same hospital) 

- he’s basically who patsy and jimmy see about hormones n stuff like that 

- so in the end he kinda finds out about this huge relationship because how else could two of his patients be dating another nurse at the hospital 

- he’s p cool but he’s not really a main part in the au, so i don’t have much of a story for the turner family Whoops 

so that's...essentially it?? tl;dr: jenny knows trixie through work, and meets cynthia through trixie. they meet patsy, jimmy and alec through jenny, and through patsy they meet delia and barbara. and then through barbara they meet valerie. dr. turner and shelagh work with jenny and patsy. and phyllis is their next-door neighbour who probably puts up with far too much shit. this entire response is 6-7 pages in a word document. thank you

[sfiddy]

Watching Pokemon XY

1. That's not how research works, new Prof Tree. 2. Why do we keep seeing the random girl? And random girl's Mom is clearly going to die-- she has 'Mom hair'. 3. There's nothing like having Inspector Gadget as a sidekick. 4. Oh, Ash. Your plans are poor, nebulous, and involve fairy godmothers. 5. Random girl's origin story involves haberdashery. No one cares, though, because she's wearing thigh highs and a short skirt. 6. Fletchlings are assholes. 7. My eyes don't glow when i science. I just swear.

[morganbelarus]

10+ People Who Follow The Rules So Literally That They Beat The System

In a world where we're constantly being told what to do, it's often tempting to rebel against the system and stop doing as we're instructed. But as you can see from this hilarious list compiled by Bored Panda, there's another, more subtle way to fight back against the establishment. How? By following the rules as literally as possible! Don't know how? Then scroll on for some covert anti-establishment inspiration. Don't forget to vote for the funniest!

#1 You Are To Assume The Role Of A Chinese Immigrant In 1870

#2 This Peanut Sale

#3 Mortality Is Real

#4 My Wife Wanted A Run-Of-The-Mill Birthday Party. I Asked Her, "So Just A Generic Party?" This Is The Result

#5 By Customer Request

#6 My Mom Told Me To "Clean The Bathroom Like The Queen Of England Is Visiting"

#7 Breastfeeding Request

#8 Arriva Has Banned Shorts As A Part Of Their Uniform, Offering Only Pants Or Skirts Regardless Of Weather

#9 You're Welcome, Mum

#10 My Wife Asked Me To Take Some Pictures With My New Selfie Stick When Doing Stuff Throughout The Day

#12 Insert Card As Shown

#13 How To Draw A Sheep

#14 Saw This On My Facebook Feed Today

#15 I'm On It

#16 Found Some Amazing Indian Writing

#17 He Chose... Wisely

#18 Can't Argue With That

#19 School District Doesn't Allow Halloween Costumes

#20 Marc With A C

#22 My Dad Asked The Waitress For "One Very Small Check" I Think That She Out-Dadjoked Him In Response

#23 How To Cook Pork & Caramelised Chestnut Stuffing

#24 Girlfriend Told Me To Wear A Plain Tie To Dinner Tonight

#25 Future Lawyer? Was Told He Couldn't Go Outside

#26 Because, Screw You And Your "End User License Agreement"

#27 My Wife Asked Me To Put The Cake In The Oven At 120 Degrees. Took Some Doing, But I Managed It

#28 Hug Left Curb When Leaving

#29 I Never Imagined The Golden Gate Bridge Was As Bike Friendly As It Is

#30 The Poor Girl Actually Stopped Walking

#32 Complying With The Rules

#33 Literally

#34 I Have No Words For This One

#35 When You're Told To Change Ur Shirt Before Thanksgiving Dinner So You Happily Oblige

#36 My Wife Just Told Me She Is Pregnant, And Wanted A Toasty Shower. First Dad Joke Executed

#37 I Noticed This Bottle At A Local Coffee Shop, And Asked The Owner About It. He Said "Health Inspector Asked 'What's This Jar?' And I Said Nothing, It's Empty, And She Said 'Everything Has To Be Labeled' So I Labeled It."

#38 My Brother Got Bored Waiting At The Pharmacy

#39 Why People Don't Obey Signs

#40 Bus Driver Near Busy Stop Ticketed For Letting Passengers Get Off Early Due To Congestion. Reaction: Today Bus Drivers Coordinated To Do Things By The Book And Only Stop Exactly At Bus Stops; Huge Line-Up Ensues

#42 Draw Bridge

#43 My Brother Had To Work, So He Asked Me To Save Him A Little Bit Of Everything

#44 Mom Asked Me To Put The Toilet Paper On The Shelf

#45 Well... Okay

#46 My Parents Are On A Short Vacation And Asked Me To Stop By And "Secure The Dog". Mission Accomplished

#47 This Bathroom Closure

#48 My Wife Asked For A Coach Bag For Her Birthday. Let's Just Say She's Pretty Happy Today

#49 He Was Just Following Orders

#50 It's Not Working

#52 Touch Only With Your Eyes

#53 Roommate Asked Me To Talk To Her Plants While She Was Away

#54 When You Pause And Say "Uh" When They Ask Your Name At Starbucks

#55 Siri Conforms

#56 What A Smart Ass

#57 Malaysian Prince Dons Hulk Hands After Being Told He Must Wear Gloves For Handshakes With Women

#58 It's Not Working

#59 Parking: Nailed It

#60 Valuables Under Watch

#62 Happened To Notice My Neighbor's Car Door Open During A Massive Sleet Storm. She Told Me To Mind My Own Business Last Time We Talked

#63 My Grandmother Has Insisted For Years That "A Good Scottish Country House Just Isn't Complete Without A Wall Mounted Stag Head." My Mum Finally Caved

#64 The Girlfriend Asked Me To Shovel A Path To The Garage

#65 Well Okay, If You Think It'll Help

#66 My Wife Asked For "Laser Hair Removal" For Christmas. She Was Less Than Thrilled

#67 It Seems That Malicious Compliance Begins Young

#68 Please Fall In Line

#69 This Is My Spot

#70 I Asked For The Restaurant To Go Easy On The Mustard And This Came Out

#72 I Was Grumpy When I Came Home From Work So I Asked My Husband For Space. He Handed Me This

#73 So I Asked For Extra Pickles Today At Subway

#74 Ok, But I Don't Think It'll Work

#75 If You Insist

#76 Whoever Runs The Overwatch Twitter Account Knows How It's Done

#77 Take It They Said. So I Did

#78 Okay, Heads Up!

#79 Just Following Directions

#80 The Importance Of Following Instructions

#82 Eat Me

#83 Inaccurate Instructions Are Inaccurate

#84 Roommate Needed A Blank Trophy As A Prop

#85 When You Ask For Sour Cream On The Side

#86 Got It

#87 Last Night I Asked My Husband To Put Some Spaghetti On The Stove So I Could Start Dinner When I Got Home

#88 I Told My Brother To Print Out A Dot-To-Dot For Our Sister. He Came Back With This

#89 Wife Asked Me To Pick Up Tampons For Her

#90 Saw This Above The Urinals In The Bathroom At Work This Morning

#92 Blurry Conformists Are Still Conformists

#93 Just Following Directions

#94 I'm Not Very Good At Drawing, But I Hope This Suffices

#95 Conformity At Its Finest

#96 Conformist

#97 Not Going To Replace The Towel Drop Bin?

#98 When You Go To McDonald's And Ask For An Egg McMuffin With Sausage And Cheese Only

#99 Instructions Unclear

#100 My Sister Asked My 6'5" Nephew To Bring In The Costco Run

#102 Mom Asked Me To Rip Up A Carpet For Her. I Think I Did A Good Job

#103 KFC Told Me To

#104 How To Follow Rules

#105 Radar, Go To Bed!

#106 Filled The Gap With Silicone

#107 They Said Get A Cake On Tuesday

#108 So The Cashier Asked Me For My John Hancock, I Delivered

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10+ People Who Follow The Rules So Literally That They Beat The System was originally posted by 16 MP Just news