#the police action with the highest body count

[vstheworld]

fuck yeah they’re burning cop cars in the street tonight

FUCK COP CITY don’t let anyone tell you this about anything but the blatant expansion of police power at the cost of public resources

[anothermessagetoyou]

Buy Laura K beyond parody a coffee: https://ko-fi.com/normalislandnews

In what is unquestionably the greatest outrage in human history, the International Criminal Court has… has… Hold on, I need a moment to stop myself from crying… Okay, you’re gonna wanna sit down for this one…

Those fucking racist twats at the International Criminal Court have only gone and issued arrest warrants for your favourite war criminals. No, not Biden and Starmer, the other two, Netanyahu and Gallant. Yes, the ICC has made it official that Israel is no longer above international law!

I’ll be honest with you, I’d been in denial all of these months. While I was doing pro-genocide propaganda, I’d always feared it might come to this, but I told myself we would surely find a way out out. I mean when is Israel ever held accountable for its war crimes? Well, today has well and truly burst my bubble. I can no longer gaslight you and pretend Israel is the victim without making myself an accomplice. No wonder I can’t stop the tears from pouring.

The International Criminal Court said there are “reasonable grounds” to believe Netanyahu and Gallant have overseen attacks on civilians and used starvation as a weapon of war, but they overlooked that those civilians do not count as humans. This makes the ICC judges as anti-Semitic as the people who questioned our lies about pogroms in Amsterdam.

One outrageous aspect of this story is that if Netanyahu and Gallant enter any of the 124 member states of the ICC, they must be arrested. If police refuse to enforce the arrest warrants, they risk facing arrest warrants themselves. It gets even more concerning when you consider Biden and Starmer could be next. Who will drag us into World War III then? Trump? Fuck that, I want a moderate form of Armageddon!

Netanyahu has graciously shown his respect for international law by rejecting the arrest warrants “with disgust”. He is understandably livid that his months of blackmailing ICC judges and stitching up Karim Khan KC have not had the desired effect.

Fortunately, Mossad has located a tunnel network under the Hague and I’m told a tactical nuclear strike is not off the table. Other courses of action include banning the whole internet and introducing the death penalty for anyone who waves a Palestinian flag.

Netanyahu’s office explained the judges are “anti-Semitic” along with the overwhelming majority of the global population who are disgusted with Israel. It said the arrest warrants are invalid because they do not include the words “release the hostages” and draw a “despicable parallel between Israel and Hamas”. This is obviously an unfair comparison because Israel’s body count is much higher.

Israel genuinely thought it had a get-out clause by saying it rejected the ICC’s jurisdiction, but disgustingly, the ICC said Israel can’t just opt-out of international law. This is concerning because if police ever caught up to me for my serial killing, I was gonna argue the law doesn’t apply to me.

The ICC judges were so afraid of Israel that they postponed the arrest warrants for months in the hope Israel would stop doing genocide. Clearly, this was an unrealistic expectation. When the genocide didn’t go away, the judges did their jobs without considering this makes rich kids at western universities unsafe. I’m pretty sure this violates IHRA guidelines or something.

Anyways, I’d like to remind you that expressing support for the International Criminal Court will get you expelled from university or fired from your job.

Our approach at the BBC is to pretend there is ambiguity about whether the ICC is the world’s highest court. We’re going to say it would break our impartiality guidelines to accurately reflect what is taking place, but we will be subtle enough to hopefully not get arrested.

You see the hoops we’re having to jump through to comply with “international law”? Free speech is in serious trouble when journalists could face arrest for doing pro-genocide propaganda, isn’t it? x

[androgynousbirdtale]

This is exhausting...

More than three years after Ronald Greene died in the custody of the Louisiana State Police, five law enforcement officers have been charged in connection with the violent encounter captured on video in which Mr. Greene, a Black man, was put in a chokehold and punched repeatedly by officers as he cried out for help.

The charges — which include a single count of negligent homicide for one of the five — came from an indictment handed up on Thursday by a state grand jury in Louisiana, officials and lawyers for Mr. Greene’s family said.

The charges are the first to emerge in a case that mobilized activists and drew widespread scrutiny to the state police, as an initial description of Mr. Greene resisting arrest after a high-speed chase was unraveled by body-camera footage. The video, obtained by The Associated Press, showed Mr. Greene saying, “I’m scared!” as an officer repeatedly stunned him with a Taser.

“They need to be held accountable,” Mona Hardin, Mr. Greene’s mother, told reporters after the charges were announced, describing the development as a positive step that must be followed up with successful prosecutions. “Because if not, you’re condoning the killing of Ronald Greene. You’re OK with my son being murdered if you just give a slap on the wrist.”

The state police said on Thursday that two troopers had been placed on administrative leave because of the indictment. One of them, Trooper Kory York, was charged with the most serious offenses, including negligent homicide and 10 counts of malfeasance in office. The other, Lt. John Clary, who was charged with malfeasance in office and obstruction of justice, was the highest-ranking trooper at the scene.

Two others with the state police were also named in the indictment: Trooper Dakota DeMoss was charged with obstruction of justice, and Capt. John Peters was charged with obstruction of justice. Also indicted was Christopher Harpin, a Union Parish sheriff’s deputy, charged with three counts of malfeasance in office.

“Today’s indictments followed a thorough and extensive investigation by state and federal agencies,” Col. Lamar A. Davis, the superintendent of the Louisiana State Police, said in a statement. “Any instance of excessive force jeopardizes public safety and is a danger to our communities. These actions are inexcusable and have no place in professional public safety services.”

Mr. Greene, 49, had been pulled over just after midnight on May 10, 2019, by state troopers in Union Parish, east of Shreveport in northern Louisiana. The authorities initially said that Mr. Greene had been pursued by troopers because of a traffic violation and that he had refused to stop and resisted arrest. Mr. Greene’s death was ruled accidental and was attributed to cardiac arrest by the Union Parish coroner.

But the encounter was the subject of an investigation by The Associated Press, which obtained and published the body-camera footage. He died after he was beaten, held in a chokehold, and left handcuffed and face down for more than nine minutes.

[littlemisspascal]

Sage & Walnut

Part of The Fox, The Mage, and The Cupboard

Pairing: Pero and Female Reader

Word Count: 2200+

Summary:  Pero Tovar is a man of many personas.

Warnings: Magic AU with mages and familiars, Reader has a backstory + age but no name, worldbuilding, language, fluff, judgmental villagers

Author Note: Takes place before Young Love and after Bayleaf. Thank you everybody for the kind words of support 💜💜💜

Sage & Walnut – LAFCO

Shelves of leather-bound books line the walls of this serene, hushed refuge. Sweet orange notes give way to an aromatic blend of star anise, walnut and juniper sage. The depths of sandalwood, oud and guaiac woods create a timeless space.

~~

Magic is a gift with many manifestations.

For mages and familiars, magic is an internal spark, something they’re born with. From the moment it awakens, they will never know a day without it. Their magic is instinctive, easy to summon, and at its highest power when a mage-familiar bond is forged. 

But for those who are taught magic, those who do not have it pumping through their veins and thus will never be bound to a familiar–they must fight to earn its trust and control its actions instead of becoming puppets to its whims. Because magic without a host body is as much an untamed force of nature as the other four elements. If mistreated, it will turn on the user, transforming a spell into a hex. What was intended to heal will kill, what was intended to protect will bring harm.

With this in mind, you were more than a little shocked to discover Pero, a man renowned for his grumpy and brooding countenance, had been taught to masterfully wield magic in the form of enchantments–a variety of symbols that, when carved into a material, became imbued with power that will last until the lines are broken.

But then again, maybe you shouldn’t have been shocked. 

After all, Pero Tovar is a man of many personas.

When you were in school, he was in the grade above you and you knew of him solely by his reputation as the rebellious bad boy from the neighboring village across Blue Creek Bridge. He was cold and sarcastic with everyone, including the teachers. If he wasn’t falling asleep in the back of the classroom, then he was in detention or having the nurse bandage his injuries from a fight he almost always threw the first punch to start. 

He had only one friend, William Garin, who was the antithesis of every one of Pero’s traits. Where Pero was dark-haired and withdrawn and perpetually scowling, William was blond and friendly with all folks, usually seen wearing a smile on his face. Pero was the delinquent; William was the goody two-shoes. By all accounts their friendship shouldn’t have worked, but their bond was undeniably close, brotherly in nature, and when school finished they left Eldergrove together to seek employment elsewhere.

In the following years you’d sometimes hear rumors in the village square about what became of them. Some claimed they enrolled in the police academy or enlisted in the army, while others alleged a darker fate in which the two became mercenaries, spilling blood in exchange for money. You honestly didn’t know what to believe.

(Even now in the present, the truth isn’t any less murky. Their pasts remain one of the few mysteries Eldergrove’s residents couldn’t crack along with how Ezra Green truly met his adopted daughter Cee and why dandelions could only be found growing in Maxwell Lord’s backyard.)

Eight years later in the middle of spring on a drizzling afternoon William and Pero returned to the village.

At first nobody recognized them. They were older, bigger, muscles strengthened through trials and tribulations they’ll never talk about. A little less tenderfooted and a lot more ironhearted. You had watched them through the window of Zach’s Cafe, dressed in menacing black armor and equipped with an arsenal of weapons, and there was a wild, frenzied moment like lightning crackling across the sky where you wondered if they were grim reapers coming to collect the villagers’ souls.

Then William smiled, bright as morning sunshine, the same friendly grin he was known for as a child. In a matter of seconds Zach’s Cafe was empty, villagers drawn outside with happy greetings on their lips, uncaring of the raindrops splattering against their skin and clothes.

You’d stayed seated, still watching through the window as William was encircled with warmth while Pero was given the cold shoulder. For all that the two men had changed in ways both physical and beneath the surface, Eldergrove’s opinions of them remained unaltered by the passage of time. 

The most shocking moment you remember most from that day is not William announcing Pero and him were moving back permanently or that they’d be starting a business in the old woodshop on the edge of the village which had been abandoned since the local carpenter chose to retire five months ago and moved down south to live on the beach. It is Pero’s eyes locking with yours, an angry scar sliced through the left one.

It is the seconds ticking by, neither looking away. It is his head tilting, an unspoken question. It is you raising your hand and offering the tiniest of waves as an answer.

It is Pero blinking, stunned. 

And then tentatively waving back.

~~

You brought a candle with you during your first visit to William and Pero’s woodshop, thinking it would be a nice welcoming gift, only to nearly drop it when you saw what they’d done to the old woodshop. In the span of three weeks, they’d transformed it from a dusty, cobweb-infested shack into a welcoming cabin with a slate gray front door and wide front porch adorned with several potted plants to give it some specks of color. You suspected that was probably William’s doing.

Only when you knocked did you see the enchantments carved into the doorframe, beautifully done with carefully curled lines. They flickered bright gold when William cheerfully ushered you inside, deeming you unthreatening. 

The woodshop’s interior looked essentially the same as before the two men took over—there was still wood in every direction you turned your head, several workstations for future projects, an abundance of tools and saws and whatever other equipment a carpenter would need for their craft—except for one noticeable difference. 

“Who the hell taught you magic?”

You could have been more polite, but it was hard to remember your manners when faced with the multitude of enchantments carved in neat lines along the ceiling beams, on the edges of the tables and even on the corners of the window frames. Suddenly the change in the woodshop’s exterior made a lot more sense. These particular enchantments were architectural in intent, meant to adjust the building’s characteristics and foundations to suit the needs of the residents.

“Those aren’t my doing,” William corrected, then nodded his head towards something over your shoulder. “They’re Pero’s.”

You turned, only to nearly punch the dark-haired man on reflex when you found him looming mere inches behind you. “Damnit, don’t scare me like that.”

“Apologies, little chandler,” Pero replied, though his brown eyes glittered with amusement. “I just wanted to see what brought you here.”

“I came to bring you this,” you held up the candle before pointing at the ceiling, “but now I’m much more interested in knowing about those.”

“They’re Grand Coven approved,” he said by way of explanation, face going impassively blank.

In hindsight, you’ll realize he thought that you thought he had done something illegal. But you hadn’t contemplated the legality of the enchantments at all, not when you were far more obsessed with knowing how he learned them. 

At twenty-five, you hadn’t had much experience with people who fully learned to control magic. Most didn’t have the patience to be taught or couldn’t find a teacher willing to spare the time. 

“Did a member teach you?” you asked, misunderstanding his point. 

“A former member, yes. He gave me his codex.”

“Former–?” Your curiosity increased tenfold, mind trying and failing to compile a list of names. “Who was it?”

Pero hesitated, glancing at William briefly, then shook his head. “That’s a story for another time, chandler.”

You wanted to press further—to unleash all the questions swirling in your head upon him until every last one was answered—but the mention of time made you remember this was only supposed to be a short visit. You still had chores left unfinished back at the Cupboard.

“Another time,” you echoed with a small nod, hoping you didn’t sound as disappointed as you felt. You offered him the candle in your hands. “Here. It’s sage and walnut with some good luck infused in it, too.”

“We need all the luck we can get,” Pero said, taking the gift from you and sniffing it. There was something about the grimness of his tone that rubbed you the wrong way, magic bristling with apprehension.

“Pero’s convinced our business is doomed to fail,” William stated as if that was supposed to help you make sense of Pero’s meaning. It didn’t.

“What?” Your eyes widened. Then, looking back at Pero, genuinely baffled, “Why?”

“It’s simple, really,” he shrugged, setting your candle down on a table with gentle hands. “People don’t like what they don’t understand and I’m...” Pero trailed off. He didn’t finish and he didn’t have to.

Pero was an adult now, but he would always be the boy nobody understood.

~~

After that, you started seeing William and Pero almost every time you went to the marketplace. Without their armor on, they weren’t quite as intimidating figures, blending in amongst the villagers like they’d never left. At first you assumed they were only there shopping for necessities, but when you happened to overhear William deep in discussion with Ezra about installing a new backdoor in Ezra’s home you realized all these market trips were also about recruiting clientele for their new business.

They were lucky practically everybody in Eldergrove had something wrong with their homes. Ellaria Sand desired new kitchen cabinets after a potion recipe disaster left scorch marks on her current ones; Ben Miller had a hole in his floorboard after roughhousing with his older brother got out of hand; even your own mother put in a request for new staircase balusters, thinking her house could benefit from some renovations.

Their business flourished and Pero’s prediction had been proven wrong. A happy ending if there ever was one. 

Except when you visited your mother and stepfather for dinner one night, you failed to find any enchantments carved into the new balusters. Not even one to prevent scratches or cracks in the wood. 

“William assured me it was an easy job,” your mother said when you asked about it. “I didn’t want to waste Pero’s time, so I told him it wasn’t necessary to come.”

However, that wasn’t the entire truth. You’ll realize it later, how many people didn’t trust Pero inside their homes. 

You thought if only they could see just how gifted he was then maybe their opinions would change. If only somebody was willing to give him the chance to show off his skills. 

In the middle of picking berries from the bushes surrounding the Cupboard of Remedies, an idea struck you, audacious and poorly planned, but brimming with potential for greatness.

“You want me to what?” Pero asked, leaning against the woodshop’s door frame, unimpressed.

“Make me a house.”

“You can’t afford the wood for a house, chandler. Sell enough candles, maybe in ten years I could build you something.”

You stuck your foot in the door before the asshole could slam it on you. “I didn’t say build me a house,” you argued. “I said make.”

He sighed with resignation, opening the door up again. “I can’t believe I’m going to ask this but how exactly am I supposed to do that?”

“Enchantments,” you grinned, wiggling your fingers for added effect.

Pero’s hand twitched, clearly resisting the urge to try slamming the door again. “Enchantments,” he repeated blandly.

“Yeah,” you nodded, choosing to ignore his sour mood. “Look, my grandmother named her shop the Cupboard of Remedies because it’s literally the size of a cupboard, okay? Now that she’s…gone,” your voice threatened to crack, grief still clinging to your heart, but you soldiered on, “I think it’s time for a makeover.”

“So, you want me to turn it into a home for you to live there.” His tone indicated just what he thought of the idea, but you only stubbornly nodded again. He tilted his head, squinting. “What’s wrong with where you’re living now?”

“Nothing, Ginger’s a great roommate. But her and Merlin are starting to get serious and being a third wheel is only fun for so long, you know.” Ducking your head to toy with a loose thread on the hem of your shirt, you missed the softening of Pero’s expression. “And you’re right, I can’t afford to build a house or buy one which limits my options to either renting a room at Zach’s inn or moving back in with my mom for the foreseeable future.”

“Or I help you,” Pero said, arms crossing over his broad chest.

Head still ducked, you quietly agreed, “Or you help me.”

There was a lengthy pause of silence that followed and you felt Pero’s gaze boring into you, as if studying you beneath a magnifying glass. 

“Why me?” he wondered finally.

You blinked up at him, brow creased with confusion.

“There are plenty of builders in Rosedale who could help you out with enchantments. Why do you want me?”

Because you felt sorry for him. Because he was conveniently located. Because the enchantments on the woodshop were the best carvings you’d ever seen.

“It’s a job, Pero, not a marriage proposal.”

Pero barked out a laugh and shook his head, the first real smile you’d ever seen on his face tugging at his lips. “Alright, fine. I’ll make you a house, little chandler. Not like I got much else going on anyways.”

You dug your nails into your palms to keep yourself from squealing, but it did nothing to stop your wide, ecstatic grin. “Can you make it a cottage?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

[arctic-hands]

Each year hundreds of students nationwide are handcuffed at school for minor disciplinary actions with an outsize impact on Black and Hispanic children and kids with disabilities, according to an analysis of data by CBS News' Investigations. 

That data showed Maryland had one of the highest school arrest rates in the country.

...That video begins with officers encountering the child hiding by a car after teachers said he had a tantrum in the classroom and ran out of his elementary school in Silver Spring.

They placed him in the police cruiser and brought him back.

The video, more than 50 minutes long, shows an officer screaming at the crying child and another officer grabbing him and calling him names.

One officer said to "crate him" and he was acting "like a little beast."

Another officer said, "We need to have a conversation with his mom. This is like a little Chucky doll."

Roughly 39 minutes into the video, an officer briefly handcuffs the child.

...An officer even urged Grant to beat her son in the body camera video 

"I can't beat him," Grant said during the exchange. "Why?" the officer asked. "Because I'm not going to prison," Grant replied. "You don't go to prison for beating your child," the officer told her. 

...In another exchange several minutes later, an officer tells Grant, "You can beat your child in Montgomery County, Maryland. Just don't leave no cuts or no crazy cigarette burns or nothing like that. We're good."

We counted 19 times where one or both police officers threatened a beatIng in some manner of the child or suggested that he should be beaten. 19 times in front of him during the entire 51-minute video," Papirmeister said.

Our investigation found Maryland had the country's second highest arrest rate of elementary students in 2017, according to analysis of U.S. Department of Education data by CBS News. That data showed Maryland elementary schools called police on children 203 times in a single year. 98 of them were arrested. Of those arrested, five were white, 82 were Black and six were Hispanic. Of those who had police called on them, 35 were white, 142 were Black and 16 Hispanic....

[maddiwrites]

Family and Hope

Pairing: Routledge!Reader x JJ (Kinda) 

Summary: A month after your brother disappeared, you’re confronted by someone you never thought you would see again, forcing you to come to terms with reality.

Note: I made this a reader x JJ pairing but the focus is more on the relationship with the person who’s introduced in this fic! Also if you haven't yet, go over to my page and read my OBX rewrite and let me know what you think (:

Word Count: 4.2k (Do I know how to write a short fic? No.)

You’ll never forget the day that Shoupe told you he and the FBI “lost” your brother. “Lost” them. Like they were a toddler’s toy that had just been misplaced. No one knew if they were dead or alive, but most made the conclusion that they were never coming back. 

You were ultimately left with no family. After you dad disappeared, all you had was John B. And just like that, he was gone too. Your legal guardian, Ward Cameron, obviously threw you out. But it didn’t take much effort because you weren’t going to go back there anyway. See Ward, whether it be on the streets or on the Local News, nauseated you to no end. You knew he was the reason your dad and brother were gone. The greedy mother fucker would do anything to sit on the highest throne of success and fortune - even going as far as murder. And you knew this world well enough to know that he would never face the consequences of his actions. Because he’s wealthy with an outstanding reputation on this island. And if that wasn’t enough, people now felt sorry for him because his daughter was gone, and everyone blamed that on John B.

Although you were left with no blood relatives, you continue to be surprised by how far your real family would go for you. Mr. Heyward, although always disapproving of you and your friends’ antics, offered to take you in. He promised a roof over your head and food on the table until you turned eighteen so you wouldn’t have to experience foster care. You couldn’t be more grateful especially knowing that he already struggled to support his wife and only kid. 

You tried your hardest to continue living your life as normal as possible. Most days, you pretended like your brother wasn’t even dead. He was just gone. On vacation. Living life. He was coming back. That’s what you told yourself, anyway. You sound like John B when your dad first disappeared. The police called you crazy. Your friends felt sorry for you. But you didn’t care. You weren’t going to give up hope.

Your boyfriend, JJ, tried his best to be supportive, but he was drowning in his own sorrow and grief. He lost his best friend too and truly believed he was never coming back. It was hard for him to get out of bed in the mornings. He was fired from his hotel job, and the couple of people who still let him mow his lawn barely talked to him. The beatings from his dad were worse than ever. Luke almost killed him when he heard it was The Phantom that had sunk. The only reason JJ is still breathing is because the police showed up after one of their neighbors called in for a noise complaint. Since the Chateau was no longer a safe escape - always being investigated by the police - he was stuck in his own home. Luckily, his dad was gone most days, which allowed you to sneak in every once in a while.

You brought him food and water whenever you could, always checking for Luke’s pick up truck before sneaking in through the window. Although you hated how depressed JJ was, it gave you something to focus on. Helping JJ with his every day tasks helped distract you from thinking about your own feelings about John B’s loss. 

Even though it was hard to tell, JJ worried about you. You were running from his house, to Kie’s, to Pope’s, finding anyone and anything to avoid your own feelings about your brother. He was afraid that one of these days you were gonna break. And he was terrified because he didn’t know what would trigger that reaction. 

~ ~ ~

“Oh, good. You’re up,” You crawled through JJ’s window and watched him sip on a PBR can as he looked for a shirt that didn’t smell completely awful. You forced a smile when JJ barely glanced at you and set the coffees and two granola bars on his night stand. “I know it’s not a lot, but it’s all I could afford right now.”

Kie’s father basically fired you from the Wreck, telling you nicely that you were scaring people away. At the end of the day, everyone on the island thought you helped a murderer escape. A murderer you were related to. So you’ve been working for Heyward behind the the counter, making less than minimum wage. 

“Okay...” you drawled out. “Well, I have to get going. Heyward needs me their early, but maybe we can go somewhere tonight? Smoke on the beach or something? Just the two of us.”

JJ looked at you sadly, wanting to say something. But he thought maybe tonight would be better. You were in a good mood - a facade he knew you put on every day to avoid talking about your family. He hated seeing you cry, but he thought if he broke down your walls now, it would help you heal faster. Even if you thought you didn’t need to heal.

But instead, he just nodded and let you leave without saying “goodbye” or “I love you.” A phrase he hasn’t mentioned since John B disappeared. 

You kissed him on the cheek and walked yourself out the front door, ignoring the crack in your heart when JJ turned away from you.

~ ~ ~

A couple hours later, JJ was waking up from another nap when Pope blew up his phone with missed calls and text messages. At first, he immediately thought of the worse possible case scenario. Something happened to you or maybe even Kie. He even let his mind wander to the possibility that they found John B’s body. But instead, what he read, only left him completely confused. 

He rushed over to Heyward’s, hoping to beat you there. 

~ ~ ~

Mr. Heyward didn’t know what to expect when his former friend showed up at his door. He was mixed with all different emotions. Relieved, confused, scared. Behind her was a man about his age. Tall, fair skinned, hair slicked back, and dressed in slacks and a button down shirt. 

“Caroline....what are you doing here?”

“I hear my daughter is living with you now. I was hoping I’d be able to see her,” Your mother admitted, feeling sheepish and a little embarrassed. “May I come in?” Heyward told himself he should slam the door in her face and tell her to go back to wherever the hell she came from. She used to be his friend, then out of nowhere, she up and left her entire family behind, without another word to them or any of her friends. He was hurt and betrayed, and he knew if he was feeling this way, he could only imagine how you would feel. 

But although Heyward loved you like his own, he felt wrong hiding your mother from you. It wasn’t his decision to make whether or not you got to confront her. 

He opened the door wider for her and her husband, he assumed, to enter. Heyward ignored their judgmental gazes as they inspected his home and called out for his wife. 

Mrs. Heyward stopped in her tracks when she caught a glimpse of the blonde hair she remembered so clearly. You were a spitting image of your mother. Long blonde hair, a button nose, and perfectly straight teeth. The one thing you didn’t get from her though was her selfish personality. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” She seethed. Mrs. Heyward loved you like a daughter and felt protective when someone who hurt you so badly in the past came back. 

“Honey...” Mr. Heyward placed a light hand on her shoulder to comfort her and then motioned for the two seats at their kitchen table for your mother and her husband to take.

“Y/N’s not here,” Mrs. Heyward glared. 

“Anne, I know you don’t think I have any right to be here -”

“Right?” 

“But she’s my daughter!” Your mother protested with tears in her eyes. 

Your mother grew up on the Cut too, and just like you, she was able to charm her way into anything. A job, a relationship, a better test grade. There was a time when Caroline, John, Anne and Heyward would cause mischief in Kildare County. But unlike the rest of the group, she was always interested in getting out of the Outer Banks and starting a life somewhere else. She knew she was settling when she married John Routledge so the second a better opuurtunity came around, she didn’t hesitate to take it. Even if it mean’t leaving her family behind. 

“Mom...” Pope walked out from the hallway and looked between Caroline and the man next to her who had his hand on her thigh. He never met Y/N and John B’s mother. Never even seen a picture of her. But looking at her, it was clear to him that this was their mother. You looked just like her, he thought. 

“Pope, this is Caroline...” Heyward hesitated and looked at the woman for clarification. 

“Bennett.” She confirmed and placed her hand on top of her husband’s, interlacing their fingers. “I’m Y/N’s mom.”

Pope noticed how she didn’t even mention John B. He wondered how cold a woman had to be to not even mention her dead son’s name. 

“Go to your room, Pope,” His mother said softly. 

Pope nodded and glanced one last time at Caroline and the man next to her before pulling his phone out of his back pocket and texting JJ. He knew Y/N wasn’t going to take well to the news that her mother was in town. All her life, he heard Y/N saying nothing but horrible things about the woman. You hated her. 

He waited in his room until he heard the familiar revving of JJ’s bike outside his house. Pope ran to the front door before his father could push JJ away. JJ stormed into the house and stopped when he was face to face with the woman he’s grown to hate too. Just like you had with his mother. 

“JJ -” Heyward stood up and approached the boy, but JJ flinched out of his grasp.

“You shouldn't be here,” JJ pointed at her. 

“I- I’m sorry. Who -”

“This is JJ. Pope’s friend -” Anne tried explaining.

“And Y/N’s boyfriend, and I’m telling you right now, she won’t want to see you.”

Caroline nodded as if she understood where JJ was coming from. But Caroline was use to getting what she wanted. Now more than ever. And she wasn’t leaving OBX without seeing her daughter. Maybe even convincing her to come home with them.

“JJ -” Heyward tried to say again, but the room grew silent when the front door creaked open again, which only meant that you were home.

“Hey! Who’s car is out front? I’ve never seen...” You slowly came to a halt when you were met with Heyward, Anne, Pope, and JJ all staring at you with pity and concern. You laughed nervously. “What -” But then you saw her. The woman and her husband at the kitchen table as if they were here for a glass of wine and friendly conversation. 

You recognized her mom immediately from old photographs your dad refused to throw away throughout the entirety of his life. You use to think she was beautiful. Sometimes, you were even jealous of how she was able to look amazing in every picture. Extremely photogenic. 

You never thought about what you would do if you ever saw her again. You never thought the day would come where you would be face to face with the person you grew up hating more than the entire population of Kooks. But you stared into the same pale blue eyes you saw every time you looked in the mirror and your skin burned with rage. 

“What the hell is this?” You looked at Heyward for some answers, ignoring her presence overall. 

Heyward coughed awkwardly. “Caroline was hoping to speak with you.”

“About what?” Heyward glanced back at Caroline. He truly didn’t know why she was here. They hadn’t gotten there yet. 

JJ stepped in front of you and pulled you in close so his mouth was next to your ear. “We can leave.” 

“No,” You shook your head and stepped away from him to get a good look at your mother. “No. I want to know what you’re doing here. What makes you think I want to talk to you?”

“Sweetie, I know you have every right to hate me. But I come here in peace -” Your mother tried explaining, but you cut her off.

“Peace?” You scoffed. “Where the hell have you even been?” “Georgia,” She said. Your mouth dropped open in shock. She was only a couple states below you. “This is Byron, my husband.” You clenched your teeth together and held your stare on the two of them. You didn’t know who you hated more. Your mother or the man who took her away from you. Your mother sighed and looked down at her intertwined fingers with her husband. “I heard about your brother on the News.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” You rolled your eyes. She sounded more like a sympathetic neighbor than a mourning mother. She talked about John B as if he wasn’t her blood too.

“I came here as soon as I could -”

“That was a month ago!” You raised your voice.

“I know,” Your mother choked, starting to get flustered. “I got caught up with work and -” It’s been a while since someone put her in her place. 

“Work? You knew about John B and you cared more about your work? What the hell do you even do, Martha Stewart?”

“Y/N...” Anne said softly, pulling you out of your dark head and reminding you to take a breath. Anne didn’t like her either, but all this yelling wouldn’t get either of you anywhere. 

“Fine,” You took the seat across the table from Caroline and leaned back on it with your arms crossed in front of your chest. “Your here now. So tell me what for. We’re not having a funeral for John B. Not until I see a body.”

Caroline looked at her husband for some sort of encouragement. Although he was unsure now more than ever, Byron subtly nodded his head for his wife to tell her daughter the reason they came up here. “Byron and I...we want you to come home.”

“Home?” You cocked a brow.

“With us,” Byron added. 

You couldn’t help but chuckle - really belly laugh at what you were hearing. You couldn’t believe the ridiculous suggestion she made. You were astounded that she even thought you would agree. 

“We’ve seen the News and read the papers. I mean the stuff you kids have been through -”

“That’s enough,” You stood up.

“We have a beautiful home. You’d have your own room, a pool in the backyard. We even have two other daughters! Ten and seven. They’re excited to meet you.”

You tried your best to ignore her as you grabbed JJ’s arm to pull him out with you. But everything she said was like a ringing in your ears you couldn’t escape. Little did Caroline know, each luxury she threw at you felt like a stab in the back. 

“I’m outta here -”

“Y/N Y/M/N Routledge! I am your mother!” Caroline stood up, her chair screeching against the hardwood. She slapped her palm against the wooden table and narrowed her eyes at her daughter. In her own head, she couldn’t believe how ungrateful you were. She was offering you a new and better life - one that wouldn’t make you dress like your entire wardrobe was from the thrift store, or sleep on your friend’s couch, or be looked at every day as a criminal. She was offering you a new beginning with the only blood relative you had left and you were gonna turn your back on her?

You swiveled on your heels so fast that your head started spinning. Your vision clouded with the color red and your fists clenched against your side. You glared at the woman who gave birth to you - hating how she acted as if she knew what was best for you when she didn’t even know you at all. 

“I don’t have a mother!” You screamed. “She turned her back on us when we were three! I don’t even know you. The only reason I recognized you is because my dad kept pictures of you in frames in his office.” Tears pricked at your eyes and you shook your head. “And I felt sorry for him that he still held onto memories of the woman who seemed so useless.”

Your voice cracked and you hated that you sounded so weak. You wondered what John B would say if he was standing next to you right now. He’d probably be more calm. He’d probably listen to what your mother had to offer and then kindly tell her that the two of you were better off without her. John B use to always keep you grounded. He calmed you down when you were on a rampage or feeling panicked. He taught you reason and discipline. Without him, you had none of that.

“You left,” You continued. “You turned your back on us when we were three. And Dad? He had no idea what he was doing. The man could barely hold a job let alone two kids. But unlike you, he did it. Hell, he even bought me my first box of tampons! He held me through my first heartbreak and taught me how to surf. And just like that,” You snapped your fingers, “he was gone. And you, my so-called mother, still didn’t show up. So John B and I...we became our own parent. We paid the bills, worked our asses off to pay the rent, and passed our classes. I learned to fend for myself because you weren’t there! You didn’t do shit for our family.” You pointed to yourself. “I did. I took care of us.”

“That’s not fair...” Your mother’s voice shook. She couldn’t even look at you as she became so overwhelmed with shame and guilt. 

“Not fair?” You bent down so you were eye level with her and looked at her like she had just grown two heads. “You just listed off all the amazing luxuries you have while I was left with absolutely nothing and you want to talk about what is fair?”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Bryon stepped in and stood up from his seat, placing a hand on your mother’s shoulder to try to comfort her.

“No, I’m just getting started,” You glared at him. “And I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but this is between me and her. And I know she grew up on the Cut and is more than capable of fighting her own battles.” You averted your attention back to your mother. “You don’t get to waltz into my life over ten years later and pretend like nothing’s happened. My dad’s dead and my brother probably is too! I have no one left, but the family right here.” You point to the people behind you. Mr and Mrs Heyward, Pope, and JJ. “And I’ll choose these people over you every single time. So no. You’re not my mother.” You looked her up and down. “You’re nothing to me.”

You spun around on your heels and grabbed your back pack on the way out. 

“Y/N...” Mrs. Heyward tried calling out to you, but no one really tried to stop you. They knew you needed to get out from under the same roof as your mother, the woman behind all your anger. 

“I got her...” JJ told the Heyward family quietly. He glanced at Pope, who nodded once at him, before walking out of the house to find you. Only you were already gone and your bike was missing. 

Your feet moved faster than your head. You didn’t know where you were going, you just knew you had to get as far away from that woman as possible. Your tears made your vision all blurry and your brain pounded against your skull. Your throat felt like sandpaper with every heavy breath you took. 

You practically fell off your bike in front of the one place you had been avoiding for weeks. It looked just like how you had left it, only now it was wrapped in yellow caution tape. Shockingly, no one was here. No police, FBI, or any other government official. It was just you and your thoughts. 

You pulled the squeaky porch door open and were immediately flooded with memories. Empty beer cans and the butt of old cigarettes and blunts littered the floor like you were all lounging here yesterday. Guess CSI doesn’t hire a clean up crew when they are done. 

You took another step into your house. Your brother’s room was to your right, his door open, enticing you to go in. But you couldn’t. Your heart twisted in your chest at the thought of John B. He should have been here. He should have never left! How could he? He was your brother. Your older brother, even if it was only by a few minutes. He was supposed to protect you. He was supposed to scare off all the boys who showed interest in you, yell at you when you’re bathing suit showed too much skin, take care of you when you were sick, help you with your homework, be the cool uncle to your kids one day. And he was gone. Everyone was gone!

You didn’t remember how it happened, but you were in your dad’s office. This place use to be a mystery to you - a room where your Dad hid most of the time and locked when he wasn’t home. You always wondered what was so special about this room. Now you knew it was nothing. It was a curse. This room was the reason your dad and brother were gone. 

A screech ripped from your throat as your swept your arms across your father’s desk. Everything on top, papers, paper weights, pens, folders, all clattered to the floor. With all your strength, you flipped the desk over on its side. The wooden floor rumbled under your feet when it fell with a bang. 

Your breath hitched in your throat and you felt like you couldn't breathe. You stepped back until your back hit the wall. Your fingers raked through the hair near your scalp and you pulled on the roots. You body slid down the wall until you were on the ground. You cried into your knees, weeping for your brother and dad. You have never felt pain like this before. You were physically healthy but it felt like someone took a vacuum into your body and was sucking the life out of you. 

You didn’t even hear anyone else come into the house over your loud sobs. It wasn’t until you felt arms wrap around you that you looked up. JJ pulled you into his chest, curling you so that your body fit perfectly against his. He whispered against your head and kissed it after every sentence. He told you it was going to be okay. 

“He can’t be gone,” You cried into JJ’s shoulder. “It’s not fair!”

“I know,” JJ mumbled against your hair and pulled you in tighter. “I know. I’m sorry.” He felt like the worst boyfriend ever. He knew this day would come and he took advantage of you avoiding your own grief by drowning in his own. He should have been taking care of you, making you open up about your brother so that it didn’t all hit you at once like it did now. 

“I have no one.”

“No,” JJ shook his head. “That’s not true. You have me. Pope and Kie, we’re all going to be here for you. And screw your mom. You don’t need her anyway.”

For a split second, you forgot about your mom and how she wanted to take you back to Georgia. But you knew she wasn’t your real family. Not anymore. You were right when you said you had all the family you needed. The Heywards, Pope, Kie, JJ. You weren’t alone. You still had them.

“I’m sorry,” JJ said again. “I should have - I should have done something. I should have been there for you -”

“It’s okay,” You placed your hand delicately under his jaw to make him look at you. “You’re here now and that’s all that matters.”

“I love you.” Your heart swelled, forgetting the way those three words made you feel. Safe, loved, comforted. “And if John B’s out there, he’s going to come back.” JJ remembered the promise John B made him swear by before he left with the Phantom. How he made JJ promise to protect you no matter what. Even if you were to go through a nasty break up. He was supposed to be there for you. “There’s still hope.”

“Hope,” You repeated, tasting the word on your tongue. You still had hope.

[flightlessnightingale]

Police attacked medics during the Minneapolis BLM protests last summer. They turned my city into a war zone and destroyed those trying to save it. They held us hostage. Here’s just one of my stories:

I was volunteering in an emergency medical triage center outside the Kmart at Lake St. & 32nd in Minneapolis. It had gotten too late for me to get home safe, and I wanted to be nice to my mother; stay out of harms way. I decided to stay out of the protests, and volunteer for the night at the Kmart Emergency Medical Triage Center. Built out of salvage by volunteers in a single day, it was a breathtaking symbol of what a community can do to support each other. I wish that more could have seen it. People coming out of retirement to help their city. University of Minnesota Med students coming as far as Morris and Rochester.

When curfew hit, we were given the order "If you're not here to help, LEAVE. Whoever comes through those gates, we help. I don't want A. C. A. B. preventing anyone from saving anyone else's life." Despite agreeing to treat both sides of this conflict, only one side got hurt, and the other attacked us.

I saw what I realized to be an Long Range Acoustic Device (LRAD) in the distance, atop an armored vehicle moving towards us and away from smoke I had not seen earlier that day. Hundreds of people ran past us, one ran up yelling "You gotta get out of here man." One of the organizers stated "We're medical, we're allowed to be here." The man cried out bluntly, urging us to seek shelter. "They don't care man, they don't care." We were treating multiple patients, themselves victims of police brutality, when a wave of dozens of law enforcement officers shot us until we were forced to abandon our post. The armored vehicle was with them, a sniper next to the LRAD. We had red cross insignias and had our hands up and were shouting "MEDIC. MEDICAL"

They said nothing. No announcement, just silence and gunshots. And the LRAD 1000, which made it feel like I was underwater, like both my body and brain were being attacked but in a way neither could comprehend. An LRAD 1000′s maximum operating distance is 3,000 meters, but its minimum is about 1,800. They were far below that. As my hearing became muffled, they just kept shooting. They shot at nurses and med students trying to save limbs and lives. Until we were forced to abandon both our patients and supplies. As I looked back I saw teargas billowing out of our hospital made out of salvage, ruining thousands of pieces of medical equipment. The leader of my station, station 4, was a retired and currently homeless veterinarian. She had been in a car crash in 2017, and could not run. Earlier I had offered to carry her to safety if necessary, even had her jump on my back. I never got the chance, and I hope to god she's alright.

We were split into 5 stations, stations 1 and 5 were the intensive care units, with ponchos on to shield from blood. My station treated a highschool girl whose hand was blackened by a teargas canister she picked up with her bare hand and lobbed back at the cops, away from unarmored civilians. That is honestly my only knowledge of any aggressive action by protestors at that point in the night. Talking with a friend who stayed with the protest, he said that even much later in the night, at the highest points of protester violence, all they threw were rocks, bottles, and insults. Not only was this a peaceful protest, but they were attacking a clearly designated emergency medical center along with these peaceful protestors.

Police Approach Kmart Emergency Medical Triage Center Police Attack Kmart Emergency Medical Triage Center WCCO interviews a college student who volunteered at Kmart Emergency Medical Triage Center

The last video has jarring personal testimony from someone on station 5.

We walked slowly at first, remaining calm, our heads tilted down so that they couldn't scan our faces. We thought it was a false alarm; an attack on a Medical Center in a war zone is a crime against humanity. We stopped for just a moment. The bullets started hailing down so much faster, and I ran, I ran as fast as I could.

I spent that night hiding in the concrete basement of an apartment building with a bunch of medics and volunteers. Not from rioters, and only barely from white supremacists. From the same cops I was so excited about saving the lives of. We had our muffled hearts beating out of our chests as we heard commotion upstairs. It was a highschool boy dragging his girlfriend to shelter. The girlfriend's face had a laceration and massive swelling from being hit in the face with a rubber bullet, and would likely have lost the eye if her boyfriend hadn't accidentally sought refuge with medics. There were search parties hunting medics, we saw cop lights through the windows. We had to work by lantern light to hide from them. Later heard news that tires in the back lot of the Kmart were slashed. LEOs, including St. Cloud police, admitted to press they slashed said tires. (conveniently leaving out that they were medics’ and journalists’). The next morning there were white supremacists circling the streets.

I later found they slashed every single tire in that lot, including the cars of multiple journalists, including international. Police attacked a clearly designated and currently active medical encampment, gassed their supplies, and slashed every single one of their tires. The Multi-Agency Command Center on Civil Unrest (MACC) announced that the tire slashing was a necessary adaption to cars being used as weapons by rioters. This was true in the days prior, but this was a peaceful protest. The MACC announcement and the tire slashing at the Triage Center were in minutes of each other. We believe that MACC's statement was a cover-up for that part of the attack. Which makes sense, given that the MACC tip line sends you to 2 places, the FBI, and the Minneapolis Police Department.

I grew up watching M*A*S*H*, I truly love the show. I was excited to help anyone I could. Instead of treating U.S. troops, we were attacked by them. They’re only exempt from being war criminals because it doesn’t count when you do it to your own citizens.

The girlfriend's favorite song is You Got Me by Erykah Badu & The Roots. A few days later, I talked to the girl who held a teargas canister in her bare hand, at a protest outside the governor's mansion. She was genuinely hopeful despite what she'd been through. Both were able to receive the medical treatments they needed thanks to generous donations.

[bakugohoex]

chapter one ➺ auld rivals

pairing: pro hero katsuki bakugo x pro hero female reader

cw: language and angry boi

word count: 2000+

a/n: omfg sorry for positing this at midnight but hope you guys like chapter one i think it’s starting off good so far and this is defo a slow burn so don’t expect action until later on

summary: in which you and bakugo are rivals always competing against one another, you get called into the commission late at night, unbeknownst that bakugo is there you arrive expecting nothing important but instead are met face to face with the president herself

masterlist | chapter two 

↞ back to my hero academia masterlist

Blood dripped from the side of his face, his breathing heavy and resting on his lips was a smirk. The god damn cocky smile that you wanted to punch out of him. “Fucking hell Y/n only 10 people saved, someone’s doing shit.” You scowled how could he talk about saving people when you were the one who was making sure buildings stopped falling on him and the civilians.

All his quirk was bang bang explosions, nothing special. Yours on the other hand telepathy and psychokinesis one hundred times better than shitty Bakugo’s quirk. He would always prance around acting like a penguin with his ass on fire as if he had been the one saving people. All he did was carry them away, you on the other hand, stopping buildings and rubble fall off them with your mind. 

It was a lot harder than Bakugo thought, one wrong thought and everything would come crashing down. But what did you care? His opinion meant nothing and as long as the people were saved that’s all that really mattered. The  stars guided the darkness like a picture-perfect scene, the only torments being the blond beside you explosions in hand and the A rank villain in front of you. 

“Let me handle this.” You were going to have your glory if it was the last thing you’d do, you didn’t want the glory of praise and admiration. You wanted Katsuki Bakugo on his knees admitting that you were better than him. 

You activated your telepathy going into his head, “don’t you fucking dare.” He was unable to move and that’s all you wanted him to do, his silence and lack of movement confirmed he was obeying you before you turned to the villain, their quirk seemed to melt away things it touched. 

You ran up to it, the sweat falling down from your body. You had made a hero costume which suited you and had easy mobility allowing you to not only use your psychokinesis to trap the rubble around the villains arms but to easily run and jump onto objects to kick the villains down. Their arms became trapped as it had already begun to melt away the concrete that you latched onto it and before you could use your quirk you felt the melted away rubble hit your body. 

“Fuck.” A low whisper came as you could hear Bakugo’s thoughts, the hatred he had pent up to you but his inability to move suppressing him. Maybe it was selfish to let your own aspirations get in the way of a quick defeat, but where’s the fun in that. 

You used your quirk effectively getting inside the villain as you prevented it touching anything before grabbing the discarded metal from the destruction that had been caused prior. Metal surrounded your arms as you made it move along with your walking. Both your quirks in action before you pushed everything you had onto the villain. Their movement limited as they were trapped underneath, you heard nor saw no movement and the smirk you felt on your face rise made Bakugo’s blood boil. 

You stopped manipulating Bakugo as he ran towards you quirk raised, you could almost feel the explosions and burning sensation his pace quickening. “Bakugo don’t you dare, or I’ll get inside your head again and we both don’t want that.” 

Telepathy took a toll on you the majority of the times, hearing thoughts and emotions wasn’t something you were too fond of doing. The villain in question had transformed back into a human having previously been a sluggish type of creature, he was knocked unconsciousness, you both saw the police force come and arrest him. 

“Don’t you ever fucking do that shit again Y/n.” Bakugo raised his voice catching the attention of the police force and commission representatives. 

You crossed your arms raising an eyebrow, “I’m the one who defeated the villain.” He was furious, the rage that filled inside of him was more than he could ever imagine, and it was going towards a pipsqueak like you. 

“You got into my head and prevented me from doing my job you dumbass.” His knuckles had turned white at the clenched fist he was making. You had pissed him off and all you could give him was a shrug. 

“Shitty woman.” He could say all he wanted about you, but you didn’t care. 

You didn’t expect him to get on your knees for you, but you were doing your job, and logically you knew that if he used his quirk it would have no effect on this type of villain. You were able to suppress and defeat him and with both you and Bakugo fighting together the chances of risk increased. It wasn’t that you assumed the level of  risk would be high, you knew you had worked it out whilst preventing rubble from falling from civilians. And one of the likely outcomes that had the highest percentage was Bakugo melting away. 

You would never tell him you suppressed him to save him, you’d rather he be pissed with you then even consider that you two were more than rivals. He had left to go back to the agency, whilst you explained what happened to the police force knowing you’d be the one to have to do the paperwork. 

You signed walking back as well, it had reached pitch darkness by the time you arrived back, stripping the costume off, the long-sleeved black leotard covering most of your body, with exposed legs which were covered by thigh highs that went right up to your mid-thigh. 

Your quirk didn’t mean you necessarily needed any fancy costume but the one you wore made it easier to move especially the gloves on your hands which allowed for more materials to be controlled around your fingers. It was a benefit of some sorts; a black necklace went around your neck which allowed for a lack of nausea to occur. It was common for you to vomit up after controlling too many people back in your UA days but now it was less common, only a mild headache occurring. 

Wearing normal clothes, you grabbed your bags knowing your patrol was over and you could have a weekend of relaxation. Mina and Momo having invited the girls for a catchup, it had been months since you last saw them and to have a catchup on life events was a must. You all had been busy and as you all grew older the busier everybody got, even the boys seemed to have their own lives. You didn’t mind but working alongside Bakugo in the same agency was a pain, you never expected it once graduating together but now you and Bakugo were like auld rivals. 

You saw Bakugo at the front entrance he was on the phone as he paced back and forth. Probably one of his hook ups telling him he’s the father, you didn’t dare look into his thoughts, it was his private life and in honesty it made you uncomfortable. 

He saw you walking out, you easily passed him he was still pissed by how his voice raised even more. Someone had made him even angrier than before clearly; you didn’t bother to ask mainly due to not caring. 

A couple signs and vulgar swears came out of his mouth, you didn’t know if it was a friend, mother or even some from above but you stopped caring once you heard something from your bag. 

Your phone ringing loudly, you hated phone calls even from your own parents, the idea of talking to people wherever you were was disgusting. That didn’t mean you hated people you just liked your own space and liked hanging out with people on your own accord. You answered the unknown number you were met with someone you never expected. 

“This is Y/n Y/l/n.” They were almost unsure themselves, why call if you don’t know if you’re talking to the right person. 

“Ugh yeah.” You were hesitant not liking the weakness of not being able to hear or know the other person’s thoughts on the other side. 

You heard a sign of relief as they spoke again, “thank God, we thought you had been sent to the hospital, it’s the Hero Public Safety commission, I work under the president and we want to see you.” 

“You didn’t have to make it so dramatic” You mutter barely audible, “I’ll be there.” 

She says no more hanging up, you hated being called to the commission, they had no need to directly go to you when they could just go to someone who truly cared about the formalities, all you wanted to do was save people and piss Bakugo off, but no something always seemed to happen. 

You turned around walking back the way you came from, passing the agency, Bakugo had probably already gone home himself. Why the fuck did you have to go to the commission why couldn’t that shitty man get called in as well? 

You didn’t hate Bakugo you were just tired and hated how he could go home probably to a nice warm bed whilst you had to take detours for hells know what reasons. 

Finally arriving after your unrelieved feelings had become dull to bare, you walked inside a man already waiting for you. You followed trying to get some sort of vibe from the man, you couldn’t bare to read his thoughts knowing it’d be emotional with anxieties over work so tried to look at him seeing if he had anything to him that showed hope. 

He didn’t! He led you to the presidents office after a silent ride u the elevator, you didn’t mean to stare at the man, but you wanted to know if he had any clue of what was going on. And when you did finally get into his brain it was more worries about if his wife would let him in the house for being late. 

A bore as you had thought, the double doors enticed you to come forward, someone was already waiting in the chair as you walked in, what you hadn’t realised was a woman had been walking back out. You both crashed into each other and her papers fell everywhere, using your quirk you gathered the papers quickly preventing them for falling on the ground and getting muddled up, the papers rested back in her arms as you helped her up. 

“Sorry I wasn’t looking where I was going.” You hummed an its okay before seeing the president. It was a shock to see her the one leading this meeting but you didnt ask just wanting to get it over and done with.

“Agh Y/n so glad you could join us, take a seat.” At the sight of your name being spoken the man quickly turned his head, and it was someone you hadn’t expected. 

Bakugo sat on the chair, angry as always. You sat beside him, his glare on your body, he watched intentively as you tried to make him stop by glaring back. 

“What’s the stupid psychic doing here?” You continued to glare but at the word psychic you got pissed, you weren’t a stupid fake psychic and it irritated you when he said it.

The president watched you both glaring it was a sight to say the least, you were on the verge of pushing his chair over and you could already sense explosions about to appear before she finally cleared her throat before speaking. 

“We didn’t call you both here to fight we have a proposition for you two.” You both gave blank looks before Bakugo spoke. 

“If you want us to do some shitty work in other fields than I’m already out.” Bakugo was ready to leave. You nodded in agreement not wanting to be involved as some promoter for a shitty energy drink to be sold to the youth. Both ready to leave on your own accords, the president finally turned away looking out through the glass windows admiring the stars and the moon which shone throughout the blues and blacks of the sky. It was a river of opportunity that you had often admired whilst on patrols. 

She spoke again but this time the next words that came out of her mouth had stopped you both in your thoughts. “What do you two know about the Paranormal Liberation Front?”

i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

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@samusimp @alaina-rose13 @crispychannie @underratedmage​ @jennammaee​ @cathy8taffy @sugacious​ @moonlightaangel

[portugalisinsa]

In my desperate attempt to sleep I ended up thinking about copaganda and how the term as been abused and misused, so let me rant about it for a little bit

So “copaganda” means a specific thing, namely, a piece of media that pushes propaganda for the police, implying that the police is Great, Actually, and Don’t Worry Your Pretty Little Head About It. Cops is an example of that. Blue Bloods is the poster child.

However, as it always happens, a specific term that is actually Important enters the mainstream and loses its meaning because of people, and now it’s being used by many as “movie and/or show that’s about the police and/or has a police character that isn’t a total dick, which obviously means that the movie and/or show is bad”.

That’s obviously bullshit, and I will show that with Edgar Wright’s great masterpiece Hot Fuzz.

On the surface, a complete dumbass would say that Hot Fuzz is copaganda. Nicholas Angel is shown as good! The final act is a big shooting! Of course it is, right?!

Wrong.

Alright, so, Hot Fuzz begins by showing us Nicholas Angel and how fucking awesome he is. There’s what you would expect (urban pacification, riot control, resolution of “Operation Crackdown”, highest arrest) but, most notably, there’s a degree in Politics and Sociology, and they specifically mention popularity within the community. In fact, in the rest of the movie, that is what he mostly does- community work. He checks the traffic, patrols, gets minors out of a pub, and tries to find a duck for a member of the public.

So Nicholas Angel is awesome, and he’s the best cop. it would naturally follow that the rest of the police would love him. That’s what we want- if you’re good, you meet your objectives, and do your best, you will fit in the police and make the world a better place!

But no, the others fucking hate him. His superiors are shipping him off because he’s too good. He’s making the others look bad, and the idea of, you know, holding everybody at a higher standard doesn’t touch them. No, Nicholas Angel makes them look bad, and looking good matters more than all the results he gets.

Now, it would be easy to make it look like it’s just a higher up problem. The higher up are lazy and image obsessed, but the common officers, the ones we all meet, they’re good and appreciate him. “Don’t worry, public, we’ll protect you even though our superiors are dicks.“

Nope, they fucking hate him too.

So already, not a glowing endorsement of the police. But hey! It could still be copaganda! Maybe, I don’t know, it’s just those city cops, and the country cops are actually the good guys!

Ahah lol, actually? The country cops fucking hate Angel too. Angel is a “city cop” who thinks too highly of himself and is there to show them how it’s done.

If you’re reading this, you may remember that Angel kinda never did anything other than, you know, be a by-the-book officer. The country cops don’t like him for completely bullshit reasons that can be summarized as “you’re new and also you’re trying to make us feel bad for not being as awesome as you by being that awesome and we don’t trust you go away”. Danny likes him, admittedly mostly because he’s a sweetie pie, but partly for the bad reasons- he wants soldier cop.

All of this is, needless to say, not a glowing endorsement of the police.

Eventually, we find out what made Angel want to become a police officer; his uncle was one. He admired him, and wanted to be like him. Now, Edgar Wright could have left it at that, and we would have had a nice, traditional “amazing cop comes from long, noble line of cops” story, but instead, we instantly find out that, actually, his uncle was corrupt, and that’s bad, and Angel is disappointed in him.

So, to recap- we’re basically halfway through the movie, and the only good cop is Angel. (Danny isn’t bad, but like... he’s not exactly good either, at least as a police officer)

The movie continues, and murders start to happen. Angel is literally the only one who thinks anything is wrong. A long, long string of “accidents” is happening, and none of the cops has even the slightest inkling that something is wrong. They’re just like “Angel, you nipped scarf, you’re a paranoid dum-dum“, and what little they do, they do after a lot of arm-twisting and with extreme disgruntlement.

Once again, not a glowing endorsement.

On and on we go, two thirds into the movie, with only Danny liking Angel and showing any kind of improvement as an officer, until we finally get to the revelation that the council is killing people for the greater good (the greater good)... Oh, and btw, who is also part of the council?

The Frank Butterman, AKA The Police Inspector, AKA THE FUCKING LEADER OF THE POLICE IN THIS TOWN.

So, to recap, by the final act of the movie, we find out that the higher ups are corrupt and the main body of the police are ineffectual.

Okay. Cool.

Nicholas Angel then proceeds to pack up for the final showdown. I see lots of people making the argument that this is an example of soldier cop, fixing everything with violence. Me, I think that’s bullshit. In real life, the problem isn’t that cops have riot gear, the problem is that they use it for everything. Riot gear is something you use only when strictly necessary, and I would argue that “murderous council that’s packing” is one of those times when it is.

So the riot gear and packing up is fine. But what about the violence, I hear you cry?

Well, here’s the thing- the man is responding with the appropriate amount of force. Everybody is trying to actually murder him, and he never, ever shoot to kill. He shoots to incapacitate.

Look at the final body count, people. You think Bad Boys would have ended such a show up with none dead, lots low-to-medium injured apart from one guy who was badly injured but did it himself by tripping on a pointy thing? Fuck, even outside of copaganda, what was the last action movie that had such a body count?

Also, the rest of the country police come around, after initially responding AGAINST Angel, and only thanks to Danny mediation. Which... I mean, good, it’s good, I’m very proud of them, but like, once again, this isn’t exactly glowing endorsement. This doesn’t scream “see, audience?!?! Cops may look ineffectual, but when push comes to shove, they’ll save you!” to me, this screams “yo, they’re finally doing the bare minimum”.

Anyway, the end comes. The London police wants Nicholas Angel to come back because now they look bad, but Angel wants to actually rebuild and direct the police here in the town. They all do paperwork, because that’s what the rules say and rules are important and cops should follow the rules, and more stuff happens but it’s not important for the purpose of this so, here, the end.

At the end, we get the song. The choice of music is important for a movie, it means stuff. Even a mediocre director knows that, and Edgar Wright is a goddamn master of the craft. Have  you seen The World’s End? Check that soundtrack. It’s perfect. Hell, the man directed Baby Driver, which, you know, was half soundtrack. Edgar Wright cares about music in his movies and he chooses it carefully, is the point, okay?

So, keeping in mind that, what do we end Hot Fuzz with? Some bombastic “bad boys bad boys, whatchu gonna do, whatchu gonna do when they come for you”? Something that pumps you up, that makes you go “FUCK YEAH”?

We end it with “Caught by the Fuzz”, by Supergrass. Which, yes, slaps, it slaps my whole bod, and yes, it does pump you up, but, once again, is not a glowing endorsement of the police. It’s a song from the point of view of a scared teen having been arrested by the police who is thinking “fuck I should have stayed at home fuck”.

So what am I trying to say with this? Well, let’s start with what I’m not trying to say; I don’t think Hot Fuzz is an indictment of the police. Please don’t take all of this as me saying that Edgar Wright intended Hot Fuzz as a giant ACAB. That is what in the field we call a reach. Hot Fuzz isn’t an indictment of the police, and that’s fine, because it’s not trying to be. It’s showing the police as a highly flawed institution, and sure, it’s not showing it as flawed as it actually is, but that’s fine, because it’s not trying to be The Wire. What it is trying to be is a fun action movie, which it is, and it is so amazingly.

What I am trying to show is that it’s not copaganda. It’s a movie with a police officer as a main character, a main character who is awesome, but it isn’t copaganda. It’s not endorsing the police. It’s not whitewashing it. It isn’t saying “look at the police, aren’t they great? Aren’t we glad the police are around? Aren’t we better because of the police? Don’t you want to become a police officer? Don’t you think that what they do is excusable, at the end of the day, since they deal with so much?”

But what does this have to do with copaganda? So, look. I get that it’s very nice to tell other people that their favourite shows and/or movie is bad AND wrong, and to feel like you have the moral high ground while doing so. I also get that words change and at the end of the day who gives a shit about it. I really do get that- I will never, ever give a shit about ‘literally’ being used as an intensive and not just to mean ‘literally’, for example.

BUT, some words are actually important, because they do mean a very, very specific thing they are best at describing. And “copaganda” is important, because you read it, you hear it, and you instantly know what it means; it’s something that’s also cop propaganda. Got it.

Which means it’s a word that is important to try and keep for as long as possible, because, you know... the cops aren’t always great. And it’d be best if we weren’t constantly told they are.

I understand that it feels bad to have so many bad things happening around us, and so little power to stop it. But you do have a little bit of power. You have the power to call a spade a spade, and to say ‘that isn’t cool’.

Calling a spade a spade, however, means that you don’t go around calling everything a spade. If you call everything a spade, it creates confusion, and dilutes a message.

So please. Please.

Instead of just pointing at something that has a cop in it and say “copaganda!”, use your critical skills and, like I just did with Hot Fuzz, try to find out if it actually is copaganda before saying it is so.

[atinydise]

Ateez reacting to their s/o calling them because they’re in danger (1/2)

❦ Genre: Horror/Fluff.

❦ Pairing: OT8.

❦ Word count: 3k2.

❦ Requested: Yes, thank you! 🦋

❦ Masterlist.

Part 2

HONGJOONG (ft. Burglar)

You watched Hongjoong’s Instagram story since he was out with the KBS Team. He was a special MC today. Before leaving, one of the highest staff members offered to eat at a BBQ Restaurant. Hongjoong couldn’t decline it wouldn't be polite, so it texted you 3 hours ago to let you know that he will get home late. You were happy that he met other people they will know how amazing your boyfriend was. When you yawned you glanced at the clock in the living room, it was already 1:00 AM. You wanted to wait your boyfriend as always, but you were too tired to wait him for an unknown time. You turned off all the lights and got in your bedroom. When you slide under the sheets, you heard like a lock noise coming from the kitchen.

You didn't mind it was probably your imagination. You rolled on the side trying to be a little bit comfier. As you fell asleep a little bit later, you recognize the sound of the window and not in simple noise but a smooth one like when someone is opening it. You sat down on your bed. The first thing you did was to grab your phone and check Hongjoong’s Instagram story. You covered your mouth to shut down the scream; your boyfriend last update was posted 5 minutes ago, and he was still at the restaurant. You heard a man voice whispering in the hallway. Instinctively you rushed off your bed to lock your bedroom’s door. It would keep him away from you for few minutes. You composed Hongjoong’s phone number, your shaky hands holding the phone. Fortunately, he answered. [“Y/N? I’m still at the-“] [“Hongjoong, there’s someone in the apartment.”] You whispered. [“Wait! What?! Are you sure?”] [“Yes! Please help me!”] [“Where are you?”] [“In the bedroom… I locked the door but I’m so scared!”] [“Can someone call the police?! There’s a burglar in my apartment!”] You heard him asking for help. [“Hongjoong, I’m so scared…”] You sobbed quietly. [“Y/N baby, you will be okay!”] said your boyfriend, trying to do his best to reassure you. You heard the intruder steps resounding in the hallway. You looked around you to see if there’s any place to hide. [“Y/N? You still there?”] You hummed; to make him understand that you were listening. [“Police is coming. And me too! I’ll be there in 10 minutes!”] You heard his breathe being louder and heavier, he was running to you. [“Joong… I think he’s just in front of the door!”] You heard the intruder struggling with the knob. [“Hongjoong…”] You cried quietly. [“Babe please, stay quiet and safe. Hide somewhere!”] he ordered. [“I’m in the wardrobe… but he will find me for sure!”] you sobbed, chocking your whines as you could. [“You’ll be okay baby! Please stay quiet and don’t do anything!”] You never felt this fear before. Your whole body was shaking, head to toe. The burglar went more insistent with the knob. Every time, you heard the man bumping at the door, your heart skipped a beat. Suddenly, you heard the police siren no far away of your apartment. “Shit!” Cursed the intruder. You heard him running back to the kitchen, probably dropping everything he stole on the floor. [“The police are there!”] You said to your boyfriend. You busted in tears, grateful that someone would rescue you. [“Stay where you are!”] Ordered Hongjoong. The policemen entered in your apartment, fighting noise coming from the kitchen. Maybe you should help them. But Hongjoong asked you to stay safe. Few seconds later, everything went quiet again, like nothing happened. You started to freak out again. You heard someone walking and opening the door. You stayed quiet and prayed that it was a policeman. The steps stopped just in front of the wardrobe. Your heart raced when the door opened. “Y/N!” yelled your boyfriend, crouching down to hug you. “Hongjoong!” I was so scared!” You hugged him tightly, trying to reduce the stress and the nervousness. “You will be okay…I’m here!” he patted your back, to reassure you.

Few minutes later, the police came to make a report. It seemed that the burglar saw that there were expensive things in your apartment. As you lived in the ground floor, it was easy for him to get in. Hongjoong was blaming himself because he wasn’t there with you. But for you that was a good thing, he was safe.

SEONGHWA (ft. Sasaeng*)

You invited your friends to spend time with you around a good diner. All of them were busy because of their work but unexpectedly, they were all present tonight. You cooked a tasty dinner for them and gossiped during the whole meal. “Is everything okay with Seonghwa Y/N?” asked one of your friends. “Everything is perfect,” you giggled, “he’s so good with me!” you blushed. “And he’s handsome too!” added the friend next to you, tickling your belly. “Look at you…” began another friend, “you were against dating an idol since you moved to Korea!” You smiled awkwardly. It’s true that you didn't want to date a celebrity, there was too much responsibility and it was too stressful. But when you met Seonghwa, everything was… different than all you heard on social media. You started to date Seonghwa one year ago just before his debut with ATEEZ. Your boyfriend and you got along so well and quickly. At first you were intimated buy him but now you saw his crazy side. He was just like a little baby who needed attention. At this thought, you smiled like an idiot; your friends were laughing at you. “By the way…” began the friend in front of you, putting down her glass on the table. “Now that the entire world knows about your relationship… are you safe?” she asked seriously. “Most of his fans are happy but there’s some who’s are threatening me…” you scratched your head, embarrassed. “You need a bodyguard!” “No! don’t worry! I’ll be fine.” You reassured them even if one part of you were terrified. 2 hours later, you were alone in your apartment, cleaning the dishes. You couldn’t stop thinking about what your friend said. Maybe some fans were crazy enough to hurt you. You almost got a heart attack when someone knocked at the door. Pretty sure that one of your friends forgot something. Without looking in the peephole, you opened the door but regretted it instantly when you saw a young girl, staring at you. “Huh… hi? Can I help you?” you asked politely. “Yes. I’m lost and really thirsty. Can you please bring me a glass of water?” said this girl, smiling widely. Her smile reassured you, but you kept an eye on her. “Stay here,” you ordered, “I’ll be back in few seconds.” As you went back to the kitchen, you heard your phone rang on the counter. [“Hi babe! I’m at the grocery store do you want something?”] [“Hi Hwa! And no… I ate too much already!”] you laughed. [“There’s a plate for me?”] he asked. [“Sure!”] you giggled. [“Then I’m coming home right now! I’ll be there in 5 minutes!”] [“Okay greedy, take c-“] You stayed quiet when you heard the breaking noise coming from the living room. You rushed there and saw the young girl with a vase in her hands. [“Y/N what was that?”] Asked Seonghwa. “What are you doing?” you asked the girl, ignoring Seonghwa. “I’m breaking your stuff like you broke my heart.” She simply replied, dropping another vase on the floor. “Are you crazy?!” you yelled, “what are you talking about?” “You are dating Seonghwa! He should be MY boyfriend!” She shouted, walking up to you. At this moment you understood the situation. This girl was wearing ATEEZ’ hoodie and the luminate of their world tour. [“Seonghwa…”] you whispered at the phone, [“There’s a sasaeng.”] * Your boyfriend cursed through the phone and ordered you to go out, but you were froze. “You stole my boyfriend!” she shouted again. “Calm down please…” you almost begged, seeing the look in her eyes. She scoffed, “I’ll calm down when you will break up with Seonghwa!” The fan walking up in front of you; facing without leaving your stare. “So? Are you going to break up with him or I will need to?” she threatened you. No word could come out of your mouth. You were scared that whatever you could, say she would hurt you. “Can you answer me coward?!” she yelled. [“Y/N! Y/N!”] called Seonghwa through the phone. “Then okay…” she finally answered, smiling maliciously. Suddenly, the couple of neighbors next to your apartment came in your living-room. Thank god, she didn’t close the door. “What is going on here?” asked the man. The young girl looked at them, scared. She just run away almost falling on the carpet. You fell on your knees, not getting the strength to stand up anymore. You felt like not enough air could get in your lungs. The woman crunched at your side trying to calm you down, but nothing worked. “Y/N!” yelled Seonghwa entering in the apartment. He realized what happened and hated himself. He kneeled in front of you, holding your hands. “I’m here baby… please calm down…” he asked. You looked directly at his eyes. “Exhale… and inhale…” he helped you as he could. You felt air entering in your lungs, not suffocating anymore. “Nice babe…” he rubbed your cheeks.

When you relaxed, Seonghwa called KQ’s CEO and asked a night protection for you till the crazy fans calm down. Thanks to social medias, Atinys learned what happened to you and found out the sasaeng. Now she was blacklisted of ATEEZ’s promotion and couldn’t approach you anymore. Your boyfriend wasn't kidding about your safety.

*Sasaeng: is an obsessive fan who stalks, or engages in other behavior constituting an invasion of the privacy of a Korean idol or other public figure.

YUNHO (ft. Kidnappers)

When the movie credit appeared on your TV screen, you composed your boyfriend’s phone number. “Answer me please please please…” you whispered. [“Yeoboseyo?”]* [“Yunhoooo!”] You whined at the phone. [“What?”] Giggled your boyfriend at your actions. [“I accidentally watched a horror documentary!”] You pouted. [“You watched the whole documentary?”] [“Yes! At first it was interesting, but it went down so fast! Murder, kidnapping, peeper…”] you enumerated. Yunho was laughing out loud. He knew how much you were a coward and a scary baby. He could bet that you would freak out the whole night. [“Can you come right now? I’m so scared.”] you asked. [“We are practicing sweetie. I don’t think I will come or sleep neither tonight.”] Honestly, a car light outside in the street got your attention. You don’t know why but the little voice in your head told you to look through the window. You spotted a black van in front of your portal; you smiled. [“Is that you?”] you laughed, [“you are incredible!”] [“What are you talking about?”] [“The black van in front of my house!”] [“I’m at the practice room Y/N. It’s just someone else.”] You didn't reply. As every Saturday, yours neighbors would be at the restaurant and at the cinema, except if they changed their plan. But that was unusual. You focused on the van, seeing 2 men going out of it. They were wearing black outfit with a beanie and gloves. Something was strange and it wasn't your imagination. [“Yunho, I think I’m in danger.”] Your boyfriend sighed, [“it was just a documentary Y/N… don’t freak out because of a van.”] [“No no! It’s not just a van. There are 2 guys! I don’t know them, and they are pointing at my house!”] you summarize your situation. [“Y/N…”] [“Yunho I’m dead serious!”] you raised your voice. As a proof you sent a picture to your boyfriend about what was happening. [“Look what I sent you!”] Yunho was losing his patience, you are always like that. But now it was different when he saw the 2 shadows next to the van. [“Y/N lock the door now.”] You didn’t think twice and made sure the door was locked. [“I’m coming right now.”] [“What should I do?!”] you asked, scared. [“Turn on your bedroom’s light and the kitchen too. They would think you are not alone.”] Genius, you thought. You rushed to do what Yunho said. [“What they want?”] you whispered, trying to look at them discreetly. [“I heard that there was kidnappers in Seoul, but I wasn’t believing it.”] he let you know. You heard the can door outside, but you couldn’t see what was happening. You just sat against the wall, trying to remain quiet. [“Where are you Yunho?”] [“I’m at 3 minutes to your house.”] you sighed, happy to know that their KQ’s building was not far away from your house. Suddenly, you thought about what would happen to your boyfriend. [“Yunho stop! They can hurt you! They are 2!”] [“I’m with Mingi, Wooyoung and Jongho.”] [“Hallelujah, you brought Jongho.”] you sighed of relief. [“You are pretty calm for someone who can be kidnapped.”] [“They can’t en-“] you began. A loud noise scared you. They were trying to smash the door. Yunho’s idea didn’t work. [“Yunho! They are trying to get in!”] You whispered. [“We are in the street! Don’t move!”] The reality started to hit you. These men were trying to kidnap you. Hopefully, you called Yunho and looked outside. If the little voice on your head hadn’t warned you, where would you be right now? “Hey! Can we help you?!” You heard Wooyoung high pitched voice. “What are you doing here?” Asked Jongho. Too afraid for them, you walked in front of the entrance door. Holding the knob, in case something bad happens. You watched through the little window at the right of the door. You saw the four ATEEZ members next to the van. The two intruders just laughed and run away, pushing Wooyoung lightly. Jongho and Mingi ran after them, while the loudest member took a pic of the plate license and called the police. You opened the door and rushed to your boyfriend. “Yunho!” you hugged him. He put his big hands on your back and on your head to keep you against him. “Are you okay?” he looked at your face and your arms, trying to see any bruises. “I’m fine…” you smiled, eyes watering a bit more. “You sure?” “Yes, I was just so scared. But now you are here…” you buried your face on his chest.

The next day, you learned that the police caught the intruders. They were walking around since 2 days here and they saw you alone today, so you were the perfect target. Now every time you watch a horror movie or documentary, Yunho will be there.

*Yeoboseyo: hi/allo in korean.

YEOSANG (ft. Peeper)

You were drying your hair and singing at your favorite song of the week. You had a long and stressful Friday. You worked all day, running to every floor of the building. And when you finally got home, one of your friends asked you to babysit her toddler for 2 hours. As a good friend, you accepted. Her little girl was cute but energetic or at least more than you a Friday night. When you finally played a good movie for her, she would turn around at the window, saying that there was a ghost outside. Too lazy and exhausted you told her that there was no ghost in your apartment. But she kept warning at least 10 times, you just ignore it. When her mom got her back, you decided to take a bath. It was really helpful all of your muscles were so relaxed that you felt on the cloud nine. Carefully you grabbed your phone to text back your boyfriend, but in the same time you spotted a shadow at the window. When you blinked there was nothing. “Probably a bird,” you whispered. Your boyfriend asked you how your day was and said that he would come to your apartment near it 11PM. When you explained your exhausting day, you saw the shadow again a little bit longer than a first time but when you blink it again there was nothing. You sighed, “this little girl scared me with her ghost.” You shook your head to erase the bad thoughts. 15 minutes later, you get out of your bath, wrapping your body with a towel. You checked your phone to see if Yeosang replied, but no he was probably pre-recording the promotion stage. So, you played some music to sing out loud like a diva while you were doing your skin care. The cream you usually apply on your face was almost empty. You reached the cupboard below the window and crouched down to reach the last cream pot. But when you stood up, you were face to face with a strange man behind the window. He was staring at you with a vicious smile. You didn’t react. You just went back calmly at the mirror, acting like nothing happened. You applied the cream on your face, staring carefully at the mirror reflection to see if the peeper was still here. Internally, you were a mess. You wanted to shout, scream, yell, cry and hide in the corner but maybe you would be in danger. You hummed like if you were singing but you grabbed your phone, almost dropping it on the sink. You called Yeosang, still acting like there was no one who was looking at you behind the window. [“Y/N? I’m leaving the building if it’s the reason of your-“] [“Someone is watching me by the bathroom’s window.”] you said calmly, staring at the man behind you, through the mirror. [“What? This is non-sense.”] replied Yeosang, like he couldn’t care less. [“Yeo, there’s a man peeping me and that’s all you have to said?”] you freaked out. You saw the creepy man raising a brow at the new look on your face. Your forced smile came back instantly. [“Close the curtains or ask him to go.”] he replied. [“He’s so creepy… I’m scared that he become crazy if I do something bad!”] [“Then I’ll call the police. Please go on the kitchen and close all the curtains. I’ll be there in 20 minutes.”] he said seriously. [“Call me just after okay?”] you almost begged. [“Yes. Stay safe babe.”] You nodded. Everything went quiet again when he hung up. Without looking at the mirror, you rushed to close the curtains and turned off the lights. After that, you sat on the kitchen floor, looking at the window to see if he was there. You couldn’t see him, but you heard his steps. He was staring at every window to get any chance to see you. You almost screamed when your phone buzzed. [“Okay, police are coming.”] said Yeosang a bit more peacefully. [“And you? Where are you?”] At this moment, Yeosang was the first person you wanted to be there with you in this cold floor. [“I’m in the van but stuck in the traffic.”] You sighed. Until the police came, he tried to comfort you with jokes or explaining how his day was.

[“And this is how I almost chocked Wooyoung.”] You giggled. You almost forgot the peeper around your apartment. But you heard the 2 policemen asking him to follow them. You rushed outside and see distinctively the face of this psychopath. “Everything’s okay Ma’am. Please lock your door, we will come back tomorrow.” Informed one of them. You just nodded, still shock. The peeper was smiling at you. You got chills and an urge need to throw up. “Y/N!” Called Yeosang when he saw you throwing up almost on your neighbor’s flowers. “It’s okay babe! You are safe now!” He patted your back, breathless. “This man… was so creepy.” You said wiping the saliva on the corner of your mouth, feeling disgusted.

After this day, Yeosang stayed with you every weekend and every time he had a free day. Behind your brave appearance, you were terrified, and your boyfriend was too. He couldn’t forgive himself if something happens to you.

Part 2

[221bsunsettowers]

Carlos/TK: You Had a Speech, You’re Speechless

Summary: It was just supposed to be a quick trip to the bank. Carlos should have been right back. Now all TK can do is wait to hear his husband's voice again.

Thanks to @brilliantbanshee for the prompt/couple choice, and @prodigalleverage @meloingly @magnusluvsalec and @itswoxo for helping me choose which direction to go in, and for being so excited to read this story!

Written for Bad Things Happen Bingo

Fandom: 9-1-1 Lone Star

Pairing: TK/Carlos

Prompt: Communication Suddenly Cut Off

(No major character death, though there is major character wounding. Blood and a gunshot wound are mentioned.)

(can also be read on Ao3)

"Mmm, baby, you were right, that was exactly what I needed," TK sighs happily, laying his fork down on his now empty plate.

"I thought you might be hungry after that long shift," Carlos smiles, and TK leans across the table to kiss his husband, smirking as he whispers in Carlos' ear,

"Now I'm ready for some dessert," TK smirks as a flush quickly spreads up Carlos' cheeks,

"Hold that thought, please," Carlos begs, nipping at TK's bottom lip, chuckling at the moan his action elicts. Standing up, Carlos reaches into his wallet, extracting a check with a smile and a sigh. "My abuela still insists on doing everything on paper, so I got a check for Christmas." Bending down to kiss TK again, he gestures at the bank across the street. "I need to deposit it so I can tell her it's safe and sound in the bank."

"You are too adorable to be real," TK grins, shaking his head, planting a kiss on Carlos' cheek. "I'm going to enjoy the last few sips of this horchata, and then when you get back here, we can head on home."

"What, you don't want to come wait in line with me?" Carlos teases.

"If I come with you, I won't be able to keep my hands off you, so unless you want to scandalize the local bank tellers..." TK trails off with a mischevious grin, laughing as Carlos immediately blushes again.

"If I wasn't an officer of the law, I'd be cutting right to the front of the line, sweetheart." Carlos leans down for one more kiss, before heading across the street and up the bank's front steps.

TK can't stop smiling as he leans back in his chair, taking a sip of the iced horchata in front of him. He finds himself just watching the bank entrance, waiting for Carlos to emerge, imagining the epic eye roll and immense amount of teasing he would get from Marjan if she could see him now.

The waitress comes over to pour him a refill, and TK glances away from the bank for what he will swear was less than a minute. By the time he looks back, the door is swinging shut behind a group of men.

And then his phone rings.

Carlos' picture flashes on the screen, a photo from their wedding day, a candid Michelle had caught of Carlos' just gazing over at TK, eyes soft and smile stretching across his face. TK grins, immediately answering, but before he can get a fond word out he hears something that almost makes him drop his phone. The sound is muffled, smothered by wherever Carlos must have quickly hidden his phone, but it is clear enough that TK forgets how to breathe.

"This is a robbery, people, so cooperate or someone's getting hurt!" a man's voice yells. "I will shoot you if I have to!"

Later, when an officer is taking TK's statement, TK will find he can't remember this part of the story. He will suppose he must have gone on autopilot as he got the attention of the waitress and told her what to say. The waitress will still remember the instructions exactly, the fear and excitement of the moment having kept them fresh in her brain. She was told to call 9-1-1, say there was a robbery at the bank, tell them there were hostages so not to use their sirens, make sure to tell them Officer Carlos Strand-Reyes is one of the hostages, that he has opened a direct line from inside the bank to his husband's cell phone.

What TK will remember is the absolute terror that came from being able to hear everything happening inside, but not being able to do anything. He couldn't offer Carlos any comfort, couldn't tell him he loved him, had to keep himself muted and listening to the constant stream of terrified shouts and hostile yelling, and no word from Carlos. He knew Carlos was staying quiet so the robbers wouldn't see the phone, so they wouldn't figure out he was a cop (and TK will be forever grateful it was Carlos' day off and he didn't have his uniform or badge on him), so he could take advantage of a moment and try to stop what was happening (and damn Carlos' beautiful, kind, giving heart, TK thought, a thought that will rack him with guilt later, but one he will always find at the forefront of his mind whenever Carlos is saving someone else at the risk of his own safety-and yes, TK recognizes the irony given his professional choice).

The second police officers begin their sprint up the street, TK is running towards them, heading right for the highest ranking one there. In the three years he and Carlos' have been together, the year and a half they have been married, TK has gotten to know everyone at the station, just like Carlos' knows every member of TK's team. Thanks to the waitress passing on the message to 9-1-1, all TK has to do is hold out his phone and they know they have their best shot at figuring out the safest way to end this situation.

Having to let his phone go feels like severing his lifeline to his husband, but TK knows it's his best weapon against those who could actually take Carlos away from him forever.

All he can do now is wait, and he's never felt more helpless in his life. He runs his fingers over his wedding band, normally a soothing motion to ground him, bring him back, but today all it does is remind him that his husband is somewhere he can't follow.

A hand on his shoulder, and TK whirls around, collapsing into his father's arms. "Hey, ssh, it's all going to be okay, son," Owen murmurs into TK's ear, rubbing circles on his back as TK shakes in his embrace. TK buries his face in Owen's shoulder, trying to shut the world out for even a second, but it doesn't work. Carlos is in trouble, Carlos is in danger, Carlos is in a room full of people who don't know how beautiful and perfect and important he is, he could be collateral to them, a casualty along the way, and TK is spiraling as he feels the tightness of a panic attack clutch at his chest.

His father guides him to the curb, gently pushes his head down between his knees, and reminds him to breathe, count his breath, match his breath, there you go, and TK can hear Carlos' voice echoing the words with Owen, and TK breathes. It's enough to keep surviving, but it's not truly living again until he has Carlos back in his arms.

Suddenly there is yelling, everyone is in motion, moving towards the bank doors, and then there is a gunshot.

One single gunshot.

And somehow TK knows. Call it soulmates, call it a fated bond, call it whatever you like, TK is screaming before the cops rush up the steps, he is wailing before the bank doors open, he is sobbing before hostages are hurried outside and the robbers are shoved to the floor.

Carlos turns, slowly, as TK is sprinting towards him.

Carlos turns, meets TK's eyes, and collapses onto his knees. He looks down in numb shock at his left hand, pressed against the bullet hole in his stomach, as blood pours from between his fingers.

And then Carlos' body collapses completely, until he is face first on the cold tile floor, and TK can't even produce words, just a tragedy of heart shattering sounds as he desperately lunges up the stairs and drops to his knees next to his husband. TK's fingers find Carlos' pulse before the paramedics can even reach out a hand, and he sags in terrified relief, because Carlos is alive this second, but what about the next, and that next second is why TK allows himself to be moved to the side as the paramedics get to work. He knows he cannot assist on this one, he's barely breathing himself, just out of sight of the love of his life.

Stumbling into the back of the ambulance, TK grabs Carlos' hand, the actions of the paramedics a blur around them. "Stay with me, baby," TK begs, fingers back on Carlos' too slow pulse. "I love you so much, please don't leave me, Carlos, you can't, please baby, stay with me."

Around him TK hears a whirl of sounds, but Carlos is silent.

*** And this is how it has been since, everything around TK a whirl, and the voice he needs the most locked behind an operating room door where TK can not follow.

Owen made TK sit and get a few sips of water in him. Members of the 126 had come in and out as they were able, making sure at least one of them was there at all times. TK had called Carlos' family, who had been out on a day trip and immediately turned back around (TK was just so glad they had heard what had happened from him and not from a television set). Clean clothes and coffee had appeared, and TK had been coaxed into taking two minutes to change his clothes and scrub Carlos' blood from his hands (an action that had left him sobbing in Judd's arms by the bathroom sink).

Owen has just run to the bathroom himself when TK is approached by a group of people, maybe ten or so in all. "Hi, we're so sorry to bother you," a young woman says, and TK looks up at her, exhaustion and confusion clearly showing on his face. "The nurse said you're the family of the man from the bank who saved us."

"I wanted to say thank you!" pipes up a small voice in the middle of the group, and TK cranes his neck to see a little boy holding the hands of two men. "My Daddy and Papa said that he made sure they made it home okay." The little boy reaches up to one of the men, who hands him a stuffed animal tiger, which the boy then hands to TK. "Can you give this to him when he wakes up?"

TK cradles the tiger in his hands, and chuckles wetly, nodding. "My husband actually calls me Tiger," TK says softly, and finds within himself a smile to give the boy. "He will love this."

"Have you heard anything?" another member of the group asks, and just then a doctor comes out, and TK makes a beeline towards him.

"Family of Carlos' Strand-Reyes?" the doctor inquires, and TK puts a hand up.

"I'm his husband," TK says, voice shaking, running a hand over his tear-streaked face. "Is he okay?"

"He's going to be fine," the doctor says with a smile, and TK feels his body sag in such relief, he would have hit the floor if his father hadn't suddenly appeared behind him to keep him standing.  "The bullet was lodged inside, but it was as easy a removal as one could hope for, and no internal organs were damaged. Your husband is extremely lucky, Mr. Strand-Reyes."

"We both are," TK exhales, and he knows he's crying again. He can hear the group around him clapping and cheering. "Can I see him?"

"Of course, he's being moved to his room now," the doctor assures him, and TK clutches the stuffed tiger to his chest, practically nipping at the doctor's heels as they walk towards Carlos' room.

Carlos is so still on the hospital bed, but he is breathing without assistance. TK can hear the beautifully familar sound of the in and out of his husband's breath, finally he can hear Carlos, finally he can hear his husband again. Collapsing into the chair next to the bed, TK tucks the stuffed tiger in the crook of Carlos' arm, before carefully resting his head on Carlos' chest, encircling his husband's wrist with his fingers. The steady beat of Carlos's heart, the rise and fall of his chest, the rhythm of his pulse, lulls TK finally into a semblance of sleep.

"Two tigers, huh? How'd I get so lucky?"

TK whips his head up, blinks his eyes, and then there is Carlos', eyes open, talking. TK can hear his voice, he can hear his husband's voice, a little weaker than usual, but still the most beautiful sound he has ever heard.

"Carlos," TK chokes out, and he is immediately climbing onto the bed, avoiding wires and wounds, and wrapping Carlos' in his shaking arms, feeling Carlos' arms come up to hold him close.

"Sweetheart," Carlos breathes out, his voice ruffling his husband's hair, and TK clutches at him tighter, before picking his head up and kissing Carlos', deep and slow, pulling back just enough to rest their foreheads together and meet Carlos' eyes.

"I love you, so much," TK whispers against Carlos' skin, pressing kisses along his jaw, another on his lips. "You're a hero, you know. That's where that tiger came from. You saved a whole lot of people, including the dads of the little boy who brought it for you."

"I'm sorry," Carlos starts, and TK kisses him again, this time stopping the words on purpose.

"Do not apologize, baby," TK assures him, running his hand down his cheek. "You have the most amazing heart, the most beautiful soul. You've always been my hero. I wouldn't have expected anything else from you."

Carlos smiles, and TK can see he's fighting to stay awake, the flow through the IV bringing him back under for more healing. TK brushes a kiss across his husband's forehead, before snuggling in under Carlos' arm, bringing his head back to Carlos' chest. "Get some sleep, hero," TK says, lacing their fingers together. "I'll be right here."

"I love you so much too," Carlos murmurs, and TK hears every word.

@bikingthroughhawkins​ @officereyes​ @i-had-bucky​ @highqualitykhakis​ @meloingly​

You can still request concussion, shot with an arrow, confrontation, ambulance ride, dehydration, magical curse, or stabbing for TK/Carlos, Buck/Eddie, Geralt/Jaskier, or Magnus/Alec :)

[simsadventures]

Only Mine: Chapter 2: New Experience

Summary: Bucky has never been rejected by a woman before. And he truly doesn’t know what to do now. Warnings: mentions of sex (nothing explicit), mobster au, mentions of gun, swearing, a lot of swearing Word Count: 2491

A/N: I live for the cold, dangerous mobster Bucky right now! Anyone else with me? Anyway, let me know what you thought of the second chapter guys. Love you all!! xx

Series Masterlist __ Masterlist

< Previous Chapter 

Bucky was seething. Not only did you run away from his apartment, but he made one of his guys check every single Dita in the whole damn New York, and none of them matched your age or description. Was it possible that you not only left him in the middle of the night but that you gave him a fake name? No girl ever had the audacity to do something like that, and he didn’t know if he wanted to applaud you or punish you.

Didn’t matter, all he wanted was to see you again and show you who’s in control. Because right now you probably thought it was your cute ass, but that wasn’t the case. Couldn’t be. Not with Bucky. He is the fucking boss around here and you gotta learn your lesson.

He was in the middle of a meeting, but he couldn’t concentrate on anything on the table. All he could see was you on your knees in front of him. He clenched his fists and tried to breathe slowly, to regain some composure.

“Yo, Bucky! You listening, bro?” Steve hollered from the other side of the table. Bucky just nodded curtly, dismissing Steve, but because the punk was always testing him, he didn’t let it go.

“Still thinking about your mysterious Dita? I mean, bro, it’s just a pussy, let it go and find somebody else.” Sam joined the taunting. Bucky wanted to kill them both, really, but because they were his best friends, or whatever, he apparently couldn’t.

“Shut up, both you, before I make you. You were saying something about Pierce trying to regain his power, didn’t you, Sam?”

Sam smirked but let it go and went back into business mode. “Yeah, so my source is telling me that he is trying to come back. I mean, after last time didn’t work out, and we sent him on his way back to LA, he is obviously holding some grudges. He keeps running his mouth about how you played him and all that shit, totally forgetting that it was he who fucking played himself. I mean, we didn’t push him into dealing with IRA last time around, and he still smuggled some guns here for them. The man’s gotta realise that actions got consequences.”

It was true. Three years ago, Alexander Pierce was one of the highest-ranking mobsters in The Avengers, Bucky’s very own mafia. He did a lot of talking with police, looked over the finances for the whole team, and was a pretty crucial member overall. But apparently, it wasn’t enough for him, and he wanted to make some money on the side, and not tell anyone about it.

He made a deal with IRA (Irish Republican Army) who were trying to enlarge their business and smuggled some guns for them here to the US. But because Bucky’s got his eyes and ears everywhere, he learned it before the ship had the chance unload and sent them packing back to their fucking green plains. With the same breath, he kicked Pierce out, telling him he was a lucky son-of-a-bitch because any other person would be fucking beheaded for this kind of shit.

But Pierce didn’t take it as an act of mercy and was obviously trying to get back into the game. The business was going good, New York was “protected” by his guys, as long as everything went the way he wanted, and Pierce threatened this piece, and Bucky wasn’t having it.

“Alright, I don’t wanna give it too much of my attention, but tell me if something new comes up. If he crosses the border of the state, I wanna know about it, we clear?” He looked around the room and saw a bunch of nodding heads. “Good, anything else we need to discuss? Rumlow, the new club doing good?”

Brock nodded. “Yeah, boss. People are coming in like crazy, and are paying, even more, to see what’s behind the curtain. Our girls are thrilled with the tips they’re getting. So I’d say it’s even better than we anticipated, but Lang and I are gonna have to sit down and go over the numbers properly.”

“Good, keep me updated. Everyone out except you two shitheads.” Bucky didn’t look up from the paper in his hand, but everyone knew who he was talking to. Sam and Steve stayed seated and rolled their eyes. They were very well aware that the conversation will be about a certain girl, and they couldn’t help but smirk at each other.

When the door closed, Bucky leaned on his elbows and looked at the men in front of him. “I know you two dipshits find it real funny, but, for fuck’s sake, could you not voice it in front of everyone? I love you two, but Imma make a scene next time you two act like little children.”

“Yes, boss!” Sam smirked, and it earned him a flying pen landing on his head. “You think I don’t know how pathetic I sound? Finding a damn girl who I shouldn’t really give a shit about? And I don’t, it’s about the principle here. I’m supposed to be the one breaking things off, the one who can get up and leave any given moment, not the other fucking way around. I can’t let her run around New York running her mouth ‘bout how she slept with me and what? I wasn’t good enough in bed that she had to run away? Or that she just couldn’t be bothered? Every damn girl would feel like they could run their mouths, and I don’t have time for that shit.”

Both Sam and Steve were quiet because they could see that this was a serious shit for Bucky and that one wrong word in this situation could very well end up with a bullet in their bodies. Bucky wouldn’t kill them, but it would hurt like hell, and both men wanted to skip this part.

“So, what are our options? We don’t know her name, we don’t know where she lives if she’s even from New York, nothing, Zilch. Nada. So, what’s the plan here?”

Bucky sighed and tried to relax a little. You were clouding his mind, and he hated this shit. “I don’t fucking know, man.”

—-

Two weeks. That’s how long it’s been since you ran away from Bucky Barnes’ apartment. You had to go into details when you described the night to Nat, and she was ecstatic. Especially when you told you that you just got up after he fell asleep and left him there, alone. She had to promise you not to tell anyone because you didn’t need a bunch of people in your circle knowing you shagged the notorious womaniser.

It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy the night. You would have to be completely insane not to like it. But you knew it could and would never happen again. First of all, you gave him the wrong name, so even if he tried to look for you (which you seriously doubted, it was one night, after all, he wouldn’t find anything. And how else would he try to find you? Type into google your description and hope for the best? It also wasn’t almost any possibility that your paths would cross again. You didn’t plan on visiting any of his clubs or restaurants in the town, and he most definitely didn’t visit the same spots as you, so you were most probably safe.

You didn’t even know why you dreaded meeting him so much. There was, of course, the little detail of him being the mafia boss, and all that, but also just the fact that you could be one of those girls in people’s eyes, and you liked yourself too much for that. Bucky looked like the type of guy who liked his girls pretty and quiet, and you didn’t necessarily feel like either of them, but definitely not quiet. You liked to speak your opinion, and you had a lot of it too.

So you just kept your head down, delved into work and tried not to think about those piercing blue eyes too much.

It was Thursday afternoon, and you got out of the office to get some coffee for you and your colleagues. You took turns in getting the drinks, Thursday marking you as the designated person. You were waiting in your favourite coffee shop around the corner from the small publishing house you were working at. Not that you hated the big places like Costa or Starbucks, but you just liked the personal approach of the smaller sites more.

Wendy knew your order and was quickly making all of the 6 coffees when you felt a hand on the small of your back. You jumped a little and looked at where the stranger’s hand touched your body. You slowly looked up and almost fainted.

—-

“Stop here, Peter. This looks like a nice place to get my afternoon lungo. You know how I hate mainstream places.”

Peter was still pretty much a kid, he only just turned 22, but he wanted in so bad that the boys made a driver and an errand body out of him, and with enough time they were sure they could make a valuable member out of him. “Would you like me to get it for you, sir?” Peter asked politely as he parked the car.

Bucky smiled and shook his head. “No, you wait here. I can get things by myself.” Well… not by himself completely, there were always at least two guys standing near him, to protect him if shit went down.

He was still thinking about you, and, to his and everybody else’s surprise, Bucky hasn’t slept with anyone else since the night with you. He just couldn’t get you out of his head, and it would be unfair if he moaned Dita in the middle of a different encounter. Bucky’s jaw clenched a little, just thinking about you giving him a fake name.

He was in his head, only barking his order and stepped back, trying to clear his head. From the corner of his eye, he could see a woman standing there, waiting for her order to be prepared, and he felt as if he knew that ass. When he really looked at her, his eyes suddenly had a devilish glint in them. It was you. Fucking finally.

He took a few steps, so he was standing right behind you, and put his hand on the small of your back, effortlessly. You jumped a little, and it made Bucky’s smirk grow. When your eyes finally reached his face, Bucky could see you blinking rapidly, probably wishing this was a bad dream.

“Well, well, well. Who do we have here?” Bucky said, and even though you tried to create a space between the two of you, his grip tightened and let you know, that you were not the one calling shots here.

“Bucky, good to see you again.” You said with a smile, that, however, didn’t reach your eyes and your voice wavered a little, so Bucky was now sure you were more than nervous standing next to him.

“Good to see you too, Dita. Oh, wait. Your name isn’t Dita, though, is it? Wanna know how I know? I tried to look for you, doll, and it only came to me then that you actually tried to outsmart me.”

“I didn’t try to outsmart anyone. I just wasn’t comfortable giving you my name, so I gave you a different one. What’s the big deal, Bucky?” You could feel sense coming back to your body, and you weren’t about to let him intimidate you, and definitely not in your coffee break. “Go and find someone who is utterly smitten by you and leave me alone, will you? The night was fun, but that’s about it.”

His hands were suddenly on your upper arms, and he gripped them so tightly, you could feel the blood flow stopping. “What. Is. Your. Name! And that’s the last fucking time I’m gonna ask nicely.” He growled into your ear. His voice was so deep, goosebumps erupted on your skin, and you hated your body for betraying you. You were about to taunt him again when you heard Wendy’s voice.

“Y/N, your order is ready.” She chimed from behind the counter. Your eyes rolled so hard you were afraid that they would fall out. Dammit! Bucky smirked triumphantly and let go of your arms.

“At least now I have a real name, doll. You’ll have dinner with me tomorrow night,” and because he saw you taking a deep breath and opening your mouth, he shot you a cold glare, which shut you up immediately. “Not up for debate. Give me your phone.”

“Fuck you.” It wasn’t the most mature response, but this guy thought he owned the whole fucking planet and that he could tell you to jump and you’d actually jumped.

“Drax? Grab her.” Bucky growled at somebody behind him, and before you knew what was happening, your arms were behind your back with a monstrous guy holding them there. Bucky stepped closer to you, and despite both yours and Wendy’s protests, he reached your purse and pulled out your phone. He quickly typed in his phone number, gave himself a call, and held the phones close together, to be able to transfer the tracking app into your device.

You tried to struggle, but the guy holding you was built like a mountain and you had no chance.

“Great. Now that that’s out of the way, I’ll come pick you up at 7, don’t you dare to be late. Understood, Y/N?” When you didn’t say anything, he took a step closer, grabbed your chin and made you look right into his eyes. They were colder than eyes, and the danger that was surrounding him was visible in his look. You slightly shivered, and this time, not in a good way.

“You don’t wanna play this fucking game with me, Y/N. Do you fucking understand?”

All you could do was to nod, and as if magic happened, everyone who was holding suddenly let you go and you could take a deep breath. You didn’t even look at him again, just took the cups for the office and ran out of there.

Now, there wasn’t a way in hell that you wouldn’t meet him again. That asshole made sure of it. You tried to think of your options, but the only one that seemed like it could work was to throw away your phone and move to Mexico, or maybe even further so that he would never find you. But by now you realised that the universe hated you so much, that it would let Bucky find you even on the very opposite part of the world.

You were screwed, and that was an understatement of the year.

/ Next Chapter >

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If you’d like to be tagged comment/message/send an ask. If you like the story, please reblog :) any comments are appreciated, even the critical ones. Always a space to get better, so let me know what you guys think.

[coochiequeens]

On a weekday evening, in between coronavirus lockdowns and curfews, Camille, Natacha and Cindy are out with a bright yellow plastic bucket of glue, two large brushes and a wad of A4 paper, each sheet covered with a single letter.

The women, all in their 20s, stop on the main road of this Paris suburb by the wall of what looks like a former bank.

“This is good,” says Camille. It is the signal for a well-practised piece of choreography: Natacha glues; Camille slaps up each lettered sheet; Cindy pastes over it.

They stand back. The message, in black letters on white paper, is clear: “Stop au harcelement de rue” (stop street harassment).

Another wall, another message. Outside the municipal swimming pool it’s paste, slap, paste: “Le consentement n’est pas une option” (consent isn’t optional). On a kiosk under the awnings of the local market, paste, slap, paste: “Stop féminicide”.

Then it is up and out of there to avoid a €68 fine if caught by the police. Another successful, albeit illegal, hit-and-run poster pasting.

For the past two years, similar messages have been appearing on walls all over Paris, Bordeaux, Grenoble, Poitiers, Lyons and other French cities. They are the work of Les Colleuses – the gluers – feminist activists who have found a simple, cheap and effective way to make women’s voices heard.

Camille Lextray became a colleuse afterthe particularly brutal murder of a young woman in September 2019 . Her partner denies her murder.

“Her name was Salomé and she was only 21 when she was beaten to death. The police had been called but they treated it as a domestic and did nothing. Later, they found her body under a pile of rubbish. We put up a collage on the anniversary of her death at the request of her mother,” Lextray said.

The idea for street posters to highlight cases of femicide was dreamed up by Marguerite Stern, a former member of the feminist activist group FEMEN. Stern, then living in Marseille, was deeply shocked by the 2019 killing of Julie Douib, 34, a mother of two children, shot dead at her home by an abusive ex-partner who goes on trial in June and denies her murder.

Douib had reported the man to the police five times before her death, but no action was taken. Stern began putting up posters denouncing violence against women in Marseille, later moving to Paris where she set up a collage collective.

In the early days they were called “Collages Contre les Féminicides” (collages against femicide), with groups pasting up the names of women killed by their current or former partner. The street action caught the imagination of women everywhere and spread even beyond France.

“Suddenly we had people all over the place contacting us.” says Camille. “At the last count more than 200 cities, towns and villages in France had collage groups others in London and in more than 15 countries around the world.”

“Anyone can get involved. It takes 10 minutes to write a slogan on a piece of paper, it doesn’t take a lot of money or resources. It’s extremely important for women. It’s about daring to occupy the public space, about women leaving their mark in public.

“One mother had suffered conjugal violence and painted the messages with her young son, went out and stuck them up. It’s taking back control in our lives and it is liberating. No more secrets, no more shame, no more silence. We have constructed our own media platform. This is our loudspeaker.”

France has one of the highest rates of femicide in Europe. In 2019, 146 women were killed in France by a partner or ex-partner. More than 40% of the victims had already suffered violence at the hands of their partner and nearly half of those had reported it to the police.

The term femicide is sometimes defined as the murder of women by men but in France it generally refers to the murder of a woman by a partner, ex-partner or family member.

In 2020, the number of femicides in France fell to 90 for the year – the lowest since such statistics began to be collated 15 years ago. But Caroline De Haas, who started the feminist collective NousToutes in 2018, said that even if the numbers dropped, “nearly 100 is no reason to celebrate.”

About 200,000 women in France are estimated to suffer domestic violence every year, but fewer than one in five go to the police and the problem has worsened during Covid-19 lockdowns, Natacha said.

A hotline for female victims of violence set up by the government received 45,000 calls during the first three-month lockdown last year.

Nobody was prepared for the lockdowns,” Natacha said. “We are sticking up [posters] for ourselves and for the victims and to raise the issue to a wider audience. In doing so we hope we are educating people on the subject of violence done to women and minorities and creating an atmosphere for change.”

The group is fiercely critical of what it sees as the lip service paid by the Macron government on the issue. “We were full of hope: they said they would fight against sexism, and make it a big cause. But it was words and inaction and nothing has changed,” Natacha said. “We have lost confidence in the politicians. We are disillusioned. We have to change the psychology of the patriarchy.”

The government responded to the outcry at the alarming levels of femicide in 2019 with new legislation including 40 emergency measures such as electronic bracelets to keep violent abusers from approaching their victims.

Critics say the rules, which took effect last July, are being implemented too slowly....see rest of article.

France has one of the highest rates of femicide in Europe and Trans activists attacks women on International Women’s Day. Men have to make every issue about them.

According to the report, 11 trans people were killed in Europe. You can find out who these people were here. And of course some of them were “sex workers”. Because these guys only care about the deaths of sexually exploited people when they are TIMs.

[good-doctor-imagine]

Scar » one

Pairing: Richie Tozier x Fem!Reader

Summary: You thought you were leaving everything behind when you moved to Derry. Turns out, you were wrong. (soulmate au)

Word Count: 2410

A/N: I’m so excited to post the first part to this! I’ve been writing it for the past couple of days and it’s gotten so long that I decided to split it into a few parts. I hope you all like it! <3

You had no clue why your parents wanted to move to Derry, Maine so abruptly. It wasn't like there was much opportunity in a small town like that. Actually, you did know. Your dad got transferred because of the increase in missing kids cases and the Derry police force needed extra hands. Now that you look at it, you understood the need to move but you couldn't wrap your head around why they would move. You were a kid for God's sake. If there was an increase in missing kids cases, then why would they bring you along?

You tried arguing that your dad should go and work until the cases were solved. Of course, being the thirteen-year-old you were, they wouldn't listen to your argument. Instead, they insured you that you were in good hands, your father was a police officer and the whole town had a 7 pm curfew to ensure the safety of its citizens.

Scoffing, you went back to your room, slamming the door behind you to show your disappointment. It was August, right before you started school again. The summer was spent outside with your friends, riding bikes until the sun set, splashing in rivers until you were soaked. Nothing could have prepared you for the sudden goodbye. You tried not to show your heartbreak as you hugged your best friend for the last time, holding each other for what seemed like hours.

To put it lightly, you were pissed. You didn't even attempt to hide your disappointment in the backseat of your dad's Ford Sierra, giving short answers every time your parents asked you a question. It took so much of you not to roll your eyes when your dad told you to behave. Sure, you were being a brat, but your life was ripped away from you in a matter of 3 days. Three days ago your parents told you were moving. Two days ago you said goodbye to some of your closest friends. One day ago, you were packing your bags, your best friend helping you pack the most valuable items that you've accumulated over the years. Birthday gifts, goofy polaroids, and treasured memories were being stuffed into containers, turning into just some cherished moments of your life.

Now, you were on the road to start your new life. You didn't want a new life, all you wanted was to go back home and spend time with your friends. As you sat in the back seat, your head rested on your right hand. Subconsciously, your gaze traveled to the inside of your left hand. There was a scar that showed up a few days ago, a long jagged mark across the palm of your hand. The moment you saw it, you knew it was from your soulmate. You tried to recall what happened that day, wondering if you slid your hand on a rock and scratched it, but you never remembered the pain. Your skin wasn't bothered either, it was just a dark mark across your skin.

A part of you was relieved knowing that your soulmate was there. Besides the scar on your left hand, there was nothing on your body to show you that your soulmate existed. Some days you wondered if you even had a soulmate. When you were little, you would search for any tiny mark you could, determined to find a mark that showed you that they were there. After a while, you gave up. You thought if they didn't have a scar now, then you probably didn't have a soulmate.

All of your friends had scars as well. Whether it was from your intense playing and skidding on rocks or just plain roughhousing, everyone had a scar from something. You even had one.

It was easy to miss unless you were looking closely. Being the rambunctious and rebellious toddler you were, you didn't listen to your parents whenever they told you to stop. Before you knew it, a piece of glass from a wine glass your mom dropped a few seconds earlier was buried in the bottom of your foot. Although it was pretty light, a line was drawn on the center of your foot, a permanent marker of your rebellious action.

Being able to see your soulmate's scar was comforting and nerve-racking. The conflicting emotions made your head spin. One part of you was so elated that there was confirmation that you had a soulmate. The other part of you was anxious that you just left your soulmate. Ever since you were a child, you would create scenarios where you would find your soulmate outside your house one day. In one scenario, they were your new neighbor, knocking on your front door to introduce themselves. In another, they ran into you as you were biking with your friend. Your favorite scenario was meeting your soulmate in the arcade, your relationship starting with a friendly competition. Since you were little, you convinced yourself that your soulmate was back home. Your soulmate was waiting for you back in (Hometown). You balled your left hand into a fist, covering the scar from your view. It was too painful to look at.

When you went to go tell your parents about your newfound scar, a huge grin adorning your face, they told you that you had to move. Before you knew it, your grin fell and disbelief surrounded your whole body. You were just overjoyed knowing that your soulmate was actually alive, but now a sense of dread filled your body. Saying goodbye to all your friends, memories, dreams, and all for what? Your dad's job transfer?

You couldn't have hated the road trip more, clenching your hand into a fist as your parents sat in the front seat, their own hands entwined on the center console.

Richie was a toddler when he attained his first scar. His parents were shocked when they looked at the bottom of his right foot, finding a line etched on his skin. At first, they thought it was some sort of marker that Richie used on his skin but it didn't disappear when they tried to wash it off. Then, they asked their son if he stepped on something sharp while they were at work. Richie shook his head, his mouth slightly hung open in confusion.

Then, it clicked into their minds. Richie's soulmate must have cut their foot somehow. Of course, they would explain it to him later. Trying to explain soulmates to a toddler was not something they wanted to get involved with.

When Richie was 7, his parents finally explained the concept of soulmates to him. They told him about the scar on his foot and how his soulmate would have the same mark. Richie found it a bit weird that soulmates existed, his second-grade mind not able to grasp the concept of loving someone yet. Hell, some boys in his class still believed that girls had cooties. As Richie aged up, he began to understand the concept of soulmates even more. Popular TV shows and movies would contain soulmates, often between two best friends that didn't know they were connected in that way until one of them got injured. People at school started to pay more attention to the marks on their bodies, searching each other for the familiar marks with the hope of finding their other half.

Richie never tried that hard to search for his soulmate. He couldn't exactly go up to someone and say "Let me see the bottom of your feet". He knew that finding his soulmate would be a challenge but he didn't mind that much. He was 13 and wasn't interested in the concept of love. He was too busy entertaining himself with Street Fighter, not to mention the killer clown that he and his friends defeated that summer. The last thing that was on his mind was his soulmate.

All of the losers knew about his soulmate's scar, they all saw it from their frequent visits to the quarry. Eddie and Beverly liked to tease him about it, asking him if he had some kind of foot fetish. Richie ignored their comments and bit back at them. He wasn't bothered by his soulmate's mark and, in fact, he would often forget about it. It wasn't like he could look at it every day, it was on the bottom of his foot and he didn't have much flexibility.

After the defeat of the killer clown, Richie dedicated himself to his game Street Fighter, determined to exceed his highest score from last year. Eddie would join him every few days before complaining about Richie's obsession. Tired of Richie's lack of attention, Eddie decided that he wasn't going to the arcade with Richie that day. Instead, he was going birdwatching with Stanley. Richie didn't hold back his complaints, calling the popular hobby incredibly boring. Eddie wasn't bothered by his words, leaving Richie by himself at the arcade machine.

Your mom kicked you out of the house, giving you some money before sending you out the front door. She was bothered by you spending the rest of your summer indoors so she told you to go out and make some friends. Your mood was sour as you grabbed your bike from the driveway. You remembered passing by an arcade on the way here and decided that it would be the perfect place to go. You could spend your money, play some games, and convince your mom that you made some friends (even if you didn't).

Taking a step in the arcade, you looked around at the people occupying the machines. There weren't that many given the small space. Walking over to the quarter machine, you put in a five dollar bill to get some change. While it was spitting out some coins, you took the time to look at your options. There were a few machines across the wall: a pacman machine, a rampage machine, and a popcorn machine stuffed into the corner. What caught your eye was the Street Fighter machine in the middle of the arcade but there was already a boy occupying it. Taking your quarters out of the machine, you stood back for a while, waiting for the kid to leave the game.

One minute turned to five, then to ten, then to fifteen. By this point, you were getting annoyed. The boy was constantly replaying, entering quarter after quarter to start a new game. Right before he put in the next quarter, you came up behind him and spoke up, your voice sharp.

"Can you move on already? There's other people in the arcade too."

The boy turned around with furrowed eyebrows, his squinted eyes magnified by the large glasses resting on his nose. "You talkin' to me?"

You scoffed, folding your arms in front of you. "Who else would I be talking to? You're the only one hogging a machine."

Richie took a few quick glances around the arcade before turning his focus back onto you. "Looks like there's other games open still, sugar."

Your eyebrow twitched at the nickname but you held yourself back from snapping at him. "Well, I want to play this game."

Richie smirked at you before gesturing to the game screen in front of him. "See this, sugar?" He pointed to the high score on the screen, "This is my high score. Unless you can do better, I suggest you go play some other game." Ignoring his comment, you pushed next to him, entering your own quarter in the game. "H-Hey did you hear me?"

"Loud and clear," You responded, shooting him a fake smile. "Now are you going to play or what?" You gestured to the second set of controls.

Richie's frown turned into a smirk, the corner of his lip tipping upwards. "You're on, sugar."

All you could hear was the jamming of buttons and the occasional groan from your opponent. Your focus was on the game, determined to defeat the arrogant boy that stood next to you. You won the first round, making Richie grumble in disappointment. When he won the second round, he let out a victorious shout.

"You need to be faster than that to defeat me."

You rolled your eyes at his comment, stretching out your fingers to get ready for the next round. "There's one more round, you haven't won yet."

Richie bit his lip, concentrating on the combat game in front of him. He couldn't let this girl defeat him, not at his favorite game. Unfortunately, his health started to drain as you jammed the buttons, fingers working tirelessly to defeat the arrogant prick. Richie also got your health down pretty low, but it wasn't enough. With one final hit, you were able to knock down his character.

Mouth turned down in disappointment, he stared at the screen with hard eyes. Your mouth was turned up into a grin, feeling victorious as you got to enter your name into the screen.

"Best out of three?" Richie offered, looking at you with pleading eyes.

"Sure," You complied, "But you have to pay since you lost."

The two of you lost count of the score by the tenth game, the loser having to pay for the next round. The game kept going and before you knew it, it was already 5:30.

"Sorry I have to go," You spoke up before Richie could insert the next quarter, "My mom will kill me if I'm late to dinner."

Richie's grin faltered, looking over at the girl next to him. He had such a good time with you that he even lost track of time. For some reason, he wished he could pause time just so you could keep playing. He liked having someone as competition. Eddie was a good friend and he did play the game with him, but he wasn't much competition. Richie was bound to win every round. With you, however, there was a challenge to it. He would win a few rounds and you would win a few rounds. You were both testing each other's skills.

"Oh," Richie finally spoke, the hand holding the quarter slowly dropping, "Will you be here tomorrow?"

Your eyebrows drew in slightly at his question before giving him a few pats on the shoulder. "Yeah, I can play a few rounds tomorrow."

two

Masterlist

[kwanisms]

To the Sky - 00: Arcadia

⤑ genre: steampunk au, sky pirates, ateez au, angst, fluff, smut ⤑ pairing: Seonghwa x OC ⤑ warning: alcohol consumption, mention of death, major character death, strong language, mentions of religious cults,  ⤑ summary: Living in the sky is not always easy, especially with a religious sect policing everything you do. One florist, Bang Min-ah, has always dreamed about life outside Arcadia. Little does she know, she’s about to find out how very different life is when a group of sky pirates accidentally kidnap her. ⤑ word count: 1.1k

✙ series masterlist ✙ next

a/n: here we have it. The start of my most anticipated story of 2020. I have created an entire world here so I hope you all are ready to join me on this journey. We’ve got 20 chapters and an epilogue on this one! This is going to be a long story so I hope you’re all ready! Now, without further ado, here is the opening of To the Sky. ~K

Maybe journeys aren’t about becoming anything.  Maybe they’re about un-becoming everything  that isn’t you so you can be  who you were meant to be in the first place.

This is a story about death.

Well, it’s more than that. It’s also about chance encounters, soulmates, mystery, love, revelations, life, and best of all, it’s about pirates.

It had been years since anyone lived on the surface. Decades since anyone had even been down there. We were told the air was toxic and the ecosystem was unstable. It started with an earthquake. The ground split open from violent tremors and spewed noxious gases into the air.

As the fumes continued to rise from the cracks, people got sick and started dying. So they did the only thing they could think of. They moved. Great migrations of people began, from the lowest valleys to the highest mountains, entire families moved as the air was poisoned.

To overcome the problem of the air toxicity, entire cities were built and raised up to float in the sky, held in place by very secure chains. These cities were the last places of refuge for the people of Eommuron.

There were ten of these cities. Voxstead was the first city to be built. It is also the smallest. Emberton, Blackburg, and Ravenmoor were the next cities to take to the sky. Construction of Chalcedony, the capital, began before Voxstead but took the longest to complete. I’ve only been to the capital once with my father when I was eleven. 

My brothers stayed home with Mother while Father took me to the capital for my birthday. It was a vast, sprawling city, covering the entire surface area of the pedestal it sat upon, high in the sky. The city was a shining example of high class society; a beacon of aristocracy.

I didn’t like it there. The people were cold and distant. It was as if they knew I was an outsider. Like I didn’t belong in their city. ���Oh, Arcadians,’ they would say with disdain as if I was some other species. Like I was some sort of wild animal in their pristine city. I never went back to Chalcedony after that.

My name is Bang Min-ah and Arcadia is my hometown. I was born and raised there. My family has only ever lived in Arcadia. It’s a large city in its own right. Not nearly as big as the capital of course, but it’s not exactly small either. 

Arcadia is one of the older sky cities and it doesn’t receive as much maintenance as some of the other cities. The edges have been weakening for years as large chunks of earth on the bottom fall off and down to the earth below.

Part of the city has been lost to age and decay. There was a portion of the city the Church kept fenced off, refusing to let anyone go inside. We’re told it’s too dangerous. Some of us believed them when they told us that but some did not. Tragedy struck the city when a couple of young boys snuck into the caution zone and part of the zone crumbled and fell, taking buildings and unfortunately, one of the boys as well. A young boy named Bang Min-ki. My brother.

After the accident, the Church as well as the Founding families decided to purposefully remove that part of the city to avoid further accidents and more casualties. 

The Church. That’s one name for the governing body of our entire society. They’re also called the Order. They’re based in the Second Sanctum, a sort of utopian paradise that houses only the highest members of the Order and their families. You have to be invited to the Holy City to even board the special airship from Arcadia to the Second Sanctum.

Some would say the Order is archaic. A relic of a forgotten time and should be considered obsolete.

After my brother’s death, my family fell apart. My father, who was never around much to begin with, started coming home less and less. Mother took the easy way out. She started relying on alcohol and drugs to numb the pain of losing her favorite son. It was hard on all of us but no one took it harder than Min-ho, my other brother and Min-ki’s twin.

They were eleven years old when Min-ki died. Not a day goes by that he doesn’t miss his twin. I know how much I miss him and I can’t even begin to imagine how hard it must be for him. Min-ho was there when the ground split and fell. He heard Min-ki scream out for help. He still has nightmares.

After the accident, actions were taken to ensure the cities would be safe for the rest of their citizens. We weren’t told what these actions were but instead we were told to trust the cities and trust the Order. ‘Trust in the Order and everything will be fine.’

The only city not under the protection of the Order was Copperdrift, the Sky Sanctuary. The Pirate City.

Pirates. Another thing that took to the skies when the oceans were no longer safe.

I’ve never seen a pirate in real life but I’ve heard stories my whole life about the carefree souls who roam the skies in airships, usually stolen or built from scratch. Some people say they’ve caught a glimpse or two of a strange ship in the sky. Spotting it as it passes through the clouds.

I’ve seen the posters of these ‘sky-devils.’ They attack other airships and steal the valuables to sell off for gold in their Pirate City. One well known pirate ship in Arcadia is the Horizon. No one knows for sure how many people make up the crew. Rumors whispered around the city telling tales of a group of anywhere between 8 and 20 people. Their captain, and man known only by the name of Galpyeon -- the Scorpion.

They don’t come to the cities often and I don’t blame them. Everyone knows piracy is illegal. To be caught a pirate is to be put to death. The Order takes the threat of piracy very seriously and even if you are suspected of piracy, guards will take you in the middle of the night to be questioned. Interrogated even. And the Order was never wrong.

I try to stay out of the Order’s way. I believe they do protect us from dangers beyond our comprehension. I believe in the Church, which Min-ho would say is a curse. He tells me I trust people too much. I see too much good in everyone. I shouldn’t be so forgiving or inviting. Maybe he’s right.

Who knows, I’m just a florist.

[gyougherea]

you know what honestly i wanna talk more about my nina lore headcanon let's gooooooo

putting it under a keep reading because WOW this was long. i wanna hear your thoughts though if you have any! either with a reply to this, an ask, a DM, etc.

it's a first draft of anything detailed on my nina backstory, so i'm sorry if it's a bit clunky or missing some details haha ^^;

Before Nina was The Killer, she was Nina Emilia Moreno, the shy introverted college undergraduate double-majoring in Forensic Chemistry and Psychological Science.

Nina was surprisingly a very high-performing student. While she was never an Ivy League student, she was still in the top 1% of all students nationally in terms of academic performance.

Outside of schoolwork, Nina's passion was true crime. Something always intrigued her about the psychology behind a serial killer along with the open-endedness of unsolved cases. Her first serial killer of interest was the Killer Clown, John Wayne Gacy.

Nina ended up getting an internship with a forensics team at 20, but instead of doing actual forensics they usually put her on paperwork duty. She eventually heard talk at work of an ominous unknown killer at large --- dubbed the Glasgow Killer --- who apparently already had 5 victims in the area in the past two weeks alone, not counting the strings of murders in other places from the same supposed killer. This piqued Nina's interest, and she tried asking if she could help with the case, but was ultimately shut down.

Nina doesn't take no for an answer when it comes to her interests. She secretly got copies of every case file on victims of the Glasgow Killer, along with any additional information about the killer or who it could possibly be. Any free time Nina had was dedicated to solving the case on her own so she could stick it to her employers.

This motive, unfortunately, did not stay the same. Eventually Nina was... oddly touched by how passionate the killer seemed to their craft. Practically no information was ever found on this killer over their reign of terror, even in other states where they had attacked, and the victims were all branded with a smile carved into their faces. The gimmick and the mystery of identity sparked something in Nina's mind. She was curious about who this person was. She wanted to meet this person.

By the time class started back up after summer, Nina's few friends noticed she was becoming a shut-in at this point; she stopped attending classes regularly, ruining her perfect attendance record, and when she did attend she had this exhausted yet crazed look on her face. They tried to confront her about this, but she pushed it off as "just a lot of work recently, that's all". They didn't believe her, but they knew she wasn't the type to hide anything unless she really wouldn't budge on it (considering otherwise she was an incredibly open book).

Nina's girlfriend at the time tried confronting her, too, but the concerned intervention turned into a fight for the couple, Nina breaking off the relationship and claiming that her girlfriend was trying to suppress her aspirations. The two stopped talking to each other entirely after that.

Eventually, Nina's obsession became infatuation. What started off as a journal of notes taken about the case and her thoughts on it ended up becoming messy scribbles of her fantasizing about running away with the most notorious serial killer of her generation. She had a near-perfect understanding of the killer's style of murder and all of the patterns present in the strings of crimes. It was almost like she was becoming one with the Glasgow Killer.

At one point she tried inflicting the smile onto herself as a way to show herself (and the potential killer) her loyalty, but another girl in her dorm's hall had walked into the bathroom at the same time and almost called the police on her. In a panic, Nina tried to silence the girl and the girl ended up slipping, her head slamming into the corner of the sink. She didn't respond when Nina shook her, so Nina took her to her room as fast as she could, hoping she wouldn't get spotted. Thankfully she didn't, since it was very late at night, and Nina dropped the girl onto the ground. Nina did a check on the body, and it had a pulse still... but she knew that the girl would probably still call the cops on her. Would they take away her internship? Would they send her to a psychiatric facility? Would it take her away from this case she so desperately needed to study? Nina's mind then trailed somewhere... evil.

Nina snuck out of her dorm, body and "tools" in grasp, and booked it for her car. She threw the body in the trunk before driving off to the nearest forest. Once there, she went deep into the trees and set the body down again before pulling out a pocket knife. A normal person would have realized their mistake way before this and just faced the consequences of their accident. However, Nina was not that. Nina wanted to show the world just how well she knew the Glasgow Killer, inside and out. She killed the girl in the exact way her beloved would have, before booking it back to her car and to campus to head back to her dorm and pretend nothing happened.

But it isn't easy to pretend. Over the next few days, people started wondering where the girl --- Cassidy McEvoy, as Nina learned --- had gone. Nina didn't feel remorse for her crime, but she knew people would find out. Eventually they found the body, becoming the sixth "Glasgow Killer" victim. Nina then realized she made one fatal flaw in her actions: she had left fingerprints on the body. Nina knew she had to get on the move before the forensics people found out.

Nina swiftly packed up her room to leave, claiming it was because she was "scared of the killer on the loose". Thankfully, a handful of other people also got the same idea, so she didn't look too suspicious. She dropped out of university and left her internship with practically no notice before skipping town and spending the night one town over in a cheap motel under a fake name. While there she pondered what to do with her life. Her school, her job, her friends, her girlfriend, all gone because of her obsession with this one serial killer. All she was really good at was mimicking the killer's crimes.

... Wait. That gave her an idea.

All she had through all of this was the Glasgow Killer. In a fucked up sort of way, Nina felt that this murderer was the only one who she could truly relate to. She even wanted to run away with them... so what was stopping her? She had nothing else to lose.

Something in her brain had finally snapped. She was going to flatter him on the highest level: imitation.

Nina became the second Glasgow Killer. Sure, there were copycats, but all of them were distinctly not the real one. Nina's kills, on the other hand, fit the exact descriptions of the official murders. She was indistinguishable.

Except when her past came to bite her in the ass. Nina had been tracked via her license plate and a few places' security cameras, and one day the police showed up to the motel and pinned her to the floor of her room, handcuffing her and escorting her immediately to the police station where they frantically interrogated her for numerous hours before stopping when they found her belongings. The police had stayed back in the hotel and searched the room only to find the copies of the case files, along with her notebook detailing her spiral into a love obsession with the Glasgow Killer. The cops called her sick, a true evil, worse than the actual killer, that all copycats were scum of the earth.

They still arrested Nina, but the real killer was still at large, and Nina knew this. Thankfully for her, the place she was being held in wasn't the most secure, and she managed to break out the night before her trial. By the time morning came, Nina had already managed to hitch herself a ride to the state over after disguising herself as someone else. After that, she went off the map. No cop was able to locate her, but she had a massive bounty on her head: nationally wanted, high level target, and the state she used to live in along with all of the surrounding states were forced into lockdown for an entire month.

Nina spent this time changing up her aesthetic. She was always a fan of scene, but she used to dress very... opposite of that. Pastel sweater, leggings, fuzzy boots; she looked like the 2012 basic girl stereotype. She managed to have packages delivered to various houses with special instructions not to knock, and then she'd intercept the product before the owner would find it. She went from a calmer look to a spunky scene outfit. If you're going to be wanted, why not look your best when they finally catch you for your mugshot?

She also had taken to heart what the cops had said. They were right; an exact copycat was dumb. Plus, the real Glasgow Killer wouldn't see her standing out as much as she wanted. No, instead she wanted to add her own spin on it.

By her "own spin", she meant leaving love letters to the killer. Hearts in jars, notes written in blood, bodies arranged and disfigured to make heart shapes; you name it, she left it. This was her love letter to the Glasgow Killer. All of this was for them, and she hoped one day she would find them.

Her biggest current leads are a handful of survivors in the New England area; it looked like the Glasgow Killer had moved locations ever since Nina's debacle. She hopes to gather any information on the killer's appearance from these victims' testimonies, but also plans on paying them a personal visit. Amongst these supposed survivors is a man named Jeffrey Woods, and it looks like he's Nina's next visit. If only she knew what she was about to discover...