address memorized

Serial killer Ted Bundy adopted a range of false identities and alter egos while an active serial killer, and went to great lengths to alter his appearance so potential witnesses could not identify him in a line up. To seem genuine he would look up people in local phone directories and memorize their addresses.

Here are just a few of the identities Bundy would claim in order to gain a victim’s trust :

- An off-duty policeman
- An off-duty firefighter
- Security guard
- A college student named ‘Chris’ or 'Ken’
- A ski instructor
- A plain-clothed detective.

The Evolution of a Common App Essay: Tips and Excerpts

Do’s and Don’ts:

  • Do choose a topic that you feel strongly about even if people say it’s cliche. A “unique” essay isn’t effective if it comes across as outlandish, unfocused, or worse—contrived; it’s the way you approach a subject that matters, not the subject itself. 
  • Do aim for sincerity over memorability. 
  • Don’t address risky (sensitive) subjects like mental illness or drug use. There’s a fine line between vulnerability and TMI; what strikes a chord with one reader might offend another. Think about how you can communicate similar ideas using different anecdotes. See below.

The Evolution of an Essay

I went through seven drafts from start to finish; this is a shortened (and slightly exaggerated) version of my thought process.  

What’s the most integral part of your identity? 

Anxiety. 

Why? 

My struggle with it has probably shaped me more than anything. 

Okay, too risky. What’s an event you keep revisiting in your mind?

That time when I got caught in a riptide.

Why is it significant? Jot down a few key words/ideas.

Helplessness. Fear. Saving myself. Writing. This became:

Surrounded by yet estranged from humanity, so close to shore yet so far away, I began to despair. The sharp pulse of my fear ebbed into resignation; my kicking and flailing slowed. But almost as soon as I stopped struggling, it dawned on me: all I had to do was tread. From this experience arose my poem “Fujian.” This piece is a memorial of the boundless joy I had felt upon reaching land, an elegy for the arrogant girl who had thought that she was greater than the sea. But it is also a lesson for days to come. Don’t waste energy fighting life’s many storms. Weather them out.

I went through several drafts and changed the topic several times, but noticed a recurring focus on the third idea—overcoming a seemingly insurmountable obstacle by ceasing to struggle. In my first draft, I was only able to swim back to shore after I stopped resisting the tide; in my final draft, I was only able to speak up after setting aside my fear of ridicule:

I think about how I’ve exchanged no more than a few words with my grandfather during the entire trip, fearing that he would rue the foreign lilt of my Mandarin. But silence is too high a price to pay. My aloofness has shielded me not from hurt but from connection; it is the weakest defense, mere child’s armor in a grown-up world. And so I clear my throat, my Mandarin an old tune whose lyrics I am only just recalling, and begin to speak.

anonymous asked:

Penpal AU: What if the letters stop and Sid thinks that Zhenya died? So, when he wins his first Cup his dedicates it to Zhenya. In fact he dedicates everything to him, his awards, his Cup and even his Olympic gold. When he kisses his cross before each game he says a quiet prayer of rest for Zhenya, because Sid owes his career to him. Sid would have given up without him, without knowing that there were people out there who liked him.

“So,” Geno starts, as casually as he can. “Ever date nice boys before?”

Olli groans, none too quietly, an Geno kind of wants to groan with him at himself, just because that felt so tactless. Sidney gives him a look. Geno wonders if Sidney regrets telling the team at all.

“No,” Sidney says. “I almost had one, I think.”

“Oh? That’s great, Sid,” Geno says, sitting upright again. “What happen?”

“He died,” Sidney says, expressionless. But Geno sees his bottom lip waver a bit. He then finishes his drink before rising to head for the kitchen. “Excuse me.”

It’s quiet in the den again, save for Jake’s snoring where he’s sprawled on the bean bag.

“Great going, G,” Olli mutters, then looks as if he wants to join Jake and find a bean bag to nap on, too.

-

Geno finds Sidney in the guest room, long after Olli and Jake and some of the other rookies have dragged themselves out of Sidney’s house and into their respective rides. He sees to be looking at a letter.

“Hey, Sid,” he says quietly. “I’m head home now.”

“Okay, no problem,” Sidney says, tucking whatever he was reading behind himself discreetly. He calls out again, just as Geno turns to walk away. “Hey, G, hold on.”

Geno comes back. “Hm?”

“Hey, um, I’m sorry about…being weird, back in the den,” Sidney says. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

“No, is okay,” Geno hurriedly says. “Not mean to—“ Shit, what was the word? Starts with a p…pie? Pray? “Be snoopy.” That didn’t sound right, either.

Sidney chuckles. “You look like you want to ask.” Before Geno can protest, Sidney starts talking, “I had a friend, a long time ago. Pen pals. We used to write each other.”

“I’m have, too,” Geno says. He doesn’t really like to think about it; it was his first major heartbreak, and it still stings whenever he thinks about how his pen pal, a different Sidney, ever returned his letters at the end, when Geno had sent that first and final declaration of ‘I love you.’

“Yeah?” Sidney sits back on the bed, staring at the letter he has in his hands again. “It was just supposed to be a school project. But we kept writing. I needed a friend. And he was there. I think I always hoped that—it could’ve been something more, I don’t know. It’s embarrassing. I’ve never even met him.”

“Oh, Sid, is okay,” Geno says, sitting next to Sidney. “What happen then?”

“He stopped writing letters. He send me the last one when I was 17, and then nothing. I couldn’t even send him back one, because his address had changed.” Sidney shrugs. “Something must’ve happened.”

“Maybe he was joking. Maybe post office broke,” Geno says.

“He’d never joke about this,” Sidney says glumly. “I owe my entire career to him. I never told anyone this.” He sniffs, and Geno realizes with a start that Sidney’s crying, a little bit. “I always said it wasn’t a big deal, that I got over it in pee-wee, but sometimes it’d get so bad, I wanted to run away to him. He told me to wait for him. He promised we’d play hockey together one day.” Sidney wrings his hands a little helplessly. “Well. I’m waiting. I’m almost 30 now. I’m still writing letters to him, when things get hard. I just. I think it’s time. To let go.”

Geno remembers Sidney kissing his cross every time before a game, always murmuring a name and a prayer under his breath. He remembers seeing Sidney kiss the Cup every time they won it, whispering a quiet, ‘For you,’ when he thinks no one is watching. He never thought much of it, until now. And the strangest thing is that Sidney’s story reminds him of something he’s once said to his pen pal, who’d been a lonely boy from Nova Scotia, who had been desperate for a friend in a rink where he’d constantly be bullied.

“Sidney,” Geno says, his heart pounding. “Where you live, when you little?”

Sidney looks at him strangely again. “Cole Harbour.”

“Cole Harbour, Nova Scotia,” he recites like a forgotten daydream. He then lists the street address that he’d long memorized after a dozen of these letters, and watches Sidney’s eyes widen.

“Yes, that’s where I used to live,” Sidney says slowly. His entire body is frozen, and he seems to be thinking a million things at once.

“Your pen pal, he—he Russian, maybe?”

“He is.” Sidney’s expression morphs into something very peculiar.

“You—“ Geno gulps. Please, please, please let him be right, please. “You call him…call him Zhenya?”

“Yes,” Sidney whispers. “Yes, that’s his name.”

“Zhenya from Magnitogorsk,” Geno says, his hands moving as though they had a mind of their own to grasp Sidney’s trembling ones. “Last letter he send you, on your birthday, he tell you to play best hockey, that he love you.” More than anyone he’s ever loved, Geno doesn’t say.

“Yes.” Sidney’s barely audible at this point, his throat thick as his eyes grow wet. “He did.”

“I’m sorry for make you wait,” Geno says, as if in a trance. “I not know—think different Sid—I—”

Sidney kisses him silent, quick as anything, pulling back too fast for Geno’s liking. Geno ropes him back in almost immediately for a real kiss, a deep, heartfelt one that leaves Sidney gasping and breathless. He’s smiling as he pulls away. Sidney’s crying, a little bit, but he’s grinning and hiccuping like all his prayers have been answered.

“Zhenya,” Sidney garbles out, clasping at Geno’s hands like he can’t quite believe he’s able to. “Zhenya.

Geno’s helpless to do anything other than kiss Sidney again, and again, and again.

Lena Headcanon #987

Lena has perfect recall. In “Survivors”, she writes down the next location of Roulette’s fight club for Kara without any reference to an email or note. By her own admission, she has no interest in the fights, so why would she memorize the address? She probably didn’t even think about it.

So it follows that all the little tidbits Kara drops throughout their relationship, her favorites and dislikes and hopes and dreams… Lena remembers it all, even if Kara only mentions it once. She uses it especially when Kara is feeling down or out of place (like, say, bringing home a box of those cupcakes Kara once mentioned Cat Grant had that looked so amazing), because it makes Kara feel special, to know that she’s being heard even when it’s just the little stuff.

From The Moment You Wake Up // Hip Hop Unit (Part 2)

Based on a Soulmate AU where within a year of the younger half of a pairing turning 18, soulmates will switch bodies with one another. They have 24 hours in their soulmate’s life before being returned to their own. While in their soulmate’s body, a person is inhibited from mentioning their other life. They also cannot contact themselves in any way, however, people have figured out methods around this rule.

This is your life afterwards.

Seventeen’s Hip Hop Unit (Vocal // Performance)

Part 1 // Part 2

Warnings: None

-by Admin Bee

A/N: Well, this is it. The beginning of the end. Thank you to everyone who sent in a message about FTMYWU, and to all of the people who screamed in the tags, I appreciate you.

Keep reading

Author Note: This was a request from @rust-and-stardust27 from this prompt list.


Sanctuary

A man’s heart may have a secret sanctuary where only one woman may enter, but it is full of little anterooms which are seldom vacant.
Helen Rowland

Jughead could remember the day he broke his own heart and let her go. He knew she would bounce back, she would find the love she always wanted, the one she’d secretly yearned for during their time together.

He could remember the day he saw them together, senior year of high school, prom was just weeks away. They were by her locker, her fingers fixing something on his letter jacket, a hopeful smile on her lips, the twinkle in his eye before he quickly gave her a peck on the lips and then looked to see if anyone noticed.

“Jughead” his eyes clouded with guilt when he saw him.

Jughead gave Archie a smile telling him it was okay.

This was how things were meant to be.

Through the rest of the year he ignored the pain in his own heart.

Betty had what she always wanted—Archie.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I had a customer, who I did not know, tell me my address. For no reason at all. The dude with him told me he was a mail man. But the mail man I know is a sweet older guy. I mean we do get like a rotation of mail people so maybe he was mine awhile ago. But who the fuck memorizes addresses? I hardly ever talk to the mail people unless I am already outside. Which at that time of day is not often.

That is beyond creepy. I hope he was not a stalker or a crazy person.

I had a DMV person in the store one overnight and he looked at my name and told me what my drivers license number was. It was cool he taught me a lot about how florida DL numbers work.

-Rodney

Black. Sirius Black.

Plot: You inviting Young!Sirius Black to a muggle party and he thinks that it was some kind of ball.

Word count: 822

Warnings: Some bullying and highly aggravated language.


“Hey Sirius!”

“Hey y/n, wassup?”

“Nothing, actually. Oh wait, I forgot to tell you, Can you come by to my house this coming first day of break? I’m throwing a party.”

“Alright. I’ve memorized your address by now. See ‘ya next week.”

“Right. Where’s the other Marauders?”

“I don’t know. By the way, y/n, who’s your date at the party?”

“What? Sirius, no. No dates at all.”

“Okay. Dateless party. Bye!”

“Okay. I gotta be moving by now. Inform the other Marauders!”

“I will!”

Sirius waited anxiously by the door as he heard loud and booming music. A thought came across his mind. What kind of party is this? This is informal. Mother never told me about informal parties. He rung the doorbell once again and then he heard a loud sound again of someone stumbling through the door. You opened it, and he was surprised you weren’t wearing a gorgeous ball gown or some kind of formal attire. He felt his jaw drop open.

Instead you were wearing a casual fashionable shirt and some jeans, and you looked like you just have taken a shot. You look at Sirius head to toe, confused. You frowned at him. He was also confused.

“Sirius, what in the motherfuck of Merlin are you wearing?” You asked. He returned the frown on you. “A tie? A formal suit?”

“How about you, what in the motherfuck of Merlin are you wearing, y/n? That’s too exposing! You know what, here, take my robe. And what is this party? Loud music! And look at their dancing, it’s–” You cut Sirius off with your laughter. “Is something funny?”

“You thought it was a ball! Oh, Sirius. I should’ve explained. James and the others are very drunk, you can see.” You took his robe you offered and wrapped it around your body. You pull Sirius inside, people haven’t noticed a latecomer. They were too busy. Sirius observed everything, how it was dark and only colorful lights were scattering and there was a dim pink light illuminating the room. “Sirius, this is a muggle party.”

“They’re too hyper it makes my head ache.” He said. He was busy observing until a guy spilled his beer and stumbled over him. He hissed at the boy. The boy hissed at him back. “You manwhore, what the fuck?”

“Whoa, Sirius, calm down!” You said. You got in between of the two boys as the other boy stood up. He pointed his finger at Sirius, looking what he’s dressed. He laughs for a second. “Brandon, get the fuck out here.”

“Is that your little boyfriend y/n? That man who has no taste of fashion and dresses up like an old man in a lit as hell party?” He laughs again. His other goons laughed too. Sirius’s anger raged all around his body. He was about to get his wand but then you gave him a look of warning. “I bet he has a small dick and can’t even punch that hard.”

“Brandon, fuck out of here.” You warned him. He raises his cup and laughed again “I’m going to have to kick your crotch outside if you don’t. I’m warning you.”

“Oh my God, I am scared!” He said in an annoyingly high pitched voice, mocking you. You look at Sirius and stepped back. “Y/n’s scared? I knew I’d be getting some of that ass. You know you’d be loving that when I make you yourself, y/n when I fuck you.”

Sirius punched him as the boy yelped in pain. Sirius had his teeth gritted, fist balled just as soon as he made the sexual comment. He was in great jeopardy, he knew that.

“Okay Sirius, let’s go.” You said. You grabbed Sirius’s hand and walked away. You look at him again. “Let’s make your suit worth…”

That time, everything slowed down for the two of them. You shouted at the DJ to play some slow song. He did your request, he played some slow song you’ve heard in the radio one day. You couldn’t recall the title. Every couple or even single people partnered up, and started dancing.

“Oi, what the fuck? Hey Remus, I think we should dance too!” You hear a faint shout from behind. Both you and Sirius laugh because you two knew it was James. Then you became serious again. He looks at you in the eye and extends his arms to you.

“May I dance you, you pretty mademoiselle?” Sirius said with a very convincing smile. You return it as you took his hand and spun around, leaning on to Sirius afterwards. You spun again as you both started to slow dance.

“Surely, mister..?” You pretended not to know. His smile wasn’t fading.

“Black.” He said softly. “Sirius Black.”

penguinnhugs  asked:

@your penpal au. sidney keeps writing letters but stops putting a return address cause he can't stand to see them come back to him. his rookie season he wraps up one of his jerseys and sends it with a just a kiss and a scrap of paper that says 'thank you'.

oHHHHH MYYYY GODDDD IM CRYING IN DA CLUB

another way the reveal could’ve gone, if Sidney keeps sending jerseys if he needs a win badly:

“Sid, what you doing?” Geno asks, while Sidney hurriedly puts the jersey down after a kiss. Shit. The locker room was supposed to be empty. Maybe he really should’ve done this at home, but…he was afraid that he’d chicken out. “You send jersey to secret admirer?”

Geno is the nosiest fucking person on the planet, so there’s no avoiding him. Sidney sighs and stuffs the jersey in the envelope. “Just…superstitions.”

“Worried for tomorrow’s game? Not see you send jerseys ever like this. Is to girlfriend, isn’t it? See you kiss,” Geno adds teasingly. 

“I just…if I send this, I’ll feel better,” Sidney says. His arms feel like jelly, and he can see Geno trying to peer at the address. “Excuse me.”

He drops it, of course, he drops the fucking thing. Geno gets to it first, handing it over to Sidney immediately.

“Here, Sid–” He pauses. Stares at the address. At the sharpied ‘To: Zhenya’ and the Magnitogorsk address, an years-old memorized thing, It’s home. But Geno must know it’s a guy name.     

“It’s just to a friend,” Sidney blabbers, like he does when he’s nervous, snatching the package back. “We used to be pen pals. It’s a stupid exchange thing, from grade school. I–I didn’t have any friends besides him, and I’m pretty sure the jerseys never make it to him, I keep getting those ‘Return to Sender’ things, but uh–it makes me feel better if I–he’s really important to me–”

Geno kisses him silent. Sidney melts into it, closing his eyes involuntarily and moans, his mouth opening. He feels Geno slip his tongue inside. 

Sidney pushes him off after a while. “What the–Geno–what are you–”

Geno’s eyes are bright, his cheeks flushed. “Hi, Sidney,” Geno says, his voice wavering a bit. “Nice to finally meet. I’m Evgeni. From Magnitogorsk. You use my nickname.”

“Yes, I know–” Sidney says. Then stops. Evgeni. Geno. Nickname. Zhenya. “Oh my God.”

“I’m take jersey now,” Geno says, like the ass he is, as he holds the envelop close to his heart. “Thank you. Big win for us tomorrow now.”

“Geno,” Sidney breathes. “You–”

“Think Sid forget about me,” Geno continues, pulling Sidney in. “Think he gone forever, after the birthday letter.”

“I could never,” Sidney says. He doesn’t know if he needs to laugh or cry hysterically. “You were my–Geno, I was in love with you.”

“I’m still in love with you,” Geno says. And he says it so matter of factly that Sidney does finally burst out laughing, in ridiculous giggles that Geno eventually kisses away. 

anonymous asked:

Miles Luna and LA Devotee by Panic! at the Disco for the milestone thing? Congrats on 500 followers btw, love your writing. :)

Word Count: 904

Warnings: Guns, Blood

Song: LA Devotee by Panic! At The Disco

The first time you met Miles it was his first night on patrol. He was a shaky nervous thing but so were you as he caught you coming from your first break in. Luckily, you grew up in Los Santos, picking pockets since you could walk. You got away with the jewelry stashed in your pockets but ever since that night you were enamored with the young cop and you were sure he felt the same way about you.

You heard a familiar sigh behind you as you climbed over a fence. You spun to see Miles standing on the other side of it.

“You know I’m going to have to arrest you,” Miles stated as he came closer.

Keep reading

We live in a trailer
The living room and the kitchen are the same room
There is a small section of tile floor in front of the kitchen area
It goes into carpet
We don’t have a couch, we have a bean bag
You are crying again
I am seven, maybe eight
You have cried every day for the past two years
You will continue to cry everyday day until I am almost 13
Then you will only cry when you see me
Really, I should be the one crying
You are crying again, at this point I am still not disillusioned to your tears, which I now know are worth pennies
I am crying with you
I reach out to comfort you, I whisper how there is still hope
You push me away, I fall onto the tiles
My elbow hits the cabinets
You are standing above me
“Say there is no hope”
You scream
I don’t respond
You scream it again
I curl up on the tiles
They are cold against my face
I suddenly become conscious of the fact that I have not eaten in three days
I scream back at you exactly what you wanted to hear
You continue crying the rest of the night
I see faces in my walls
I am 10
You are crying, again
I still have not realized what you are
You got fired for crying at work
You bought a dog, he also goes hungry with me
I don’t even know where we live anymore
Note: I never bothered to memorize my address because I was used to moving at least three or four times a year
I reach out to comfort you
You scream, you do not want to be touched, you just want to be left alone
I am 14
There is a tile floor in our kitchen
We still share a room
I am completely disillusioned with you
I have finally realized your years and years of every kind of abuse
You crying does not make me feel anything
You are crying on your bed
It is late, I want to sleep, so I shut off my light and try to ignore your sobs
You’re not even crying about anything
You just want my attention, you’ve realized that I’m not fucking wrapped around your finger anymore
“Oh really? You’re just going to ignore me. You’re just like your dad!”
At this point I would gladly be compared to my father
My father is kind and noble
He listens to me and believes me
My father doesn’t manipulate me
I say
“I’m sorry, usually you just don’t want me to comfort you.”
“Thats bullshit!”
Always with the screaming
For the next two hours I sit next to you while you cry, holding you
I stare at the ground and remember the cold tiles
I am 15
I live with my dad full-time
I have not seen you in weeks
Yet you keep trying to crash my world
You come to my home, which I know the address of, most of the time
Say that you are suicidal, without me you have no purpose
I may be cold-hearted, but I just keep doing my homework
The kitchen floor here is not tiled
—  “Tile Floor,” Anonymous 

anonymous asked:

How about this for a rumbelle prompt? During the Black Fairy's curse Rumple isn't awake at first, so it's Mr. Gold that finds cursed!Belle in that house.

The police station was empty when Gold walked inside. He was careful as he wandered forward. There was no reason to rush, and so he strode past the deputy’s desk into the main area of the room. Sheriff Dove would be back soon and he figured he could just wait for the young man to get back. He noticed the long bench that stretched under the high windows and briefly fancied the idea of sitting down, but he was too antsy. Even if he was okay with waiting for the sheriff, sitting would drive him out of his mind. He settled on pacing the floor of the station instead.

Slow and deliberate steps allowed him to review the events of the day.

That morning he and Gideon ate a small breakfast. They used the car to get to work, Gold had teased Gideon about getting his own house, Fiona had stopped by- the book- Henry- investigation- pictures-

Lies.

Even if Belle had left to go see the world, how would Fiona have gotten those pictures? Even if the pictures weren’t so obviously photoshopped, they appeared to be from Belle’s personal camera. So, what? She sends Fiona Christmas cards updating her on her travels?

No. Gold wasn’t an idiot. Fiona wanted to hide something.

And Belle-

He stopped himself and his hands turned into fists, his nails digging into his palms. Turning his gaze to the sheriff’s desk, encased in the glass box, he saw something that intrigued him. Laying on the keyboard of the old monitor, was a manilla folder. He stepped closer and as he reached the door his hand found its way to the golden handle.

On the folder in blood red ink was stamped “Missing Person”. Then, in the same red, but smaller, scrawling cursive, was “Destroy immediately -F”   

He pulled on the door and it miraculously swung open. With short, choppy movements that still held an odd sense of fluidity, he entered and quickly closed the door behind him.

The folder seemed ominous, like it would bite him if he got too close. He knew he shouldn’t look at it. It was a missing person file, though. It could be Belle’s, but he had never seen this before. Why hadn’t he seen this before?

He quickly checked down the hall to make sure Sheriff Dove wasn’t coming back and then opened the folder. A page of what looked like an official document lay inside. His heart rate sped up as his eyes grazed over the typed words in the “name” box.

Belle Gold née French.

He scanned the page with cautious eyes, not wanting to miss a single detail. His hand stroked down the paper, running over old information. It included his address, Gideon’s information under “offspring”, his information under “spouse”, her-

His breath caught in his throat.

Her current address?

They knew where she was? Why hadn’t they-? Why?

Yet there it was:


845 Nix Lane

Storybrooke, Maine, USA


No, that couldn’t possibly be right. The town’s too small. If she was in Storybrooke he would have noticed her. She had to go to the grocery store sometime, didn’t she? 28 years hiding in plain sight? It seemed impossible, but if someone didn’t want to be found….

A sharp pain resonated in his chest, the feeling of the first realization she was gone still fresh in his mind.

Baby Gideon wailing upstairs.

Two empty bottles of whisky.

Midnight.

No note.

He couldn’t bear to sleep in their bed for over a week after that. He knew, however, that he couldn’t pity himself for too long. He had a son to take care of.

He removed his hand from the paper abruptly, almost as if it was what was giving his the bad memories. Without a final question he memorized the address, closed the manilla folder, set it back where he had found it, and left the police station.

He repeated the address over and over again in his head, visualizing where it was in town. Once in the car, he started to talk himself through what his plan was. Show up, ask why she left, try not to cry in front of her, hope there’s closure, hope she opens the door, hope it doesn’t hurt….

Who was he kidding? This was going to hurt like Hell.

He drove almost mindlessly to his destination. As he rolled to a half at a four-way stop, he re-evaluated. This was crazy. She left. She didn’t want to see him.

No, he deserved an explanation. She owed him that, at least.

Gideon’s words echoed back to him. She didn’t love them. Leave it alone.

With a deep sigh, he flicked on his turn signal and drove onto Nix Lane. Gideon need never know about this.

His eyes drifted back and forth between the houses until he saw number 845. His nose tugged up at the corners and his mouth parted in disbelief. The yard was dying and the flower boxes and beds were displaying weeds. The concrete walkway to the house was cracked, pushed up in some places, and stained with something that looked mysteriously like blood. Paint peeled from the walls and the door. Tiles were missing from the very faded roof.

Was this serious? Did he get the wrong address? There was no way Belle would live here. Maybe if she was a crack addict, but his Belle? His sweet Belle that made sure not a speck of dust would ever grace her precious books? No way.

He parallel parked, not caring that he was in front of the mailbox, and got out.

As he nervously made his way to the front door, he saw one of the curtains swish closed. Somebody had been watching him.

He noticed his hands were shaking as he raised one fist, lightly knocking with his knuckles. There was shuffling inside. He hoped it was Belle, even if this house was awful. He clasped his unstable hands together in front of him. Then he realized that was probably more intimidating than he wanted to be. He shoved them in his pockets, but then he felt too casual. Crossing his arms was also too defensive of a stance, but folding his hands behind his back was too submissive.

Disgruntled, he took a heavy breath through his nose. The door still hadn’t opened. Swallowing hard, he lifted his hand to knock again when a loud crash came from inside, followed by a short scream.

He instantly stiffened- Belle?

A couple seconds of quiet worried him.j Had she been hurt? Was she unconscious? Did she need a doctor? Pulling out his cell phone in case of an immediate need for an ambulance, he hesitantly opened the front door. Inside was just as drab as outside, only ten times as dark. A bookcase had toppled over and its contents was strewn across the living room.

Despite the urge to turn and leave, he crept deeper into the house, his shoes virtually noiseless on the decrepit carpet. Rounding a corner, he found himself in the house’s kitchen. It was also falling apart.

“Please….”

The voice was so small Gold thought that maybe he was imagining things. He turned to the source of the word and felt like the breath was knocked out of him. A hand gently brushed the wall, instinctively steadying himself. Tears began to blur his vision and he reprimanded himself for being to affected by this.

Belle was crouched behind the stove, eyes wide and scared. She hadn’t changed in 28 years. The same gorgeous blue eyes, the same fair skin, the same deep brown hair. In fact, the only thing he could see was different from the last time he saw her was her clothing choice.

He opened his mouth and closed it again. He didn’t know what to say, and he didn’t want to royally screw this up like he must have when she left, so he stayed quiet.

An eternity passed, the only sound whirring from the mysteriously unseen water heater. After Gold figured he had calculated an appropriate approach he opened his mouth again, but she cut him off.

“Please don’t make me go!” Halfway through the outburst she jumped up and sprinted to a room by the dining table.

Gold blinked, “Go where?”

The only answer was a locking deadbolt. He went to the closed door; now that there was barrier to keep the space he felt he could speak freely.

“Belle, I just need to know why,” he started to cry again, “know why you left.”

“How do you know my name?” Belle’s voice was muffled by the door, “Who are you? Go away!”

His heart twinged, but he didn’t move. She must have gotten amnesia. That was it; she didn’t remember him and she didn’t come home that day because she lost her memory. Without his consent, a glimmer of hope nuzzled its way into his mind.

“Belle, it’s me,” he said softly, “you e- your husband.” He had started to say ex-husband, but they had never actually gotten divorced.

“I’m not married,” she sounded confused, “go away!”

“Belle, please listen to me.”

“No! N-now I’m perfectly content with my life here. Fiona w-was nice enough to give me this house and bring me food and clothes and she said not to talk to strangers; not that I would want to anyway. S-so I’m asking you to please go away!”

“Fiona?” Gold said. No response, so he tried again, “Did you say Fiona?”

A tiny “yes” made its way through the door.

Gold’s face hardened, his lip curling into a snarl. Whatever that witch had done to Belle, he was going to make her pay.

-day 6 of malec week:Switch Alec’s the powerful warlock,Magnus is an shadowhunter-

It was Friday night and Magnus convinced Caterina,Ragnor,and Raphael to go have drinks at an downworld/shadowhunter club. He was dressed up,coated in glitter and an hour later tipsy dancing with an seelie. Needed the breather from all the stress that was shadowhunting and well his life in general. 

Eyes glancing over at what must only be an warlock who seemed almost annoyed to be at the club,like he didn’t belong. Attractive,and dressed in all black,kind of gloomy seeming,mysterious too. Making an excuse to the seelie and started towards the warlock. But his phone went off,emergency at the institute well he’d have to go same with his friends,shame had really wanted to meet the broody figure.

The next night glanced around before quickly pulling up the files of warlocks that were local. None matched till he came to the last and Magnus memorized the address quickly closing out of the file. Monday night he was beaten up,exhausted from an demon or ten memory was hazy slumping against an brick wall.

An blurry figure appeared words seemed distant,”Don’t shadowhunters know better than take things on alone?” Magnus started to collapse only barely aware of being caught. When he woke in the infirmary sat up must have imagined the last part. Still rather weak however that’s when he saw the figure from the club,the warlock was talking with Ragnor. 

*rest under read more cause length*

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Sid remembers writing his first letter. It feels long ago even if he's pretty sure it can't have been more than a few years ago. He's had Zhenya's address memorized for as long as he can remember. He begged his mom to let him learn Russian. He's practiced with Zhenya and it always seems make him so happy when he writes in Russian. He keeps the map of Magnitogorsk under his pillow. He keeps a small suitcase of clothes and other small essentials under his bed, just in case. (part 1)

He remembers the hit like it was yesterday, because it was. The sixteen year old was just angry. Sid knows this. He’s always known that the other kids are angry with him. In fact, he never forgets. But, his broken legs in a hospital bed is probably the biggest reminder. How can something he loves so much, hate him so much in return? He thinks to the bag of clothes, stash of money, and map back at his home. He vows as soon as he makes it out of the hospital, he will get on a plane and (part 2)

part 3 missing :(

Two months later when he gets his casts off he goes through the suitcase under his bed. He repacks it with clothes that fit and any essentials he missed. He leaves in the middle of the night and takes the bus. He makes it all the way to the airport before his parents find him. He cries in his mother’s arm all the way home. He gives up hockey that day. He only continued because he knew Zhenya wanted him to. He goes to school like a normal kid, but he doesn’t trust anyone anymore. (part4)

Then, the summer before he starts high school, he gets a letter from an address in Russia that he doesn’t know, but the name, the name he never forgot. It reads: Hi Sid. Maybe is stupid I write to you again. Think that when I send last letter before I move, I never hear from you again. And I didn’t. I guess I should’ve known. I’m sorry. But, wanted to tell you I drafted by super league. Wanted to tell you I’m miss you. Wanted to tell you I still love you, even if you no love me. (part 5)


I wish I write to you more. Hope that one day I meet you. Hope that one day I play hockey with you. I know this letter probably not go to you. You probably move too. But, miss you Sid. I hope I not lose forever. I love you. -Zhenya. Sid holds it crying. He sits in his room and sobs over the letter. He loves Zhenya, always has. He hates that his letter to didn’t make it to him when he first moved, the one that told Zhenya that Sid loved him in return. He cries until he realizes he can write (p6)

Zheyna again. He has the address. He quickly wipes away his tears so he can write a response. He doesn’t know what to say. So many things have changed since he last spoke to Zhenya. How does he tell his biggest supporter, that he quit? So he doesn’t. Instead he asks how Zhenya is. He tells Zhenya how much he misses him. He tells Zhenya he loves him, multiple times. He tells Zhenya he wishes they could meet. He doesn’t tell him about hockey, or the lack thereof. He doesn’t tell him that (p7)

-

DOESNT TELL HIM WHAT?????




anonymous asked:

Yandere!Hanzo, Genji, Zenyetta and Mccree stalking their crush

Hanzo

He’s a skilled assassin, it’s hard for him to get detected and that is very good in his book. The archer admires your beauty and grace, and tells himself that he isn’t worthy enough to get your love and that he must prove to you that he is worthy. Hanzo will follow you home in the cover of darkness, to make sure that you are safe and sound and that no one else is following you. Once you’re back home, he’ll memorize your address and he’ll come back to you with proof that he’s worthy for you~

Genji

Just like his brother, he is a skilled assassin and with his enhanced body, his steps are like shadows in the night. He keeps his lights off as he follows you just to be sure that if you ever turn around, you won’t know he’s even there. Genji’s mesmerized on how lovely you look in today’s outfit and how he wishes that he could touch your plush skin… When he knows that you’re safe, he’d watch you travel through your house until you’ve reached your destination inside your home. Afterwards he’ll slink away and head back to base, keeping the memory of your location seared into his mind~

Zenyatta

He takes advantage of his ability to float to keep silent in the darkness, though he’s mindful of the blue light that emits from his helm and floating orbs. The omnic would hide if he’s to be suspected by you, maybe even dim his lights slightly. Zenyatta believes that you are so perfect that every other person is inferior to you. You are harmony, the rest of the world discord. Knowing that you are safe, he’d miss seeing you and that perhaps he may visit you now that he knows where you live~

McCree

The cowboy isn’t a huge fan of sneaking around, though if it’s to prevent him from getting spotted by you from his admiring then he’ll have to. Jesse’s actually pretty good at hiding too, so if you think someone’s following you then you’ll have no one to confront when you turn around. When he’s stalking you, that’s actually one of the rare moments he has his hat off so he won’t get caught by you, and as he’s admiring you, he takes in the image of the moonlight hitting you just in the right way, and how much he wants you to be his, and his only. As you walk into your home safe and sound, he’d linger around just a bit longer for… Precautions. He’ll watch you open the window to your room as you sigh in content on being back home, and afterwards he’d leave your property very content, because he now knows where you reside~

“Hey everyone! It’s Kuro, here with–” Kuroo nudges Kenma, smiling, even when he’s met with silence. Not missing a beat, he adds, “Kenma! I’ll edit that out later. Probably.” 

“Probably.” Kenma snickers, and Kuroo pouts. 

“Kenma, so mean!”

“Just tell them what we’re doing…” Kenma sighs, shifting in his seat, and Kuroo’s excited smile returns as he straightens in his seat. 

“We’re going through my Tumblr tag.” There’s a pause in the audio so dramatic music could be played once Kuroo gets to editing, Kuroo grinning and raising his eyebrows suggestively the whole time. Kenma snickers, covering his mouth with his hand. “I was originally going to do it myself, but I’ve never actually looked through my own tag before, and from what I’ve seen in my other friend’s tags, I thought moral support would be a good thing.” 

“You just don’t want to look at all the porn of yourself by yourself because then people would thing you’re weird.”

“I am weird, though! It’s obvious that I just want to spend time with you, and that’s why,” Kuroo smiles coyly, and Kenma stifles another, amused snicker, moving to open Kuroo’s laptop. 

“Let’s just get started,” Kenma says, typing in his password, greeted by the tag page, already pulled up. He raises an eyebrow upon seeing the scroll bar already halfway down the page. 

“I got curious!” Kuroo says in attempt to defend himself, but it doesn’t work; Kenma scoffs, and refreshes the page to get to the top. Then he lets Kuroo take the reins, and watches the screen as Kuroo scrolls to the first picture they come to. “See? That’s cute.” Kuroo points to a realistic sketch of Kenma with a cat-ear headband, and smiles. “It looks just like you!”

Kenma’s neutral face tinges pink, and he smiles softly. “Well this one looks like you, too,” He points to the artwork directly under it that compliments his own, cat ears and all. Kuroo’s grin grows. 

“It does, doesn’t it? My fans are such great artists!”

“Mhm.” 

“Ohh, and look at this– they’re my favorite artist!” Kuroo’s hand flies back to hit Kenma on the chest, now, and he grimaces a moment before his eyes focus on the artwork that Kuroo was vehemently pointing at. 

“Ah. I’ve seen them before.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah; they’re really good…”

They continued on like that for an hour, probably, until Kuroo finally decided that they’ve done enough and closes up shop after doing an outro.

 It’s later than they’d thought. Kenma is obviously tired. But Kuroo needs to work on editing and getting the video ready for upload in the morning. 

“Should we order in? I don’t really feel like cooking tonight–”

“I can cook.” Kenma says, standing. Kuroo looks at him, surprise evident on his face, which seemingly annoys Kenma. “I’ve cooked before, Kuro, I’m not going to burn the whole apartment complex down,” He growls, and Kuroo laughs. 

“I know, I know, it’s just– surprising. You never usually volunteer to cook.” 

“Because I don’t want to,” Kenma mutters, walking to the door, “But you seem like you need real food right now, not some cheap pizza from a fast food restaurant that probably has our address and order memorized.” 

Kenma leaves Kuroo to work, and Kuroo swears, he’s even more in love with him than before. 

Half an hour of editing, groaning, and pounding his head against the desk later, Kenma enters wearing pajamas. “Dinner’s done.” 

“Ok, I’ll be–” 

“No. Come out now, your video can wait.” Kenma says sternly, crossing his arms. “Don’t think I can’t hear you in here. The walls are thin.” 

Kuroo flushes at the thought of what else Kenma may have heard through the walls at night, but quickly shakes the thought out of his head as he stands, following Kenma out. 

“Ah, you say you don’t want me eating pizza, so you make pizza. Nice,” Kuroo smirks, leaning against the counter as Kenma pulls out plates and hands him one. 

“I said you shouldn’t eat at fast food restaurants all the time,” Kenma mumbles, grabbing himself his own slices. “Besides, that’s all we had in the cabinets. We need to go shopping.” 

Kuroo hums. “Tomorrow. I don’t wanna go out tonight.” 

Kenma makes a noise of affirmation, and walks to the living room, falling into his usual seat on the couch. Kuroo trails him, falling into the seat next to him. Kenma pulls out his ds, and Kuroo turns on the tv. Kenma shudders, and Kuroo realizes that the usual nest of blankets in Kenma’s spot on the couch. Odd. It was cold, it was snowing outside, and Kenma hated snow. Too cold, far too cold for him when he couldn’t create much body heat from himself. 

“Where are your blankets?”

Kenma looks up from his pizza to Kuroo to his pizza again. "I…your room, I think…” 

Oh. Yeah. Kenma had slept in his room last night. The heat was out, and the space heater in Kenma’s room wasn’t enough to keep him warm through the night. It makes Kuroo’s face warm up, and he laughs, to cover his nerves. 

“R- Right…” Suddenly Kenma shifts, and he’s curled up in Kuroo’s lap. “K- Ken–”

“You’re warm.” 

“Y- Yeah…” 

They finish eating in silence, and Kenma stays in his lap, playing his ds while Kuroo watches tv. 

It’s late, when they decide to turn in. Or, rather, Kuroo decides to turn in. Kenma had fallen asleep – again. It honestly amazes Kuroo how much Kenma sleeps, and how easy it was for him to just…fall asleep anywhere. 

Before he can think too much about his roommate’s sleep habits, he’s lifting Kenma and carrying him to his bedroom, taking a pit stop to his own room to grab his blankets. The maintenance guy had come and fixed the heater earlier, and the space heater kept the room an almost boiling temperature for Kenma, so it had been deemed warm enough for him to inhabit once more. 

Tucking Kenma into bed, Kuroo allows himself the small pleasure of brushing his hair away from his face, and kissing his forehead. After that, he whispers a soft, useless “good night,” to Kenma and heads off to his own room, completely unaware of the golden irises, now wide open, staring after him as the door clicks softly shut. 

anonymous asked:

Byakuran in the Soulmate AU, trying to find the s/o he scorned before Tsuna went to the future and beat his ass.

Admin Enma here, in this S/O is female and I choose the Color Soulmate AU. I had fun writing this, thank you for the prompt!

“Listen, dear, what part of ‘I don’t need you’ do you not understand? I don’t particularly care if we’re soulmates, what matters right now is building my perfect world.”

The marshmallow in Byakuran’s hands was slowly torn apart as he mused over the last words his future self told their soulmate. He couldn’t fathom why he would say such a thing (well, he could, the memories explained by he did), but now he knew better. The shredded marshmallow was nothing more than sticky sugar in his fingers when a few of his men came into his office.

“Where are you, (Name)-chan? Are you enjoying this black and white world we see? Or are you eager to meet and see colors like I am?” Byakuran mused aloud as he licked the sugar off his fingertips.

“Byakuran-sama, Sun Squad 18, Cloud Squad 41, and Storm Squad 32 have returned from their search. Only Cloud Squad 41 has returned with news,” the suited man reported, his head bowed to his boss. “They seem to have gained a lead on (Name)-sama’s current location. Would you like me to bring in the squad leader?”

The white-haired man spun in his chair away from the office window, a bright smile on his face. “Really? Then surely it must be good news if its about about (Name)-chan. Bring him in, hurry!”

Cloud Squad 41 leader was a lanky, tall man wearing a pair of purple glasses. He was obviously sweating, a nervous look on his face. “Alfonso Rossi, sir, leader of Cloud Squad 41. I have news of (Name)-sama.”

“Go on,” Byakuran smiled, popping a marshmallow in his mouth. “Where is (Name)-chan? Or did you find a general area of where she is? That’s just fine too, Rossi.”

Rossi audibly swallowed before starting his report. “We were looking in (Name)-sama’s hometown like you said, sir. We were able to find where she worked, a coffee shop near a high school.”

Byakuran smiled even more. “Really? Well, that makes sense I suppose. We did meet in one in the other timeline. Did you make contact?” His hold on his bag of marshmallows tightened with anticipation.

“No, sir. We didn’t want to impose without your permission. I did have one of my men follow her home, we wrote down her address right here.” Rossi handed over a folded piece of paper.

The paper was practically ripped out of Rossi’s hand. Byakuran eagerly read the note, memorizing the address. “Rossi, you are dismissed. Thanks for the info~”

However, Rossi didn’t move just yet. “We have some more to report, sir.”

“Go on. Hurry though, I want to make plans on visiting (Name)-chan.”

Rossi sent a silent prayer before proceeding. “The man tailing (Name)-sama overheard her talking with some friends on her way home. They… they were talking about who (Name)-sama’s soulmate is.”

Byakuran looked up from the note, interested in what his soulmate had to say about him. “And?”

“He said that he overheard her saying these exact words - “I’d rather die in a black and white world than be with my soulmate.””

There was nothing more Byakuran wanted to do at that moment except curse his future self’s stupidity. He grit his teeth, giving a tight smile to Rossi. “You are dismissed.”

The other man booked it out of his office, terrified of his boss’s anger. He sent up another prayer, this time for his boss’s soulmate.

Byakuran looked back at the note in his hand before turning on his computer to book a flight to (Name)’s hometown. “It doesn’t matter if you hate me, (Name)-chan. I’ll make sure to change your mind soon enough.”

3

Here’s one for you, General!

Don’t call me that.  I was never a general.

My mistake.  Sorry, Commander!

No, it’s not – argh!

Kanan - The Last Padawan #1 / Star Wars Rebels “The Lost Commanders” / Kanan - The Last Padawan #5