#we reported him and he got fired bc we had cameras but it’s just !!

[felinemotif]

I just give them my emotional baggage and tell them I'm depressed and they lose interest quickly and avoid me.

you’re so real for that honestly xD not even ten minutes after i made that post one of my friends came to me complaining abt this guy on her campus always oversharing with her & it’s like!! need men to realize that being nice/cordial is not an invitation to hook up ://

[hercleverboy]

the burden of the blame

spencer reid x reader 

based off of this request > the reader gets shot on a case while trying to protect a child. The reader gets pissed bc the child needs more help than she does and Spencer comes to her aid first. The kid dies and she thinks it’s her fault.

genre > angst/fluff

wc > 3.1k

after being shot and nearly killed on a case, the reader deals with spencers upset as well as the guilt she feels of not being able to save the victim.

Genre : Angst ending with fluff. 

Word Count : 3.1k

Based on this request from @thatsonezesty13​ : “Ok so the reader gets shot on a case while trying to protect a child. The reader gets pissed bc the child needs more help than she does and Spencer comes to her aid first. The kid dies and she thinks it’s her fault.”

A/N : I  changed the story a little from the original request, but it’s still pretty much what you asked for! I hope you like it!

The team had spent a week hunting down an unsub, who just seemed to keep slipping through their grasp. This unsub was killing young boys in horrifically gruesome ways. The team profiled that he wanted to be well known, this unsub wanted to go down in history as one of the greatest serial killers of all time. He was a narcissist, he thrived off the fact that he had successfully evaded the police, and now that the FBI couldn’t seem to get him either, it only further boosted his ego. Finally, after two more bodies of young boys turned up, they eventually got a name and an address. Y/N, Morgan and Reid were already nearer to the address, so they arrived there before the rest of the team. They pulled up outside the property, jumping out the car and making their way to the front of the house. Morgan turned to the couple, going over the plan. 

“We can’t afford to wait for the rest of the team, we’re going to have to go in, just us three.” 

Y/N nodded, grabbing her gun from her holder. Morgan and Reid were going to take the front of the house, and Y/N was going to take the back. Just before they began to get into their positions Spencer grabbed his wife by the waist and pulled her into a quick kiss. 

 “You come back to me, okay?” He murmured against her lips. 

Spencer and Y/N had been married for a year now and were even discussing having children together. He knew his wife was more than capable of protecting herself and was a downright badass in the field. However, this unsub was different. His actions were unpredictable, the profile couldn’t determine how he would react to them finding him. He couldn’t lose her. 

She gave him a small smile. “Always.” She promised, before stealthily moving behind the house with her gun drawn. 

She heard Derek break in the front door and at the same time she broke down the back door, moving quickly with her gun held up, surveying the rooms for any movement or clues as to where the unsub might be holding his most recent victim.  She heard a faint bump and moved toward the sound. She pushed open a creaky door, shining her flashlight down into what appeared to be a basement. 

 “Jack Richards? FBI!” She called as she began to descend the staircase. When she reached the bottom step, her eyes landed on the unsub, who stood with the small child he’d kidnapped, a gun pressed to the child’s forehead.

“Put the gun down, Jack.” Y/N tried, though she knew this unsub was already past being reasoned with. She knew she had to try, especially with a young boy’s life at stake. “Let’s work this out.”

“I don’t want to work this out, agent. You don’t get it, do you?” The unsub taunted her. Y/N looked the child in the eyes, giving him a reassuring nod, one that said ‘stay calm. It’ll be okay. I’ll protect you.”

“I get it. You want to be well known, right?” Y/N started. “You want kids in criminology classes learning about your cases, you want the towns children to fear your name like an overtold ghost story.”

The unsubs grip on the boy and the gun faltered as he gasped. “Yes! I want to be the one their afraid of! I want to be as well-known as Dahmer and Bundy, I want to be told in stories 50 years from now!” He exclaimed. 

“Haven’t you seen the news coverage, Jack? You’re famous.” She replied and the smile that covered the unsubs face made Y/N feel sick. But she had to keep the act up long enough to save this child.

“Why don’t you put the gun down and let the boy go, and you can go outside and see. The media are here, imagine all those cameras, all those news reporters. All calling your name, all wanting to hear your story.” Y/N emphasised, hopeful that her attempt to talk him down seemed to be getting somewhere. 

The unsub simply smiled, unnerving Y/N. “Agent, that sounds great. But wouldn’t it make for an even greater story for the press to hear that it ended in such tragedy? With the death of a child and a courageous FBI agent that got caught in the crossfire?”

Her eyes widened, and she realised all too late what his words meant. “Wait-“She shouted out as three gunshots pierced through the air.

She watched as the boy and the unsub dropped to the floor. She turned around slowly, and saw Spencer holding his gun at the bottom of the staircase. The unsub was dead, the bullet that Spencer fired had hit him square in the forehead.

Y/N didn’t even register the pain in her left side until she looked down, watching the blood that blossomed on her white shirt. She collapsed to the ground in agony, but her eyes remained on the small boy, who was laying there bleeding, barely breathing but alive.

She heard Spencer’s voice calling for medics, as he rushed to his wife’s side. She cried out in pain as she registered the feeling of his hands pressing to her side, desperately trying to slow the flow of blood leaving her body.

“S-Spencer.” She choked out, tears leaving her eyes and trembling down the side of her face. His face came into view then, and she saw that he was crying too.

“Hey baby. I’m here, you gotta stay awake for me, okay. Please, oh god, please.” Her blood caked his hands, staining his shirt as he desperately tried to slow the bleeding.

“Spencer, you have to- you have to go to him. Help him, please.” She looked over to the small boy, before looking back to her husband, pleading him with her eyes. 

“Y/N if I leave you you’re gonna bleed out, I can’t-“ He choked but she shook her head at him and let out a small whimper. 

“Spencer- Spence- please. Please help him, I’ll be fine, I can hold on.” She begged and he went to protest again but the look in his wife’s eyes made him crack. He nodded, scrambling over to the small boy and checking his pulse with his fingers. It was barley there, and Spencer knew he wouldn’t last until medics arrived. He looked towards Y/N and shook his head slowly, tears falling down his cheeks.

“Bring him here, he can’t- he can’t die alone.” She cried and Spencer lifted the small boy up, laying him down next to Y/N, who reached over with the last of her strength to grab the boys hand.

The boys drowsy eyes flicked to hers, and they were so full of fear. Y/N hissed as Spencer’s hands returned to place pressure on her wound.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I know it hurts. You can go, it’s okay.” She promised the young boy as she sobbed, her chest heaving, despite how it made her side burn. The boy took his last breath as the medics stormed the room, and Y/N let out a heart-wrenching cry.

They were seconds too late. 

 Spencer cried too, as he watched his wife slip from consciousness, her body going limp.

“Baby? Baby, please! Please.” He sobbed desperately trying to cling to his wife as he was pulled away by the medics.

Spencer watched helplessly as she was placed into the ambulance. She was still alive, by some miracle, she was fighting to live.

“Are you coming with us, Sir?” The medic asked, and Spencer nodded frantically, hopping in the back of the ambulance, the team promising to meet him in the hospital.

 He held Y/N’s hand tightly in his and begged, prayed to every god that she would be okay. Once they made it to the hospital, she was rushed into emergency surgery, and Spencer was left in the waiting room, her blood caking his hands as he collapsed in on himself, the sobs wracking through him. The team rounded the corner into the waiting room at that moment, and JJ immediately rushed to her best friends’ side, taking him in a hug as Spencer sobbed into her shoulder.

JJ attempted to reassure him, but what could she say to make this better?  Eventually they managed to convince Spencer to clean himself up in the hospital toilets, JJ having to go with him to help wash his wife’s blood from his trembling hands.

They sat in the waiting room for hours. The team had given up trying to get Spencer to eat or sleep, since he just snapped at them anytime they tried to ask him to take care of himself.

“Reid, Y/N would want you to take care of yourself, okay? You gotta eat something, man.” Derek tried, only to be met with Spencer’s harsh glare.

“I’m not doing anything until I know if my wife is alive.” He seethed, before turning his gaze back to the floor.

The team shared a look, but ultimately decided that Spencer wasn’t going to budge, so they stopped trying.

Hotch on the other hand was rather persistent. He sat next to the younger boy, who sighed and leaned back as his superior sat beside him.

“Hotch, I don’t wanna hear it-“ He started but Hotch cut him off.

“She will be just fine, you know that? Your wife is many things, a quitter is not one of them. You know how stubborn she is, she won’t go down without a fight.” Spencer almost smiled at the comment.

“I just keep thinking if I’d of gotten there sooner, maybe I could’ve stopped this, or even saved that boy I-“ Spencer couldn’t explain the guilt he’d felt as he watched the young boy die before him. He couldn’t help but feel as though he should’ve done more, but he was faced with an impossible choice; the love of his life or the life of a young innocent boy?

“Reid, there is nothing you could’ve done differently.”

“You know Y/N made me pick him up and bring him over to lie next to her so she could hold his hand? She didn’t want him to die alone.” Spencer choked out. His wife’s compassion was one of the things he’d fallen in love with. “I can’t lose her, Hotch.”

“You won’t.”

No one else spoke after that.

It was a long four hours of Spencer nervously pacing the waiting room, the team sat in the uncomfortable plastic chairs. Finally a doctor walked down the hallway, calling Y/N’s name out. Spencer sprang up from his seat.

“Yes, is she okay?” He asked desperately, his breaths coming out in soft pants. The doctor gave a small smile.

“Dr Reid, your wife is quite the fighter. She flatlined twice during surgery but she pulled through, against all odds. She is incredibly strong, we expect her to make a full recovery.”

Spencer had never felt a relief so sweet.

“She’s resting now, but as you’re her husband you’re welcome to go and sit by her, she could wake up any minute now. The rest of you will be able to see her later.”

Spencer thanked the doctor profusely before turning to face his team. He gave them a relieved smile, and they all smiled back, encouraging him to go and see his wife. He thanked them too before following the doctor towards Y/N’s room.

He pulled up a chair next to Y/N’s bed, moving to take his hand in hers, his focus on the small sparkling wedding ring that sat on her ring finger. He pressed as kiss to her hand, his eyes filling with tears as she looked at her.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

Spencer recited her favourite books from memory and told her stories, anything to push away the thoughts that entered his head. 

what if she never wakes up?

It was in the middle of the night that Y/N finally twitched awake. Her eyes fluttered open, and she glanced around her, quickly registering where she was. She looked down to her left side, where her husband sat in a chair at her bedside. His hand held hers tightly, and he’d fallen asleep resting his hand on her stomach. She brought her other hand up and gently ran her hands through his hair, which woke Spencer from his slumber. She felt awful for waking him, the circles under his eyes that were darker than usual were an indication that he hadn’t had any sleep in a while. 

“Y/N?” He whispered, looking up at her with tears in his eyes. “You’re awake, you’re okay?” He was more asking himself than her, trying to assure himself that he wasn’t dreaming.

“I’m okay.” She assured him and he let a sob escape his lips as he gently brought her into a hug, being careful of her injury. He sobbed into her shoulder as she held him tightly, soothing him with gentle shushes and calming strokes on his back.

Once he’d calmed down he pulled back and rested his forehead against hers. “I almost lost you, baby.” He whimpered.

She shook her head. “It’ll take more than a bullet to separate me from you, Spencer Reid. I believe I promised you forever. I intend to keep that promise.” She gestured to their wedding bands and he smiled down at them. He placed his hands on either side of her face, bringing her into him for a gentle kiss, one that reassured him that she was here, alive, and that the nightmare he’d been living was over.

When they pulled back, he sighed and Y/N frowned. “Now that I know you’re okay, would you mind telling me what on earth you were thinking?” He questioned. 

Y/N wasn’t sure where this sudden change in mood had come from, and Spencer cut her off before she could answer him.

 “You’ve gotta stop being so reckless, Y/N. Morgan and I were there too, you should’ve called out to us for backup before you went down the staircase.” He sounded like he was telling her off and Y/N couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “I’m serious, Y/N! Don’t you get it? You nearly died!”

“I told you to save him instead of me, Spence.” She spoke calmly. Her tone wasn’t accusatory, like she blamed him, nor was it cold or rude. She knew he was mad at her for putting herself in that position, but all she cared about at the time was saving that little boy. 

He looked up at her bewildered, getting up from his seat.  “Y/N, what was I supposed to do? Let you die?”

“Yes, Spencer. I would’ve happily given my life for that boy. Better me than him.” It was harsh and unfair to say, she knew that. But she was hurting and trying to make her husband understand the decisions she’d made.

Spencer’s eyes widened. “Don’t you dare say that, Y/N. Please, don’t ever say that.” 

“This is my job, Spence. I made a promise that I would protect those who can’t protect themselves, and I need to keep that.” She explained.

Spencer scoffed. “What about the promises you made me, Y/N?” He asked, his voice getting louder, pointing to the golden wedding band that sat on his finger. 

She sighed. “Spence its not the same-” 

“Y/N Reid, you listen to me.” His voice was stern as he came to sit next to her again. “I will never, prioritise someone’s life over yours. I don’t care if it’s selfish, if its against the morals of my job. You’re my life, Y/N. I will not lose you. Do you understand?” His eyes searched hers, and she knew she better drop the subject, at least for now. She wasn’t going to win. 

She smiled at him, which made his stern demeanour falter. He could never stay made at her. 

He pulled her back into his embrace as the doctor came in, a smile on his face at the couple. 

“Ah! Mrs Reid! Lovely to see you awake. How’s the pain?”

Y/N took a deep breath, hissing at the pain in her side. “It’s bad. Hurts like a bitch.” She joked and the doctor chuckled a little. 

“We’ll get you something for that. I just came in to tell you that your vitals look good. You’re expected to make a full recovery and we can get you out of here by tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” Spencer said and Y/N smiled gratefully as he walked away. Spencer opened his mouth to speak again, grasping Y/N’s hand in his, but was interrupted by the sound of voices coming down the hall. 

Just then, the team burst into the room, all smiling happily at the sight of the couple, but also happy that Y/N was alive. 

“There’s my beautiful best friend!” Garcia chirped at Y/N, as she placed a bouquet of flowers on the table next to her bed. She turned towards Spencer. “Move over, boy wonder. It’s my turn to get some of Y/N’s love.” She grinned, pulling Y/N into a tight embrace once Spencer had moved away with a chuckle. Spencer moved to stand at the back of the room next to Hotch, watching his wife laugh and joke with the people who’d become their family. 

Hotch turned to him, smirking slightly. “See? I told you she’d be fine.” 

Derek and Rossi moved to join the guys conversation, as JJ, Emily and Garcia all sat around Y/N’s bed, gossiping with her about something or other. 

Derek chuckled lightly. “What, you think a bullet could take down the great Y/N Reid? Think again.” 

“I heard that, Morgan. You know I could kick your ass if need be.” Y/N teased, which earned a laugh from the team. 

Derek just raised his arms in mock surrender. “I know you could, doll. I know better than to underestimate you.” He teased back. 

Rossi chimed in. “Damn right. She’s kinda scary when she’s mad, wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of her.” 

Spencer nodded in agreement with a laugh. “Its true. You should’ve seen her last week when I ate the rest of her crisps. She wasn’t happy.” 

Spencer looked around the room and let himself bask in the warmth and happiness that filled it. Over the years he’d learned to cherish the little moments like that, where everyone was healthy, happy and together. 

The fact that moments like that were so few and far between only made them more precious. 

It was in that moment that Spencer Reid knew what  true happiness felt like. 

[combat-wombatus]

Hot Cocoa

Pairing: Iida Tenya x gn!reader

Warnings: brief cursing (mostly just bakugou being bakugou), some suggestive humor (m*neta is involved too)

Genre: fluff (a lil bit of crack bc why not)

WC: a bit over 8k? went slightly overboard with this idea and not entirely happy with the ending but i already rewrote it like 5 times so it is what it is-

(A/N): heya! so this is my first fic and i was kinda nervous about posting it...

it started out as an idea on @todorkihoe’s discord server but then it evolved into this monstrous nightmare so...it took me like a whole week to hash everything out and the logistics of the secret santa thing was an absolute nightmare. but it was worth it!!

It was the holiday season. Most people were taking time off of work to hang out with their friends and family. You had wanted nothing more than to relax in your hot tub with a glass of sparkling cranberry juice and scrumptious holiday cookies, but being a pro-hero meant sacrifices.

You were signed on as a sidekick in the UA Hero Agency’s Tokyo branch. The UA Hero Agency was exactly that: a hero agency formed by the most illustrious graduating class at UA. Not everyone from their class eventually went into the agency, but they were a large agency, with around 36 pro-heroes working full-time. This meant that they had several branches. You, a recent graduate from UA, knew these heroes who were a year above you at UA. They were special. When you started at UA, there were already whispers about “the Class of Legends”. Every single person who graduated the year after had been through enormous trauma during their years at UA. You thought that they were true heroes: strong, unbending even in the face of overwhelming adversity. They were only in their first year when they had been attacked by villains: twice. One of them had even been kidnapped. You couldn’t even begin to fathom how hard they must have worked to get to where they were today. They were resilient, and it showed. The UA Hero Agency is now one of the top Hero Agencies in not only Japan, but also the world. In fact, with their combined power, you wouldn’t be surprised if they happened to make an international branch. You knew that some of the heroes at your agency, Can’t Stop Sparkling and Pony, wanted to start something overseas but didn’t yet have the manpower to make it happen. You were sure that within a few years, their ranks bolstered by new graduates, they would take UA to the international stage.

So it was Christmas Eve. Even though you wanted the chance to chill out at home with some relaxing instrumental jazz and freshly baked sweets, you were out patrolling Tokyo’s vibrant shopping sector instead, on the lookout for villains who wished to ruin everyone else’s holiday fun. The mall was abuzz with shoppers, some hanging out in the verandas with cup of hot cocoa in their hands, others hurrying through, their arms loaded with shopping bags, searching for last-minute gifts they had previously forgotten to purchase. It was definitely not the worst patrol ever. The cozy atmosphere almost had you sighing in contentment, before you heard a voice shout, “thief!”

Of course a villain had to ruin the fun. They had a tendency to do that. You weren’t very comfortable using your quirk in such a loud, crowded area, but you bet that you could catch a small-time shoplifter without it anyways. You raced through the crowd, tracing the voice that had called out moments earlier. You saw a tuft of orange hair weaving unnaturally through the crowd of shoppers, and sprinted forwards, your eyes locked on the target. You followed the path they had created unknowingly for you, trying not to draw attention to yourself. It would only slow you down and light a fire under the criminal, which was exactly what you didn’t need.

Within moments, you caught up to them. Sneaking up behind them, you snatched their wrist and smacked your quirk-suppressing cuffs on it.

“Fuck!” He swore. How did he get caught so quickly? He could have sworn that there was no one chasing him. Pesky heroes. Relying on the comparative lack of heroes patrolling during the holidays, as well as the customary holiday shopping rush, was a sound strategy. He had done the same in previous years without getting caught. If only that damned, nosy civilian hadn’t shouted…

“Please do not resist arrest. It will be easier for all parties involved. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say may be used against you in a court of law. There are eyewitnesses to your crime. Please drop your bags and hold out your other wrist.” You said calmly. You had a beautiful voice. It was calming and had a lilt to it that was a byproduct of your quirk. The villain did as you said, knowing that there would be no escape.

You sighed. Pressing a button on the comms situated in your ear, you reported the situation back to your office. You then called the nearest detective station and waited until their patrol car got here so you could hand the man over. Glancing at your watch, you realized your patrol was almost over. You did one last sweep of the premises, then headed back to the agency.

Today, the agency was the emptiest you had ever seen it. It was a large building, with 20 above-ground floors. In fact, it was essentially a mini-city. There was a heated indoor pool, a sauna, an elite gym that would make fitness junkies drool, a massage and spa, three verandas, and a rooftop greenhouse. It had a café reminiscent of the UA cafeteria, and all types of cuisines were available. In fact, Lunch Rush’s niece was working in the café, and the food was always heavenly. Sometimes, heroes from other agencies would drop off at the UA Hero Agency just for a bite of food after a long patrol. It was the unofficial headquarters of all the hero agencies in Japan, and it certainly lived up to its reputation.

Thinking about the café, you were suddenly hungry for some pad thai. Arriving at the door, you dropped off your comms and cloak at the door to your office and headed down to the café for some food.

“(Y/N)!!! You’re back!” Your friend squealed.

“Yeah Mina, just got off of patrol. Arrested this shoplifter trying to take advantage of the holiday chaos.” Spying her coat in her hands, you realized she was on her way out.

“Cool! You’re always so efficient with your arrests. Anyhow, I’m going to head home. My parents and I are getting some dinner together. I’ll be back for the party, yeah? Don’t open any presents without me!” Mina waved, a grin on her face. You assured her that you would make sure everyone waited for her to celebrate. You wanted to see your parents too, but they were currently on an international tour. They were famous singers, pioneers of a new genre of music. It was a sort of lullaby, but it wasn’t meant to put people to sleep. It was more of an enchanting, calming kind of music present only in fantasy books before your mother brought it to life. She was wildly popular, and your father was only too happy to support her. Speaking of which, your phone rang in your pocket. You took it out and accepted the video call.

“(Y/N)! It’s so nice to see you baby! How’s it going? I know you had patrols today but I forgot about the time difference and your father had to stop me before I called you and distracted you during patrols! He’s always so paranoid you’ll hurt yourself, sweetie. Stay safe, okay?” Your mother was always cheerful.

“Yeah mom, I know. I’m doing pretty well, actually. I arrested a shoplifter today,” you replied, recounting the same story you just told Mina. “Everything’s pretty calm here. How’s your tour going? I missed you,” you asked her.

“That’s good to hear sweetie!” You mom smiled. “The tour is amazing. I’ve never had such an international turnout before! Maybe I need to start considering singing in other languages! Everyone’s always so supportive.” You smiled at her, happy that she was enjoying herself.

“You deserve it Mom. I’m glad that your music is appealing to an international audience. You always work so hard. It’s nice to see that people appreciate all that you’ve done.”

“Thanks sweetie. Here, I’ll let your dad talk to you for a bit.” There was a bit of shuffling on her end as she handed the phone over to your father.

“Hey sweetheart,” your father’s voice boomed through the phone. You held your phone away from your ear, wincing a bit. Quickly dialing the volume down, you responded.

“Hey Papa. Mom said the tour was going well.”

“Yeah, it is. How’s the holidays going for you?” You heard the slight sadness in his voice. You knew that he wanted Mom to take a break in the middle of the tour and spend Christmas with you, but Mom was adamant about it. It was a holiday tour, after all, and tickets had already been booked. Some people were going to see her concerts as a way of celebrating, and she wouldn’t let them down.

“I’m doing good. It’s pretty peaceful here. No big missions or anything,” you say, in an attempt to comfort him.

“Ok, that’s good to hear sweetheart. We miss you.”

“I miss you too, Papa. Don’t worry though, I’ll be here when you guys get back. Have fun in Paris!” You replied, suddenly feeling sad. “Bye Papa! Bye Mom! I’ll see you guys soon!” You blew a kiss to the camera and hung up. Sighing a little, you trotted towards Emiko, the revered chef.

“Can I have a pad thai please?” You asked, putting your phone back in your pocket.

“One pad thai, coming right up!” Emiko beamed. “So, I hear there’s a party tonight. Should I make anything special?”

You thought about it for a bit, then shook your head. “No, you don’t have to. It’s mostly just for the presents. We already have the booze covered. I think Momo is ordering some special hors d’œuvres already and Sato is taking care of the cookies. Are you coming?”

Emiko shook her head. “I’m spending the night with my family and my boyfriend. I think I might make you guys some tiramisu though. I have all the ingredients and I don’t want them to spoil since I’ll be gone for a few days. Desserts are my specialty anyways,” she added. Then, with a knowing smirk, she prodded your arm. “Do you have anyone on your mind? You know, Mina and Ochaco hung some mistletoe up before they left…”

You blushed. Of course they did. Your friends knew all about your one-sided crush. You also knew that he would still be working here. He was always working. You were pretty sure that he had the mind of a robot, focused only on his work and his legacy. With those hand motions he made, you weren’t surprised if he actually was one. You shook your head to get rid of these thoughts. Emiko didn’t know. At least, you didn’t think she knew. You really regretted telling Mina about your little crush. With her tendency to run her mouth, you wouldn’t be surprised if the entire agency knew already. With the exception of your actual crush, of course. He was simply too socially dense to see the signs and too uninterested to pry.

Taking your pad thai, you scurried away from a smug Emiko and plopped yourself down at a table. You dug into your noodles and sighed in contentment. Maybe working during the holidays wasn’t so bad. It wasn’t like you had friends who weren’t as busy as you were anyways.

You finished the last of your noodles, then got up and took your tray to the recycling area. Heading up to your office, you paused by Ingenium’s office. His door was cracked open, and you peeked inside. You had to muffle your giggles at the sight.

He was wrapping presents with such a focused look on his face that you found absolutely adorable. His brows were furrowed, the tip of his tongue poking out of his mouth. He had a spool of ribbons laying on the floor next to him, as well as elegant white-and-gold wrapping paper and a roll of tape. What really amused you was the pile of paper, ribbons, and tape that was bunched together and tossed aside, obviously a result of trial and error. Iida looked frustrated. He had already put his presents in boxes so that they were almost uniform in size and easier to wrap, but he was clearly struggling. You estimated that he had forty boxes littering the floor, but he only had five wrapped. You watched as he ripped off the wrapping on the newest box he had started on, muttering about how hard it was to get straight edges with the wrapping paper. Knocking lightly on his door, you stuck your head around the doorway.

“Need some help?” You asked.

Iida looked up from unspooling more wrapping paper. His face brightened at your offer.

“Yes please, (Y/L/N)-san! I would greatly appreciate your aid. I seem to be having trouble folding the paper and trying to tape it together without it sliding from its position. If you could hold the paper in place while I tape, that would be wonderful!” He looked so excited, almost like a puppy.

You smiled at his eagerness. “Of course, I’d be happy to help.”

You sat down across from him and held the wrapping paper in place while he tore off a piece of tape. The two of you worked in tandem for around an hour, until you finished wrapping all the presents. You sat back, face flushed, and surveyed your work. All forty presents, wrapped with elegant paper and tied up prettily with a gold organza ribbon, were laid out neatly on the floor. It was a satisfying sight. Rolling out your back and cracking your knuckles, you got up from the floor.

“Those were a lot of presents, Iida-san,” you yawned, stretching your arms back like a cat. “Do you want to go down and get some hot cocoa? Emiko already left, but I can make us some.”

Iida got up too. His glasses were slightly askew on his face, and he had a dazed look about him. “That would be greatly appreciated, (Y/L/N)-san. Thank you very much for helping me wrap my presents. It was irresponsible of me to leave them until the last minute.”

“Of course, Iida-san,” you replied. “We were all so busy before the holidays I’m surprised you wanted to wrap everything as fancy as you did. I know that I just stuck my presents in bags, covered them with tissue paper, and called it a day! You didn’t even buy those sticky bows, you tied them with real ribbons. That’s dedication!”

Iida blushed furiously at your compliments. It’s the perfect time to confess to her, he thought. We’re alone, and there’s no one here to see if she rejects me. He took in a deep breath, trying to muster the courage to say something to you, but before he could, you grabbed his hand and dragged him down the hallway for some much-desired peppermint hot cocoa.

Humming lightly to yourself as you lead Iida down the halls, you entered the elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor. Releasing his hand, you clasped your hands behind your back, hoping he wouldn’t notice how they were shaking slightly. Wow, you thought. I really did that. I really just snatched his hand like that. Ugh, he probably hated it every second of the way, he’s just too polite to say anything. God, my palms are so sweaty. Why did I do this to myself?

Unbeknownst to you, Iida was having a mental freak-out of his own. Ahh! She grabbed my hand! And she didn’t seem to hate it! Does this mean she really doesn’t mind my company? Maybe I actually do have a chance with her! No, stop, he told himself. She was probably just tired of how I was staring at her and decided to do something about it. Ugh, I was staring at her, wasn’t I? God, I’m such a creep. Iida wiped his palms on his slacks, then reached up and adjusted his glasses, trying to hide the obvious blush on his face.

“Ding!”

The elevator stopped at the ground floor, and the two of you stepped out into the lobby. The decorations had been up for two weeks already, but it still took your breath away every time you saw it. There were garlands of lights strung high all over the ceiling, and dainty little ornaments hung from the chandeliers. There was a huge Christmas tree next to the fireplace, the floor around it coated in snowy fuzz. You had to resist the temptation to jump in on multiple occasions. You couldn’t help yourself! It just looked so fuzzy and comfortable, like clouds of cotton candy…

The Christmas tree was decorated tastefully. There was a surprising lack of hero-themed ornaments, mostly due to Momo’s elegant decorating. You had all been in agreement when you refused to let Kaminari or Mineta even touch the tree.

Making your way to the kitchen, you relaxed a little when you breathed in the apple-scented candles. It was a surprising choice for a holiday scent. Usually, pine or cinnamon were much more popular scents. You had gotten the privilege to choose the candles though, and although you almost fainted sniffing at every single scent in the candle store, you decided on apple. It was nice and refreshing, with just a subtle touch towards the holiday season. You liked the change of pace from the usual holiday scents, and it seemed it was growing on everyone else too. You stopped at the cabinets that contained the hot cocoa bombs. Emiko had seen these as an online trend with the food community, and she had made dozens of them “as an experiment”. Everyone fell in love with them (because heroes are allowed to be childish!) and they stuck. Now, the agency had an entire cabinet in the kitchen dedicated to the delightful goodies.

“Oat or regular?” You asked Iida.

Iida had, unfortunately, spaced out again. He was thinking about how cute you looked, standing on your tiptoes to reach the cabinet.

“Hello? Earth to Iida-san,” you turned around and waved a hand in front of his face. “You okay there?”

Iida blinked and had to recompose himself again. He kept getting distracted. This was not good. Not good at all.

“Regular is fine,” he replied, his face flushing once again. He really needed to stop daydreaming.

You poured out some milk into a jug and heated it. Then, you placed a hot cocoa bomb in each mug, licking some sprinkles off your fingers as you did so. Once the milk was ready, you filled each mug to the brim, careful not to spill any. It smelled absolutely delectable. Taking a spoon from the cabinets, you stirred both cups slowly, letting the chocolate melt at an even pace.

Iida was watching all of this, and he was still having an internal debate over when to confess. Would it be better to wait until you both finished the hot cocoa? Should he even confess to you on Christmas? What if his confession ruined your holidays? He began to sweat a little, his anxiety rising with each thought. Before he could come up with an excuse to escape, you stuffed a mug into his large hands.

“All done!” You exclaimed, taking a sip of your own cocoa, careful not to burn yourself.

Iida was not so lucky. Distracted by his thoughts, he raised the mug to his lips and gulped.

“Shit!” Iida swore. You blinked at him, a little shocked since he never swore, then immediately put your mug down and raced to the refrigerator to collect some ice cubes. Iida promptly put his offensive mug of cocoa on the counter, glaring at it like it just murdered his dog. Dumping some ice cubes in a glass, you hurried back towards Iida and popped one in his mouth.

“You really should be more careful next time, Iida-san,” you chided. “I just made it! You shouldn’t take such large swigs of a piping hot drink!”

“Sorry, I got distracted.” Iida replied absentmindedly.

“Distracted? By what?” Your curiosity was now piqued.

Iida’s face turned ever redder than before. He averted his eyes and mumbled out some quiet words that you couldn’t quite catch.

“Sorry, what was that?” You gazed up at him. “I couldn’t hear what you said.”

Iida’s hands were stuck to his thighs to prevent himself from freaking you out with aggressive hand gestures, and he didn’t think he’d ever been more nervous in his entire life. He cleared his throat. “I said that I got distracted by you.”

Now it was your turn to blush. “Really?” Your voice was quiet, almost a whisper. You weren’t sure if you heard that right, and your heart was beating so fast you were afraid that he’d hear it.

Iida finally looked at you. “Really,” he confirmed.

You wrung your hands and stepped towards him. Raising your eyes to meet his, your voice a half-whisper, you gulped before your next words.

“I like you.”

Blinking twice, Iida unclasped his hands and pinched his forearm. He winced in pain, then blinked again. You laughed at his antics, then clapped a hand playfully on his bicep.

“I’m real, Iida-san. I’m right here!”

Slowly, a grin crept up Iida’s face. “Really?” He mumbled, obviously still not entirely convinced he wasn’t dreaming.

You chuckled at how you had just asked the same thing moments earlier, but then you grabbed his large hand with your smaller one and squeezed.

“Really.” You smiled bashfully.

The two of you stood in silence for a while, then Iida spoke up.

“I like you too, (Y/L/N)-san.” Feeling bold now that he knew his feelings were reciprocated, he drew his other arm across your shoulders and drew you into a tight hug. You sighed, feeling comfortable and safe in his arms. A part of you wanted to stay like this forever and never wanted him to let go.

“Would you like to go on a date with me on Saturday afternoon at 3?” Iida’s voice rumbled in your ear.

You were bursting with excitement. A date! A real, formal, date! “I’d love to, but why so specific?” You giggled.

“Ahh, well, my patrol ends at 2:30, so I thought-”

Of course Iida volunteered for patrols the weekend after Christmas. Did this man ever take a break?

“No problem at all, Iida-san. That sounds lovely.”

Iida released you from the hug and rubbed lightly at the back of his neck. “You can… you can call me Tenya, if you’d like.”

You were smiling so big that you feared your face would split. “I’d love that, Tenya.” His eyes crinkled when you called him by his first name. “And you can call me (Y/N).”

Iida nodded his head. “(Y/N). I like that,” he said to himself. He muttered your name a few times, getting used to the way it rolled off his tongue. You blushed and hugged him again, pressing your nose into his chest. He was just too adorable.

You wanted to stay like that, but your phone dinging incessantly in your pocket made it uncomfortable.

Mina

(Y/N)!!! my parents ordered this WHOLE-ASS TURKEY for dinner with JUST THE 3 OF US!!! how we gon finish it all?!?

Mina

*burps* we did it. we finished all of it. the whole turkey. (Y/N). we. finished. a. whole. fucking. turkey. pls send help i can’t walk (Y/NNNNNNNN)!!!

(Y/N)

want me to call u an uber … mina mina MINA MINA DID U PASS OUT im calling an uber mina istg

Quickly sending an Uber to the restaurant Mina was at, you put your phone back in your pocket and looked up at Tenya.

“Hey. Do you wanna get your presents and put them under the tree?” You asked.

Tenya quickly straightened up. “Thank you for reminding me, (Y/N). I had almost forgotten about them!”

“No problem!” You chirped. “Let’s go!” You took his hand in yours again and lead the way to the elevator. As the elevator chimed, the two of you waltzed in, hands still clasped together.

Humming a little tune to yourself, you stepped out of the elevator. You and Tenya entered his office, and each returned with an armful of presents, carefully stacked as to avoid damaging the delicate ribbons the two of you had spent so much time tying.

It was a tradition in the agency to get everyone something small. However, you participated in gift exchanges every year. This year, it was a Secret Santa-type exchange, but the UA Hero Agency did Secret Santa’s a bit differently. Instead of giving your partner the gift on Christmas Eve, the gifts were labeled with typed name tags in generic Times New Roman font. Then, there was the guessing portion. Everyone got 3 guesses at the party when they first open it, and after that, they get one guess per week. Whoever held out the longest (avoided being guessed) would win a batch of Sato’s homemade cookies, a week of free food from Emiko, and two patrol coupons (basically the adult version of homework passes). This year, you had drawn Bakugo as your partner. You’d decided to get him a ¥4,000 gift card to his favorite ramen restaurant, as well as a high-quality leather jacket. The gifts were pretty generic, and you thought that you had a chance at the prize. You chuckled to yourself when you remembered that last year, Momo had been so frustrated when she hadn’t figured out who had given her a pretty earring and necklace set after two months that she’d used Creation to make fingerprint dust and swiped it all over the box. It had turned out to be Todoroki. Needless to say, he’d won the prize that year.

The two of you made a few more trips, carrying gifts from his office to the tree. Checking the time, you saw that it had been an hour since Ochaco’s patrol ended. Right as you were about to call her, the front door to the lobby burst open.

“(Y/N)!!!” Your friend screeched, holding up a kitten with fur the color of cinnamon. “Look what I found on my patrol! I had to take her to the vet really quickly to make sure she wasn’t hurt, and she didn’t seem to have an owner. Just look at her!”

You beamed. The kitten was absolutely ADORABLE. And not only was Ochaco safe, she brought a kitten back with her!

“Can I hold her?” You asked.

“Duh!” Ochaco passed the kitten from her arms to yours. Behind her, you saw Bakugou walking sullenly, arms drawn tight across his chest. You stifled a giggle at the sight. He obviously wanted a turn with the kitten too, but his pride wouldn’t let him as for it.

“We were coming back from patrols and I saw this little one stuck in a tree! And when I floated up to take her down, she just looked so sad. There wasn’t a collar on her or anything, so we took her to the vet. It seems like she was abandoned,” Ochaco pouted. “And so we asked the vet to vaccinate her and everything, and we brought her back here! Can we keep her? Mr. Grumpy over there already said yes.”

Tenya looked like he was about to object, seeing as this building had a no-pets policy, but then he saw how your face lit up and the idea and changed his mind. Maybe having a pet on the premises wouldn’t be too bad, he conceded. It’s not like there were other people sharing the building with them anyways.

“Of course we can keep her!” You squealed. Bakugou huffed a sigh. He’d have to deal with all these idiots fawning over the kitten for weeks, and he wasn’t happy about that, but there was no denying that the thing was cute. He’d mellowed out since his high school days and seeing a therapist for anger management classes certainly helped.

The kitten felt warm and fuzzy in your arms, and when you stroked it down its back with the palm of your hand, it let out a satisfied purr.

“What should we name her?” Ochaco asked.

You thought about it for a moment. “Well, since you found her, and her fur is brownish, why not Coco?”

“Coco! I love it!” She beamed. Coco purred again. “It looks like she likes it too!”

You smiled and looked down on the kitty. “Coco,” You murmured. “Welcome to the family.”

Just then, Mina burst through the doors, brimming with energy and not looking at all as if she’d fainted from turkey overconsumption.

“Mina!” You ran towards her. “I thought you fainted or something!” You accused, poking her in the chest. “You didn’t even leave me on read!! You just LEFT!”

“Chill, chill, girly, I’m alive and kicking! Just had to take a quick nap because of my digestive woes,” She flashed you a big thumbs-up. “And what’s this I see? Do we have an agency pet now? Did Shinso sneak it in his pocket from the cat cafe?”

“Shinso what?”

“Cat cafe?”

“I KNEW there was something fishy about his jacket the other day!”

You, Tenya, and Ochaco said at the same time.

Mina stared at all of you, then shook her head. “Never mind.”

Turning around, you looked at Ochaco. “I wanna hear about this later, you hear?”

“Alright, alright!” Mina shouted. “Change into your holiday gear! Let’s get this rolling!”

You had made a sweater especially for tonight. Knitting was a great way to relax, and huddling up in a cozy armchair with the soft yarn, some hot cocoa, and your favorite book, you had finished your holiday-themed sweater in two weeks. Now, you would finally get the chance to wear it. The sweater you made was white, a soft gold-and-silver threading woven through in the pattern of snowflakes. It was a basic winter pattern, but you were proud of your work.

Setting Coco down on the couch, you headed into the locker rooms to change into your sweater and some flannel pajama bottoms. Walking out, you noticed Tenya was still in his business attire, which looked pretty uncomfortable by your standards, although it did fit him nicely.

“Tenya,” you called out. “Are you wearing that to the party?”

He turned around at your voice, looking slightly taken aback. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. Why?”

“Nothing, just wondering,” you replied. Good thing that your present to him was a nice, cozy, hand-knit sweater. You may or may not have thought about making him a matching one, but then you’d decided that it was too forward.

“You look…” Tenya stared at you. “You look…cute,” he said, with a small blush on his face.

Blushing at his compliment, you smiled and ducked your head. “Thanks.”

“Your sweater…it looks nice,” he added.  

Playing with the hems of your sleeves, you smiled up at him bashfully. “Thanks. I made it myself. I really like knitting. It’s kind of therapeutic.”

“Oh, wow. You are truly very talented, (Y/N)!” Tenya praised.

“Thanks.” You rubbed the back of your neck. It seemed like you had lost the ability to say anything else. Why did you suck so much at making small talk?

Just then, Mina stepped out from the locker room and saved you from any further embarrassment.

“Hey, has Yaomomo come down yet?” Mina asked.

“No, she hasn’t. Do you want me to go get her?” You answered.

“Nah, it’s alright, I’ll just text her real quick.” Mina pulled out her phone, fingers dancing rapidly across the screen, then put it back in her pocket. Minutes later, Momo stepped out of the elevator, already dressed in a red sweater and white jeans. She always looked so put-together. You were sure that she had a second quirk.

“Yaomomo!” Mina screeched, running up to her friend. “You’ll never guess what I ate for dinner!”

You groaned as Mina recounted her dining disaster. You loved Mina, but her tendency to tell her experiences to everyone multiple times could sometimes get a little annoying. Trying your best to tune her out, you tapped Tenya’s shoulder and moved to settle on the couch with Coco.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” Mina shouted. “Come here!”

Begrudgingly, you stood up again, having just sat down moments earlier. “What is it, Mina?”

“We forgot to introduce Coco! Yaomomo hasn’t seen her yet!”

Oh right. You did forget. You lifted Coco with both hands, then scurried over to where Ochaco, Mina, and Momo huddled. Momo let out a quiet “aww” when she saw the kitty and lifted her manicured hands in a silent invitation to hold her.

You gently placed Coco in her outstretched arms and was about to turn and leave when Mina grabbed your elbow. “Not so fast, (Y/N),” she scolded you sternly. “Picture time!”

Mina took out her phone and swiped open the camera app. You girls all huddled together as she snapped a picture for the fans.

Settling back down with Coco on the couch, surrounded by your friends, you didn’t think that you had ever felt happier. One by one, more of your friends and coworkers began to trickle in, until finally, when a disgruntled Jirou arrived with a protesting Kaminari in tow, Mina stood up.

“Alright! Everyone’s here now, so let’s get this party rolling!”

She bounced off to the kitchen to grab plates for everyone. You could smell Sato’s freshly-baked cookies from here, and your stomach growled in response. Remembering the tiramisu that Emiko had made, you followed Mina into the kitchen.

Mina held a stack of plates that covered half her face. It was wobbling slightly, the entire thing almost toppling over multiple times. You had gotten out the fancier cake platter and was currently in hyper-focus mode, carefully moving the tiramisu from its cake mold onto the crystal platter. You breathed out a sigh of relief as the process was finally completed and the cake hadn’t been ruined.

Holding the crystal tray with both hands, you stepped out into the lobby, marched over to the coffee table in the center, and slowly set the tray down.

“Hey guys, Emiko made us some tiramisu,” You called out. “Come here if you want some.” You held a cake knife in your hand and began serving everyone.

Tenya watched all of this with barely-hidden admiration. You were just so competent. So hard-working, so kind, and so wonderfully skilled at everything you do. Even the things that you weren’t good at, you tried your hardest to learn and to improve. He was definitely in deep, and to be honest, he didn’t mind a single bit. You were worthy of being admired, and he vowed that he would let you know in all the ways he could.

As you served the last slice of tiramisu to Ojiro, you carried the cake platter back to the kitchen and sat down next to Shinsou, who was, not surprisingly, hogging all of Coco’s attention. Seeing you, Coco scrambled over Shinsou’s lap and faceplanted into yours. You laughed at her enthusiasm and snorted when you heard Shinsou mutter “traitor” underneath his breath.

“So Shinsou,” you started casually. “What’s this I hear about you stealing cats from the cat café?”

Shinsou’s face immediately turned a tomato red. He put his hands up defensively. “No, wait, you have it all wrong- I swear- who told you about it anyways? Never mind,” he stopped his waving motions. You snickered. You were definitely getting the full story out of him later. For now, you had things to do.

Strolling over casually to Tenya with Coco still in your arms, you very sneakily dropped her, front paws landing gracefully, onto Bakugou’s head.

“Hey! What’s this damn cat doing here!” Bakugou yelped. Coco also yelped, and it came to you that dropping her on Bakugou’s spikey hair was probably not the best idea ever. However, as Coco quickly scampered down and curled up on Bakugou’s shoulder, and Kirishima was sitting next to him to make sure he didn’t kill the cat, you felt a sense of triumph. Bakugo was smiling. Not smirking, not grinning maniacally as he beat someone up, but genuinely smiling. You gave yourself an internal high five as you moved onto your next goal.

You walked hesitantly towards Tenya, and when he turned his head towards you, about to ask what you were doing, you quickly linked your hand with his and started leading him towards the rest of the group.

“(Y-Y/N) ?” Tenya sputtered. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” You replied cheekily. “I want to hold hands with you!”

“B-but, do they know?” Tenya gestured nervously with his free hand.

“Nope, but they’re about to,” you grimaced, thinking about all the teasing you’d have to endure from your friends later. Better to just get this over with during the party, when everyone had the attention span of a goldfish and any embarrassing moments would hopefully be forgotten moments later when more exciting things came along, such as Mineta’s annual lingerie gift. Whatever the powers that be were doing, they were definitely not doing the world any favors when they let Mineta draw a girl for the Secret Santa every single year. But, for all the bad things you could say about Mineta, he definitely consumes enough material to have at least semi-decent taste in lingerie. Surprising, and sometimes gross, but not entirely unwelcomed if you could manage to forget who gifted it. The most disturbing thing was he knew all the girls’ sizes. You tried your hardest to not think about that. It’s not like you could erase his memory anyways.

You settled down with Tenya on a vacant couch, inwardly counting the minutes until someone noticed your position. Tenya looked vaguely uncomfortable, his posture ramrod straight, and you squeezed his hand in reassurance.

“No one’s going to judge or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about,” you whispered into his ear. “And besides, at least half the girls already knew I had a crush on you, so this won’t entirely come as news to them.”

Tenya relaxed slightly at that, then stiffened again when he noticed a pair of eyes glancing his way.

Midoriya had been excited at seeing Ochaco for the first part of the evening, but then had wondered where his other friend had gone. He knew Tsu was in southern Japan, as she couldn’t stand the cold and was operating in the warm coastal areas instead, but Iida being absent was strange. He had searched around the lobby, and when his eyes descended upon you and Iida cuddling on the couch, he was intrigued, to say the least.

He stared at the two of you for a solid minute, not wanting to disturb your peace. Slowly, he turned back to Ochaco, thinking that it wasn’t his place to draw attention to the two of you.

Ochaco, however, had no such qualms. Noticing how Deku began to space out during their conversation, she followed his line of vision to the two of you, blinked twice to check if she was seeing it right, then immediately let out a squeal.

Heads turned at the sound, and in moments, everyone was staring at you and Tenya curiously. You hadn’t noticed the attention yet, but Tenya had, and he grew stiffer and stiffer until you finally looked up at his face with furrowed brows.

“Tenya, what’s wrong?” You whispered. “Do you not enjoy cuddling? I can stop if you’d like,” your lips were pressed together in concern.

“I-it’s not that,” Tenya whispered back. “Look.”

You finally raised your head from his chest and saw thirty pairs of eyes staring back. After a few moments of silence, the room erupted.

“Iida-kun! Why didn’t you tell us?” Midoriya was the first to raise a question.

“(Y/NNNNNN)!!!!!!!!!!!” Mina practically screamed as she ran towards you. She clasped her hands dramatically over her heart. “YOU DID IT YOU DID IT YOU DID IT OMG YOU GUYS ARE SO ADORABLE EEEEE!!!!!!”

Half the room winced at her loud tone, and you quickly moved Coco from your lap to save her from the incoming bear hug.

Mina launched herself in your arms, then stepped back and shook your shoulders until you felt your brain rattling around in your skull like soupy mush.

“(Y/N)! What did I say, huh? Bitch I TOLD you that he liked you too, and you wait three goddamn months to finally make a move!?! Honey-”

Your face flushed red. Gently, you pushed her away. “Mina, stop,” you whispered, horrified that she was making a scene. It was too late. Ochaco and Hagakure rushed towards you, Momo trailing more slowly behind them. The boys were stunned for a bit, since you had always seemed so quiet and shy, much less Iida’s feelings towards you. As their initial shock wore off, Midoriya trailed after Momo to approach Iida.

“Congratulations, Iida-kun!” He held up his arms in front of his chest. “You and (Y/N) are really cute together!”

“Yeah bro! That’s so manly that you finally confessed!” Kirishima added, with a quirk of his lips and a thumbs-up.

“Tch. Fucking coward. Took you idiots three fucking months to confess, huh.” Bakugou smirked, but you could tell he wasn’t really annoyed. You actually somewhat got along with him, due to all the times Mina would drag you to hang out with her friends.

You struggled vainly against the arms of your friends encasing you. “Guys,” you pleaded. “Let me out, please.”

Reluctantly, the girls let go, and you immediately tried to redirect their attention. “Shouldn’t we start opening presents?” You asked hopefully.

“Oh, you sneaky little thing,” Mina wagged her finger in your face. “Don’t think we’ll forget about this, (Y/N), but you’re right, we should start opening presents or we’ll be here all night.”

“We’ll be here all night anyways,” Todoroki pointed out.

“You knew what I meant,” Mina sighed.

Mina enlisted the help of Ojiro and Shoji to pass out the Secret Santa presents; you’d all open the rest of your personal presents later.

The best way to go about this, after years of trial and error, was for everyone to open their presents at the same time. It would simply take too long for everyone to open theirs one by one, and you’d all realized that the people who opened theirs first had a significant disadvantage when it came to guessing who their partner was, as the ones who opened theirs later had the benefit of some options already being eliminated. When you opened your present, you tried your hardest to hold back a squeal. It was a limited-edition album from your favorite artist! You hugged it close to your chest, and immediately knew who gave it to you. Jirou. Her parents were musicians too, and you had bonded over your love of this artist. It was a thoughtful gift, and you were glad that she had given it to you, even though it immediately gave her away.

The rest of your friends opened their presents. Poor Momo. No wonder Mineta had looked so gleeful earlier. He had been her Secret Santa and had gotten her a lacy black lingerie set. Her face was so red you were beginning to get scared that she would hyperventilate, but you had to admit that it was a pretty nice set. Mineta was basically drooling at this point, and Jirou was trying to comfort her while sending a death glare towards Mineta. Mineta, meanwhile, had received a new video game. Sero had received a large pack of farmer’s market coupons, as well as some homemade mochi from Ochaco, who had blushed and apologized profusely for not being able to afford something better for him. Sero just grinned and gave her a thumbs-up, saying that it was completely okay and that he appreciated her effort into gift-giving. She had brightened up a bit at that.

Koda had received a new hamster wheel along with some toys for his various pets. Shoji had been gifted a comfortable-looking poncho, as well as three pairs of matching gloves. Ochaco had received a generous sum of money, Midoriya had gotten a new set of comic books, and Iida had received a beanie and a multiflavored pack of tea. Aoyama had received a makeup set, and had gifted a makeup set as well, evidenced by his inability to contain himself and pounced on Hagakure, asking if she liked it. Hagakure was ecstatic, babbling about how she could finally show her face and how she’d never really been able to afford a full set before and how Aoyama was so considerate.

Sato had received a new baking pan, as well as cute mittens and a trending recipe book. He had given Setsuna a batch of cookies, as well as a gallon of frozen cookie dough with instructions on how to make it. There wasn’t really a point in him trying to win the contest, since he would be one of the people providing the prize. Mina had gotten fuzzy socks and a blanket, Kirishima had received a new pair of tennis shoes, and Jirou had been gifted a new pair of headphones. Ojiro had received some sort of custom tail armor with spikes along with an Amazon gift card, and Todoroki had gotten a hand-made red-and-white sweater with a red reindeer nose smack in the middle, along with a gift card to a hair salon, tucked into a bouquet of red-and-white candy canes. The only person you could think of that would go so far into the color scheme was Hagakure, who seemed like just the type to make an ugly sweater for fun. Shinsou had received earmuffs, a silk eye mask with a note (“to help you sleep”), and some gourmet coffee beans (“in case you still can’t”). Mina had seen the little notes that came with his gifts and started teasing him relentlessly about how sweet his Secret Santa was and how it was so cute that he had a secret admirer. Shinsou looked very nonchalant about it all and grumbled about how he just wanted to pet Coco and then go to bed.

Finally, Kaminari received some Pokémon cards to add to his collection (yes, he collected Pokémon cards, what was wrong with that?) along with another Pikachu plush, as per usual. It was an unspoken tradition that whoever drew Kaminari for their Secret Santa would get him a Pikachu plush along with whatever else they decided to give him. He had about twenty, collected over various years from birthdays and holidays. If this kept up, he’d be able to fill an entire closet with them once he retired.

As the chatter slowly died down, you snuggled into Tenya again. At some point during the present exchange, Shinsou had stolen Coco from the couch you occupied. Stifling a yawn, you pulled out a bag and handed it to Tenya.

“What’s this?” He asked, a slight smile on his face.

“It’s your gift, silly,” you booped him on the nose with your index finger.

“Ah, I see,” he replied, still smiling. “Do you want me to open it?”

“Duh,” you giggled into his chest. “What else would you do with it?”

Chuckling lightly, Tenya removed the tissue paper from the top of the bag. He stuck his hand inside, then pulled out a sweater. The sweater that you’d knitted for him. It was navy, the color of the yarn matching his hair, with gold and white snowflake detailing. His heart skipped a beat when he realized that you had made this especially for him, with your own hands. Putting the sweater down beside him, he wrapped his arms around you and pressed his face to your hair.

“Thank you, (Y/N),” he whispered. “I love it.”

You flushed, but you hugged him back. “You’d better,” you teased. “I spent two weeks on that.”

“Well, I appreciate it.” Tenya ruffled your hair.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, just soaking in the pleasant atmosphere. Yawning, you stretched out your arms, careful not to hit Tenya in the face. You gently pushed his arm off of your torso and got up to go to the bathroom.

When you came back, Tenya was nowhere to be seen. You searched around the common area and stepped briefly into the kitchen, but he wasn’t there. Sighing, you grabbed your parka and padded outside.

“Tenya?” You called out as you stuck your head around the doorframe. He was with Kirishima and Todoroki, clearing the entryway of the building of snow. You leaned back along the handrails of the stairs and watched. Your friends were all just so nice. So caring, so wonderful, so kind. As Todoroki evaporated the last bit of snow, you stepped aside to let them all head back in. As Tenya reached you, he paused briefly, looking up.

“What?” You tilted your head up also, curious to see what he was staring at. Oh. So this was where Mina and Ochaco had decided to hang the mistletoe. If Tenya hadn’t looked up, you would’ve missed its existence entirely. You looked back down at Tenya to gauge his reaction.

He gulped, and softly taking your chin into his hand, he leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss on your lips. You leaned up to meet him, rising slightly on your toes and wrapping your arms around his neck. The kiss was long and sweet, and you were both a bit breathless when you let go.

You smiled sweetly up at him and took his strong hand in yours. Standing on your tiptoes again, you pressed another soft kiss to his cheek.

“Merry Christmas.”

Masterlist

[no-whump-on-main]

Apartment 307-8 (Grabbed by the hair)

Hi guys!! I'm so sorry it took me so long to update. School and work have been crazy but luckily I'm out of school next week so I'll have much more time and be posting more frequently! Apologies for the short chapter, I have no idea why but it just kicked my butt lol. I tried doing some cool multimedia stuff, I hope you enjoy! This is @sableflynn's BTHB request, grabbed by the hair.

TWs: Creepy, possessive whumper, mention of branding, also this chapter made me sad bc I love my mom and Elora's mom is sad so warning for that lmao

Elora was still lying there crying hours later. The tears had slowed from her initial keening sobs, but they still fell steadily down her face, accumulating in a small puddle on the tile by her head. She could see a bit of her reflection in the salty water; just her eyes, mostly. She saw green eyes that had once been so full of hope and life that were fading, the slow abandonment of hope almost making them gray out. She wanted to lie there forever, staring into her own eyes, until oblivion took her. If she cleared her head enough, she could pretend she was elsewhere, somewhere warm and loving; the blanket draped over her body did help with the fantasy, though she always knew somewhere in the back of her head that it was just that: a fantasy. She was still here. With him.

Clyde tried to give her time to recover, but his patience wore eventually. He began to get antsy after a few hours of watching her lie there, doing nothing but cry. Admittedly, he did enjoy it at first-seeing her so weak, so docile, because of him-but it eventually grew tiresome. Watching each tear drip down into the puddle became like watching paint dry.

He stood up abruptly. Elora was startled by the motion, flinching before stilling and watching him very carefully. What was he going to do?

“Get up,” he said simply.

Elora froze. She still felt sick, dizzy with pain and the lingering scent of her burning flesh in the bathroom. But why would he care about that? Why should she disobey him, when she knew what would happen?

Yet pride and pain got the better of her again.

“I can’t,” she whimpered. She felt weak. “I hurt. You hurt me.”

The piercing sound of a loud, sudden laugh began to echo through the bathroom. It reminded Elora of the laugh of a hyena. She winced.

“Darling, did you not think that was the point?”

Her expression hardened and her heart thumped in her chest. That was the point. She wanted to say something, but her mouth suddenly got dry.

The man simply grinned. “Get up,” he repeated, but she didn’t. She just laid there, dumbfounded.

He groaned angrily, rolling his eyes. “Fine,” he grumbled. “Be that way.”

He gathered up her hair in his hand, locked his fingers in a tight fist, and pulled up. Elora yelped and scrambled to get to her feet to relieve the pain, but he didn’t give her the chance; he carelessly dragged her off, out of the bathroom, through the hallway, and into the living room. She screamed and thrashed wildly, her hands desperately trying to push him away as her scalp burned like fire. Again and again, her feet scraped the ground to no avail, kicking and kicking but never able to gain enough traction to stand as she was mercilessly dragged. The man finally dropped her on the floor at the foot of a worn leather couch, releasing his death grip on her hair. Her hands immediately flew up to her head, applying gentle pressure to her scalp to try to ease the burning pain as she looked around the new room.

The living room was barren, like the man had half moved into it then given up. There was a dusty box in the corner, the couch, a worn coffee table, a small stand, and an old TV. Other than that, it was empty, in an eerie way. The aged carpet spanned the floor like an ocean.

The pressure didn’t do much and Elora dropped her hands, still wincing as the man plopped himself on the couch behind her, the leather making a loud crackling noise as he sat. She whipped her head around as her shoulders raised up to her ears instinctively. The man made a sour face, his features twisting into an ugly frown.

“Relax,” he commanded, forcefully pushing her shoulders down. At first, she tried to wiggle away, but that idea was abandoned when he tightened his grip, clearly as a warning. He grabbed the TV remote from the arm of the couch and turned it on. It started on some history channel documentary about cars, but Clyde quickly flipped through channels until he found the local news station.

A grin spread across his face as he read the blue banner spanning across the bottom of the screen. They were just in time.

UP NEXT: CAPE COD GIRL GOES MISSING; DESPERATE MOTHER PLEADS FOR HER RETURN

His hands wandered to Elora’s scalp and began to gently card through her hair. She inhaled sharply, and it took everything she had in her not to immediately shove him off. Somehow the gentleness felt worse than the pain; the false sense of care disgusted her. He was a maniac. He hurt her, he branded her, and now he was sitting on the couch petting her hair, pretending like none of it happened. It didn’t escape her attention how he set her on the floor instead of the couch, below him, like a dog.

The banner was bad enough, but she felt sick to her stomach when the station cut to a reporter sitting at a desk with a picture of her on half of the screen. It was the picture her mom took of her at the orchard last fall. It was candid; she remembered it. She was intently focused on a butterfly off on a tree, ignoring her mom as she snapped the photo. It was one of her favorite pictures of herself. And now, it was plastered all over the news.

The reporter on the TV began to speak. “Tonight, a desperate mother pleads for her missing daughter’s safe return. Elora Larkin, nineteen, of Barnstable county, Massachusetts has been missing since Friday night. She was last seen walking home from her job at Agathangelou’s bakery, wearing khakis, a black t-shirt, and black sneakers. The police have opened a tip line and are offering an unspecified reward for any information that leads to Miss Larkin.”

Elora felt a lurching sensation in her stomach, so visceral she wanted to throw up. That was her. On the news. Gone. Missing.

Behind her, the man chuckled.

“Look at that, baby. You’re all over New England.”

“I’m not your baby,” she snapped, turning around. But her head was spinning. All over New England? It wasn’t the Cape Cod news station on the TV. It wasn’t even a state news channel. It was entirely unfamiliar, the reporter’s face one she’d never seen.. So he’d taken her across state lines, making her chances of being found lower yet.

The man shushed her and put a finger up to her lips. “Watch.” She almost bit him, but decided it wasn’t worth the inevitable punishment that would follow. Besides, they might say something useful, something that could help her. She needed to pay attention.

The screen changed, and a missing persons poster popped up. Hers.

It was up for a minute before it faded away as the reporter came back on the screen.

“Such a sad story. Everyone in the studio is hoping and praying for her safe return. Unfortunately, vigilance is so important in this day and age. Up next, we have a recording of a press conference with the girl’s mother.

The girl’s mother. Her mother. Elora felt her heartbeat thumping in her chest.

And there she was. Jodie was standing at a podium in a building that had to be a police station. Demetrios was standing by her side, offering support by merely being present. While Elora hadn’t seen him cry even once in all the years she’d known him, he now looked like he was on the verge of tears.

Her mom started to speak. She looked so sad. Withered, like the life had been sucked out of her, from fear and overthinking and sleepless nights.

“My daughter-My daughter Elora has been missing since Friday night. She’s got-she’s got blonde hair, and green eyes, and she’s real tall. I’m sure pictures have gone around by now. She was walking home from work and-and then she disappeared. We were supposed to have dinner Sunday and she never came. It was supposed to be her weekend off. I- If someone has her, please, I’m begging you, let her go. Bring her home safe. She’s a good kid, she works hard, she rescues cats in her spare time...she doesn’t deserve this. And Elora, if you’re seeing this, I love you. I love you so much, honey. If you chose to leave, please just tell us you’re okay. It’s okay. You can go see the world, just tell us you’re okay. And if something-something bad happened, we’re gonna find you. I promise, baby, I love you and we’re gonna bring you home. Promise.”

At that point, she set the microphone down and began to cry, tears streaming down her face as she hurried off to an exit, the cameras following her for a few moments. Elora’s heart twisted in knots. Seeing her mom’s face brought her so much joy, yet knowing how worried she had to be made her feel sick with guilt.

But she promised. She promised she’d find her.

“That your mom?”

Elora stilled. He already knew the answer.

"She’s kinda pathetic. Could barely keep it together long enough to tell them about you.”

She went cold. “Stop,” she seethed. Her voice was eerily calm, given her anger.

"Or what?” he replied, twisting her hair up in his hand and giving it another tug.

Elora was silent. There was no or what. She knew that.

The reporter came back on the screen.

“Well, folks, that’s all we have on the case for tonight. Remember to be safe and vigilant. This has been Hannah Brown with News12.”

The man released her hair, picked up the remote, and turned off the T.V.

“Notice how they only talked about you, not me?”

Elora turned her head around. She was crying.

“What?”

He scoffed. “I said, notice how they only ran their mouths about you the whole time. Never said a word about me. You know what that means? They don’t know jack shit about me. They don’t know who you’re with or where you are. I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but we’re in Connecticut. We crossed state lines twice. They’re never going to find you, you know that?

She tried to hide it, but he could see her expression falling with every word he said, hope beginning to seep out of her. She shook her head vigorously, her bottom lip trembling.

“N-no! No, they will, you’re just crazy! You’re just fucking crazy!”

A scowl formed on his lips. “No, they won’t.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but in a split second, his hand was gripping tightly around her throat, cutting off her air. Her eyes went wide.

“No one is coming to save you.”

Elora swallowed, fear bright in her eyes. She tried to rip herself away, but the man raked his fingers across the fresh brand on her collarbone, sending her to the ground, keeling in pain.

“We could’ve had a nice evening if you behaved. Listened,” he grumbled, standing and once again grabbing her hair tightly before dragging her off towards the bathroom.

Tags: @exploringspaceinpyjamas @all-whumped-out @badthingshappenbingo

[ricaffeine]

𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 | 𝐎𝐧𝐞

an: i'm sad because of hyunji drought and this is helping me cope :( but fr if tvn decides to make hotel blue moon then yeaji needs to be in it!!

also very annoying, i can't reply to comments bc this is a side blog (bruh wtf tumblr, i'm so sad should i make a new one?) reblog if you feel like it and my asks are open if you wanna chat 🖤✨

CHAPTER TWO

Weekdays at Seoul's National art gallery were usually the same. Buzzing curators dealing with hot-tempered clients. One thing or another was typically going not right and art directors cried about their wrong coffee order.

Although today was not the usual as to the crowds of bubbly news reporters and dazzled art critiques swarming up the wide place. As to Munyeong on the other hand, she was not pleased to the slightest.

"Just smile at the cameras, don't forget about the paycheck you're getting today." Sangin repeated himself for the fifth time. "Don't cause a scene, just think about the money."

Ah right. The paycheck.

As to The Nightmare Garden was bid off for over ten-million dollars, all of today's fanciness was dedicated to her, nation's celebrated female illustrator. However in all honesty, Munyeong barely liked her so-called masterpiece, but considering the amount of cash it will make her, she could be appreciative for the sake of it.

Behind her oversized sunglasses, Munyeong glared at her pesky manager– if looks could kill, he'd already be eleven feet under his grave. Sangin shut his mouth.

"Let's just get this over with," she simply responded, hooking off her eyewear then strutted into the hall with her long legs. Eyes whipped at her and cameras started to flash intensely, almost blinding her and Munyeong wondered how much those little pests could afford her if they got her blind.

And so the event played on. More pictures were taken– as if they hadn't blind her enough cheerful compliments flowed along with the spring breeze. The insincere joker smile she mastered whilst she met her million-dollar client– according to Sangin a hotel owner, though the woman did not have the looks for it– and the glass of filthy wine she almost had a chance to taste if Sangin's sixth sense was not so creepily fast.

Another dreadful two hours later as the dusk had set, hitting the edges with its golden flare, everyone had left. They got their articles and Munyeong will certainly be getting her pools of cash.

To her displease Sangin had informed her to wait as he had to take care of some paperworks she doubted he went to bribe the press into censoring her quoted inappropriate words. 

Nevertheless it was not her bother. She gave his plead a second before storming off to the complimentary section of the building.

Luck on her side, for nobody was there and she was able to grab one of the wine bottles with her– as for a fact it definitely was not stealing.

"Don't be shy, I know you want it."

Munyeong stopped within her steps as soon as an obnoxiously familiar voice echoed from the gallery she previously was in. Curiosity taking the lead, she peaked through the corner and had to muffle her own snort. Stood there, nation's art historian with the sharpest tongue– Choi Seojin.

She finds it hard to believe that his articles are highly known around, or even relevant, when his mouth is full of complete shit. However not disregarding the nastiest tea yet– a frightened girl seized under him. Her hands were locked, frightened eyes grew larger as the man spewed out nasty things.

Instantly, she took out her phone to film the disgraceful scene. Munyeong grinned to herself, reminiscing the rage she felt last time when he mentioned about her mother, and how her irritating manager had interrupted her before she could've sent him down the stairs to Satan.

The man reared into the poor girl's cheek when she attempted to fight him off, and Munyeong's smile dropped.

That piece of shit.

Munyeong entered the room, arms crossed, head high. Her wedge heels clicked against the hardwood as she let out an unamused wow.

Mad dog– what she personally thinks he should be called– 's head whipped at her with wide eyes. Like a child getting caught of lying.

"Oh my. Your hobbies are quite interesting Mr. Choi. Talking shit and sexual harassment?" Munyeong spat. "The girl looks like she'd rather kill herself, why are you even trying?"

As if he thought he could get away with what he just did, mad dog released his foul grip on the girl. Munyeong clicked her tongue and tauntingly held out her phone.

"Oh no, don't bother pretending. Judging by the looks, that won't even favor you at this point." She spared a glance at the quivering girl. "Why are you waiting? Go."

Shakingly and with thankful eyes she nodded and left, her footsteps filling void of silence before it coated the air again.

Mad dog snickered, as if there was something to laugh about. "Don't mess with me Ms. Ko. You know me, I won't die alone."

"Certainly I'll drag you and Mr. Lee down with me. Why do you think they call me the suicide bomb?"

Munyeong walked towards him and spreaded a smile, though even dogs could tell you shouldn't push her further. "You mean the bastard you can't fall down without dragging everyone else with him? Why?"

"I can destroy your career with the tip of my pen, I'm sure you know." He gave her a look, panning out his hand. "Now if you hand me your phone, I think we can compromise something."

Munyeong unraveled her arms, eyes hardening at his next sentence. "You think so?"

"Nation's beloved artist turned out to have antisocial personality disorder. What do you think will happen when people find out?" Mad dog sneered. "Her mother who mysteriously commited suicide–"

"Shut up." She warned. His words lit up the flame from their last encounter, adding fuel to her burning fire. Her head pounded, hard. For a moment she had hoped that if he proceeded as she said, then things would not have to get ugly.

"And her father? Spending his last days in the psychiatric hospital."

But men never listen, do they?

Munyeong tightened the hand around her bottle and striked it at him with full force. The bottom part crashed the wall behind him– just above the hung painting- glass shattered as rich burgundy stained its way down, smearing all over. Its taste fused with the air and Munyeong glowered at the creature who dodged her flawless aim.

"You crazy bitch!" He yelled, scrambled on the floor. But Mad dog was quick to lunge at her, they both hit the ground, stumbling as her open purse had been knocked away– and Munyeong's eyes landed on something very specific.

She was quicker, getting on her feet and spared the bastard a strong kick in the groin, leaving him groaning as she reached for her pen.

Her favorite calligraphy pen– its lining was stunning, coated in shiny teal with hints of gold, but most importantly, the dangerously sharp tip. The way it writes like reaping out blood from your hand– hence why it is a favorite.

She hawled back over and he screamed at her, though she didn't hear him. Her head was light as she felt blood rushed through her veins. Munyeong raised her arm and struck it back down.

Die.

Both of them froze. No, not her and mad dog, but him.

Deafening silence had lied between the walls and there they stood, eyes pierced into another's souls. Hers burned like fire, but his were dignified like the deep ocean.

Droplets of blood trickled down his forearm and splattered the floor, staining the rolled up sleeves of his crisp white shirt. What a waste.

"Let go. You can't kill him." The man– still with a bloody pen graved in his palm said.

Munyeong couldn't help but scoff, especially after that fucking bastard had just strangled her. "Don't be dramatic. I was just going to give him a few scratches."

Well maybe that's not entirely true.

Rough scrambling erupted underneath them, but when Munyeong turned to look, the mad dog had just ran off, like a lost puppy. Angrily she bit her lip, close to drawing blood until she felt the man draw his own hand back.

She watched as he did. The way he carefully slid her pen into his jacket and brought out a black silk handkerchief. Very rarely, she'd be astonished by something, and now it's him. Though she found it quite difficult to understand him– since when do you interrupt another's stabbing session by screwing up your own hand instead, and also the audacity to tell her she could not stab somebody?

So lost in her thoughts it took her a few seconds to realize her pulse was not pounding anymore.

"Did anyone not tell you that it is basic etiquette to not pry into someone else's business?" Munyeong said– seized the napkin from him, and began to tie a knot. She shot him a glance.

No reply. The man simply stared at her.

"Hmm?" She raised a brow, amused at his slight flinch when she tugged a little harder.

"Don't stress it too much, my manager will take care of our little incident." Munyeong chuckled as he proceeded to ignore her. "Do you know what? There are a lot of people in this world who deserve to die. And some very thoughtful freaks secretly take care of that, so clueless humans can sleep peacefully at night, completely unaware. Which one do you think I am?"

She dropped his hand, anticipating for his answer. Flares of light shined through the blinds, sharpening at his strong features and she noted his small– yet devilish smile.

"A clueless freak."

He finally responded, leaning towards her. His eyes traced her face, gazing down at her lips for a second too long, before their eyes were locked once again. "And of course you will have to pay, but at what price?"

taglist -> i could not tag some of ya'll :( @anotherdush @callmeashipper @ourcoffeeaddictme @nothingcreativeyet @pancat @hotstuff-benswolo @lookingatthesunset @evielovesfood @waywarm @gloster @hello-79 @ailander

[sigmadecay]

You said you can info dump about Jonestown massacre? I'm here to learn about Jonestown massacre.

OHOHOHO YES

okay so if I start from Jim Jones’ early life this is literally gonna take me hours to write and probably take you forever to read so I will try to cliffnote the context of....y’know, his life

He didn’t have super present or even very parental parents, his mother worked a lot & his father was a disabled WWI vet. A neighbor took him to church w her family on Sundays and that began his interest in religion. He went to different churches all the time to see what they were about but had a particular interest in the Pentecostal church, it was loud & interactive & joyful but they did get a bad rep for “speaking in tongues”

Jim married his wife Marceline when he was 17 or 18 and she was like 20-21. She was working as a nurse in a hospital that Jim did custodial work in while he was trying to get himself through school. I have a lot of thoughts about Marceline Jones and most of them are “she deserved better” but we will come back to Marceline later.

Fast forward fast forward and Jim & Marcy have a number of kids, their “rainbow family” which consists of one bio child and a number of adopted children I think?? Listen in my defense he ended up with nine (!!! NINE) kids and they’re hard to keep track of but I know Stephan was their biological son and they adopted Jim Jr. who was black and Lew & Suzanne who were Korean which was a bigass deal at the time. More kids cropped up over the course of things but y’know. When Jim founded the Peoples Temple he got the MLK Jr award for racial equality because his church was the first fully integrated church at least in Indiana which was fucking nuts at the time??? Lots of people liked him. It appeared that he was doing good things.

And then shit like faith healings started where he would stage religious healings from cancer and shit and his congregation began regarding him as a deity. Someone would be blessed and would spit out a “tumor” (a piece of chicken liver) or the woman in the wheelchair who got up and walked turned out to be Jim’s secretary. Completely bogus nonsense, but it was a good, integrated church and they all thought he was a good person.

So, (and I’m leaving out details here sorry) Jim starts teasing like an escape to a “promised land” type deal. And he goes to a bunch of places looking for one—he spends time in Brazil especially—until finally settling on Guyana. The Guyanese govt was excited to have Americans coming bc they were at war with Venezuela and it was...sort of like insurance, but yeah. They gave the Peoples Temple a couple hundred acres in the middle of basically the fucking rainforest. And it was touted as like this socialist utopia and shit. It’s work but there’s housing and you grow your own food, and it seemed nice! Especially for people who were so disillusioned with the government and racial inequality. So they move out to Guyana and start to build houses, and shit is pretty alright at first, but...The soil isn’t fertile and almost no food actually grows. The hours are long and the work is backbreaking, not to mention the HEAT, but it’s like, deal-with-able until Jim Jones gets there. At this point Jones is like completely totally paranoid and he’s losing his grip on reality. He’s been doing drugs for years and his sermons have gone from “the US government is bad because it’s capitalist and racist” to “the US government is literally plotting to kill us.”

Some people managed to get out, and formed a group called the “concerned relatives.” They were, you guessed it, concerned relatives of the members who’d been whisked off to the Guyanese wilderness. Lots of people wrote off their concerns because of how many people, namely politicians, liked Jim Jones for his work in racial equality, but the one guy who listened to them was Congressman Leo Ryan, who was by all accounts a Pretty Solid Dude. He didn’t think anything fishy was happening, necessarily, but his whole stance was “I hear you & your concerns, and we should check it out to put your mind at ease! :)”

By this point, life in the Temple is falling! the fuck! apart! Jim Jones has a PA system set to run 24/7 that either play a) recordings of past sermons or b) his announcements happening Right This Second. People work for like 16 hours a day, there are armed guards at the entrance and around the fields to keep people in, the housing is cramped and overcrowded and they do Not have enough food for the almost 1000 people there. They are also getting record low amounts of sleep because Jim Jones, Nutjob Extraordinaire, has gotten into the habit of blaring the air raid siren at god knows what our and calling all his followers into the pavilion for a White Night. Which is, if you can even fucking believe it, a PRACTICE MASS SUICIDE BY KOOL AID.

Talk about foreshadowing.

So anyway, Leo Ryan rolls up to the compound, relatives and an NBC camera crew in tow, and is like “hey what’s up! :)” Jim Jones has been COACHING PEOPLE to tell him how much they love it. It’s fucked up. But okay

So they put on this dinner and a show type deal for the congressman and all the visitors, and Marceline (remember Marceline?) gives them a whole tour and shows them her pride and joy, the school she’d built and helps teaches at, and the medical center, and the daycare, like Marceline ADORES children this cannot be overstated. There are about 300 children in Jonestown and she loves them with her whole heart. ANYWAY

And everyone is having a funky good time, except Jim Jones, whose sanity is coming unraveled like an old sweater and his 950-ish overworked undercompensated cult members

But as Leo Ryan is leaving, someone slips a note to one of the reporters, BEGGING him to get them out of there. And then someone else comes forward. And then another. There are like....maybe 10 people total that come forward? Jim Jones loses his mind, naturally, but Leo Ryan is still like “hey, 10 out of 950 isn’t bad at all! They just miss their families :)” and they get going.

Unfortunately, because the number of people traveling back to the US from Guyana is greater than before, and they came on a small plane, they’re all posted up at the Port Kaituma airstrip waiting for a second aircraft. And this is when shit gets fucking real.

Jim Jones secretly sends his Red Men (read: “guards” with shotguns) to the airstrip to kill everyone because they’re going to give their secrets to the CIA or whatever. So they fucking roll up in this trailer and...open fire. Leo Ryan is killed, an NBC cameraman is killed, some of the defectors and concerned relatives are killed, many of them are wounded.

The Red Men return to the compound and report back to Jones. And then he gets on the PA and tells everyone that the USA’s destruction of them is imminent. He lies and tells them that the pilot will be shot and the plane will go down, and the US government will come into the compound for retribution and kill their seniors and kidnap the children and rape the women. You can hear a recording of this on YouTube! It’s called the Jonestown death tape and it will absolutely ruin your day if you listen to it. Anyway.

People are panicking. It’s time for the real White Night. Jones gets a vat of Flavor-Aid (off brand Kool-Aid) filled with cyanide and narcotics and says “drink :)” and...everyone is...understandably afraid. They’re tired and exhausted and terrified and have no idea what’s true or not. One woman, Christine, argues and pleads for another solution, like running off to the Soviet Union. The entire rest of the compound shouts her down.

So, finally, people drink. Those who won’t, and young children, are injected with it. The death is not painless. People suffer for a long time, and move to the back of the line, lie down, and die. At a reception house in Georgetown, one of Jones’ aides kills her three children and then herself with a steak knife.

A handful of people get out. Maybe five are able to hide, and three of Jones’ sons are away at a basketball game in Georgetown while this is all going down, so they live.

Jim Jones does not drink the poison. Jim Jones shoots himself in the head, and his private nurse does the same.

Marceline Jones screamed, sobbed and struggled until every single child had died, hoping at least one of them would be spared. And when none were, she dried her eyes, resigned herself to her fate, and drank the Kool-Aid.

The 900-something bodies, about a third of which were children, began rotting in the tropical sun almost immediately. Many of them were decomposed beyond recognition by the time the US troops got there. Those unidentified are buried in a mass gravesite in...California, I think? It was the largest loss of American life not due to a natural disaster up until 9/11. The place is still there, though now it’s overgrown, and it’s just...haunting. There’s a number of documentaries on it (recommend) and if you have a really masochistic streak, the Port Kaituma airstrip shooting and the Jonestown death tape audio are both on YouTube the last I checked.

Thank you for indulging me my special interest, and I’m happy to expand on anything here or give more details :3

[veliseraptor]

I hope this doesn’t come out the wrong way but I think I have a withdrawal for your Loki stuff,,,, I know you’re into other fandom right now and gosh I feel bad for even sending this bc my intention is not to make you feel bad or to rush you, I just want to ask, could I pretty please get a little snippet for whatever Loki fic you have in process? No ass kissing but I haven’t seen anyone write him better than you do and I miss you and your Loki fic. Again I hope this doesn’t sound like I rush you

It’s okay, anon! I mean, I feel guilty but that’s not your fault, that is my fault for the ways in which I feel obligated toward people in fandom and I’m. Trying to not do that and just focus on what Brings Me Joy and whatnot. But I’m truly flattered by the sentiment and also sorry that you’re missing it. 

But I’ve got plenty of Loki fic floating around here that I can share with you, so here, have a long snippet that’ll hopefully give you a little bit of ease in this time of me being thoroughly sucked into another fandom.

this being the first three scenes of the fic the first steps stumbling forward, sometimes known as “100 pages of ostensibly Steve/Loki fic and not only no kissing, but also Loki is still solely referring to Steve by his last name only.”

A ship full of Aesir landing on Midgard’s northern hemisphere was, apparently, “a humanitarian crisis.” From what Loki gathered, that meant mostly a great many arguments ensuing about who was going to deal with them, which really seemed to be about if anyone was going to.

Loki almost wanted to see what would happen if someone tried to tell Thor they had to leave. At least so far, though, no one actually had. Perhaps they recognized that there was no one on their planet with the means to actually enforce that decree. At least not for certain.

Not that their entire reception was hostile. Almost as soon as the situation became clear humans began arriving, some simply to gawk but others seemingly with intent to help. Crews of camera-people and reporters swarmed - mostly around Thor, but others like flies around the miserable remnants of Asgard’s people.

Loki, for his part, kept his distance from them. Eventually he supposed someone might mention his name, but until then he planned to avoid that particular difficulty.

He did go to spy on Thor’s meeting with Stark, who had arrived with much fanfare, stepping out of his suit with a too-wide grin and turning to wave before turning to Thor and promptly doing a double-take.

“Buddy,” he said. “What happened to your hair? Also your eye-”

A small smile played around the corner of Thor’s mouth. “That’s a long story.” He glanced past Stark like he was looking for someone else. “You’re alone?”

Stark’s expression did something tight and complicated. “Long story.” He glanced over his shoulder at the snapping cameras. “Can we go somewhere else? Talk in private?”

“Yes,” Thor said. “This way.” He gestured Stark toward the makeshift headquarters they’d set up back inside the ship, and he walked inside fiddling with the bracelets on his wrists. Loki slipped in after Thor and took up a position in the corner of the room to listen.

The moment the door closed the last of Stark’s bravado fell away and he turned to Thor looking exhausted. “As good as it is to see you, and as much as I’m - really sorry about--” He gestured awkwardly at their surroundings, “--I gotta tell you that you have the worst timing.” He walked over to the table and sat down. “Where’ve you been? Caught some selfies of you on Instagram the other week - in New York, and you didn’t come say hi - but you still had two eyes at that point.”

One of Thor’s hands rose briefly, still self-consciously, to touch his eye-patch. “Yes,” he said. “I was on Earth. Briefly. As I said, it is a long story. Why do I have poor timing?”

Stark rubbed his eyes. “So, uh, right now? There’s this thing called the ‘Sokovia Accords.’ Basically the idea is to make sure superhumans are, uh, supervised.” Thor’s expression remained impassive. Stark glanced away. “So, see, then you show up with a whole...whole bunch of homeless superhumans, superaliens, and everyone’s not quite sure how you fit into this, what kind of compliance they should be demanding...it’s a whole thing. Secretary Ross - you’ll meet him, he’s awful - he says that Asgard should be under US protection because you were an Avenger and the Avengers were a US team, sort of-”

“‘Were’?” Thor said, just as Loki was thinking it, but he thought he’d already figured it out.

“Yeah,” Stark said after a beat. “There was a bit of a falling out. The point is...you and your people are a problem with a capital ‘P’, as far as the governments on Earth are concerned. And I swear to god I heard something about you bringing the Hulk with you too, which is just - hang on, you’re not serious.”

Loki had gathered enough from this conversation, so as much as he wanted to see Stark’s expression he slipped out. He felt Thor glance toward the door opening, but Stark was too busy making incoherent noises that were either excitement, horror, or both, to notice.

**

Thor came and found him paring slices out of a small and slightly sour apple. The taste wasn’t pleasant, but at least it was fruit.

“You were eavesdropping,” Thor said, not quite an accusation. Loki gave him a quick, wry smile.

“And?”

Thor sighed, but he didn’t actually seem upset. After a moment he sat down next to Loki. “What did you think?”

“I think,” Loki said, “that your friends have done a better job of tearing themselves apart than I ever could have.” Thor gave him a hard look and Loki raised his eyebrows. “What? It’s true, isn’t it?”

“Loki,” Thor said chidingly. Loki shrugged.

“I think it doesn’t change much,” he said. “Midgard’s governments were never going to be happy. They still can’t do very much about it.”

“It also means they won’t help. Or are reluctant to help.”

“True.” Loki glanced down at the half eaten apple in his hands. “Not quite the welcome you expected, hm? Almost makes you wish someone had already conquered this planet.”

Thor’s jaw tightened. “Our people are suffering, Loki.”

Loki held up his hands. “I wasn’t being flippant. Or, I was, but not because I miss the gravity of our situation.” He sighed. “You are just going to have to convince them of our good intentions. While maintaining our independence from the kind of control Stark was describing, as I doubt that would end well.”

“Simple enough,” Thor said.

“And I,” Loki said, “will continue to stay out of the way. If you are now a possible threat…”

Thor rubbed his remaining eye. “Tony thinks that they will ask that the Hulk be turned over.”

Loki barked a laugh. “I’d like to see someone tell Hulk that. From a distance.” Thor’s lips twitched like he was trying not to smile. “Is Stark planning to try?”

“No,” Thor said, sounding faintly puzzled. “I asked if he wanted to speak to the Hulk, but he refused. I have no idea why.”

“He’s ashamed of something,” Loki said promptly. “I’d really like to know what. Though not enough to actually pursue it.” Thor frowned at him again. “What?”

Thor shook his head and then pushed himself to his feet. “I have another meeting with this ‘World Security Council’,” he said. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” Loki said. “Perhaps you should remind them that you’ve saved their planet...how many times is it, now? It’s always possible someone will remember to show some proper gratitude.” He pared another slice off the apple and popped it in his mouth. “If not, you could always set a few nearby trees on fire.”

Thor frowned. “I’m not going to threaten them into submission.”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t been tempted.”

Thor gave him an exasperated look and left. Loki eyed the rest of the unappetizing apple and almost threw it away, only to remember that their food stores were pitifully limited and largely reliant on the relief crews.

Waste not, he thought wearily, and ate the rest of it. It was almost a pity he’d had a solid three years of soft living to get used to luxury again. He’d lost all the good lessons of the three before that.

By the looks of things, he’d have plenty of time to get them back.

You could always leave, whispered a faint voice, not for the first time. There’s a whole universe to wander.

But if he walked away now, Loki didn’t think he’d ever be able to come back. He’d made his decision, for better or for worse. Besides, it wasn’t as though he had a whole lot of options for other places to go where he wouldn’t be risking his neck just by showing his face. Which...was the case here, too.

Loki made a face at the core he was holding and bit it in half hard enough that his teeth clicked together.

**

The trouble with having to avoid any and all public appearances was that it severely limited what Loki could actually do. He was skulking about like a thief, confined to administrative tasks behind the scenes.

A not insignificant part of him resented it. He wasn’t proud, but there it was: he had always hated feeling invisible, and now more than ever. He’d gotten too used to the spotlight, just as he’d gotten too used to comfortable living. He should have known neither would last.

He reminded himself it was his own fault. That did not particularly help.

Valkyrie seemed to be having the opposite problem. Asgard’s people were in awe of her. The humans were even more impressed. She, meanwhile, appeared to be trying to avoid both.

This meant they spent a fair amount of time together, since her green best friend was a bit of an attention-getter. (Thor had tried to get him to stay out of sight, but it hadn’t gotten him very far. Still, based on Stark’s reaction, someone was suppressing that bit of news. He had to wonder who.)

“You look cheerful,” Loki said when he found her in - surprise, surprise - the ship’s bar. It was empty, but she seemed to find it comforting just the same. She scowled at him.

“Some Midgardian reporter wants an interview. An interview.”

“Are they going to shoot photos of you? Ask about your fashion sense?”

Valkyrie narrowed her eyes. “Is that what they do?” She paused. “How do you know anything about Midgardian news?”

Loki shrugged. “I stole some magazines from one of our generous volunteers. They’re appalling. I don’t recommend them.”

Valkyrie shook her head and stared at the empty bar. “You’re lucky,” she said. “No one’s trying to talk to you.”

Loki barked a laugh. “Yes,” he said, a little bitterly. “Lucky.”

“You are,” Valkyrie said. “If they were trying to talk to you they’d probably be trying to kill you. Right?”

Loki gave her a flat stare. “Thank you for that.”

She shrugged. “Just saying. You should be ready for that to change at some point. Someone’s going to start talking about Prince Loki and then you’re going to have some problems.”

Loki knew that was probably true. He’d thought about it a few times - he was almost surprised it hadn’t come up. Thus far the limited contact between most of the Aesir and any reporters - Thor had been careful about limiting access to their camp - and Thor’s explicit request to the Asgardians that they were to keep Loki’s name off their tongues had spared him, but that wasn’t likely to last forever. At that point...there would be some difficult decisions to make.

Some bleak part of him wondered what Thor would choose to do if Midgard’s authorities asked for his head.

“Thor’s not going to let them kill you,” Valkyrie said, apparently guessing his thoughts.

“Mm,” Loki said. “Even if it is me or Asgard’s safety here?”

“Thor doesn’t like ultimatums. He really wouldn’t like that one.” She leaned back. “I get all the fretting about that. ‘Oh, Valkyrie, what am I going to do about Loki? We can’t keep him secret forever!’”

Loki had to snort at her imitation, but he didn’t know how to explain to her that he was too aware of the fact that Thor had reached the end of his rope with him, the feeling that he was still walking a narrow bridge above a chasm and there was nothing to catch him if (when) he fell.

“You look like you could use a drink,” Valkyrie said.

“Have you left any alcohol in a five mile radius?” Loki asked caustically. She smiled a little toothily.

“I said you could use some,” she said. “Not that I had any.”

“Helpful.”

The toothy smile faded. “Make you a deal,” she said. “You come up with a way that I can avoid all these people who want me to be a hero, and I’ll threaten anyone who comes after your head with Dragonfang. Sound good?”

Loki gave her a crooked half smile. “I think I can figure something out.”

[jiilys]

i need a userjiilys take on a royalty au omg

petunia renounces the throne and lily finds out via times news alert while in bed eating a biscuit, and then twenty-seven people burst into her room all talking at once.

yeah. she’s sitting in rooms for hours and her mother won’t stop crying. then james rings and she sneaks to the loos, picks up and he says ‘we can’t hang out anymore. i don’t know how to curtsey’ and it’s the first time she’s laughed in sixteen hours.

marlene and remus send long, nice sympathetic texts, mary several heart emoji’s, peter pokes her on facebook, and sirius texts her a poorly edited picture of her head on julie andrews’ body from the princess diaries. she’s got good mates.

the thing is, they’re the british aristocracy. or, as sirius says, ‘incest distilled’. everyone’s either related or may as well be. they’ve all known each other since the dawn of time

well, with the exception of james, who on account of being the son of a lord and that lords maid, no one knew about until four years ago

(lily, sixteen, met him first at a charity brunch. james thought she was pretty and lily thought he was standing on a toilet blowing cigarette smoke out the air vent because he was, in fact, doing that)

lily goes from doing charity brunches and the occasional tour to being on the cover of every paper, headlined ‘FROM SPARE TO HEIR’, and sirius says that should be her first rap single

james rocks up one day and lily’s mother hears so he’s trapped in security for an hour before someone accidentally tells lily and then he’s in her room.

‘i brought shitty beer for us but they took it’ he shrugs, hands in his pockets. ‘country’s gone to the dogs’ she says. he grins.

sirius, who is a literal prince, takes money from remus for cigarettes and then lies about it

lily pushes james into a water fountain and its proper funny only then he has an allergic reaction to a lily-pad which is less funny but its not serious or anything so she puts a photo of his swollen face in the group chat and its back to being funny

some olympics thing where marlene and remus go out a fire exit to eat shrimp they stole and cause a mass evacuation

bbc interview where she has to consciously try call petunia’s new husband vernon and not vermin which is what they all call him in the group chat

lily in the loos at a fundraiser making corrections to her speech and james, who was not invited and in fact told explicitly not to come, telling her to drop the adverb in the third line

mary, marlene and lily at someone’s wedding and marlene drunker than is acceptable for cameras so they lock themselves in the bathroom for an hour talking and feeding mar bread and only threatening to dunk her in the loo on eleven occasions

sirius nickname in the group chat is ‘metaphorical bastard’ and james’ is ‘literal bastard’

james walking round lilys enormous room, tie loose, shoes off, talking about anything at all

lily and remus have long involved talks about who is the superior chris bc lily thinks its pine and remus is all ‘not everything is about the princess diaries’ and lily says ‘that’s treasonous’ and googles if a monarch can revoke someone’s citizenship while mary dies laughing

james doing a handstand to prove marlene wrong and there is his abdomen and his back and the bones of his hips, right here in front of god and everybody, and lily is red all over

lily running in a charity race with children and she loses on purpose For The Children so sirius immediately turns to the nearest reporter and says ‘she never could run’  

at a dinner for the king of belgium and lily is on her third bread roll, purposely not telling sirius he has a milk moustache and wishing james was there to also not tell him

marlene gives lily fifty dollars to knight her and lily takes it and then doesn’t  

james and his father never talk but when they do lily knows because he rings her at ungodly hours and doesn’t say anything, and after forever lily says ‘he’s an asshole’ and james says ‘yeah’ and then he says ‘tell me about your day’

marlene, mary and remus all having secret instagram accounts while sirius’ plugs his twitter in interviews and calls his dad a bitch outside a club when a reporter asks for his opinion on the euro

sirius is the closest to lily in rank so he’s the only one at the polo match where she eats bad salmon and throws up in a bush. he mocks her for ten minutes and then goes for paper towels

petunia off living the quiet life she always wanted and lily sat on her bed, ugly sobbing actually, because she was never meant to do this and she’s letting everyone down

‘not possible’ james says, crouching in front of her, arms resting on her legs. ‘it’s – i mean–“ he coughs, hand through his hair, breathes in,

‘you couldn’t do a shit job. It’s not in you.’ eyes on hers, voice sure, ‘you’re as good as it gets.’

he hands her a tissue and reaches out, hand hovering for a moment, before wiping the damp hair out of her face. christ alive lily thinks, staring at him, aflood with knowing

sirius and lily in the corner at another dinner full of drunk diplomats, popping olives like tic-tacs and eavesdropping

lily, walking the freezing street with all the people behind the metal fences and a little girl tells her she looks pretty and lily says ‘not as pretty as you’ and the girl grins so wide her lip splits

remus and sirius are photographed playing strip poker at some model’s birthday and that’s all there is to say about that

lily travels a lot now and so late at night, on the phone with james, she’ll tell him about belarus and he’ll describe the new sainsbury’s ad shot-for-shot

james’ voted the second most attractive lord’s son by the sun and is chill about it. andrew fowler has syphilis but whatever. journalism is dead.

middle of the night party where her and sirius are on a balcony and she’s a bit drunk and can’t stop thinking about that time they were fifteen and everyone thought they were going to get married because the daily mail wrote that thing

‘sirius’ she says, he blows smoke out his mouth, looks at her, ‘i’m really glad we’re not married’

he laughs ‘me too.’ he says, and she keeps looking at him. ‘glad you’re here right now though’ she says, and by right now she means all the time and she knows he knows.

he blows smoke in her face. ‘me too’ he says again

lily and james sat at a wedding reception while everyone’s dancing and she doesn’t notice he’s staring until he says ‘a big part of me likes you’ out of nowhere and lily says ‘christ, what a line’ and kisses him

marlene, mary, sirius, peter and remus all at some art gala and while peter’s in the bathroom they all leave and forget about him until he texts asking where they are  

remus kicks sirius out of group chat for saying that the ‘h’ in jesus h christ stands for hella

james and lily in james’ room eating chips and then lily has a phone call and so james pretends to have a phone call and lily’s on the phone to her secretary, snorting, as james is pretending to organise a meeting through the chip bag and then his hand is very high up her leg and she isn’t laughing anymore

mary, remus, sirius and marlene at a polo match and sirius nicks a hat while remus eats an orange and the girls actually watch the game

marlene and lily, who have definitely not forgotten the name of the earl of york, are googling something entirely unrelated to that at the back of his child’s christening

james is in the paper with lily again and her mother sits her down and says it would probably be for the best if she was photographed with him less because they don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea

and lily, who’ll die if james’ doesn’t marry her and she has to do this without him, tells her quite politely that she’ll think about it

later, on the phone with james: ‘so i’ve had a think and decided that if she asks me again i’ll just run off with you and we can run a bed and breakfast in siberia, or something’

james smiles into the empty room, phone pressed to his ear, ‘can’t be a lot of people looking for either a bed or breakfast in siberia’

she grins, wiggles her toes inside her shoes. ‘yeah well, didn’t say it would be successful.’

james laughs. lily, up in the air on a plane headed for somewhere a million miles away for some reason she can’t possibly think of, shuts her eyes, listens to his voice, and can do this after all

[koolcatkenma]

Here’s a prompt for ya: Keith is a well known superhero, famous for not being afraid to tackle any task, however very little is know about his partner in crime , blue(lance). One fateful day the two get exposed in the worst( best?) way possible. Take it and run, no pressure though 😊

okay SO while i was writing this i realized it could go two ways, so i kinda went both. also i want to expand on this topic, it could totally be better, so i want to write more of this au. and i’m going to quick explain the boy’s powers bc it could be confusing.

Lance: “Super Senses”. think spider man, but lowkey. no swinging from buildings. basically, sight and hearing are heightened, and he can sense danger/dishonesty. has been practicing how to remove senses temporarily.

Keith: elemental control and manipulation. fire with his right arm, water with his left. can manipulate light/dark, and electricity on the respective sides.

in this au, heros can learn more powers that pertain to the one(s) they were born with. so lance cannot control fire, keith cannot heighten his senses.

It was after a particularly tough fight; Keith and Lance fought some of the most sought after criminals in the city, leaving them tied up outside the abandoned building. Lance had been the one to call the police, pretending to be an innocent citizen who had spotted the men. The pair always waited in the shadows , making sure the criminals didn’t escape and the cops arrested them.

It wasn’t that being a superhero was taboo; Keith was quite a famous one, in fact. He just didn’t like all the attention it brought to him. He wasn’t looking to be famous for his acts. He just wanted to stop the bad guys, as cheesy as that sounds. Lance, on the other hand, preferred to be hidden. He had been Keith’s sidekick from basically the beginning, and he always fled the scene before the authorities and press showed up. It was different from his normal behavior; when he was just Lance and not Blue, he was always at the center of attention, famous for his charm and bad pick up lines.

“Good job today, Red.” Lance panted, taking off his mask. He sat down on the concrete and swung his legs over the side. He smirked as the villains thrashed below, unable to break free from their ties. Keith hummed a thanks and sat down next to him, removing his mask as well. The blue hero leaned against him, letting out a breath.

He was more beat up than usual; blood was beginning to dry along his hairline, and bruises bloomed on his arms. Lance was blessed with the gift of heightened senses. When he was just starting out, stopping bullies and whatnot, he could only sense danger. He tells Keith all the time that he can’t explain how, but the hairs on his arms stand up straight and he feels a chill go down his spine. Now though, with lots of training and focus, Lance now had heightened senses, sight and hearing being two of them. He could also detect dishonesty in people, which came in handy when interrogating people.

Keith rested a hand on Lance’s thigh, squeezing gently. Lance looked up at him, blinking his soft blue eyes. Keith was too lucky.

He leaned down to press a light kiss over a cut over his eyebrow, before moving down to his lips, bruised from previous battles Lance sighed into it, moving a hand to cup Keith’s cheek. The two got lost in their own world, tired from fighting. Lance should have been able to hear the screech of tires, or the sound a door opening behind them. What kind of police force surrounds the whole building for criminals who had already been tied up?

“Freeze! Put your hands where I can see them!” The hero’s leapt apart, scrambling to stand and cover their faces before it was too late. But one wrong move and the officer would surely take a shot. Keith was the first to face the music, hands in the air. Lance stayed with his back to the man, hands high above his head.

“It’s okay, we’re heroes. We caught the guys down there.” The problem was that Keith didn’t have a regular uniform; he usually fought crime in black jeans and his signature jacket. The only thing people recognized him from is deep red mask, which was now on the ground, right next to Lance’s blue one.

“Look, here’s my mask. I’m Red.” He kicked the material towards the officer, who bent down, gun still raised, to pick it up. After close inspection, he realized that Keith spoke the truth. He lowered his weapon, apologizing profusely. He blamed it on being new to the force and this town. Keith reassured him that it was okay, reaching for the mask to once again hide his face. But it was too late. A crowd of officers and reporters alike had gathered on the ground below them, pointing cameras and fingers at them. It’s not everyday you see a gun pulled on a famous hero.

Lance was frozen, hands now on his sides. Keith looked to his mate, worried. He knew Lance didn’t want to handle the pressure of being a superhero. And worse yet, they had been caught making out, at a crime scene! His face showed no emotion, not until Keith nudged him.

Reality came crashing back to him; he raised his head and met Keith’s gaze.

“Well, I guess we no longer have a secret identity.” He cracked a smile before wrapping an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders.

“Now, let’s go greet our adoring fans.”

***

“Allura reporting for News12. Earlier today, we learned the identity of our city’s beloved hero, Red. And of his sidekick, Blue, who supposedly has been with him since the beginning. The two captured the most wanted gang this afternoon, using their abilities to bring them down and put an end to their schemes. This is the first time they were willing to do an interview, and here they are explaining just how they did it.”

Lance laughed turning the volume on their TV down. Allura was a dear friend of theirs, and seeing her report about them as if she had never met them was something they never thought they’d see. He can only picture her knocking down their door to tell them to stop playing music, her dog is trying to sleep.

Keith gave a light chuckle and ran his fingers through Lance’s still damp hair. The pair was in bed, finally, after a day of interviews, praise, and fighting. It had gone so much better than expected. Lance had feared the worst; hate, ridicule, comments about how he didn’t look like a hero, the usual. He was afraid about their relationship getting out; not only were they heroes, but they were gay superheros who happened to be dating.

But everything had been positive; their social medias were blowing up with tweets about how brave they were, and just general words of gratitude for keeping the safe.

Keith turned off the television, settling back into the bed. Lance yawned and turned so he was facing Keith. The boy smiled softly, leaning forward to kiss his caramel-colored hair. The sound of the city outside their window faded away, and the two drifted off to sleep.

[lovedeluxe92]

okay so i started working at jimmy johns in early febuary of this year. i needed a job rlly bad and money desperately, just something to keep me afloat and to afford food. what i experienced...i was not at all prepared for lmao. i was sexually harassed, verbally harassed, had my hours fucked with, had management and even the owners of the company who could give a fuck less about their employees, had to deal with my fellow coworkers AND managers being on k2 and other drugs, and the final fucking straw which was getting my tip money stolen from me OUT OF THE SAFE BY A MANAGER. i started working as a delivery driver. which was INCREDIBLY stress inducing at first bc i worked at the one right downtown. i had to deal with

i started working as a delivery driver. which was INCREDIBLY stress inducing at first bc i worked at the one right downtown. i had to deal with

traffic, pedestrians NOT LOOKING WHERE THE FUCK THEY WERE GOING DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MANY PPL I ALMOST KILLED CAUSE /THEY/ DID NOT LOOK, we have ‘parking police’ and i legit got about 15-20 tickets during my time there bc that asshole was out for blood and anytime he saw my car, even if i wasnt parked illegally (oh did i mention we had like 3 parking spots all on the street and all with a 2 hour limit (: ) or hadnt been parked in a spot for the full 2 hours. so there was that. 

see when i first started everything was fine. we had good employees who worked hard and did what they had to do. they were all stoners, but whatever i could care less about that. SO. our assistant manager, he was a mess. racist, homophobic, rude, loud. the worst. we would do dabs out in his car (yeah i know but i worked at a fucking jimmy johns) and he would just say the most questionable shit. i remember this one time he saw my phone background was a pic of me and my bf and was like ‘oh you like black guys? what’s your sex like? i bet it’s really good’ and im not gonna go into too much detail here, bc it upset me and its racist,  but he kept going and said some REALLY creepy shit i was like wtf and told him to never speak to me like that again or i would report him for sexual harassment (side note: one time he thought i did report him for sexual harassment and was like “who are you gonna buy weed from now?” LITERALLY ANYONE YOU PIECE OF SHIT.) he would always be like “DAMN THICK’ whenever i would bend over and do everything. I TOLD MY MANAGER AT THE TIME. she  didn’t do anything. AND the owners of the franchise definitely knew bc like...there’s cameras and they can hear everything we say? but no one did fucking anything. and i needed the money bad so i had to stay. of course i told him off constantly. he was white and always saying the n word. just a piece of fucking shit. 

i think the happiest day of my life was when he FINALLY got fired. my manager had to go to another city for a week and help out that jimmy johns bc i guess ALL the employees and managers did a walk out (yeah this happens at all the jimmy johns owned locally in my area i wish i was kidding) and left his inept ass in charge. it took him 5 mins to make sandwiches (FREAKY FAST hello????) he was just a poor manager. but THEN he started using k2 again. and he was a zombie. there was no point of him even being there bc like he would just go to the back of the store and just stand in front of the freezer door staring for like 10-15 mins at a time.i was a driver and didnt know how to make sandwiches yet and this bitch seriously was just standing there cracked out of his mind on k2 in FRONT of customers (and i will say our customers were SO nice at least) takking phone calls slurring his words. it was embarrassing. i rememeber i had 2 customers who had waited almost a HALF HOUR for ONE sandwich bc i was having a panic attack and losing my fucking mind trying to make their sandwiches while he was in his truck getting high and refusing to come in. one of the customers actually gave me a tip and told me i was doing great and the other one was like ‘im so sorry this is happening to you, that guy is  fucked up’. anyway, he passed out on k2 in his truck one night and got the cops called on him and got banned from the property :) i still saw him from time to time and he looked disgusting & miserable and it made me so happy. 

mostly we just had grown ass employees, fucking 30 year olds, just acting like children. always on drugs. i had one coworker pretend to slap my ass and i called him out and he was like ‘it’s a joke im not apologizing’. people would try to take deliveries from me. AND LET ME JUST SAY, not even to fucking brag even slighly but i was the best worker there my entire time there bc regardless of where im working i am giving my 100% every day and no one else there would. but ppl always tried to step over me and did not respect me. we had one coworker who had 3 felonies and one day like 4-5 cops came to our store to tell us to call the cops the next time he showed up for work (surprise surprise he fled bc they took an hour to get to the store despite the fact we were literally like not even 4 blocks from the police station) and he was always high on k2. forever late. day after day no call no show. he had his friend get hired on who would go down to subway and talk shit about subway in his uniform??? lmao and subway called us one day and was like ‘can yall not?’ he also threatened to burn down the store and then my manager (who was always on a power trip if we’re being honest) purposefully withheld his paycheck to fuck with him, because he was fucking with her, so we dealt with him WAY longer than we should have? 

then this one bitch that became manager, SOMEHOW, we were seriously always that desperate for staff and we hire anyone bc the managers are overworked af and just want to take the load off. anyway, SHE was always high on k2 as well. and she would always overshare rlly traumatic personal things from her life to me and all the customers and its like....girl we dont wanna hear that pls try and get some help. she was not currently being abused, i wanna specify. she was talking about things from her past. i sympathized with her but like im a victim of dv too lmao i dont wanna see your bruises without being asked first. and then i remember one day i left my money bag there (i kept my tips in it and had like $37 in there or something) and this bitch who was making MORE MONEY THAN ME seriously fucking went into the safe (we caught her on camera lmao) and stole that money out of my bag and left a few bills to make it seem less suspicious i guess??? lied about it to my face? then quit bc she ‘wasnt gonna sit there and be accused of something i didnt do’ like ok lmao

then to top it all off at one point my old manager just stopped giving a fuck and the store went to shit and we got complaint after complaint and she started being so rude to all of her staff, including myself (and we were like besties so i was devastated) and she cut my hours when she was submitting our work times for the checks because i would clock in early to help out....LIKE SHE ASKED? and it was just everything i said to her...her response was just the most rude and hateful voice and just....it was so rude. i cried every single day after work. she eventually got replaced and then quit 

but then this new manager, whom i loved, was very depressed and just had a lot wrong with him mentally but he was still very....drama starting and attention seeking. he would talk about suicide nonstop 24/7 and not to be callous but it just made me so uncomfortable and triggered me so much? they did overwork him and i will attest and agree to that and he had a lot on his shoulders but he couldve gone to mcdonalds literally any day and gotten a job with better hours, better pay, and better benefits. i kept telling him over and over to leave bc he had so much managerial experience he couldve been hired anywhere! all resteraunts down here are perpetually hiring, especially for managers! i would know bc i was looking for another job lmao. but he’d text me every night saying things like ‘well lets hope i drink myself to death’ ‘suicide is painless’ etc. and it was just......VERY uncomfortable for me, as someone who has attempted suicide and still struggles with ideation from time to time lmao it was just the most triggering environment ever 

like idk how i lasted that long but i worked my ass off, saved up my money, have a good paying job and im trying my best to forget this entire experience (honestly i did have some good times) but i really dont....think i can lmao 

ON A POSTIVE NOTE: we had some of the kindest and most caring customers ive ever had in my life. i was shocked. but the amount of times i had a shitty customer in my entire time there i can count on one hand lmao like....even when they were shitty they were like ‘im sorry i know yall work hard and everything’ like i miss my customers SO MUCH because we actually had relationships with them and shit and ugh god. if the customers were shitty tho i would never have kept this job lmfao 

i stayed at this job simply bc i made enough money for rent and my bills perfectly and it was one of the few jobs where i was paid an hourly wage + tips. and i wanted my next job to be a job in my field. that’s why i stuck around so long, it took some time to do that.

so yeah theres my mess i love anyone who read this and you can have my first born and be the beneficiary to my life insurance when i die

[skia-oura]

Orange Lilies 12/12

A/N: Here we are, at the conclusion. Thank you all for taking this journey with me!

Prologue // Previous

Ao3

What comes after.

Epilogue

           Tommy Hangar, while late-night dusting, absentmindedly turned on the TV to a ‘breaking news’ report about some disaster in Kabul. She paid it little mind—it was just for background noise, after all—until she heard the magic phrase, “Alcor the Dreambender,” and then suddenly she was Very Invested in this cover story. Tommy dropped the Everlasting Handheld Dustmop (also known as a rag with a bunch of spells in it in order to make it hardier and better at dusting) and stared for a moment before she recovered her wits.

           “Hon,” she called out, easing onto the couch like she was afraid it might bite, gaze focused on the screen on the wall showing a couple of well-dressed reporters. “Hon, you want to see this!”

           “I’m in the bathroom!” Filara’s voice was muffled by the door and distance between them. Tommy reached out with one finger and slid the volume up on the television unit.  

           “…see, the damage to the city was located in a somewhat economically depressed sector just east of the main downtown center. It seems to have started in this block of rented townhomes, as you can see from the aerial shot provided by first responders to the scene.”

           “Then hurry pissing and get out there, you want to see this!” Tommy yelled.

           “It’s a number two!” Tommy heard, but shortly after there was the sound of the toilet unit being flushed. Tommy leaned forward, her elbows on her legs, and stared at the devastation depicted even as the news anchors described it.

           “Shockwaves were reported at 3:26 local time to a nearby fire station from a location nearly a kilometer away from the epicenter. Shortly after, several buildings shook as though an extended earthquake event was occurring. Pedestrians were thrown from their feet, and some were crushed under collapsing walls that were torn apart by the force of the blows exchanged between two demonic forces. As we said earlier, one of the two demons was positively identified to be Alcor the Dreambender.”

           On the screen, buildings were partially to fully collapsed the closer they were to the epicenter, a partially still-standing block of townhomes. One of them had a hole in the roof, from what Tommy could see before the view faded back to the two anchors, faces stern. Down the hall, the bathroom door opened.

           “That’s correct, Penny,” the centaur said, their tail swishing behind them in what Tommy thought might be agitation. “Several consulting demonologists on the second-response team were quick to point out that not only was Alcor the Dreambender participating in a fight, but his opponent was another rather strong demon titled Lilith. From what we understand, the battle lasted perhaps three minutes above Kabul before being relocated to the nearby Hindu Kush mountains, but the consequences of the short encounter were huge for Kabul.”

           “All right, what do I have to see?” Filara asked, reaching over the back of the couch and pressing a kiss to Tommy’s neck. Tommy shivered and reached up to curve her hand along Filara’s cheek.

           “Just watch,” Tommy said. Filara hummed, then did that thing where she just climbed over the back of the couch instead of walking around to the other side like a normal person. Tommy sighed, and adjusted so that she could lean against Filara, her chin hooking into the valley of Filara’s shoulder.

           “So far, almost five hundred residences and places of work have been labeled non-viable, just over fifty have been found dead, and a further ninety six people have been injured. Experts estimate that there should be another one hundred casualties, though they differ in opinion on how many of these casualties should be fatal or simply injured.”

           Filara hummed. “This is awful, but why should I be seeing this?”

           “Shh,” Tommy said, patting Filara’s stomach.

           On screen, the centaur’s human companion nodded gravely. She picked up a data pad, glanced down at it, and then addressed the camera. “While it is historically one of the less traumatic incidences of fighting between Alcor and other demons, experts say to exercise caution. According to these experts, Alcor’s reemergence after such a long period of inactivity is something to watch. Please do not attempt to summon Alcor the Dreambender, as you will be putting your life as well of the lives of everybody around you at risk.”

           “Oh,” Filara said. She rubbed her hand down Tommy’s side. “Ah. I see.”

           “Unsurprisingly, when looking at historical cases such as the event that caused the formation of the Californian Federation over two millennia ago, this demonic encounter also made big changes to the environment. Mishana, take it away.”

           The centaur nodded. “Of course. It seems that, from initial reports, that the massively toxic Kabul river has somehow been purified of said dangerous toxins. The river has never been clearer. This footage, of the site where experts are nearly certain the remainder of the demonic encounter took place, will show you this odd phenomenon currently taking place.” The camera shifted to pan a view of what looked like it was a normal mountain range just a while ago, but now was some kind of weird freaky smooth melted-stone valley. The hair on the back of Tommy’s neck stood up just looking at it. She got further goosebumps at the way the river changed from murky and viscous to clear and quick at one point near the far end of the valley.

           “Well,” Filara said. “I’m not sure I ever want him in my house again, nice as it was to talk to him.”

           “Don’t think we have any kind of choice,” Tommy said, quietly. She stared at the screen. “And, well, as fucking awful as that horror shit looks, it can’t be all bad? I mean, the river’s so clear you could probably peep through it and see somebody changing on the other side.”

           Filara huffed. “Yes, romantic, way to remind me of how we met.”

           “Accident,” Tommy drawled. She had let Filara know that her windows should probably be dimmed, just in case, and by the way that was a cute mole she had on her butt. “Also, this house is in one piece, right? And so are we? And that little kiddiwink hangs around him. Could be worse.”

           On the screen, the news agency showed videos of the destruction in the mountains next to ones of the devastation in Kabul proper. Filara sighed. “Could be worse indeed.”

Pandemonium Server: “Sigil_Works”

General Channel

 Karl Svinhish 7:39 AM

Posting in all channels: Just as a reminder to all personnel, today is a half-day! Please only work three hours of your six. If you work more, we will know. We will find you. You will go home at some point.

 Ennis Hart 7:41 AM

lol what u gonna do, u can’t stop us from thinking at home, we got shit to get done and thru before the Terminator comes back

also u don’t gotta do that in all channels smh

 Karl Svinhish 7:41 AM

We cannot stop you from doing anything outside of the workplace, but please be reminded that as Thinktank department personnel, our insurance does not cover you for any sigil work done outside the premises!

 Sally Minh 7:42 AM

wait, mr. farkas is back??

 Ziyi Zhang 7:42 AM

Wait what??? My favorite????? Where was he????????

 Ennis Hart 7:42 AM

how the shit is bentley farkas, destroyer of dreams and rejecter of perfectly good plans, your fav

 Ziyi Zhang 7:43 AM

Bentley Farkas is a God among Mortals and you should not profane his name like this

 Sally Minh 7:44 AM

honestly, mr. farkas is Sigils Goals

 Anish Wellington 7:44 AM

Do we know what happened to him? He was kidnapped, right?

 Lucas Onderon 7:45 AM

yall are loud way too early in the morning. go away morning people

 Ennis Hart 7:45 AM

yeah he kidnapped i think?? i think sally took that phone call

also lucas turn us on mute if you want to sleep

 Lucas Onderon 7:46 AM

But now were talking about the mysterious mister farkas I need to put in my two cents

 Sally Minh 7:47 AM

yes, the police said that there had been an incident and that it looked like mr. farkas had been the victim of some kind of kidnapping, and had officially been listed as a missing person. they only  told me because literally nobody else was at work.

 Anish Wellington 7:48 AM

Thank you Sally. I will be sleeping again but if there are any updates, please tag me.

 Sally Mihn 7:48 AM

Ok!

 Lucas Onderon 7:48 AM

and that is that benny boy might act super nice and be super smart and all that shit, but he got a stick up his ass and needs to chill out instead of freaking out over every single proposal we send him. hed gotten unbearable after minhaj left.

 Ziyi Zhang 7:49 AM

#internlife

also u know that @BentleyFarkas is in this chat, right?? He’s going to see all of this.

 Lucas Onderon 7:50 AM

hes nerver in here nayways

lkadjklwj

*never in here anyways

 Karl Svinhish 7:50 AM

Please refrain from being rude! We do not tolerate bullying and rudeness in this chat, especially when those being bullied have been kidnapped and recently escaped said kidnapping!

 Ennis Hart 7:51 AM

holy shit wait he escaped?? Not police action or whatever??

 Sally Minh 7:51 AM

Is he okay?

 Ziyi Zhang 7:52 AM

yeah is he ok? Any deets?

 Lucas Onderon 7:52 AM

Bentley ‘gives in to puppy dog eyes’ farkas actually escaped? What?? you cant just leve it at that

*leave

@BentleyFarkas explain

 Karl Svinhish 7:53 AM

Leave him alone! He is recovering, and will be on indefinite leave of absence.

 Lucas Onderon 7:53 AM

Paid???

 Karl Svinhish 7:53 AM

There is the possibility that he will be working remotely!

 Ennis Hart 7:54 AM

But u said we cant take work home???? insurance doesn’t cover outside work premises????

 Karl Svinhish 7:54 AM

That’s for the Thinktank department! Bentley Farkas has been consistently attentive to detail and is one of the leading minds in this field, and as such we have entered negotiations with our insurance agency.

 Ziyi Zhang 7:56 AM

why you hatin? bentley farkas is a god of sigils. i would say more but bentley is in this server.

 Ennis Hart 7:56 AM

U don’t see him in thinktank do u

 Sally Minh 7:56 AM

bc hes too good for thinktank

Bentley Farkas 7:57 AM

That’s bc Im too good at practics 4 u

 Lucas Onderon 7:57 AM

bc hes overrated is what and thinktank knows that

 Ziyi Zhang 7:57 AM

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BENTLEY??!??!!??!?

 Sally Minh 7:58 AM

mr. farkas???

 Lucas Onderon 7:58 AM

holy shit

 Bentley Farkas 7:59 AM

The rumors of my death were highly exaggerated. but im only saying that im alive and have my hands on a phone. i probs wont be coming back to work for a while. working things out.

 Ennis Hart 7:59 AM

send us a pic or ur an imposter

 Karl Svinish 8:00 AM

Please don’t feel pressured to do anything Bentley! We’re with you all the way. Also please send me the documents we discussed yesterday as soon as possible.

 Bentley Farkas 8:00 AM

It’s ok, promise not to scream.

IMG_59703

 Ziyi Zhang 8:00 AM

@AnishWellington GET BACK IN HERE HOLY SHIT

WHAT THE FUCK BENTLEY

           “Hey, this is Torako Lam! Leave a text for me after the beep, unless you’re my dads, in which case leave me a VM so that I can hear your voices! Have a great day, and stay cool.”

-beep-

           “Hey Tora, this is your dear old Dad! Just calling in to check and see how you’re doing. You missed our weekly call yesterday. I know that Bentley going missing has been a big blow, and I’m worried about you. Please call me back! If nothing else, I can sort of keep you company for a bit. Love you lots!”

-beep-

           “Torako, is everything okay? You haven’t responded to my texts or your Father’s. Your workplace said that you were on suspension. I just want to make sure that you’re doing all right. Tyrone hasn’t answered his phone either, and Bentley is obviously out of the question. Please call us back. Any time is okay, even at a god-awful hour in the morning. Love you so much, bye.”

-beep-

           “Torako, this is Mama. Your Father called me, said that your Dad and he hadn’t heard from you at all lately? What’s up with that darling? They’re getting frightened that you’re dead. I told them that that’s nonsense, you’re far too tough for that. Your Father and I made you, after all! Then again, we made you, so I am a very small bit worried. If you have some troubles you can’t tell your Dad or Father, you can tell me. I know I’ve been busy recently, but I can make time for you. Loves and smooches, your Mama.”

-beep-

           “Torako, what’s going on?? It’s been a week, and all we’ve heard out of you is one solitary ‘I love you, I’m alive’ text. Which, thank you, but also that’s worrying! Are you in danger? Is Tyrone gone too? I tried talking to some of your old hurling friends, but none of them know where you are. I will get on a port to your apartment in the next day if you don’t respond. I love you, but please tell me that you’re okay! Goodbye.”

-beep-

           “Yo, Tora, it’s Hana, long time no talk! So your Dad contacted me yesterday about you being like out of town or out of touch or something? And I’m a little concerned?? I heard from him that your life partner went missing, which is sad and also makes me worried about you. Are you okay? I’m here for you if you need me. Catch you later!”

-beep-

           “Torako, this is Officer Akuapem. Hepsa has been getting better. They think she can return to work next month. I hope things are going well for you. We are continuing to investigate. There seems to be a lead into Canada. We have been tracing emails. Maybe you already know this; we had a report of a break and enter a few days ago. It was to someone we thought might be tied into the investigation. Please be careful. Don’t do anything stupid.”

-beep-

           “Tora, this is Lata’s mom. She said something about seeing you last night! Thank you for following up on that message; you don’t seem to have received any of my texts, so I thought I would try my had at a VM. It’s been so long since I left one! Again, thank you very much. When you find Bentley, let him know he was missed! I hope he is okay. That’s all, thanks! Goodbye!”

-beep-

           “What’s going on Torako? Why did you send me that cryptic message that you love me and that if you don’t message me again you failed? What are you failing? Are you doing something stupid? Please don’t do this Torako. Don’t do this to us. Please be safe. I love you. Be safe. Stay safe. We love you.”

-beep-

           “This is your Father. Please be careful. Your Dad is worried sick. We love you. Stay safe. Come home soon.”

-beep-

End of messages. Do you want to delete these messages? Select yes, no, or other options.

Other options selected. Your options are: respond with call, respond via VM, respond via text, respond via film video, select and archive messages, forward mes—

Respond with call selected. Which messages would you like to respond to? Please select the releva—

Message “What’s going on Torako? Why—” selected. Sender: Dad. Time: 3 hours ago. Are you sure you want to select this message? Yes or—

Understood. Calling in three…two…one.

-ring-

-ri—

           “Torako??!”

“Yo, hey Dad. Uh. Hi. How are you.”

“Torako?? Are you okay?? Where are you, what’s going on, is everything all right, what in the Fathomless Seas made you send such a frightening message?”

“So, funny story.” A laugh. “Not funny, but I’m more or less okay, only minimally hurt and traumatized. It’s fine. Also we’re outside right now.”

Silence.

“Outside??”

“Yeah, and uh,” Torako said, “Bentley’s been through shit and there’s some stuff we haven’t told you. So like. Yeah. Don’t scream when you come outside.”

Footsteps. “Scream, why would I scream?”

Opening door. Quick inhale, then the start of a scream before it is muffled behind a hand.

“I’ll explain everything, I promise,” Torako said. “Can we…come in?”

A pause. When spoken, the voice is a little strained. “Okay. Come in please.”

“Thank you, now let me just—” A click, and a dial tone that cuts out.

           The study was large and well-lit by two giant windows. Their thin, magically reinforced glass panes somehow seemed to let in more sunlight than they should be capable of, like they were capturing brightness and magnifying it to a subtle degree. There was a slightly dusty off-white desk in front of the shorter window at the head of the room. Stacks of books and papers and tablets towered in neat, short little hills, and there was an old-fashioned ballpoint pen sat in the middle, near a clear space for the user to sit at and work. A pair of archivists gloves was nearby, and a desk lamp floated at one corner. At the other corner, there was a small vase with two bright orange lilies caught in stasis.

           Runes flared along the edges of the ceiling, turning brighter and brighter until they burst in a small thunderclap of sound. The wallpaper tore, burned, and ash rained down on the formerly pristine room. It dotted the long red couch perpendicular to the desk in deceptively soft flakes, fragile and dangerous all at once. Flakes of burning wallpaper continued to fall down even as another presence filled the room, blacks and golds and browns and pale skin. Alcor the Dreambender cast his gaze about the room, face utterly still as he took it all in. The ash did not touch him. Nobody entered the room.

           He blinked, long and languid, at the floor to ceiling storage shelves containing all matter of memorabilia and research materials. He stared out the window at the deep, endless ocean, waves crashing against the cliffs below. He set his eyes on the desk, inhaled, and then drifted closer. With one gloved hand, he picked up one of the stacked antique books—Gleeful, Silent, Ferocious—and looked through it, flipping the pages slowly. He paused on one and read it more carefully, then snorted. “They get the funniest ideas,” he said, and he shut the book, set it on the desk carefully.

           Then he tilted his head at the tome. It had some wrong bits, but it wasn’t all that bad. There were a few that were decent, actually. Dipper tugged them from under the other stacks, sending them sliding down and across the desk. Torako would like them, he thought. And a couple were like, super rare, so if nothing else she could sell them online and get bank.

           Alcor slid the books into his stomach, feeling a little sick at the memory of pulling the three of them out of him: Bentley unconscious and with a sluggish heartbeat, Torako wide-eyed and trembling and barely keeping it together, Haji freaked out beyond measure. He’d made a deal—those memories for the means to get out of Kabul and somewhere safe—but Torako had refused to, clutching Bentley to her with a wild, nearly feral look on her face. But they were safe, now. They were safe.

           Though, Dipper thought as he considered exactly what he’d just done with the books, he’d still be careful about pulling them out in front of people. Maybe he wouldn’t pull them out in front of Bentley or Torako at all. Yes. That was the safest option. Torako’s dads would also possibly mind it if he extricated the books from his demonic bowels via tentacle too, thinking about it. Alone. Alone it was.

           He then looked up at the splash of orange, the lilies in the crystal vase, spinning slowly midair. Alcor the Dreambender reached out, and his gloves melted away so that his bare fingers could touch the petals. Lurid. Bright. Beautiful.

           If he’d gotten his hands on Fantino’s soul, they would have either been eaten, or would have suffered debilitating allergies to flowers for the next several lives.

           Instead Dipper withdrew his fingers and looked at the flowers. Then, he reached out again, blue fire sparking along the channels of friction ridges in the pads of his fingers, and touched them. The fire sputtered, then flared, consuming the flowers and shooting down the line of magic tethering them to the desk. Dipper stared at it, looked through the desk to the manuscripts of new publications in progress, and smiled. The fire wouldn’t stop until the house burned down.

           Dipper stayed a moment longer just to see the books and the desk and the tablets burst into flame, and then he blipped out of the study and its long, beautiful windows and its pristine pale features. The windows caught the light inside and amplified it, gently, subtly, to glow a soft blue that didn’t alarm the neighbors until it was too late for anything of Dr. Vallian Fantino to be saved.

           The air was heavy with salt, enough that when Bentley opened his mouth and breathed he could taste it on his tongue. It was also heavy with the sound of the tide, crashing and crumbling and receding with the tide. This beach was empty because of the dangerously sharp rocks tumbling on the seafloor not even two meters in from the edge. Honestly, though, that suited Bentley just fine, early in the morning with the night coolness still clinging to the breeze. Bentley closed his eyes, and breathed it in.

           It had been five days since they’d gone home, to Torako’s parents, and he still wasn’t tired of the feeling of natural air against his skin. He was tired of having to eat soft, bland food, and was tired of how odd it felt to go to the bathroom, but he wasn’t tired of being somewhere that rubbed against his skin and filled his chest with thrumming energy. He wasn’t tired of being able to refuse to go to a hospital, and instead have a hospital come to him.

           He also wasn’t tired of the feeling of sand on his skin. Bentley smiled, and wriggled his feet deeper into the soft sand. When he opened his eyes, the residual magic of it glimmered, just enough to be noticed but not enough to be distracting. It was nice. It was okay. It would be okay.

           Out further, where the sand became damp and the waves foamed with the force of their collisions, the water also glimmered, deep and dark like Dipper sometimes was. Bentley could see it now, more than ever: Dipper’s continuing influence on the islands, even after a long two millennia. It would have been something that explained how Dipper was able to hide his energy signature here so well. It would have been something Bentley’s Dad would have loved to know. Bentley set his face in his hands, his elbows on his knees, and looked out to sea.

           “What would you have thought of all this?” Bentley wondered out loud. The wind picked at his short hair, his long sleeves and his pants, and he felt cold despite the relative warmth. He thought about Fantino, and said, “What do you think of me now?”

           “What does who think of you now?”

           Bentley stiffened, but let out a deep breath and looked up over his shoulder. “Torako,” he said, and the warmth inside him wasn’t fake even if his dumb brain wouldn’t let go of the fact he’d dreamed about her being mean. Ugh.

           “Me? I think you’re pretty great,” she said, a crooked smile on her face. She dug her toes into the sand, sandals hanging from two hooked fingers. Bentley let out a fond, exasperated sigh.

            “Thanks,” Bentley said. “I think you’re pretty great too. Most of the time, at least.”

           Torako gasped and held her hand over her heart. “Only most of the time? Your conditional love wounds me.”

           Bentley snorted. “Sit down already, you goof.”

           She laughed and sat, legs stretching out, heels digging long trenches into the soft sand. Bentley watched how the morning sunlight glinted off the scars running root-like over her shins and calves, tangled and thin and innumerable. They too glimmered with magical byproduct. Everything glimmered these days, just about.

           “Hey.” Torako nudged his shoulder with hers. “It’s not a big deal, doesn’t even hurt.”

           “Because the doctors caught it in time to mitigate the damage, you mean.” Bentley shut out false memories of physical and emotional abuse and leaned into her. “Otherwise, you might have barely been able to walk because it would have hurt you so much.”

           Torako hummed. “Eh.”

           “Your bones had been shattered and then fused back together,” Bentley said. “You’re lucky it was fresh enough and magical enough that they could do a localized rewind on the bones.” Curses weren’t generally regarded as lucky, but in this case it was lucky that they could treat Torako’s leg as a curse.

           “Not the end of the world.” Torako shifted her legs so that her ankles crossed. Sand clung, dry, to her toes. “Besides, it didn’t happen, I’m fine. It’s a non-issue at this point, unlike you.”    

           This time, Bentley gasped and held his hand over his heart. “I’m an issue?” He knew when to leave something alone, even if shattering and melting was pretty damn traumatizing in his book.

           “Shut up, you’re not,” Torako said, grinning. She tousled his hair, and he hid a smile behind one hand at the familiarity. “No, I’m talking about what that place did to you—and don’t say it’s just cosmetic, you little shit.”

           Back at you, Bentley thought but didn’t say. “I mean,” he said instead, waving a hand at his face, “It kind of is? I look very different, and the nurse that visited said there wasn’t anything physically wrong with me.”

           “Pssh, I don’t need a nurse to tell that you’re also cold, like, all the time.” She pulled him closer and he let her, because he was cold and she looked very warm. “And you look at stuff funny sometimes, and you haven’t touched sigils since coming back, and the theft detector at the grocery store screamed at you going in. I think we need another specialist to come in to see you, actually.”

           “Let’s not. Also, the detector wasn’t my fault.” Bentley frowned at the waves further out, not because they had done anything wrong but because the grocery store experience had been awful. He would have made the very bad decision of running away if Torako hadn’t been with him, and if she hadn’t been shaking herself. They’d ended up just going home and letting her dads do the shopping.

           “Yes, that is true. But they never went off on you before, so that place absolutely did something to you. Somethings, even.”

           Bentley took a deep breath. He closed his eyes, then gave her a little noncommittal hum and snuggled into her. She was warm, as he’d thought. Torako slid her hand into his. He listened to her heartbeat, steady against the backdrop of crashing waves. They curled further into each other in silence. Bentley ended up with his legs slung over the valley of her lap, head resting at the hollow of her collarbone, her chin nestled on top of his head. Her arms were secure around him. It was…nice.

           He’d almost drifted off when she asked, “So what’s next?”

           The first somewhat intelligible sound he made was “Huh?” It was also probably the third of fourth sound he’d made, the first few being byproducts of transitioning into clearer awareness. Somewhere in the distance, seabirds called out. The horn of a fishing boat sounded, the blare of it softened by space. Bentley let out a slow breath, content.

           “What do we do now?” Torako asked. “Somehow, even if by some miracle I graduate, I don’t think that Officer Akuapem would support me entering the police force. And will you even go back to work? What do we—what happens, after the shit that we just went through?”

           Bentley cracked his eyes open. Before him, the beach stretched on into the horizon, buildings rising out of it and pressing up, up into the sky. On the left was the sea, dark with crests of white, shimmering with sunlight and supernatural energy. “I’ve been considering it. Going back, I mean. But…”

           Torako squeezed his hand, and waited for him to answer.

           “Sigils are…hard.” Bentley looked at their hands, at his mismatched fingers interspersed between hers. “And I don’t think I’ll stay there forever. Plus, you’re higher priority. I’ll go wherever you need to.”

           “No, silly, I go where you go.” She hugged him tighter. “You were in there a long time. You call the shots.”

           “And you found me,” Bentley murmured. He shifted back so he could look her in the eyes, so that she knew how much she meant. How much she mattered. “You searched long and hard and found me. I wouldn’t have…” he stopped, suddenly filled with shame and guilt and horror. He looked away, to the sea.

           Torako leaned forward to kiss him on the forehead. “You would have died,” she said. “You would have killed yourself.” Her voice shook a little when she said the words for him.

           Bentley swallowed against the stiffness of his throat, because she was right, and because he couldn’t say it. He knew it, but he couldn’t say it.

           “And that…” Torako took a deep breath. She pulled him back to her with soft but firm hands. “That really upsets me. Really. But you were—alone, and desperate, for so so long, so. I understand. It’s not okay but…I understand.”

           He squeezed her hand, watched the waves crumble into the sand. Watched them pull back, and do it over, and over, and over.

           “And we’re going to talk about that, as soon as you’re ready. First, though—what’s next? We can’t stay with my dads forever. Tyrone just about gives them a heart attack every time he shows up, I’m sure of it. They’re going to snap eventually.”

           Bentley managed a short laugh. “Yeah.” He breathed in, then out, then in and asked, “What do you want?”

           “Me?”

           “Yeah,” he said. “I might be able to do remote work. So. What do you want?”

           This time, Torako was silent, and Bentley waited.

           “I don’t want to make you upset,” Torako said at length.

           “You won’t.” Bentley turned and pressed his cheek to her collarbone.

           She still hesitated. Birds called, the ocean sang a symphony, and somebody let out a jubilant shout for whatever reason, and Torako remained silent next to him.

           Bentley shifted to press a kiss to her collarbone instead of his cheek, and then slid his forehead to the same spot. “I promise.” If he got upset, he’d get over it.

           Torako let out a sigh of frustration. “Like, I miss it. Cult bashing. Parts of it, I mean, not everything. Being away from you sucked a lot.”

           He hummed to let her know he was still listening.

           “And I hate that you were missing. Like, even cult bashing, when I knew you were safe, I hated it. When I didn’t know? Hell. It was stressful, I was always tired, Dipper was a mess and I was a mess and everything was awful. Except, it kind of wasn’t. Looking back, there were parts I liked, you know?”

           When she didn’t continue immediately, Bentley prompted, “Like?”

           She nuzzled her nose into his hair. “Putting pieces together,” she murmured. “Not having all the bureaucratic tape to deal with. The thrill, sometimes. Imminent danger, not so much, but the adrenaline was…nice.”

           This wasn’t upsetting at all, though Bentley could maybe see why she thought he would think so. He didn’t say that yet, though. “So what’s next then?”

           There was a moment where all he heard from her was her breath, and then she asked, “You’re not upset?”

           “No,” he said. “So, tell me—what’s next?”

           “I,” she said. Then, she laughed and she tousled his hair again. “I asked you first, fishbrains! What’s next, huh, Bentley?”

           “Hey!” He swatted at her hand and rolled off her lap to kneel next to her. She was smiling, hair still slightly damp from her morning shower, tank-top sliding off her right shoulder. Her eyes gleamed with something that wasn’t magic, but Bentley almost felt was. Fondness blooming gentle in him, he raised his hands and cradled her face between them. Her smile slipped, eyes wide, and she looked at him like he was the most amazing thing in the world.

           He loved her, he realized again. He loved her like he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. He didn’t love her like he wanted to engage in any kind of kissing, or groping, or even dating, but he wanted—he wanted. He wanted her with him for the rest of his life, and it was a realization that he’d made a long time ago but still didn’t know quite what to do with. Torako was—vibrant, and wonderful, and he’d long resigned himself to the possibility of another person wedging themselves between them, better and stronger. And maybe it wasn’t a healthy thought; pan trios, and quads, and even quints existed in the world, but something in him didn’t want another person. The rest of him knew that was selfish, and wrong, and that if Torako wanted to go, if she needed to go—he wouldn’t get in the way.

           But by the seas and the stars did he love her.

           “We…take it a day at a time,” he said.

           “That’s specific,” she said, eyebrows quirking and mouth slanting up, cockeyed.

           “Oh hush. We take it a day at a time,” he said again. “We figure our shit out as we go, and know that things’ll go wrong but that’s okay. We talk.”

           “I would hope so.”

           He smooshed her cheeks in, and she laughed, eyes squinting almost shut with joy. Bentley laughed at the sight of her.

           Gripping her cheeks between his fingers and pulling them out a little, he said, “We do stupid shit and try new things and try old things again. We…don’t stay on Minte de Daos, because, you know, Tyrone.”

           Torako reached out and grabbed his own face, so he quickly let go of her cheeks. She smirked at him. “Good plan. Very detailed.”

           “And,” he said, shuffling closer. The sand shifted around him. “We go back home. You see about school, I see about doing work away from work and cutting it down to part time, because I’m…messed up.” He bit his lip, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath before soldiering on. “I’m messed up, and I need help but I can’t get it because of what exactly went down. So I do my best to help myself. And I do my best to help you help yourself.”

           Torako nodded. Her palms relaxed against his cheeks. “Yeah. I can’t be your therapist, and you can’t be mine.”

           “And then, when you’re done with school…you look into options. Like, I don’t know, a private investigator.”

           She wrinkled her nose. “Ugh, that’s so much paperwork.”

           “So something else,” Bentley said, just as he heard a soft noise, like something tearing, like the sound of smoothing out a sheet of paper. “We can—we can figure it out as we go. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

           “What are we figuring out as we go?” Dipper asked. “And why are we holding each other’s faces?”

           Bentley looked up at Dipper, staring down at the both of them. Torako did the same. Dipper’s eyes were black and gold, even though the rest of him was as human as possible. “What to do next,” Bentley said.

           “Yeah, Tyrone,” Torako asked. “What’s next?”

           Dipper frowned at them. He pressed his lips together, and something flashed across his face before he shoved it down. Bentley’s smile dimmed, and he opened his mouth to—apologize? Say something?–when Dipper grinned wide and a little too sharp, and said, “There’s lots of options, but apparently one ends with either Torako or Bentley with sand up to their necks, so. There’s that!”

           Bentley looked at Torako, her face framed by his hands. Torako looked at him, and squished his cheeks a little. Then Torako looked up, smiled prettily in that way that made Bentley’s internal alarms scream with urgency, and said, “I think you left out an option,” before tackling Dipper into the sand. Dipper squawked and went down flailing his limbs and sending beach flying everywhere.

           “Get off! I am an almighty creature of pure energy!”

           Torako caught Bentley’s eye over her shoulder, and he grinned. With a little trepidation, a little nervousness, he sunk his finger into the sand. There was a moment after where he stared at the sand, its magic, and wondered if this was really such a good idea. He’d caused a lot of damage, back in the pocket dimension. The sand had power of its own, who knew how that would interact?

           Dipper screeched, Torako laughed, and Bentley drew a sigil. Behind them, the ocean undulated, waves cresting white out of the darkness of the water, seafoam fizzing against the porous sand of the shore. The tides moved, the currents shifted according to latent, now natural energy. Above, seabirds called and searched for food. A fishing boat pulled in its haul, protected by spells to ensure it wouldn’t lose any of its catch to mercenary fowl. A man on the beach a kilometer away kept staring at his phone and grinning. The mermaid civilization a few clicks away wove new birthing homes into being. A children’s class practiced hula on the shore, a cervitaur held up a shell to the sun to see how the light shone through, an old married couple held hands and walked, slow, along the tide where the sand was wet and firm and their rings glinted in the early morning.

           The world glimmered, bright.

[what-the-nonsense]

Y’know. I’m actually really angry at how this whole school shooting in Florida is being handled. It’s clearly being used to manipulate people for political agendas with people "CALLING FOR ACTION" but none of them have anything but "GET RID OF GUNS" to bring to the table of making schools & communities safer. It doesn’t allow anyone to mourn, be grief-stricken or even send our prayers/condolences. (bc hello, what else are we supposed to do when we’re on the other side of the world & country??? We can’t fly over to help bury the dead, not all of us have money to send to help with funeral arrangements, and guess what, not all of those who want to express condolences are citizens so no voting for new laws either). We’re only allowed to be angry and cry out for “NO MORE GUNS! YES, MORE GUN CONTROL!!!” and that is the script. That is the script EVERYONE is being told (or pidgeon-holed) to follow. 

Well, I’ve got news for you people.

1. This horrific act of mass murder happened in a GUN FREE zone (brought about by pro Gun Control legistlation). Which means ALL guns (unless used by law enforcement officers) are illegal on that property.

2. The shooter’s motivation seems to have been revenge after he was expelled from this school for threatening fellow students. He also had a HISTORY of violence, aggression, and possible abuse towards others. 

3. The shooter was expelled from the school. This means that he did not graduate and so was 18 or younger when this happened, giving him from the time of his expulsion from school to now to plan his attack. Add to this the fact that the shooter KNEW all of the schools emergency/lockdown routines and planned accordingly, and we have proof that this was ALL PREMEDITATED and not some random act of violence or act of madness. (He INTENTIONALLY lured out students via a fire alarm! That is NOT a sign of MENTAL ILLNESS.)

4. THERE WERE FLAGS, WARNING SIGNS, EVEN TIP OFFS ABOUT THIS GUY AND NEITHER THE FBI NOR LOCAL LAW ENFORCEMENT DID ANYTHING.

Okay now with all this, I want you to realize a few things.

1. Despite all the shootings and past violence towards schools and students, NONE of them have adopted or put forth any form of protection or security plan against inside and outside threats. These security measures could include:

Bullet-proof/resistant glass for school doors & windows (to prevent outside attacks)

Door braces & Barricades ( When there’s a shooter, doors are braced/barricaded to prevent them entering and killing people.)

Armed & active security guards or staff ( The school’s would-be first responders to acts of violence such as active shooters)

Active surveillance cameras in halls, stairwells, & classrooms to prevent situations like the Florida shooter(to be monitored by security staff)

Knowing that having a security force works for both private and public institutions, it’s ASTONISHING to me that no defensive/preventative security measures have been taken DESPITE the growing frequency of these school shootings. 

2. GUNS ARE NOT THE ONLY WEAPONS AVAILABLE FOR MASS MURDERS. Although Guns are a popular method, so are Bombs, some of which are more deadly than others. Just recently a Would-Be shooter was discovered and turned in by his grandmother who discovered his plot to shoot up a school written in detail in his journal. He intended to use a rifle and DIY EXPLOSIVES as his means for murder which means using a gun was not his only way of intended murder. So “banning all guns” is both a waste in stopping crime and a hindrance in defending against it.

3. The ONLY people who obey gun laws are LAW ABIDING CITIZENS. Unless the shooter is taken down by law enforcement (or some heroci citizen, the only people who are hurt or killed in “Gun-Free Zones” are LAW ABIDING CITIZENS. Not only that, but we have NUMEROUS reports and accounts of law-abiding citizens with registered conceal-carry/open-carry licenses who have thwarted shooters, robbers, home invaders, rapists, vandals, arsonists, etc. They are the veritable First Responders when it comes to active shooters, and are known to save lives while law enforcement is still on its way by bringing down and/or holding(incapacitating) the shooter before they can hurt or kill anyone else. 

4. CRIMINALS DON’T FOLLOW THE LAW. Murder is against the law. Plotting murder is against the law. Which means these school shooters ARE CRIMINALS. If you honestly think more gun control is going to stop criminals from committing crime, I’ve got 2 words for you: arms smuggling. This means using and moving illegal weapons from one place to another. Yeah, it’s a thing. People who do this include gangs, the drug cartel, common criminals, the mob, the mafia, people who buy & sell stolen goods, etc. It’s not impossible to get a gun illegally so please stop pretending it is.

Bottom line: there’s more to keeping our schools safe than just banning guns. Criminals and people intending on committing crimes will get weapons and the means+methods of murder regardless of if Guns are legal/available or not. However, when blanket gun laws/gun bans go into action, good people get killed because they can’t defend themselves against criminals like the ones mentioned above.

Honestly, there’s a lot to be fixed in our justice system, our school systems, and honestly, our family systems if guys like these seem to think it’s ok or “cool” to shoot up schools and ruin people’s lives. 

Florida school shooting timeline.

Shooter’s history with cops

Some info on Shooter’s mentality

[womenofcolor15]

Very Tense Protests Break Out, Police Tear Gas People In Minnesota After Four Cops Are Fired For The Death Of George Floyd

There’s growing outrage in Minneapolis, Minnesota as protestors clash with police in the streets over the death of unarmed black man, George Floyd. His murder was caught on video and the four officers involved have been fired. But, that’s definitely not justice. More inside…

It feels like 2014 all over again when Staten Island Police murdered Eric Garner, placing him in a choke hold while pushing his face into the sidewalk as he screamed “I can’t breathe.”

Almost six years later, here we are again with the same scenario.

A video has gone viral of a Minneapolis police officer pressing his knee into the neck of a man as he yelled “I can’t breathe!” at the foot of a squad car

Sadly, the black man in the video – George Floyd – was pronounced dead. George Floyd died at the hospital after he was detained by officers. In the video, he repeatedly tells the four officers (3 white, 1 Asian) who were present that he could not breathe before he became unresponsive.

"My stomach hurts. My neck hurts. Everything hurts. … (I need) water or something," George said in the video. "Please. Please. I can't breathe, officer. … I cannot breathe. I cannot breathe."

The officer pushed his knee into George’s neck for NINE MINUTES. And he kept it there until the ambulance arrived.

WARNING! Below is disturbing video of George being murdered by police.

  Forgery is NOT a crime punishable by death. This is not only #POLICEBRUTALITY, it is MURDER! First Eric Garner, now this. We must put an end to the senseless killing of our Black men! #BlackLivesMatter pic.twitter.com/oIgyohfDLL

— Benjamin Crump, Esq. (@AttorneyCrump) May 26, 2020

  Surveillance video shows George was NOT resisting when they first arrested him:

  Security cameras captured moments before the murder of #GeorgeFloyd. He was clearly NOT RESISTING arrest... So WHY did Minneapolis Police officers use excessive force that ultimately resulted in his death?! WE DEMAND ANSWERS. #JusticeForFloyd #SayHisName pic.twitter.com/4yGxvTY2Ln

— Benjamin Crump, Esq. (@AttorneyCrump) May 27, 2020

  Again, being black in AmeriKKKa can be death sentence. It's reported the officers were responding to a "forgery in progress. Officers were advised that the suspect was sitting on top of a blue car and appeared to be under the influence," the statement said.

"Two officers arrived and located the suspect, a male believed to be in his 40s, in his car. He was ordered to step from his car."

"After he got out, he physically resisted officers. Officers were able to get the suspect into handcuffs and noted he appeared to be suffering medical distress. Officers called for an ambulance," according to the statement.

"At no time were weapons of any type used by anyone involved in this incident. … Body worn cameras were on and activated during this incident." 

Mayor Jacob Frey issed a statement via Facebook: “Being black in America should not be a death sentence. For five minutes, we watched a white officer press his knee into a black man’s neck. Five minutes.”

Read his full statement below:

  Being Black in America should not be a death sentence. For five minutes, we watched a white officer press his knee into...

Posted by Mayor Jacob Frey on Tuesday, May 26, 2020

The family has hired famed attorney Ben Crump (who represented Trayvon Martin's family) and he announced the four officers involved in George's murder have been fired. He also shared that the officer had his knee on George's neck for nine minutes, not five.

  Help us get #JusticeForFloyd!! https://t.co/NFdUN36iDJ

— Benjamin Crump, Esq. (@AttorneyCrump) May 26, 2020

  Now, people want the officers charged!

Hours after it was announced the four police officers were fired, hundreds of protesters (many wearing masks) filled the streets in reaction to George Floyd's murder. Police used tear gas and percussion grenades to break up the protests that were happening at the intersection where George Floyd was murdered. Protesters vandalized police vehicles and targeted the precinct house where the four officers had been assigned.

The local news media reported that two people had been shot near the protest, but a Police Department spokesman, John Elder, said one person had been shot “away” from the protest and described the person’s injuries as not life-threatening. It was not immediately clear who did the shooting, he said.

Peep clips from yesterday's protests below: 

  I got hit w rubber bullet right after taking video of this mayhem scene. I was across the street from the precinct pic.twitter.com/qz1KHNADtQ

— Andy Mannix (@AndrewMannix) May 27, 2020

          View this post on Instagram

                  No. I won’t call for people in Minneapolis to stop this. This is a natural human response to a man being lynched in broad daylight in the middle of the street as he begged for relief of ANY kind, telling them he couldn’t breathe. I fully understand. I have this same rage in my heart. I think millions of us do. It’s too much. Arresting and even convicting is fine. That needs to happen, but we need this police violence and white supremacist violence to stop. Period. This isn’t what I prefer. I prefer peace. But we won’t be peaceful while you literally have your knee on our neck.

A post shared by Shaun King (@shaunking) on May 26, 2020 at 6:51pm PDT

            View this post on Instagram

                  This moved me so much. This young brother, through his pain, spoke a lot of truth. Don’t pick a part every word. Just ask yourself if I’m the midst of such emotion could you speak so clearly. He’s a natural leader. I see it in him.

A post shared by Shaun King (@shaunking) on May 27, 2020 at 5:15am PDT

    Protests in Minneapolis over racially motivated murder of #GeorgeFloyd #BlackLivesMatter #ICantBreath pic.twitter.com/PuS7ML8JC5

— Cem Harper (@akpsizbiturkiye) May 27, 2020

    America is embarrassing. People can protest a pandemic for a haircut but not the unlawful death of a black man. “Land of the Free” is a joke. #JusticeForFloyd #JusticeForGeorgeFloyd pic.twitter.com/pShQijhvIK

— Sarah (@sarahmog00) May 27, 2020

    THESE are protests that matter. not protests about trivial matters such as not being able to go anywhere bc of a LITERAL virus. pic.twitter.com/G29gOoWsSK

— Timaroni_macaroni (@T1nyt1minabox) May 27, 2020

  So armed white men can invade the state's capitol to demand their state be reopened amid the Coronavirus pandemic and nothing happens. People protest the murder of an unarmed black man and get attacked. Make it make sense.

    EXTRAS:

1. Kenneth Walker - the man who was accused of shooting a police officer when they unlawfully invaded his home - been released from custody. He was the boyfriend of the EMT worker - Breonna Taylor - who police killed during a botched raid. STORY

    Photos: Offices of Ben Crump Law/Carlos Gonzalez/Richard Tsong-Taatarii/Star Tribune/AP

[Read More ...] source http://theybf.com/2020/05/27/very-tense-protests-break-out-police-tear-gas-people-in-minnesota-after-4-white-cops-fire

[dickgraysonisnothereforthis]

Public Relations Part the Third

Nightwing x Reader

AN: hey so almost a year ago @hemekeb6991 asked me for another installment of the PR story. Because I am human trash, I only just finished it. But I’m proud of it, and I hope y’all like it!

(This is not the last thing in this series, I think. I want to play with it some more.)

Part 1   Part 2 ***

Your date with Nightwing goes,

ah

really well.

He asks you out on another (you coax it out of him with your head planted cheerfully between his thighs.) Two dates turn into three, then four, and before you can blink you find yourself squarely planted in a Six-Week Relationship with someone who won’t tell you his real name.

(And it…kind of works.

It’s not perfect by any stretch of the imagination, and the tried-and-true advice of Don’t Date Your Boss/Client hasn’t got a thing on this shitshow, but

He makes you happy, you make him happy, he’s clearly committed in whatever limited capacity he can be, and you’re just sort of rolling with it.)

Besides, you’d call him BC even if you knew his real name, because that’s what he is to you now. So it’s a six week relationship with someone who won’t tell you his name but is named BC regardless. You’ll take it.

Although, technically, it’s a seven week relationship. The last week you spent at a PR conference in Atlanta doesn’t count, you argue to yourself as you get in a cab. You should probably head to your apartment after the flight back Northeast, but instead you decide to go to Mt. Justice. This is, on paper, because you have some work to catch up on (which is technically true) but also because you want your boyfriend’s hands down your pants ASAP.

In no time, you're plodding through the darkened halls of the mountain, hoping BC’s there even though it’s nearing two am. Thrilled when you see light streaming from under his bedroom door, you adjust your duffel on your shoulder and knock smartly, eyes squeezed shut.

The door creaks open, there’s a beat that’s barely noticeable, and then-

“Wesley! You’re back!”

You open your eyes to see your stupid hot boyfriend, wearing only his domino and threadbare Loony Toons boxer shorts. Grinning, you chuck yourself into his arms, bag and all. In one graceful move, Nightwing catches you neatly, spins you lightly into his room, and gently shuts the door behind you. He tosses your duffel bag Somewhere as your legs wind themselves around his waist, easy as anything. Your hands fly to his hair on reflex, fingers threading through the fine hairs at the nape of his neck. He huffs a smile against your lips before kissing you proper, and you stand like that for a long while, held aloft while sucking face in the middle of his bedroom.

After what, in your humble opinion, is nowhere near enough time, he pulls back slightly. “If you’re going to give me sex hair, we might as well have sex.”

“This reunion was better when you weren’t talking,” you mumble before sticking your tongue in his mouth. Nightwing breaks away again to snort unattractively, walking you steadily backwards until he falls gracefully onto the bed.

You scramble around in his lap until you’re comfortably straddling him, and his hands find their way to your waist, fingers rubbing out a steady rhythm into the skin just above your skirt.

You press your forehead against his, resist the urge to bite him on squarely the nose, and send a whispered ‘hi’ floating in the space between the two of you.

“Hi,” he whispers back conspiratorially. You bite your lip, eyes flicking downwards. “I really missed you,” you mumble softly, worried that six (seven?) weeks in is still to early to be discussing Real Feelings.

One of his hands comes up to cradle your head. “I really missed you, too.” He pulls back, brings the hand around to rest against your cheek. “How was the conference?”

And you take a deep breath, because honestly? This conference was your goddamn PR communion, bat mitzvah, and quinseañera in one whirlwind of a week. You have officially been accepted into the PR community. You attended a seminar on the evidence of various propaganda in ancient Rome. They gave you a pen.  You participated in some freaky ritual and now you’re blood brothers with everyone at the conference. It says so on your nametag. You’ve got a million ideas, a million new spins, and you can’t wait to try them all out.

All this and more is about to spill off the tip of your tongue, and you’re 100% positive Nightwing wants to hear it,

but,

he’s got a hand up your shirt.

So, you know,

priorities.

You wake up by degrees, swanning lazily through several layers of awareness.

When the first realizations of wakeness drape themselves over you, you grumble at your internal clock, jet lag kicking you awake at arse o’clock in the morning. By the time you remember that Atlanta is firmly in the same time zone as Mt. Justice and your jet lag is imaginary, you’re just coherent enough to recognize that someone making noise is what’s woken you up, more specifically your stupid boyfriend is singing in your ear and that’s why you’re awake.

“Shut the fuck up, BC,” you grumble, but you’re lying to yourself. You don’t want him to stop, so much so that you don’t even kick at his ankles. You sigh happily as he finishes the first verse and stays quiet, thrilled because you love this song, you love that BC decided sing it to you, you love the song so much that you made it your ringtone and your alarm-

Your eyes tear open with a nearly audible snap. Reaching out blindly to nab your phone from the floor, you hastily punch the home button and gasp out loud. You have eleven missed calls from Cath Cobert, holy fuck. Holy Fuck.

The song starts playing again, Cath is calling you again, shit shit shit. You turn frantically to tell BC that you’ve got to go, some kind of PR emergency, and that’s when you realize that BC isn’t there, that Nightwing isn’t there.

Well, fuck that guy.

Clearing your throat so you sound as though you Vaguely Have Your Shit Together, you thumb accept and bring the phone to your ear.

“Hello.”

“Why the fuck,” Cath spits at you, “is your team holding an impromptu Q&A on site of their mission?”

“What?” you huff out, lungs suddenly frozen solid. “Where? Which?”

“Gotham, West Side. Live broadcast on CNN.com.”

“No,” you growl, abruptly infuriated. “Is it Vale?”

“You’d better fucking believe it’s Vale.” Cath’s voice is shinier than steal. “Get there before things go totally fubar.”

“On it.’ You chuck the phone away from your ear and run pell-mell into the nearest bathroom, blazing through your normal routine. Pee-wash face-brush teeth-foundation-concealer-eyeshadow-underwear-bra-shirt-pants-you’re going to be fired-you’re going to be fired-fuck-fuck-fuuuuuuuccckkkk

Fuck.

You zeta to Gotham, and in the cab over to the site you pull up CNN on your phone. You’re damned before the page finishes loading, condemned by the headline Justice League Team Does Hasty Q&A. Stomach falling out of your ass, you shakily hit play and watch as your stupid hot boyfriend shoots himself, his entire team, and you by extension, in the fucking foot. The bastard is countering almost every single thing the Justice League had to say about the team in their press conference not twenty four hours ago. You and Cath had decided to push the image of Team Smol doing baby, not as dangerous missions. Sticking to strictly cleanup or frighteningly easy tasks, they leave the real work to the adults. And this most likely would’ve worked, would’ve covered your ass for at least a month, except now Nightwing is flushing it down the drain. He’s saying the team does important, undercover missions. He’s saying they sometimes do things the public might disagree with. Superboy is nodding. You’re spitting with rage, you talked to them about this. And what’s worse, he’s doing it in neat little sound bites.

Every sentence that comes out of his mouth is another paragraph added to your pink slip. You can practically read it now “we regret to inform you.”

Before you can finish spiralling into your unemployment and inevitable homelessness, you can see bright spandex and a wide circle of reporters coming up on your left. You jump out of the cab practically before it stops moving and use your Suburban Mom Who Drives a Mini Van and Just Came From Yoga walk to get the hell over there. You jump, literally, in front of Blue Beetle just as he’s opening his mouth to dig you in deeper. “Sorry, ladies and gents, but these guys don’t have time for any more questions, they’ve got to write up reports on this mission for the league to look over,” you say, pasting on a smile for the camera. You can feel the displaced air to your left; someone is about to say something, it’s Garf, Garf is about to fuck you over no no no-

You step on his foot covertly, trying desperately to distract the reporters by waxing poetic on the importance of a well written mission report. M’gann, hero that she is, gets some grip as to what’s going on, and suddenly her voice is in your head.

“(Y/N), what’s going on?” Ah, so this is the telepathic link you’ve heard so much about. You quickly use it to your advantage, knowing the rest of the team is online too.

“Garf, I need you to whine a little about how much you don’t want to write up a mission report” You let the press hurl questions at you.

“I-what?” Garf says, caught off guard. Nightwing, that ass, cuts in to save him.

“We don’t all have to write up reports, only the squad leaders have-” “You think I give a shit!” You scream back, thoughts so shrill with anger you catch Aqualad wincing and Robin flashing Nightwing a sympathetic look. You bring it down a bit. “Right now I have to get you out of this mess, so for the love of god, Garf, act like a whiny child who doesn’t want to do their homework!”

Miracle of miracles, Garf does what you say. “Aw, I hate writing up the reports!” he gripes convincingly.

“M’gann, please put your arm around him and make like you’re convincing him to do it and that it won’t take that long,” you think desperately in her direction. She’s ruffling his hair before the sentence is out. “Come on, Beast Boy, it won’t take that long. I’ll help you,” she says warmly, and the look in her eyes is the perfect kind of fond that makes hearts drip. You beam at her, then at the reporters. “Sorry, guys, but we really do have to go. We’ll be holding a press conference this coming Thursday, please save your questions until then!”

Then you turn your back to the reporters, eye the team with a look that could curdle milk, and start thinking a staccato order at them. “Walk away walk away walk away walk away walk away-”

They get the picture, thank god, and start heading determinedly for the bioship. Like the trained professional you are, you manage to keep your cool until the bay doors close. And then you lose it.

“What the fuck,” you spit bitterly, “was that?” They eye each other nervously (good.) Then Cassie steps forward.

“What do you mean–”

“You know perfectly well what the fuck I mean!” You hiss at her, teeth grinding into powder.

“Hey, don’t take your anger out on her,” Robin starts angrily. “I’m not taking my anger out on her! I’m angry at her! I’m angry at all of you!” You stare at them wildly. “You totally fucked up back there! Like, royally. Royally, utterly, totally, completely, cocked-fucked up six ways to Sunday!” Hopefully Garf will forgive all the swearing later.

“Wesley,” Nightwing starts, but you cut him off before he can get anywhere.

“Don’t.” You take a deep breath. “You have to understand where you went wrong.What’s the first rule I told you? What’s rule number one?” You’re met with blank stares that make you want to split lips. “Rule number one,” you say slowly, “is never talk to the press unless I have told you what to say.”

“You’re not our handler,” Conner says hotly. “We don’t have to always listen to what you say.”

“Yes!” You shout, slightly hysterical. “You do! Because this is my job. I know how to do this. You have to trust and respect me enough to let me do my job. Do you–” you break off to inhale deeply. “Do you have any idea what you guys just did?”

They shake their heads. “You flat out denied the positions that the League took in a press conference yesterday! Batman issued a statement saying you guys don’t handle any dangerous shit, and you sure as fuck don’t do undercover ops! You publicly disagreed with your parent organization! And you showed yourselves taking direct action, which you’re not supposed to do for another three or four weeks at least!” Silently, M’gann moves to the controls and the ship rises in the air. You drop your head in your hands. “Do you–do you have any idea just how much work I’m going to have to do to clean this up? This is like, days, maybe even weeks, of me not sleeping to make sure that you guys come off as genuine, likeable, All-American heroes. This is–” you start to panic a bit. “this is so much extra work for me all because you just didn’t listen to what I told you to do in the first place. I’m going to have to–” your sentence bails as you realize the mountain of work waiting for you. “I have to draft press releases for tomorrow for every single goddamn one of you. Fuck, I have to roll out your butterball image now.” You’re babbling, but you’re past caring. “I need to set up a photoshoot like, yesterday, and we need to create a buzzfeed quiz or something, like ‘which respectfully romantic gesture that perfectly sums up a member of Team Smol are you?’“ Rattling off instructions to yourself, you dig out your cell phone and start making calls, knowing you won’t have time to sleep tonight. The team is silent for the rest of the ride to Mt. Justice, giving you space to deal. Cath calls twenty minutes into the ride, and tears start streaming down your face a second after she hangs up.

“Wesley,” Nightwing starts hesitatingly.

You shake your head, already punching in new phone number. Finally, you make it to Mt. Justice, and the their heads hang low as they file out of the bioship. They stop you before you can make it inside.

“We’re really sorry,” Garf apologizes with his big eyes. “We didn’t mean to make it harder on you.”

“It won’t happen again,” Robin reassures you. You’re not nearly adult enough to accept their apology, so you nod stiffly and hope they get the message. Thankfully, they start to peel off towards the showers, leaving only you and Nightwing behind.

“Will you still stay the night?” He asks haltingly. You take a deep breath. “I think I need to be in my own space right now.”

“Okay.” He looks sad, you can tell. “Can I drive you home?” You shake your head. “I just need to freak out by myself. I’m not angry at you, boyfriend, I’m angry because of work, which happens to include you, Nightwing. This,” you sigh heavily, “this is probably a conversation we should have had earlier, but too late now. Look, I’m tired and stressed and I have a ton of work to do, so I’m going home, okay?” You look up at him, hoping he’ll understand.

“Okay. Are…are we going to be alright?”

You don’t have the energy to pull up a smile, but you do manage to meet his eyes. “I want us to be, so that’s a start.”

His smile is blinding. “Good. Sorry we fucked up, Wesley.”

Nodding distractedly, you head into Mt. Justice, where you won’t leave for like, three weeks at least.

[hotel-oscar]

FACTS : what I know without a shadow of a doubt happened vs deduction, speculation and/or my opinion.

FACT : December 18th, Sunday - Woke up on corner of Robertson & Santa Monica Blvd in front of Pavilions. I was partially robbed & obviously sexually molested. Also had 1 thin clean cut over left top lip. Like a purposely cut line approximately 1" in length. I was also missing my left earring. It was a black circle and superman symbol on other (I sometimes use that mismatch combo on my left ear only and both matching circles on the right). It’s the kind often referred to as fake plugs so they screw into each other, which in turn makes them more secure and a task to remove so ya, left earring was missing and not on the floor. Otherwise, absolutely no other signs of visible trauma or impact points so I know I didn’t fall on the ground.

FACT : I was missing my wallet, motorcycle key, motorcycle w helmet BUT I still had my A1 leather bomber jacket on, $1+ in coins, 2x collector Swiss Army pocket knives & my black Ray Ban Wayfarer sunglasses. Partial robbery…? I then went into Pavilions’ and bought myself a Tonic Water w the change I had.

FACT : I parked right in front of Abbey and went into Chapel @ the Abbey and bought Bacardi Limon from the tall slender female bartender with the obviously fake English accent.

FACT : Other than feeling confused to how, when & HOW the hell I ended up there, I felt 100% sober & clear minded. This was no surprise to me since I know I didn’t even drink enough to have a buzz. I don’t even remember finishing my shot.

FACT : I thought it weird that NO ONE offered to neither help me nor express any concern. Then when I went back to The Abbey to get my credit card that I had left there, everyone was being rude and giving me the run around and saying come back & just meaner than I have ever recalled them being. They never gave me back my card. I tried from before 7am until noon.

****UPDATE**** They charged my card $40 and it’s a straight up lie. For one, I lost my phone a few days earlier and so I wasn’t sure my balance so I was limiting myself 1-2 drinks max and I always keep my limit. Second, I haven’t spent $40 on a tab since the military and that’s no joke. Besides, I’m 100% positive that I didn’t authorize $40.

FACT : At sundown, I walked miles and miles walking all lit main streets until someone finally asked me if I was ok. It was a homeless woman at a 711 whom I later gave my Air Force Swiss Army pocket knife to as a gift. I was freezing and hungry & she fed me and we huddled together for body heat right outside the 711 doors. When she left, she offered me to go with her but I still felt a danger lurking and didn’t want to put her at risk. When she left, I began looking for a cement or steel trash can bc I was shivering uncontrollably from the cold and needed to get warm. I found one on a sidewalk adjacent to a gas station. I made sure there was no residue gas dripping from the pumps as I walked by them on my way to the trashcan on street. I started that fire for the sole reason of staying warm but also made sure I was being seen on the station’s camera in case anything happened to me bc I had a feeling that someone wanted to make me disappear.

FACT : At no time was anyone or thing in any danger, including myself. Firefighters put it out. Cops (LAPD) showed up after the fire was already out and the firefighters were packing up to leave. It was obvious I was going to get hurt right off the back so I repeatedly told them loudly & clearly that I was a woman. They only got more aggressive and more threatening to the point where I thought that’s it, I’m about to get tazed/shot so I finally yelled, “Ok ok I’m a guy,”– in which they proceeded to tackle me, hogtie, rip my nose back, suffocate me, inject me & beat me. I begged & pleaded for my life forever it seemed bc I couldn’t breathe & that alone was unbearable. When I realized that they were not going to let up, I yelled in Spanish for God to help me and that’s when I got one last sock to the face in which I pretended to be knocked out. I began listening and feeling everything they were doing. I felt my butt exposed while they injected me w something. They had my socks off and had my ankles turned in an unnatural way which w the handcuffs made it impossible to feel anything they were doing to them but the overwhelming pain & fear of breaking like my wrist already felt was. I do however remember the firefighters driving by close enough to make eye contact while I was struggling on the floor before pretending to lose consciousness.

FACT : They tortured me for over 25+ minutes but now actually seemed a lot longer than that and am sure it was. Then they finally put me in a paramedic-like vehicle where not only did they refer to me as a WOMAN but one said, “I wish she’d keep squirming so I could rip her nose back again.” Wtf? Then they proceeded to cut my A1 AF leather bomber jacket into little pieces so I’d never wear it again. Btw, that jacket clearly had my (female) name & rank on front name badge. Then they cut off my white t-shirt and binder which held down my breast followed by sticking an IV down a vein in my throat and opening my eyes and pushing each one so far into my skull that I swore they were gonna poke each out. I’ve never had anyone do these things to me & didn’t know people like that even existed, let alone people that wore uniforms and were supposed to be saving lives. Not enjoying themselves torturing one… I heard them all making little jokes and enjoying themselves the entire time and even when I was walked thru the precinct and booking topless with my breast out in the open (Yet, they were still trying to book me as a male even then!). I remained exposed for everyone to see until I was seen by the doctor in holding in which she said can we put a shirt on him/her. She saw the IV in my throat & asked why the hell they put an IV in me. Even the officer stuttered that he didn’t know why. They x-rayed my wrist bc it was badly injured. I still have no feeling of left thumb and wrist. I still have scars on wrists and ankles from being hogtied with the handcuffs overly tightened. At the time I had blood and swelling at my wrists and ankles from the handcuffs. I also noticed that I was bleeding under one of my middle toes from my left foot & wasn’t previously.

FACT : I reported the rape from West Hollywood as soon as I felt safe and asked for rape kits. Santa Monica Hospital, USC and LA County Women’s Jail. Sheriffs sent SVU investigators to talk to me while in jail. I told them every detail including how I got my motorcycle stolen from right in front of the Abbey and gave them title info in order to find it. The men left their #’s. I called them several times later to find out status and left msgs. I did this from jail and later from home after I was released. I never ever received a call back or acknowledgment and the other # said it didn’t exist. I made sure to keep record of any calls & messages I made to or left them as well as keep the business card they gave me when they came to see me in jail.

{For the record, WOMEN’S LA County Jail was the best part of this ordeal. Not only did they take care of me and make me feel safe and respected me but also the inmates were a blessing to have met. Each inmate made a very special & personal contribution to my heart’s recovery. They all became my friends and I know we all share a special bond and will no doubt see each other again and hopefully work with too. Thank u to every Deputy. U guys genuinely care about human beings and I’m sorry there are Sheriffs that carry guns on the outside tarnishing your priceless contribution to humanity. I’d work w u guys any day.}

________________________________________

FACT : I was in Signal Hill the day before and received a ticket for the motorcycle being parked on the sidewalk. The motorcycle a 1983 Blue Hondamatic had mismatching license plate from VIN on registration. This is bc I have 2 of the same exact bike and often switched out parts between them. I have its twin sitting here at home in pieces and missing its original license plate, which went w the stolen bike. When I finally got home from jail in mid January, I discovered that the titles for both of the bikes that I had put away safely in a box were both missing. I didn’t even have time to fully take in this whole mess before I was conveniently 5150’d for crying on a curb on a street named Cudahy in which HP Police decided to tow my other bike which was simply parked against the curb correctly & not even w key in it. It was towed to Mr. C’s Towing in South Gate. I tried to get it after my VA nightmare but they wanted me to pay $66 per day for something they did illegally. Well, just like my other bike it has a twin so it has the same mismatching plate detail. I still have the title for this one and the original plate on me. Not on the bike they are holding. I also have the original plate for the 1983 Hondamatic that I just learned from its previous owner, the guy I bought it from, that it was auctioned off in January while I was in jail. They said that they had contacted him to demand he pay for the fees that I guess were not recovered w the f***ing auction but when he tried calling them back w his defense the DMV claimed they had no record of the bike’s existence. Can somebody please tell me what the f*** is going on????

****UPDATE**** I can’t seem to get a police report anywhere. I want to know what they said so I can defend myself but they keep jerking me around sending me on a wild goose chase and lying. HPPD first said I was operating the bike impaired but when I brought evidence contradicting that, they changed their story once again. This time they say that they didn’t want to be responsible in case the bike was stolen while I was in the hospital bc God knows how long I’d be there. BULLSH*T. 1st, they 5150’d me which is a 72 hr hold. 2nd, I’m sure I could have easily arranged for a family member to just walk over and get it. No biggie. 3rd, U ARE RESPONSIBLE for it being stolen! Both PD & Towing place keep sending me back and forth to supposedly get something needed which have been lies and the days have added up. Here’s the big whopper though, they hold for 45 days after which they not only send me to collections for the entire 45+ day storage cost but they ALSO auction my bike! Wow, talk about rape…is this even legal??? It doesn’t seem ethical that’s for sure. I know it’s not right in my heart either. I still have faith in humanity. I refuse to believe there are so many evil people around here.

________________________________________

West Hollywood Sheriffs think they can do whatever they want and say and do unspeakable things without any repercussions. (????) Literally think they are above the human race and they have an acute hate for strong women who don’t need men (i.e. Lesbians). As far as I’m concerned, they are domestic terrorists and traitors to our country and God-given rights. If u don’t believe me, I’m sure they have videos. They have a thing for recording everything. Or u can believe me bc I’ve never lied to u and would never want to see anyone else hurt. I rather it be me than anyone else bc I know I was born special & can take more than others and I’m ok. Plus, I took an oath to protect my country against ALL ENEMIES, foreign & DOMESTIC and I meant it & live accordingly. I was born to serve my country and its perfect people. I take attacks on them personally and will be damned if I let them intimidate me into letting them get away with it. Over my dead body and even after that.

I believe martial law should be implemented in LA County with special emphasis on West Hollywood & VA in Long Beach (ER & L1 psych ward), if not ALL Emergency Rooms, Psych Wards & Law Enforcement in the county of Los Angeles.

West Hollywood used to be a safe haven for gay people from all over the country. Now it’s become the fastest way to become a non-reported missing person. I’ve had the privilege of meeting their spirits and the honor of their unwavering love and guidance through my drugging, rape, torture and eventual death. That girl I used to be is forever gone.

________________________________________

The VA in Long Beach has a modern God-complex psychotic Doctor who I lovingly refer to as GPS bc his name sounds like a GPS Navigation brand name. Dr. Magellan?

FACT : I told them I didn’t want to go in the back door. I didn’t feel comfortable & told them I rather go in through the front entrance just like every other 50 millionth time but they were adamant & not budging. I had a bunch of pix w me but mainly of my niece and nephews. Before knocking out I tucked them into my binder like I had been every night. I woke up and found them sprawled all over the bed & floor which was odd & shocking but to make matters worse, 3 pix were missing and that pissed me off. I pulled a fire alarm. Not only did they cancel it on their own instead of the fire department but it also made them pretty angry so 2 guys tied me up to a bed and then each injected a shoulder. I muttered something about the only people that could cancel a fire alarm are the firefighters and was out.

I don’t think anything u guys did was cool. The mystery straight up bite mark was like wtf (and I know u’ll say it’s mine but not only is that stupid as hell but also physically impossible bc of angle it was done).

FACT : Blood & liquid build up on toes by the nails, not being able to account for over a week, being told I’m being given certain meds that we both know damn well aren’t what u said they were, u getting upset w the social worker for not hanging up properly w a public defender and accidentally recording everything u were saying right before I walked in and just all of your bs, GPS. Honestly, I just feel betrayed by everybody there bc I trusted them. I already didn’t trust u bc u always had a smile when u were telling me something that would make my world crumble. I do remember seeing the cameras in the employee meeting room and thinking oh sh*t they are watching me change & sleep?? Then I thought how is that possible if inside the rooms there is not a camera in sight. Still, I wish I would have had a courtesy heads up before getting undressed bc that’s embarrassing/uncomfortable for me to do around anybody.

I also finally realized that not only have u guys been f-ing w my mental health but also that u literally are not one bit interested in really helping me. The same goes to the ER where they watched me have an anxiety attack and didn’t calm me down but instead took detailed notes of whatever fright I was experiencing and even had others come watch and also do nothing except ask that same dumb question, Do u wanna hurt anyone or yourself, all while watching me bawl my eyes out & scared outta my mind seeing whatever it was that was so terrifying but thank goodness u made sure to make a detailed transcript, right?? That still surprises me btw bc I only begin to remember it when u read from it. Weird how u guys remember my dreams/nightmares better than I do. Like how are u able to get inside my head while I’m totally asleep…?? Seriously.

FACT : I always made sure to get a ride to your ER where every time I’d walk in and just ask for someone to talk to. That’s all just a Therapist or someone that could help me relax just by listening and responding like one and not some smart-ass condescending one that belittles what I’m feeling as if I didn’t just now ask for help. I just needed to talk to someone and I’m sure my provider remembers how many times throughout the years I would continuously ask for one-on-one therapy. Every single time I saw u guys I’d ask for that therapy and I practically lived there! Yet, I would be put to sleep & always waking up days later confused of where I was at and then later finding out from the other patients that I was out for days! DAYS! WTF is that all about?? U can’t tell me I’m a drug addict that was doing this to myself bc I know now that is all BS and I’m really pissed about it. U swear we aren’t smart enough to know the difference between the drugs we knowingly put into our systems and the ones u claim are the cause of our perpetual detachment from reality! Yes, u do a good job of keeping us confused so that we accept your BS but eventually something had to give. Maybe my tolerance got higher or maybe I just became immune to your junk. It really is unbelievable how f-ed up u are. I didn’t think there was a cure for what u said I had bc I couldn’t wrap my mind around the perpetual diagnosis u would give me and I’d reluctantly accept even though I hadn’t been doing any drugs. I somehow would convince myself that maybe I don’t remember using (ya right) or someone in my life was purposely drugging me (which made me paranoid) or maybe it was just my guilty conscience from using in the past. I didn’t even consider that u’d be that evil and that your staff would be too naive to question.

I still can’t believe this is happening. So many of my Vet buddies were patients of yours. Some got worse and others I’ve never seen again and no one has either bc I’ve asked. We’re family and we look out for each other no matter what and u know that. It’s unfair that u’d tell the staff to tell me that they were not able to tell me what happened to Izzy for privacy reasons but he had no other next of kin. I was his family and I knew something happened to him the first time I returned to L1 after he was gone and u put me in his old room. I can feel everything and I knew and cried. I’m not saying u did something to him but my last memory of him was me being discharged from there and wanting to say bye but seeing him be tied down to the same bed but not making it easy for your staff. He was in duress and I should have stayed to calm him. I don’t think any of this is funny. Not one bit. I don’t play around when it comes to other people’s quality of life. Heck no and though not all of u guys are guilty, I still won’t return to your part of the hospital and will share that w the Vets I know. There’s nothing u can say to confuse me anymore. I finally feel more like the old me I used to be when I was still in the military. It took more than a miracle for me to overcome this but I’m glad I did and I’m glad u guys were wrong. I’m totally fine and healthy and NOT addicted to any substance or thing. I’m also STILL not a danger to myself or anyone. In fact, every day I get better & better. I had forgotten how good it felt to be sane.

There’s something wrong w u, GPS and I’m sure I’m not the only one that would agree and I’m sure we can count on u to always be smiling when u know ur about to and/or are making someone miserable. U really had me going there which is why I felt no remorse when I turned the tables on u. Just remember, ur the doc and u discharged me regardless of my state and me asking for help. U can figure the rest out.

****UPDATE**** I requested all my medical records from VA. I reviewed my recent 5150 stay in L1. In the short summary they are very detailed on all days except for the 6 day gap of nothing. So I went back to review the entire month of March to see what u put for those 6 days I lost. It’s funny bc u put the same type of very detailed notes for those 6 days. U put my vital signs, exact bowel movements, participation, % of food eaten, etc. Oh u also mentioned that I was temporarily put in restraints and stated the strict policies u have with that like notifying next of kin and 24/7 100% face to face surveillance. Well first off, EVERYTHING u wrote for those 6 days minimum are complete utter BS. Lies. Not only did I find many holes in your detailed fabricated data but regardless of me having to prove anything, u’ve managed to screw yourself. I’ll put it to u this way, u somehow managed to keep meticulous record of not treating me for my said perpetual disorder but also keeping me at that state the whole time. Plus, there were other discrepancies that might seem small but in my case stand out like a sore thumb bc it meant I was 100% not myself in anyway which would be the first in my life since I’m very consistent regardless of my state of mind. So glad the AF & VA keeps records of everything so I’ll let them speak for themselves. U should have paid closer attention to me all these years or just listened to me every time I told u certain things about myself that haven’t changed my entire life. They are important in order to be able to accurately assess and treat me, your patient, medically. I mean, it could mean life or death literally. Either way, u grossly neglected to do that job u swore to do correctly. Add f-ing liar to that. Never mind that u guys also have 100% surveillance in L1 so per your notes, everything in those 6 days should check out at least visually right? Well at the very least for your sake.

I urge everyone to call the jails, hospitals and everywhere to find that loved one and make it known that that person will be missed and looked for and that no one will give up and accept their loss bc they couldn’t live with themselves if they did. Go in person, call or go online to check inmates & arrests. Snapchat and use all & any current social media to record, keep track of, make note of or just have as insurance if anyone is not doing their job, threatening u, putting your life in danger, lying to u or just getting a bad feeling from. They tend to think twice before continuing their disturbing behavior towards u but also letting others know what’s up in case, God forbid, they do harm u. Email all resources & be heard. Email even strangers that might just be in your address book automatically from buying something from them on Craigslist. Serious. Someone, the right person will be listening and that’s all it takes.

FACT : I’m an Air Force Vet who got out in her prime and had nothing less than a stellar career but decided she wanted to be with her family and see their kids be born and grow up. She chose family and chose right. I still have very close ties to my military family and still have the same beliefs I had while serving which is why I will continue to serve, pay or not. I began to transition from female to male but I never intended to change my gender nor name so basically even though considered Transgender, I am just a woman that looks like a dude but I don’t pretend to be and don’t tell others I am. I’m a woman who’s happy looking masculine, as weird as that sounded just now. Ha. Some women get breast implants, others want them removed. Truth is I just rather look this way and it makes me happier than I’ve ever been and the people that love me say that it shows and that makes them happier as well.

FACT : I represent a vast majority of Americans who struggle against all kinds of discrimination and violence and at the hands of everyone, including my own kind. I’m Hispanic, Mexican, Irish & Jewish descent, Woman, Lesbian, Transgender, Gay, Military Veteran, Domestic Violence Survivor, Rape Survivor, Mental Illness, been Homeless. The reason I mention this is bc everything that happened to me can only be categorized as a HATE CRIME because not only did they totally know I was a female all along but there really was absolutely NO NEED to cut my jacket into little tiny pieces AND strip me NUDE topless. That was obviously meant to shame me. Yes, it was deliberate and intentional. They knew what I was and they 100% intentionally meant to hurt me. There’s plenty of evidence to back it up as well. Including the officer’s body cam. I even asked him what that was on his shirt and he told me that it was his body cam.

FACT : If a woman or man or speaking animal says that they were raped. THEY WERE. Who the f*** are u to tell a person, especially a grown-ass one what THEIR body feels. Shame on u stupid women who decided to be the judge of that bc u let rapists of all that are living know that it was ok.

Regardless of u doing unbelievably psycho and amazingly unfair things to me to make me feel like I should just shut up and forget that these things happened to me, I simply can’t. I’m not gonna lie, I really, really considered it and even contemplated moving far away but it always comes back to NO, I’m not crazy. I didn’t imagine this sh*t bc I know the difference between being f-ed up or confused. NO, they will never stop and they will hurt so many more people and I can’t live with that sh*t. I know u f**ks are all working together in some crazy ass levels of authority making it seem like we have no choice but to bend over and take it and believe me, I thought this was too twilight zonish to still be reality but u really do exist. U literally can do whatever u want and have been getting away with it for years. I’m gonna bring an end to that now. I’ve gone above and beyond and even what u can’t fathom to make sure that nmw the truth is known and u guys will not get away with any of it.

Anyways, I was just giving u a heads up of what’s to come and that everything u do (literally) is in our favor and absolutely instrumental in justice. God love us for believing in him and our God given rights. One nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and JUSTICE FOR ALL. One Love - God, Family, Country (US).

[thesecondmate]

reading: wk50-52

3 weeks + 3 journal entries for how i was gonna start this post. in essence: goodbye 2020, my god has it been a rollercoaster, albeit one sloping gently downhill into familiar melancholy. i never thought i’d feel like this again, yet it’s like slipping into a warm ocean where i can float forever, safe in the salt and waves lapping at my face.

stay tuned a ‘best of 2020′ list and what i want to read next year that isn’t my damn textbooks. and maybe some personal updates depending on how much wine i drink this evening. happy new year, my loves.

week 50: penultimate week of o+g rotation: i would say the end is in sight but in fact i have lost all motivation, hate my degree (well, specifically, the course administration), had a breakdown outside my exam followed by the most embarrassing brain freeze ever during a panel discussion that i was speak on, took several days to reply to everyone about said exam breakdown, am convinced i will fail my 5th year exams, aaaand dealt with all of this by handpainting christmas cards all saturday. welcome 2 the fun house !

week 51: final week of placement: i struggled through the final week of my placement (literally popped into my placement for 2 hours to have a tutorial, get signed off, and collect my things), failed my mock osce, and went home. so unbelievably drained.

week 52: christmas & post-christmas liminality: feeling vaguely restored by the virtue of reading many books, watching many movies, curling up by the fire, eating many christmas cookies, and having barely any social interaction outside of my family and our cat and dog. still absolutely drained; still very terrified of my next placement and of failing this year. all i want is to move to a city where no one knows me and i can be something new, but alas. eighteen months until i graduate; forty-two until i finish my foundation programme and can truly set off into the big blue yonder of the world.

books

✩ The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo - Steig Larsson (finished) so i actually would have much preferred this to have kept its original swedish title, ‘män som hatar kvinnor’ (’men who hate women’) - it’d have been less manic pixie dream girl and more reflective of larsson’s point, even if larsson is v guilty of the former. it’s a good book - larsson’s grasp of plot is really excellent and i really enjoyed the twists and turns, even if the pacing of the big reveal was a little too rushed for my liking. however, i find his characters a little off - many of them are great, especially berger & henrik vanger, but i find blomkvist a little self-insert at times (he’s a financial journalist! but not like other financial journalists! and he has a sexy editor lady with whom he has an open relationship! and he sleeps with this cool hacker girl who immediately trusts him!), and lisbeth is...very ‘traumatised manic pixie cyberpunk girl’ if you ask me. which is a little uncomfortable. also not to mention the rape scene - which is vile. overall: good, intrigued to see if larsson will flesh lisbeth out to be less of a caricature in the sequels.

✩ The Orphan Master’s Son - Adam Johnson (finished) this book has lost none of its magic for me, absolutely none. if anything, re-reading it a few years later has made me appreciate so many things: the characters (even more than before! if that’s possible!!), the abject heartbreak of the second mate and his wife, the trip to texas (i got far more out of the political side this time), the relationships in the camps (the captain of the junma and li mongnan - hold me whilst my heart BREAKS), the way that johnson plays with narrative from the loudspeakers to the interrogator to the dreamlike quality of jun do’s own new life in pt 2. as a teenager, i was fascinated by the setting, the double-farce of the propaganda vs life, the passages about the second mate’s wife and her silken yellow dress - i thought that jun do was a bland narrator, which i now see couldn’t have been further from the truth. i have so, so much respect for johnson as an author and this book really is a formative part of who i am, in ways that i could not express.

✩ Dark Matter - Michelle Paver (finished) another re-read. michelle paver is the queen of ghost stories and things that go bump in the night (see: spirit walker in the chronicles of ancient darkness) - this book absolutely terrified me the first time that i read it, so i made a point of finishing it in the daytime this time. perhaps that’s why it didn’t hit as hard this time - it was less terrifying. however, really appreciating her choice to make the narrator gay, without ever making a deal out of it or naming it - it’s the lil things like working class arctic explorers being disgustingly in love with their charismatic expedition leaders, ya know? big fan. also huge fan of her descriptive prose - she is also the queen of arctic imagery. her prose, combined with the gorgeous black and white photos at the start of each chapter, have not helped my desire to sack it all off and go work as a doctor in the faroe islands or iceland.

✩ The Diet Myth - Spector (on hold) i left this book at uni bc i didn’t want to ruin my own christmas with his awful writing style, if you want an indication of how much i dislike this book.

✩ Smoke Gets In Your Eyes - Caitlin Doughty (in progress) a christmas gift that i’m currently reading. i’m so morbid and am learning so much, although i feel like some of the chapters are burbling on with anecdotes but don’t hammer home many points (although maybe it’s bc as a medical student i’m less easily shocked than your average reader) - bit confused as to where we’re going but i’m along for the ride.

✩ Calling a Wolf a Wolf - Kaveh Akbar (in progress) beautiful. in progress - his imagery is quite beautiful but i struggle to sit and read poetry.

✩ The Secret History - Donna Tartt (in progress) re-read. i sink back into old books like familiar lovers, like hot baths. so much comfort.

films

✩ Dead Poets Society (1989) why were the deleted scenes deleted. WHY. rewatching it, i felt some of the character development and relationship development was a little rushed - yet the deleted scenes could have fixed that. WHY WERE WE ROBBED. as ever, emotionally devastated as someone who loves languages and books and words, but ultimately chose medicine and science. as ever, very very sad over neil perry and aching for todd anderson. newfound appreciation for meeks + dalton. that punch at the end? *chef’s kiss*

✩ Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (2001) i am inducting my sisters into lotr and they are powerless to stop me.

✩ Harry Potter & the Half-Blood Prince (2009) my favourite of the hp movies.

✩ Atonement (2007) this film and i have a long history - i first saw the start of it many years ago, when i did not know what c*nt meant, so was understandably a little bit lost, but also keira knightley in that green dress was a true gay awakening moment. i love the cinematography - it’s so ridiculously dreamlike and gorgeous, and the set design for the house is just beautiful. as are keira knightley and james mcavoy. also, the soundtrack with the use of the typewriters and lighters as drumbeats - my GOD, so beautiful. the second half of the film felt very rushed to me - the reveal that some of it was briony’s fiction made sense, but it lacked the stunning quality of the first half, both plot-wise and camera-wise (although the dunkirk scene was brilliant; love a long, revolving camera pan). i particularly hated every scene with briony in it - v lacklustre - and also the scene with luc remembering cecilia, it just felt forced and gimmicky. the novel definitely wins out for me.

podcasts

i haven’t listened to any podcasts in a while, bar a few episodes of the magnus archives whilst cooking and running errands, BUT i did record one!! the episode will be up in the new year but we have a few back episodes on Right to Refuge, which covers refugee/asylum issues and is by the charity that i work for!

articles: medicine / nature

✩ Mass die-off of birds in south-western US 'caused by starvation' - Phoebe Weston, The Guardian

✩ Eradicating Female Genital Mutilation/Cutting: Human Rights-Based Approaches of Legislation, Education, and Community Empowerment - Williams-Breault (2018), Health Hum Rights i just finished my obstetrics & gynaecology rotation and was appalled by the prevalence of FGM/C in the UK and wanted to learn more. this article is truly excellent in terms of understanding cultural issues and barriers to ending FGM/C.

✩ Female Genital Mutilation: Health Consequences and Complications—A Short Literature Review - Klein et al. (2018), Obstet Gynecol Int. a short america-centric lit review that i read whilst writing up my reflective pieces - not as good as the above one but has more (horrifying) statistics: 200 million women affected worldwide; 6,000 girls cut each day; 85% will have some form of medical complication in their lives, from psychological/sexual to gynaecological to obstetric including death; estimated death rate of 1 in 500; 60.5% of affected women reported fear when their spouse wanted sex compared to 2.4% of unaffected women.

✩ Gender equality and human rights approaches to female genital mutilation: a review of international human rights norms and standards - Khosla et al. (2017), Reprod Health intersection of two things i spend a lot of time thinking about: human rights & medicine. interesting - to re-read again and consider and learn more about things like treatment-monitoring bodies, etc.

✩ The macho sperm myth - Robert D Martin, Aeon a wonderful friend sent me this! i am somewhat lost by the meandering course of the article but interesting points are raised. also the idea that some scientist was like ‘i absolutely KNOW that the heads of sperm contain tiny homunculi; i cannot see them but they are THERE’ is just hilarious.

articles: covid-19 nb: i am not linking every covid article i read bc that would be so depressing but rest assured i’m up to date on a surface level. i am not on a medical level bc i am emotionally exhausted.

✩ Covid vaccine: 'Disappearing' needles and other rumours debunked - Jack Goodman & Flora Carmichael, BBC pls don’t even. let me think about anti-vaxxers. i simply wish to know the current conspiracy theories so i can argue with people more effectively.

✩ Covid at Christmas: 'Chris Whitty is more popular than Britney Spears' - Emma Harrison, BBC please someone get me a chris witty prayer candle i am BEGGING

✩ Covid-19: Doctors call for rapid rollout of vaccines - Nick Triggle, BBC

articles: culture

✩ Art in 2021: The highlights to hope for - Will Gompertz, BBC yayoi kusama is coming to the tate modern!! which i can actually get to relatively easily on public transport from my uni city!! gonna take myself to see the infinity rooms omg i am so EXCITED

✩ History: Quileute Nation this is the official site of the quileute nation, whose history and mythology stephanie meyer butchered in the twilight saga.

✩ The Archers tackles the 'hidden' connection between disability and modern slavery - BBC something i’m ashamed to say that i knew nothing about until this article. the archers keeps on giving in terms of social issues.

✩ Gollancz gets Sims’ ‘horror for the Netflix generation’ - Tom Tivnan, The Bookseller jonny sims is writing a BOOK??! the EXCITEMENT i feel