persuasive poster

high school horrors

i actually love that suburban high school aesthetic. brimming with reveries & teenage dreams. 

  • those elegant-vampiric redbrick school buildings, three-hundred-years old with shielded pasts, sophisticated gates that squeak and creak like old floorboards or wounded warblers when wrenched open, a vast lawn for spilling blood & dirty secrets after class.
  • school libraries and how they always smell like steam-cleaned carpet, old paper and anxiety, getting lost in a particularly dense section, being hushed by the stern-eyed librarian, lullaby-inducing & packed with centuries of burning knowledge it is the most comforting room in the entire school building (as long as you avoid one certain section). 
  • the nostalgia of a hundred sneakers squeaking against the recently polished floors, lockers slamming open and closed, the indistinct chatter of jittery voices all buzzed up on something or the other, sheets ruffling, bodies slamming into one another, the prideful chorus of a school anthem pouring out of the throats of overexcited cheerleaders.
  • passing notes to your friends in class, pens tapping against wooden desks, the way the girl sitting behind you’s laughter runs downstream and the boy who talks to no-one, always looking like he’s hiding something.
  • disembodied voices coming from the bathroom, various bright and persuasive posters encouraging you to join various clubs tacked up everywhere, the theatre a ramp of glitter & deception, post-it notes stuck to skin & gum clinging to the soles of your shoes.
  • the malicious rumors that flitter at lightspeed frequencies and build up like bed bugs, slip into every nook & cranny like dust, how the janitor once found a body in the broom closet and the history teacher’s into the dark arts, how all the staff gather after-school hours in the gym to perform satanic rituals, how someone once broke into the principal’s office only to find it covered in caution tape.
  • breaking into the school at night, hearing soft chanting like the distant mewling of traffic, a parking lot as sullen as the deteriorating gleam in every student’s eyes, the ghost of a little boy rounding the corner, a prophecy engraved into stone and the hellhouse graffiti lining some of the walls. 
  • the clausterphobic feeling of a thousand trapped teenage souls, melancholy and raging anger sprawling from the ceilings and leaking out through the taps, setting off the fire-alarm accidentally, attending an exam you thought you’d taken a bunch of times already, staring out the window because you thought you caught a shadow flicker by during detention, the man on the speaker announcing yet another prom or pep rally bloodbath.
Loot - Part 5 - Jim Kirk

Loot masterlist

Word count: 2,519
Warnings: language, description of burn injuries

A/N: a long, but good chapter in my opinion. it’s my favorite part of this story so far. i knocked it out last night because i got so into it. this part’s a nice combination of reader’s past, reader x jim, and reader x issues. i think that’s why i love it. i originally wanted more to happen but it was getting too long so i chopped off the end and figured i’d save that for part 6. anyways tell me if you want to be tagged! ENJOY IT AND TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK

The walk from Jim’s quarters to yours normally took some time, more time than you had. The addition of the time it would take to dig the artifact from under a pile of your Starfleet-issued trousers and shirts, stuff the mysterious circular metal into your pocket, and leave the room pushed you well beyond the limit you had. Furthermore, you weren’t even dressed— it would take a collection of minutes to find your clothes, pull them on, and fashion your hair into something that looked less like a I-was-on-the-bottom-last-night-while-the-captain-fucked-me hairdo and more like a I-slept-like-a-flowery-celibate-angel hairdo so as to prevent more stares in the corridors than necessary.

You continued to lay in the bed helplessly, your arms at your sides and your eyes on the ceiling. You could hear Jim’s even breathing and felt his comfortable body heat as he lied on his side facing you. You traced the edges of the deck plating and tried to count the bolts holding the plates in place.

It was troublesome that you were so concerned of how Jim would feel had he awoken to an empty bed. You knew you should have been more concerned with Scotty roaming the halls with his right-hand short man, Keenser.

He’d been conducting his “investigations” during his days off for the last two weeks— he started with the bridge, the medbay, the commissary, and was slowly making his way through the many residential decks.

The effects of the nebula hadn’t worn off the ship— or, more honestly, the artifact’s effects. The artifact was, if anything, getting more volatile. Temperatures would increase twice a day— it would be sweltering in your room, yes, but the rest of the ship also experienced, what were called, thermostat malfunctions. In addition, you found areas of partially melted plates in the flooring and the red glow the artifact emitted was almost blinding— as Scotty hadn’t ventured down to the low deck of Excited Ensign Village quite yet, he was unaware of these two issues.

Last you checked, though, he was just on the cusp of approaching EEV and could end up there at any minute.

You could just imagine the whirring of his scanner as he roamed the halls with his concentration face— a frown, eyebrows together, forehead wrinkled up to the border of his hairline. You could also imagine the look on his face when he discovered the electromagnetic levels in your room. Your stomach flipped at the thought.

You heard Jim shift a bit and shut your eyes. You regulated your breathing so each breath was long and slow.

“I know you’re awake.”

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