hi there lindsey

Want

Request: #11 with Jaebum? :)

11) You live across the street from your bias group’s dorm and they still haven’t invested in curtains

Member: Got7′s JB x Y/N

Type: Fluff/smidge angst


You leaned further into the center of your desk, trying not to let your chin slide from your palm. It was close to midnight as you finally adjusted your gaze from your notebook and up to the window sitting just on the opposite side of your desk. The blinds were still wide open, your arms much too lazy to tug at the dangling string. You eyes danced across the glass, noting the smudges and tiny insect carcasses long since dried up on the outer screen. Eventually the blur of the outside world seemed to solidify as you became more in tune with the whir of the few cars intermingling on the road. Your eyes lifted from the street, focusing on the building only a stone’s throw away from yours. Seoul was small and quickly growing, so nothing was incredibly far apart, and the only way to grow was up. This also meant that you could see easily into the building facing yours. 

You tilted your head, furrowing your brows a bit to see more clearly. The complex across the way was owned by the same property managers that owned your building, so you often saw it’s residents in passing at the communal mailboxes. The man you now saw lounging on the couch was someone you hadn’t recognized, but you weren’t surprised. It was widely known amongst the tenants that you had celebrities in your midst, idols to be exact. You had seen a few of them on occasion, incredibly good looking, even when in every day clothes and checking the mail. 

This man was no exception. 

As soon as your eyes laid on him, you knew his status. He was too handsome to be an average, every day citizen. No, he was definitely one of the idols rumored to coexist amongst you all. 

You watched curiously as he chewed idly on shrimp chips. his hands deep in the bag while his eyes stayed glued on the television screen mounted to the wall. For a moment, you began to feel increasingly creepy, realizing you were in essence, casually stalking a neighbor. You quickly calmed your concerns as your eyes remained unmoved, realizing that if he moved his line of sight slightly to the left, he could see you just as clearly. 

You lived in a culture of watching each other. What was the difference between googling this guy and pulling up his wikipedia page and watching him in live action? 


Jaebum knew you were watching him again. He tried to keep the sly smile off of his face as he continued to glance at you from his peripherals. He knew you as Y/N of Apartment 1733. Student by day, barista by night, worried mess by late am. He knew more about you than he was happy to admit, but had also noticed you much sooner than you had him.

He tried to ignore you as you stood from your school work, dragging a tired hand through your hair. Much like him, you worked strange hours and never seemed to get enough rest. It made it convenient for him to monitor you from afar. You were very obviously one of the most beautiful people he had ever seen. You weren’t conventionally attractive or cookie cutter, but that’s what enticed him. You were unique and authentically you.

Jaebum openly turned, setting his attention on your window as you paced behind your desk chair. He had never been affected by a girl in this way before, so his thoughts were in a flurry. Usually his naturally cold and serious nature, which his members noted as “chic and sexy,” was enough to catch any girls attention. He had never been one to struggle with smooth pick up lines or come up with a plan, but they had never existed in a completely opposing space before. 

As he noticed you begin your nightly rituals, signifying you were going to bed soon, he began to panic. He needed to catch your attention and fast. He stood, with shaking hands and a pounding heart and quickly began to disrobe. He pulled off his hoodie and t shirt and slithered from his jeans. He only stopped once he was in his boxer briefs and tank top. He sauntered to the window, still lacking curtains even though he had lived there for months. He gave a good stretch and waited patiently. Maybe it was a last ditch effort, using his body and it’s lack of clothing to entice you, but hey, when words failed, who’s to say that visuals would?


You stretched above your books, attempting to get ahold of the string dangling above your blinds. You looked up for a moment, nearly choking as you caught sight of him. The mysterious idol you had been keeping an eye on had appeared closer to the glass separating the two of you, near naked. 

You traced up his features. Your eyes started at his toned calves, rippling under the pressure of his thick thighs. Both sat beneath his impressive bulge, which your eyes were quickly drawn to. They lingered there for a moment as you finally looked up, tracing the thin cotton of his tank top. Next you noticed his broad shoulders, only to go back down and focus on his veiny biceps and forearms. After you were content with your inspection, you let out a pleasant sigh, forcing yourself to acknowledge his handsome face. 

You audibly swallowed as you were suddenly overtaken by the feeling of being watched. You stared in horror as you realized, he was watching you just as closely as you were him…and he was actually chuckling. 


You cringed as you began to walk up to the small mail area in your apartment complex, trying to decide if you wanted to turn on the spot and jog back upstairs. You were mortified by the broad shoulders you had grown familiar with in the past few weeks, too accustomed with who they belonged to without having to say a word. 

Instead of running, you decided to tiptoe quietly behind him, making yourself as small as you possibly could as you slid your key into the lock of your box. Of course the universe, which had let you quietly exist for so long, would not allow you to do that now.

“Hey,” his deep voice said softly. 

You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to decide what to do. You reopened them, turning to look your neighbor directly into the eyes. He was already smiling at you, a grin that was very obviously trying to hide a chuckle behind his lips. 

“Hi,” you breathed shortly, averting your gaze back to the mailbox. 

“I don’t know if we’ve met. I’m Im Jaebum,” he hummed with a bow. 

“Not technically,” you groaned, slamming your box shut and pointing to the label on the front. “I’m Y/N. 1733, but I think you know that already?”

Jaebum’s face fell for a moment, completely caught off guard by your comment. It took a few seconds, but a smirk found his mouth again as he searched your face. “I’m used to an audience.”

“Ugh,” you moaned as you turned, ready to escape back upstairs. 

“Wait, Y/N!” he called, his voice urgent. You immediately stopped and looked over your shoulder. 

“What?”

“I hope I can keep your attention.”


Jaebum slung his arm halfheartedly around the random girl’s shoulders. He had already forgotten her name and was pretty bored with the conversation she presented, but it has been almost a month. Almost a month since he had pulled his stunt and finally made eye contact. A month since he had ran into you getting the mail and tried to continue contact. A month since you had given him even more fuel to continue his quest. He had a plan. 

And admittedly, it was a shitty one. 

After he thoroughly disgusted you and caused you to flee upstairs, he immediately kicked himself. The envelopes nestled between his knuckles became crumpled with frustration. Why couldn’t he have just asked you out for coffee or something? 

Then again, maybe it was too late for that. 

He looked up lazily from his date’s face and to the window, making careful note that your blinds were open, a sight he hadn’t seen in weeks. His next stunt could either ruin that or send you back his way. He wasn’t certain yet. His brows lifted as he saw your familiar frame plop into the chair situated directly before your window. You cast a wary eye his way, freezing as you saw his date on the couch. 

Jaebum took a deep breath as he pulled his date closer. Lindsey? Luna? Lynn? Whatever her name was he needed to act quickly. If he were going to make you jealous it better be before you closed the blinds. He grabbed at the back of her neck, holding her steady and halting her words. Without any coaxing she leaned into him, closing her eyes in preparation for a kiss. Jaebum’s eyes searched her face, uncertainty filling his veins. He remained still, unsure if he could actually go through with it. He looked over his date’s shoulder and back to your window. You were still watching. 

Jaebum shook his head, muttering a quiet curse as he let go of the girl’s neck and fell back onto the couch. He ran a wary hand through his hair and groaned. “Get out.”

Once again, the dim girl rolled with his punches, standing and collecting her things. After she had left the dorm, he sighed, looking up toward your window again. He was ashamed of his actions and sick of playing games. 

He was ending it now.


You furrowed your brows and squinted, continuing to watch Jaebum scramble around his apartment. He had just kicked out a girl prettier than you could ever be and now seemed to be drunkenly tearing apart his dorm. It was strange, but so was this whole situation. 

After a few moments, JB finally halted his motions and stopped in front of the window where he made eye contact. He beat on the glass to further catch your attention. You gave a brief nod, signaling that you were engaged with the exchange. He immediately pointed to the street and hurried toward what you thought to be his front door where he stepped out into the hallway. 

You heaved a sigh as you slipped on your shoes and tugged on a jacket, you couldn’t believe you were humoring him. 

You reached the street before he did, tapping your foot as you waited impatiently near a street lamp. The road was quiet tonight, only hosting the occasional car down it’s pavement. You sighed again, checking your phone before you looked up, jumping at the sight of Jaebum as he had appeared directly across the street from you. 

You lifted your brows, shrugging at him. 

“I couldn’t do it,” he called out, his voice carrying just enough to be heard over the sounds of the city.

“It or her?” you yelled back, rolling your eyes. 

“I wanted to kiss you,” he whined, the noise sounded foreign to even himself as it escaped his lips.

“You don’t even know me,” you called.

“I want to,” he shouted. He nodded with a hopeful smile. “So then I can kiss you.”

Originally posted by study-me-misha

My sweet @novaurora13 aka @beesoo13 provided me all the plot for this prompt, so make sure to send that cutie some love

Bob Morley Imagine: Sleepless Night

A/N: Bob won the poll, which made me really happy and proud of our fandom, so here’s the imagine I promised to post 😉

Summary: The 100 cast has sleepover, but reader can’t fall asleep so she goes out to watch the stars and Bob finds her there and they just talk about how lucky they are to have each other.

Word Count:


Originally posted by helenkomskaikru

It was one of those nights that whole cast was together having sleepover. This time it was at mine place that I shared with Marie. Nights like these always consisted of watching movies and eating anything we had in the fridge or food someone had brought. Everyone had found a comfortable place all around the living room with me managing to get the most comfortable one as always. I was lying on the couch snuggled to Bob who had his arm around me as I rested my head on his chest.

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Achluophobia: Friday

Title: Achluophobia: Friday, Part 1 of 4
Author: @piecesofscully
Rating: PG-13 - Strong R
Timeline: Mid-season 7
Notes:  A HUGE thank you to @bohoartist for holding my hand through writing this, sending encouraging feedback when needed, and just being a badass beta in general.  Media credit to @bohoartist as well. I don’t deserve you.  So much love to @kateyes224 my baeta, for polishing my words and making them better.


PROLOGUE

Yellowed porch lights from neighboring houses punch orbs of brightness into the colorless night that hangs heavily behind the living room windows.  

“Lindsey!”  Her mother’s voice carries down the stairs to the couch that Lindsey sits on.  Joey, her younger brother, glances at her over his tower of Legos that perches atop the coffee table.  Ignoring his glare, she pulls her comic book closer to her face, her eyes straining to make sense of the jagged lines of the drawings at a too-close distance.

“Linds!”  She hears her mother’s sing-song call again.

“Mom’s calling you, you should answer,” Joey says as he rummages through the plastic toy pieces in front of him, before settling on a long red plank and places it at the top of his creation.  Lindsey chuckles and rolls her eyes as she snuggles herself deeper into the couch cushions.  Her little brother is the personification of innocence with his bright blue eyes and freckled cheeks, both of which lend credence to his invariably angelic attitude.

“She’ll come down and get me if she needs me.”  She can feel his eyes on her still as she nonchalantly flips the page of her book and smirks.  “Lighten up, punk.”

In a flurry, their mother enters the living room with her arms full of dirty laundry and her curly mahogany hair wisping wildly in every direction.  Recently laid off from her job as a bookkeeper, her days are spent doing laundry, meal-prepping for the week ahead, and whirling throughout their house like an F5 tornado with a purpose.

“Didn’t you hear me calling you?”  she asks, her voice as weightless as the flowy blouse she’s donned.

Lindsey shakes her head ‘no’ as her little brother speaks.  “She did.”

“Tattletale,” Lindsey mumbles. Joey shrugs.

Their mother sighs, and then chuckles as she flits around the furniture, dusting here and there with a stray sock.  “Linds, you really need to remember to blow out your candles before falling asleep.  You’re gonna burn the house down.”

“I like the light,” Lindsey responds as she flips a page of her book.

“Well, then we can get you a night-light.  A night-light won’t catch the curtains on fire.”

“Mom!  I’m fifteen, I can’t have a night-light.  If my friends saw that, it would be like freaking social suicide.”

“Language, please,” their mother warns.  “You know I don’t like it when you say freaking.  That’s just another variation of a cuss word, and we don’t talk like that in this house.”

“I have a night-light,” Joey offers.

“You’re eight, no one cares if you have one,” Lindsey replies.

“Linds, being afraid of the dark, at any age, is nothing to be ashamed of,” her mother says as she crouches and begins to pull stray socks from underneath the couch, tucking them to the heap of clothing under her arm.  “I know plenty of adults that sleep with the bathroom light on.”

“I’m not afraid of the dark!”

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Dahmer’s Victims

I see a lot of posts about how they died (which is fine), but I wanted to make a post about how they lived. Like, what they were like as people. This information was scattered across multiple sources and incredibly difficult to find.

Steven Mark Hicks

1959-1978 (age 18) Steven, who went by Steve, was picked up by Dahmer whilst hitchhiking home from a rock concert. An activity he did often. He was four days away from his birthday, and had promised his parents he would be home in time for his dads birthday dinner. He was described as friendly, and well liked by everyone he met. He was close with his parents (Richard and Martha), and had a girlfriend at the time of his death. His parents were worried he smoked too much. Hicks often wore a necklace, and two bracelets. For thirteen years his parents held out hope he was alive somewhere. Steven was reportedly kind and chatty towards Dahmer.

Steven Walter Tuomi

1962- 1987 (age 24.) Tuomi simply went by Steve. He worked in a restaurant. He graduated from Ontonagon Area High School in 1981. His family reported him missing three months after his death. His grave was inscribed with the message; “We’ll love you forever.”

James Edward “Jamie” Doxtator

March 1st 1973- January 16th 1988 (age 14.) Jamie was a prostitute who’d had a few run ins with the law over this, but unfortunately was often treated as a criminal rather then a victim of sexual exploitation. Some reports say Doxtator was Hispanic, but most say he was Native American. His mother, Debbie Vega, in her only statement to the press on the matter, stated her sons favourite bible verse was “…Forgive them father, they know not what they do…”, but that Dahmer should not be forgiven for his crimes. Both photos circulated in the media were mugshots. A few reports say he was homeless at the time of his death, but official state records say he was living with his mother at the time. His grave is inscribed with the above mentioned bible verse and an etching of a buck and a deer.

Richard Guerrero

1967-1988 (age 21.) A young bisexual man who’s sister described him as a “mama’s boy.” He was last seen on the way to his friends house. His sister protested a Haunted Milwaukee walking tour focused on Dahmer.

Anthony L. Sears

January 28th 1965 - March 26th 1985 (age 24). Known to friends as Tony, Sears was an aspiring model. He worked at a restaurant and had recently got a promotion. His friend Jefferey Connor drove Tony and Jeffrey to Dahmer’s grandmother’s house. Years later he testified at Jeffrey Dahmer’s trial. Connor and Sears had been friends for 3 years and Tony had promised to call Connor the next morning. 

Raymond Lamont Smith aka Ricky Beeks

1957-1990 (age 32.) Smith had a daughter who was ten at the time of his death. He often left his family for long periods of time. He had spent time in jail, and was involved in prostitution. His family believed he had died a year prior in a shooting.

Edward Warren Smith

August 2nd 1962 - June 14th 1990 (aged 27.) Known as Eddie, or sometimes “Sheik”. According to some reports he was an acquaintance of Dahmer. He often wore a “turban like headband”. Some say he was estranged from his family, his sister claimed otherwise. She also claimed to have got a call from a man she believed was Dahmer, telling her he had killed her brother. After his death his sister and a lawyer talked about starting a company known as “Jeffrey Dahmer Inc.” where she hoped that she, other victims families, and even Dahmer himself could go into business selling Dahmer merchandise. 

Ernest Miller

1967-1990 (age 22.) Miller was a dance student who met Dahmer outside a book store. He wanted to leave his home in Chicago because of the violence. His grandmother described him as a very nice person. Friends described him as outgoing and sociable. Miller’s grandmother claimed she got a call from a man a week after Ernest’s disappearance, chanting “help me”, and later calls of choking and groaning sounds. She believed the caller was Dahmer.

David Thomas

1968-1990 (age 23.) David was the father of a toddler aged little girl. He was on probation for retail theft at the time of his death. The mother of his daughter described him as a devoted and loving father.

Curtis Durrell Straughter

April 6th 1973 - February 18th 1991 (age 18). Straughter lived with his grandmother, Catherine. He was estranged from some of his family members due to his sexual orientation. He had recently lost a job as a nursing assistant and hoped to become a model and earn a University degree. His friend Bernell Howard wrote a song about him after his disappearance. To his friends, he went by the name “Demetra”. His friends were surprised to learn he was among Dahmers victims as Straughter reportedly did not like white men. The mother of Anthony Sears suspects Dahmer claimed to be a professional photographer who could help with Curtis’ modeling career.

Errol Lindsey

1971-1991 (age 19.) Lindsey was a faithful Christian. He played the drums and sang in the church choir. He was described as an outgoing and friendly man, nicknamed by some “Cool Breeze”. He was also a fan of rap music, and lifted weights. His friends said Lindsey rarely drank or went out to bars.

Tony Hughes

1959-1991 (age 31). Hughes was deaf and mute. He was very close with his family. His sister said he knew Dahmer since October of 1989. Recently moved to Madison, Wisconsin with a group of friends after being “shaken” by the murder of his next door neighbour. Hughes had contracted pneumonia as a baby which caused him to lose his hearing. Tony had five siblings and graduated from the Delavan School For the Deaf.

Konerak Sinthasomphone

1976-1991 (age 14.) The youngest of four brothers, Konerak enjoyed playing soccer, swimming and talking on the phone with his friends. He liked to watch Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Tom and Jerry and would draw pictures of the charactersHe was excited about learning to drive in the coming years and was passionate about sports cars. Konerak tried to find humour in every situation. Sinthasomphone was very close with his brothers and parents. They had come to America from Laos when he was four years old. One brother, Somsack, had been drugged and molested by Dahmer in 1988, and the family believed Dahmer was in jail. Konerak’s parents have said their sons respect towards adults and authority figures may have been what led to him being lured by Dahmer. Konerak famously managed to escape from Dahmer’s apartment, but was brought back to the residence by police. Konerak spoke perfect english but was reportedly unable to do so at the time, possibly due to the head injury inflicted by Dahmer. (Though his father claimed the officers simply didn’t bother trying to listen to his son.) His brother Anoukone stated nobody could have reasonably thought his brother looked 19, a lie from Dahmer the police believed. The Sinthasomphone’s, including Konerak, were devout Buddhists. 

Matt Turner aka Donald Montrell

1971 - 1991 (age 20).  Matt Turner was described as bright and articulate. At the time of his death he had run away from home and was living in a halfway house. Turner/Montrell sang in his church’s choir. He met Dahmer at a Chicago pride parade.

Jeremiah Weinberger

1967-1991 (age 23.) Jeremiah had a lot of friends. He worked in customer service. According to Dahmer, Weinberger was exceptionally affectionate compared to other men he’d been with. He survived for two days after Jeffrey Dahmer performed an amateur lobotomy on him. His friends handed out and plastered flyers with his face around town with a toll free number to call with information after his disappearance. Described as outgoing and friendly, he was an amateur artist and kept his things exceptionally organized. He was also concerned with dressing well and always looking his best.

Oliver Lacy

1966-1991 (age 24.) Lacy was a body building enthusiast with a 2 year old son. He was a track star in high school. He disappeared after going to the mall, last seen buying an ice cream cone.

Joseph Bradhoft

1965-1991 (age 25.) The father of three children, he had recently moved in with his brother to look for a job. Bradhoft did have a domestic assault charge against his girlfriend. According to police records, he punched her and threatened to slash the tires of her car. He enjoyed sports and fishing. 

sources: newspaper articles, family statements, FBI files, US criminal records

hi my name is david lindsey strider and i like to make music and walk in long strides (thts how i got my name) i have short platinum blonde hair and bright red eyes that i hide with shades that look like ben stillers and a lot of people say i look like an albino hairless dickmonkey (AN: if u dont know what that is get da hell out of here!) ((im not related to aragorn strider but i wish i was because hes a major fucking hottie)) i have pale white skin. im also a hero of time (im immortal), and i played a game called sburb and died a few times in a place called the medium. im a god (in case you couldnt tell) and i wear mostly red. for example today, like i always do, i am wearing a dark pomegranate red cape with matching pants, black converse over red socks, a long sleeve shirt over a shorter sleeved one with my usual gear symbol on the top. i was also wearing my reflective stiller shades. i was walking outside on lohac it was hot and sweaty which made me a little sweaty. a lot of nakodiles stared at me. i put my middle finger up at them

Achluophobia: Monday

Title: Achluophobia: Monday, Part 4 of 4
Author: @piecesofscully
Rating: PG-13 - Strong R
Timeline: Mid-season 7
Summary: Mulder and Scully are called on to investigate a possible haunting.
Notes: Final chapter!  Phew.  If you prefer Ao3, this story will be posted in full there by tonight. Link is in my header/bio.  Again, thank you to @bohoartist for all of her beta and support while writing this.  She was crucial to me finishing this, and was a constant source of support. Also, ½ of the multimedia is because of her.  And thank you to my baeta @kateyes224 for all the love and making my writing is the best it can be.

Friday, Part 1

Saturday, Part 2

Sunday, Part 3


DOMBROWSKI RESIDENCE
MONDAY

Lindsey is unusually somber in the morning, laying in bed until well past breakfast, refusing to come out of her room.  She doesn’t budge when Claire taps on the door, or when she sneaks in quietly, doing her best to not create a scene.  These days Claire’s unsure of the best way to proceed with her daughter, seeing as the simplest of things can set her off, so she walks on eggshells and prays for the best.  

It wasn’t always like this.  She remembers what it was like when they were able to communicate, when they were able to talk openly about whatever was on their minds.  It was only a few weeks ago that they would discuss her daughter’s life over morning coffee, making plans for college applications and guessing which football player was next on Rosie’s boyfriend list.  She sighs to herself, wishing for the days when life was easier.  Wishing for the days when her daughter wasn’t a complete stranger.

She tiptoes across the floor and seats herself at the edge of her daughter’s bed.  “Come on sweetheart, you need to get up.  It’s after 10.”

Lindsey keeps her eyes closed.  “Don’t want to.”

“Are you feeling alright?” Claire asks as she places her hand on her daughter’s forehead.  “It doesn’t feel like you’re running a fever.”

She sighs as Lindsey continues to lay still, motionless.  

“Lindsey, you can’t stay in bed all day.  It’s your last day off before school tomorrow.  Don’t you have any homework?”

“I finished it,” she replies simply.

Claire remains seated for another moment, then leans forward and presses a kiss to her cheek.  “Alright,” she says softly as she walks to the door.  She turns before walking out and adds, “I’ll come back and check on you in a little while.  You rest.”

Lindsey doesn’t respond.

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You know what?

I’ve not seen even a SINGLE even good argument out of any fan within Chris Thorndike’s well deserved miniscule fandom (Though I’m not saying he deserves fans that said. Just if any, very few). And have seen precisely zero brilliant arguments.

Poor little boy? NOPE. Chris leads an extremely privileged life; No realistic chance of ever experiencing hardship due to both parents being in extremely well-paid professions, company in the form of his grandfather, uncle, Ella, Mr Tanaka, his friends (Which he conveniently treated as second class when the cooler friend in the form of Sonic arrived on the scene) and his parents and receives plenty of love from them when the latter two are there.

Lonely? Hence serving as a decent reason for his kidnap of Sonic? NOPE. Two worlds were in jeopardy with millions of lives at risk and Sonic had other friends than just him that, guess what, he had known for far longer. He’s just a selfish little prick. Loneliness is nothing more than a Freudian excuse and an extremely poor justification.

Sympathetic? NOPE. When Lindsey (His mother) was very upset over having to abandon party plans in order to give her child the best, he badmouthed her like the ungrateful little shit that he is, even compelling fucking Cream of all people to rebuke him. Who BTW didn’t even get to see her mother after she was torn from her own dimension nor has the option to do so much as ring her on the phone. Need I mention how he stated that he HATES dear old dad for abadoning his work to see him in episode 43?

I cannot sympathise with a whiny little turdshit who talks to and about his parents like they’re objects of loathing. Helen’s father works himself to the bone and him and Helen’s mother (Who is understandably protective of her daughter) make do, with a disabled child no less, without being as privileged as this little fuckwad. You don’t see their daughter badmouthing them for mom’s overprotectiveness and dad’s working overtime for her behalf and them being unable to take her to the island.

Christopher Thorndike is despised for usually very good reasons. He squarely deserves his hatedom because he’s so easy to dislike with the way he acts.

Hell yes you’re entitled to like him. It’s a free world.

But don’t act for a second that he’s some saintly character undeserving of vitriol and that the dislike he receives is baseless.