resident adviser

Bulletin Board ideas "Master List"

I found a bunch of my old ideas for Door Decs, Bulletin Boards, AND Programs. Unfortunately won’t have time to complete the ideas that are listed here, but I hope that you all can find some inspiration from them! I’ll add on to this as I think of more and inform you all when I do!

This post is designated for BULLETIN BOARDS! There are separate posts for Door Decs and Programs. I left out common ideas that you see pretty often.

NOTE: I’m not including things that I plan on completing this semester, as I will make separate posts for these when they’re completed :)

Here you go! (It’s super long)

Keep reading

An Excerpt from Elsewhere University's Student Accommodation Guide, Accurate to Term Beginning September 20XX

(Handwritten RA’s notes in parentheses)

The Towers

Mid-20th century brick apartment towers, divided into Pelham, McGonagall, Byron, and Bulwer-Lytton. Despite rising to 14 storeys, they have no iron rebar frames supporting them internally, leading many students to say they can feel the Towers sway in high winds. While this is not true, they definitely have the finest views on campus, being situated on the top of The Hill. The Towers have ample kitchen space, but prospective students should be reminded of their thin walls and thin floors. They are regarded as the “party” flats, and many second and third year students will say if a bad decision is going to be made on a night out, the odds are good it will happen in the Towers.

(No one remembers inviting the slim boy with slicked-back blonde hair, but he brought rum and an electric personality and makes himself welcome. He suggests a drinking game none of you have heard of, and only you remember never to play a game whose rules you do not understand. Your friends are not so fortunate)

The Ziggurat

Built in an unusual art-deco architectural style, the ziggurat is officially known as the Carnarvon Memorial Building, and dates back to the mid-1920s. The outward-facing rooms have large windows and are generally well-lit, but rooms further into the interior have no windows at all. Despite pre-dating air conditioning, students report that the rooms at the heart of the Ziggurat remain cool even in the height of summer. Thick walls and shag carpets also make the Ziggurat among the quietest of on-campus accommodation, which many more studious undergraduates consider a bonus.

(She finds sand in her shoes all year round, but at least her food never spoils. An undergrad swears she sees a falcon roost outside her room every day at sunrise. A label on a box of leftovers reads “Whoever opens me without consent, there will be judgement, an end shall be made for him. I shall seize his neck like a bird… I shall cast the fear of myself into him”. Every assumes it is a joke, until the seal is broken.)

The Chinese House

A quaint piece of 19th century Orientalism, and the last survivor of an eccentric effort to build an international students village using architectural styles from all over the world. Most were demolished between the expansion of the football field, the construction of the Michelson-Morley building, and a terrible fire in the mid-20th century that destroyed the Dutch farmhouse. Despite an ongoing and heated debate among the student population over whether or not the building’s styling and history make it an unfortunate racist relic or an architectural piece worthy of preservation, the Chinese House’s residents report that it is pleasant and homely. Regardless of nationality or religion, residents are advised to participate in the Mid-Autumn Festival arranged by the Chinese House Residents’ Assistants, as a matter of etiquette.

(Every year, room 5B is taken by an Asian student with dark hair who keeps a rabbit. No one tells security, even though pets are not allowed in campus accommodation. Impolite questions about where she is from are met with a patient smile, and a gentle reminder that an American flag flies over her home)

Dadd House

A modest Victorian building with en-suite rooms and upholstery faithful to the original. The Accommodation Office must deny absolutely any and all claims that it is a re-purposed insane asylum, including rumours that rooms 2A-2F still have padded walls, or that the 3rd floor rooms have locks on the outside of the doors, as these are baseless and harmful claims which do no justice to the building’s proud traditions. We must remind would-be applicants that the continued existence of Dadd House is due to a very generous grant provided by an anonymous donor, with the proviso that the House is reserved for those majoring in Fine Art, Art History, Music, Music Theory, Ceramics, and Animation. Exceptions cannot be made for those studying Liberal Arts.

(Her music only improves during her residency, filling the dark, sad halls of the house with beautiful sound. He paints great swirls of colour over his canvas, over the walls, over the floor. Her mind is alive with poetry, and she finds herself speaking in hexameter. What had been normal motions startle her as she catches smear frames in the corner of her eye. A group of non-students stroll through the tiled corridors, golden eyes flicking from one delight to the next, furred ears twitching. They discuss who they shall give their ultimate patronage to, as gardeners would discuss which plants to nurture, and which to prune)

Elsewhere Square

An early 21st century addition to the campus, this is one of the more divisive accommodation buildings in recent years, and has been voted “Ugliest Campus Accommodation” in a National Students’ Union poll every year since its construction. Certainly its garish colours and incongruous position next to the venerable Morganwg Building make it stand out, but it is worth remembering that the Morganwg itself was once denigrated as “Gothic” in its day. The layout of the corridors may seem counter-intuitive at first, but students are sure to adapt to it quickly with help of Residents’ Assistants (known colloquially as “Pathfinders” in the Square). Due to a certain proportion of permanent residents, space at Elsewhere Square is limited, but rooms are en suite, and its position is convenient for all campus locations.

(At every junction and intersections, we carve symbols into the wall, and the freshers quickly learn their meanings. You have gone too far, they say, turn back and do not continue. Your rooms are behind you, and you are in unfriendly territory. The unwise head deeper into the building, finding corridors which narrow abruptly into squeeze-bys and stairs which descend below the ground floor. The corridors beyond warp as cheap plasterboard gives way to bare limestone rock, forcing those who descend to twist and contort themselves to pass. No one has ever failed to return from the depths of Elsewhere Square, but no one who ventures there returns unchanged)

Taliesin House

A rare survivor from Elsewhere University’s earliest days, this Romantic-styled house lies on the edge of campus between the Lake and the playing fields, offering pleasant verdant surroundings and easy access to the Sports Centrer for students in sports science courses. The Residents’ Assistants run a lively calendar of events, including socials at the spring and autumn equinox, as well as the summer and winter solstice fairs, as well as a poetry competition in the first week of August. The nearby forests are private property of the Dean’s House, and the Accommodation Office must stress in the strongest language the need for students to stay out of the forest, on pain of expulsion and a permanent mark against their academic record.

(The sports societies love Samhain. They spend all night cheering, drinking to excess, dancing around the ceremonial bonfire that campus security tacitly agrees to ignore. One of the RA’s wears a pair of stag’s antlers, and in the darkness you have a fanciful moment where you imagine they are sprouting directly from his head. Then two drunken members of the girl’s rugby team stumble into the forest together, and a carynx horn bellows through the night. Everyone is inside by the time they hear the thundering of hooves and the baying of the black dogs)

Your RA Suggests:

Residents are requested to keep communal spaces (such as kitchens and bathrooms) clean and tidy, although everyone makes an exception for salt spills.

We suggest you bring only cast iron kitchenware to Elsewhere University. If you can’t get any prior to arrival, remember that the Accommodation Office holds a Lost and Found sale during Fresher’s Week.

While Elsewhere University Campus Security prides itself on its effectiveness, the Accommodation Office must formally issue a warning to all students to avoid unfamiliar individuals, particularly at night and during periods of lunar occlusion. Watch your friends closely.

Campus traditions may seem quaint to you, but it is worth remembering that what appears to be random superstition to you represents hard-won knowledge for others. If you don’t want to participate in seriousness, then at least participate with a sense of fun.

Most importantly, remember that your accommodation is your home, and you should never feel out of place or uncomfortable in your own home.

(Fairies are real, words have power, your home is only as safe as you make it)

(AN: The Ziggurat, the Towers, and Elsewhere Square are direct references to existing accommodation at University of East Anglia and University of Essex)


I literally have over 10 WIPs going on, but look at what I ended up writing on my morning commute earlier…

B99 + College Dorm AU: in which Jake and Charles live down the hall from Amy and Rosa.

  • Terry is their scary but nurturing floor RA (resident adviser) who regularly hosts Yogurt Nights and trips to the on-campus gym.
  • The four first met at an awkward floor meeting (feat. cringe-worthy icebreakers and Terry Trying Too Hard). They later laughed off the weirdness over dinner at the dining hall, then subsequently found out they all share an Introductory Psychology class.
  • Music (everything from T-Swift to Sondheim) is almost constantly blasting from the boys’ room, and they’ve been written up a ridiculous number of times for the noise. (About 80% of the complaints come from Amy.)
  • Jake is the Floor Prankster, most known for jumping out and surprising people coming round the corner, switching all the door name tags on April Fool’s Day, and once dragging Charles’ mattress into the floor lounge in the middle of the night. 
  • Charles hogs the communal kitchen at least four times a week, but he’s able to get away with it by making the most delicious meals for all the RAs. The only time he gets in trouble is when his dried fish dish stinks up the entire building. 
  • If Amy isn’t in class or in the library, she’s cooped up in one of the floor study lounges. Jake and Charles take turns bringing her snacks. Rosa makes sure she goes to bed at a reasonable hour. 
  • Rosa had to get written up when Terry found her axe during the quarterly room inspection. (He made sure she sent it back home, but a part of him thinks she may still have a set of throwing knives somewhere under her bed.) 
  • The four (and Terry, when he isn’t too busy with class or RA duties or working out) have brunch together at the dining hall every Saturday. 
    • Jake always manages to gross them out with the sheer amount of butter he spreads on his pancakes. 
  • The first time Amy gets sexiled is after a particularly long, terrible day, and all she wants is to bury herself in her blankets and cry. 
    • Jakes finds her standing outside her room, staring dejectedly at the scrunchie around the doorknob. He quickly puts two and two together and steers her over to his room. (It’s luckily only a few days after inspections, so it’s not as horrendously messy as it usually is.)
    • She begrudgingly accepts a bottle of blue juice and stays uncharacteristically quiet for another 10 minutes, at which point Jake hands her a controller and challenges her to a good old game of Mario Kart. She finally beams after annihilating him. (”I LET YOU WIN. I WANT A REMATCH.” “Oh, I can do this all night.” “Name of your sex tape- but you are still going to lose!”) 
    • 11 games, 2 cups of ramen, and 1 hilariously bad movie later, Amy is curled against Jake’s side and fast asleep. (The two of them don’t wake up until Charles gets back from a Boyle Reunion sometime past midnight and squeals out of joy.) 
  • Charles sobs on the day they move out, and even Jake gets a little teary eyed. They hug for a full minute despite the fact they already have plans to hang out the very next weekend.
  • They don’t find out until the very last minute, but Jake and Amy get assigned to be co-RAs in their next year. 
    • TO BE CONTINUED ????????????????? 

At the age of 18, Jeffrey Dahmer was already a problem for his father.  Stagnant and without any goals or ambition, he seemed to sleepwalk through life, locked inside his own little world while unwilling or unable to participate in the world around him.  More or less on his fed-up father’s orders, he enrolled at Ohio State University.  The lively, bustling college environment posed a shock to the shy, reserved young man, who immediately felt out of place.  The people around him all seemed to glow with hope and enthusiasm for the future, whereas Dahmer privately believed that he didn’t have one: the memory of the murder of Stephen Hicks that had taken place just that summer assured him of that.  Wracked with feelings of isolation and haunted by the ghost of his crime, Dahmer turned to alcohol as an escape.  His days assumed a self-destructive routine: walking up to the bars in the late afternoon to get drunk, stumbling back to his room in the wee hours of the morning to pass out, and sleeping till the following afternoon to repeat the cycle.  Occasionally, he would show up for a lecture, sneaking in liquor in a soda can.  

His roommates took an immediate disliking to him.  For one, he made no effort to initiate friendship, being too afraid of potential rejection to do so.  To the other young men housed with him, Dahmer seemed content, or resigned, to lie on his bed in the top bunk, singing along to a Beatles album.  He took a particular fancy to the song “I Am the Walrus,” which he played over and over to his roommates’ annoyance. However, it was his drinking which truly repelled and unnerved them.  As the weather grew colder, Dahmer relinquished his walks to the bars and stocked up on cases of booze to drink himself into sweet oblivion in his dorm room.  The cost of his habit quickly grew to exceed the allowance which his father gave him, and in order to finance his alcohol dependency, he began donating blood at the university plasma centers.  Dahmer became such a frequent visitor, even, that his fingers were marked and his name was put on a list along with junkies and other derelicts whose visits were restricted for the sake of their health.

As the quarter progressed, Dahmer’s roommates became less and less tolerant of him.  He was sullen and uncommunicative, and his behavior was unpredictable.  On one evening, the three roommates went out for a drink, leaving Dahmer behind as usual, and returned to find all the furniture stacked up in one corner and pizza thrown all over the walls.  On another occasion, they found that Dahmer had kicked at and damaged the tile of the bathroom wall.  No explanation was provided for either incident.  Tensions reached a head when a watch, a radio, and $120 cash were stolen from the dorm while the three young men were out at lectures, and Dahmer was named the obvious suspect.  His roommates petitioned to have him thrown out, but their resident adviser told them that nothing could be done until the end of term.  Fortunately for them, Dahmer’s abysmal grades that first quarter resolved the issue.  He dropped out before the second term (which his father had actually paid for in advance), having accumulated a meager 0.45 GPA.


Here are 10 out of the 16 boards I made throughout my years as an RA. I saw someone complaining to Fuck Yeah Res Life! about what one of my friend’s door decs looked like and questioned what our school had to offer in the door decs and boards we do. So I took offense to that (and really just wanted an excuse to post all my boards in one post given that Tumblr now allows for multiple photos). Out of all my boards, only the Liberate board used dye cut letters, the rest had all their titles hand cut by hand. My penmanship is atrocious, so I typed out my information, but always had the information fit the style or humor of the board. I won two Avocado Awards (awards given for boards that portray excellent visual appeal with relevant information) over my course as an RA. 

Thing is, even after graduating, I still have tons of ideas I wish I could have done, and am always willing to share my ideas with anyone who asks.

The Devil’s Reign of 1909

From January 16th to January 23rd in 1909 the Jersey Devil reigned terror across the state of New Jersey. There were reports of a flying monster attacking people and even attacking a trolley car. It was claimed by those who saw it that it was the Jersey Devil. They discovered the tracks the animal left in the snow resembled hooves, and there only appeared to be two of them.

Police in the town of Camden opened fire on the creature, but they either all missed or the bullets had no effect on it. The animal fled and continued its reign of terror across the state. Schools shut down in fear for the safety of children and residents were advised to stay indoors after sunset. Workers even stayed home in fear they would be attacked on the job. Bounties up to $10,000 were placed on the animal and soon hunters flooded the pine barrens and countryside searching for the infamous Jersey Devil.

A few hunters claimed they captured the creature and they brought it in to collect their reward. The animal they brought in was a kangaroo with artificial wings attached to it. Needless to say the men did not collect the bounty and the terror continued. But just as suddenly as it started, the phenomenon stopped and the Devil stopped its attacks. Sightings of the devil declined after that, but the fear it caused still leads many astray from the pine barrens during the late hours of the night.

Babe Part Two (Lafayette x Reader)




“pt 2 of babe that was literally my fave oml”

Disclaimer- I do NOT watch Scandal, but I love the idea of Laf unabashedly loving it. 

A/N- (HUGE thank you to @londonbridgefalling for helping me with the French! <3 Also, apparently I’m in love with the idea of hamilsquad shipping lafayette and reader oops)

Words- 2,406

“You need to man the fuck up.” Hercules said, passing Lafayette another shot. 

“No, you are not understanding! I can’t just pick her up!” Lafayette downed the shot and put his head down on the table. 

“Well, why not?” Alexander asked. 

“You have not met her.” Lafayette looked up. “She is…different.” 

“Well we wouldn’t know that would we?” Hercules said. “We haven’t met her yet dumbass.” 

“Yeah, what the hell?” John yelled. 

“I have my reasons.” Lafayette mumbled. 

“Which are?” Alexander opened his fridge and took out four beers. 

“Well I…” Lafayette wasn’t sure how to explain this. 

“Spit out!”

Lafayette looked. “I love her, but…but I don’t think she loves me, and I thought that if I introduced her to you guys , I don’t know, you might get close and she might-”

“Laf thought we were gonna jack his girl!” Laurens shouted. The three men erupted into laughter. 

“Lafayette are you kidding me!?” Alex said through laughter. “You used to be so confident! What happened?” 

“I don’t know! Half of me thinks that I could easily make her fall for me, I’ve had plenty of girlfriends mind you,” he glared at Alex in particular,”but the other part of me is terrified at the idea of things becoming awkward between us. We spend every day together, alone. If she doesn’t feel the same way, it’ll be too awkward to hang out together. We don’t have mutual friends. I’d never see her again.” Lafayette finished with a heavy breath. The rest of the boys were stunned into silence. After a moment, John spoke up. 

“Well the answer is obvious isn’t it?” 

Lafayette furrowed his brow at him. 

John spoke with conviction. “Persuade her to have feelings for you.” 

You walked up to Lafayette’s door and wiped the snow off of your jacket. It had been coming down in big clumps all day and there was no sign of it stopping. You knocked quickly, wanting to get out of the hallway and into his heated studio apartment. After a few moments, Laf opened the door. He stood there wearing no shirt and a pair of very loose, thin, grey sweatpants. He must have been taking an evening nap or something. You felt yourself staring. You and Lafayette had been friends for almost half a year, but you never really saw him like this. His hair was pulled back in it’s usual ponytail, but several curls were springing free. 

“Hey.” he said, his voice gravely from sleep. 

“Hi.” You slipped past him into his apartment. It was a place; all he could afford despite his family being rich. You turned around and saw Lafayette stretching his arms over his head, causing his toned muscles to ripple and his sweatpants to slip even lower on his hips. You pulled your gaze away and tugged your hat off. You heard Lafayette’s bed creak, and turned to see him splayed out across it.  

“You look freezing.” he commented. 

“You look…comfortable.” you said back. With a shrug, your coat was off your shoulder and your put it on one of his bar stools. 

“I am. You should probably join me. I’ll warm you up.” Lafayette winked at you. 

“Ha! You wish French dip!” You turned away from him and sat on the couch that acted as a divider between his “bedroom” and “living room”. 

“You wanna watch the new Scandal?” you asked, turning his TV on. 

“Only if you cuddle with me, babe.” He got up from the bed and walked over to you. You furrowed your brow. You and Lafayette had a bit of a “flirtationship” full of playful banter, but this was something different.  

“Okay.” You were challenging him now. He sat down next to you on the couch and pulled you into his lap, setting on the couch in between his crossed legs. Yep. He was definitely still shirtless. He buried his face in your hair. It didn’t mean anything right? French people are supposed to be affectionate. That’s why the whole cheek kissing joke came around. 

You clicked on his DVR and started playing the newest episode. You relaxed a little and leaned back into Lafayette’s bare chest. His arms were encircled around you, and your temple rested against his cheek. This was…new, but surprisingly, you didn’t hate it. In fact, you felt happy and safe. You tried to push these thoughts form your mind. Your friends had been telling you that you were in love with for months because supposedly he was all you talked about, which was not true. You just happened to spend most of your free time with him. They couldn’t be right though, because you and Laf were just friends. Yeah, you were only friends with the tall, toned, accented man whose arms were holding you closely. You were also very bad at convincing yourself of things. You found yourself barely paying attention to the TV, which was a shame because Olivia Pope is a bad ass motherfucker. Scott Fuley was still doing things to your heart though, which was weird because he hadn’t shown up on your screen, but that had to be the reason you had butterflies in your stomach and the tell tale feelings of attraction all over you. 

You sighed. Lafayette’s arms tightened around you. He nuzzled into your neck. That was not a “friendly” gesture at all. 

You moved from trying to deny that you had feelings for Laf to trying your damnedest to stop having feelings for him. You’d thought about what it might be like to date him, several times actually, but always managed to convince yourself that there were more cons than pros. 


You enjoyed spending time with and he rarely pissed you off which was something few had managed to do. 


If, no…when the two of you eventually break up, you would lose an amazing friendship.


A relationship adds all kinds of new pressure that you’ve never had to handle with Lafayette. 


Every single night could be perfect, just like this. 


You didn’t know what boyfriend Lafayette was like. You’d met plenty of guys you became a different, less desirable, person when they went boyfriend mode.


You probably look amazing in his T-shirts, and they probably smell like him no matter how much you wear them 


You two didn’t have any mutual friends, you’d be one of those couples who only sees each other or never sees each other. No in between. 


You could finally introduce him to your friends. 


He was an amazing cook. You could have date nights where you made dinner together. 


What if his friends hated you? What if his family hated you?


Lafayette already meant the world to you. 


Lafayette is extremely attractive, and his lips always looked very kissable. 


You could end up hurting Lafayette, and that would tear you up inside.


You’d have a guarantee that he’d always be around. He’d never “drift away” like friends did sometimes. 


Your mom would stop nagging you to “settle down”


Lafayette was French and if stereotypes have any weight, that meant he’d be good in bed. 


You’d have the world’s most amazing boyfriend


You already knew each other on a very deep level, meaning you could skip the awkward stag of a relationship


His arms felt right wrapped around you…


You’d be dating the boy who you had-

“That was a good episode.” Lafayette said. 

“Uhh yeah.”  you agreed, having no idea what had happened. You looked out the window. The snow was coming down even more heavily than before. You removed Lafayette’s hands and scooted away from him. “I should leave before the roads are covered.” Lafayette nodded but he looked…stressed. You set the remote down by him and walked to where you’d left your hat, coat, and gloves. 

“It looks like they already are.” you heard Laf say. 


“Look.” Laf pointed to the TV and you saw there was a warning interrupting the TV show that would’ve been on. 

“There’s low visibility and very icy roads out there. Residents are advised to stay indoors and not travel unless it is and emergency situation.” the weather lady remarked. Lafayette turned to you. 

“I’ll be fine.” you said dismissively. 

Non. No, you will stay here. It is incredibly dangerous out there! You could hurt! Who would I watch Scandal with?” Lafayette said. You sighed and nodded. “It will be fun! Like a uh…”

“Sleepover?” you suggested. 

Lafayette snapped his fingers. “Yes! A sleepover!” He beamed at you and you smiled back. You set your coat down. “Do you want something to eat?” Lafayette asked. You shrugged. 

“I could eat.” 

Lafayette walked around you into the kitchen area. He opened his small pantry, and you couldn’t help but stared at the way the muscles of his back pushed and pulled as he moved items aside. 

“Ahh I have all the ingredients to make quiches, or crepes!” he said triumphantly. You leaned against the breakfast bar and peered into the kitchen.

“God, you’re so…”

“So what?” he turned around eagerly. 

Foreign” you teased. He turned around. 

“Fine, maybe I won’t make you anything.”

“No wait,” You stepped around the bar into the kitchen. “Crepes sounds amazing.” you said sweetly. He looked at you and with an “mhmm” starting making the crepes. You sat on the counter watching him. One of you cracked a joke every once in awhile, but you mostly just stared. You noticed that when he concentrated really hard, he stuck his tongue out and bit it and his eyes narrowed. You didn’t know how long you had been watching him silently, but after a bit he turned to you. He seemed taken aback that you were looking at him, but quickly smiled. 

“Can you grab a couple of plates?” 

“What’s the magic word?” you asked. 

“Va te faire foutre” he said. 

“I don’t think that meant please.” You looked at him skeptically. You leaned over to your right, knowing exactly which cupboard the plates were in. Lafayette walked over and took them from you. Seconds later he returned to where you were sitting on his counter with a plate. 

“This one’s strawberry,” he said pointing, “and this one’s orange creme.” He gave you the plate then leaned forward and put his hands on the counter on either side of you, effectively trapping you. He was close. Real close. And goddamnit he was still shirtless. You almost wanted to lean in kiss him. 

Crepes. Eat the fucking crepes. Keep your mouth busy. 

You picked up the fork and took a bite of the strawberry one. 

“Oh my god.” you moaned. Lafayette raised and eyebrow at you, and blushed because of your foodgasm. 

“Is it good?” he asked sincerely. 

“It’s amazing. I want to have sex with this crepe.” you said. Lafayette laughed heartily and went to grab some for him self. You sat on the counter until your finished your food, and Lafayette leaned against it, eating his own. You hopped off the counter and put your empty plate in his sink. You looked at the clock. Only 9. 

“What now, captain?” you asked jokingly. He smiled. 

“You’re the boss.” 

“Hmmm,” you though for a second. “Movies?” Lafayette nodded then looked down at you,

“Do you want something more comfortable?” 

You glanced down at your skinny jeans. “Sure.” 

He walked to his dresser and started rifling through it. “Here this should be long enough.” 

“They’re probably all long enough.” you said, noting the size difference. You took the T-shirt from Lafayette and walked into his bathroom, the only room in his apartment with a real door. You slipped out of your daytim outfit and pulled the shirt down. It went down to about your mid thigh. You shrugged. Long enough. You had been right about one thing. You did look good in his T-shirts. You walked back out, and for a moment Lafayette could only stare out you with his mouth open a bit. 

“You have a stroke or something?” 

Lafayette snapped out of it. “No, sorry. What movie do you want to watch.” 

You picked one out, and the two of you watched movies together until your eyelids started to droop around one. Lafayette grabbed one of his pillows and some blankets and set up the couch for you. You smiled gratefully and laid down. Lafayette went to turn off the lights. 

“Night babe.” you said. He smiled at you. 

“Night babe.” 

You were plunged into darkness.

You didn’t know how long you laid there, staring at the ceiling unable to sleep. Your mind just couldn’t stop thinking about the Frenchman who was laying in bed feet away from you. You tossed and turned. You took deep breaths. You counted sheep. 

You didn’t care if he was just your friend or what he was; you just needed him. 

“Hey.” you called out softly. 

“Yeah?” He was still up. 

“Can…can I come in there with you?” 

Oui. Of course.” 

You slid the blankets off and walked around the couch to his bed. You could barely see by the moonlight He was laying there, still shirtless, holding the blankets up to let you in. You looked at it tentatively. 

“Do not worry, Y/N. I don’t have, how you say, cooties.” He smirked. You giggled and slipped into the bed next to him. His bed wasn’t big which meant the two of you were very close. He laid on his facing you. He smiled and let his arm drape over your waist. You snuggled closer and tucked your head underneath his chin. You could hear his heart beating. 

What a friend…

“Guys, I found it.” Hercules said triumphantly. Alex took Lafayette spare key from him and with the other two close behind, he slowly pushed open the door of Lafayette’s apartment. At first the couldn’t see much, but as John walked a little farther, he saw Lafayette in bed with some cute girl none of them recognized curled up against him. 

“He fucking did it!” John whispered. 

“Let’s get out before they wake up and we ruin their moment.” Hercules whispered, holding the door open. The other two nodded. Alex was at the doorway before he stopped and turned around. 

He walked over to the bed and pulled out his phone, snapping a picture. 

“I’m totally sending that to him later.” 

That One Night.

Chapter 1/5

Genre - Thriller, Angst. 

Warnings - The series has some slightly dark ideas. I cannot say more than that. 

Members - All members.  

Word count - 5549-ish

Summary - Sixth sense. We all have a sixth sense that warns us before something bad happens. Like a raspy voice in our head that tells us, ‘You. You are in danger’. Your sixth sense has been trying to tell you something strangely similar since the evening. Something that sounded like tonight is very dangerous for you, dangerous enough to get you killed. But you didn’t listen to it. And now…. 

Now there are people in your house. You don’t know who is good and who is bad, but you know one thing for sure - One of them is here to kill you. 

[A/N] - I wanted to something for the Halloween month haha but I’m someone who cannot handle horror so I thought of working on a thriller instead. It’s a super small series though, and I’ll be posting one chapter a week to finish it by end of October :) Do let me know your theories, ideas, etc!

Originally posted by darkesttrip

It wasn’t the sound of rain that woke you up. Neither was it the thunders. Nor was it the screech of tyres somewhere far down the road. It was only when the wind slammed the windows shut that you woke up with a start. You sit up in the blink of an eye, chest heaving with suddenness of the act, a small scream drowning in the back of your throat. Taking a breath you run your hands through your hair to calm yourself down as the wall clock lets out a long ding and your eyes fall on the time. 


“Oh fuck.” A short whisper leaves you like a whimper as you finally notice the darkness outside. It’s too dark. Way too dark. You weren’t supposed to be asleep now. “Why the fuck didn’t my alarm ring?” 

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Extraordinarily Normal

Prompt: “You were doing something that you adore. And damn it, that’s when I fell in love.

Genre: Fluff

Characters: Koo Junhoe (iKON) x fem!Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: Junhoe wonders why after all this time, you’re still loving him unconditionally.

A/N: And thus, she posts! Hello, everyone! To make up for my lack of compliance when it comes to requests, here you go. I actually based this on a We Heart It post I saw months ago (and I also wrote this after seeing that lol) and I’ll try to find it and give full credit! (SORRY!)

Here’s the result of my Junhoe feels! I apologize for some mistakes made and do correct me if you find some

Originally posted by hanbinlq

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ATTENTION: Solano County Emergency Text Alert Available

Reply to the phone number 888777 with the zip code you are in to receive emergency updates from Solano EMS Services.

Residents in the 94533 area code (Fairfield, CA) along with 94585 residents (Suisun City, CA) and Vacaville residents are highly advised to do so.

Dean pulled into the driveway, happy to be home finally. The bakery was running much smoother with both Gabe and Eileen on overnights with Ash, but that didn’t mean it didn’t wear him out.

They’d been busy today; they were busy everyday. Business had picked up significantly over the weekend, and now Dean knew the reason why - The Chronicle’s food critic had been to the bakery recently and tried a lot of different things and raved about them in her column, advising the residents of San Francisco to get themselves to Flour De Lis asap.

So Dean was definitely glad that things seemed to be going well. He’d been doubting that he would ever be able to run the place as well as Benny had. But, it was starting to look like maybe Benny’s faith in him hadn’t been misplaced after all.

Pulling himself from the car, he turned to admire her in the early evening sunlight.

“Fifty years, Baby,” he murmured, affectionately patting her fender. “We’ve seen a lot, haven’t we girl. But did you ever think we’d see this? Three car seats in your back seat, strollers and sand toys in the trunk? Diapers in the glove box? We’ve been domesticated, sweetheart.”

A giggle drifted out the open kitchen window. Dean could see his family inside, Cas standing at the kitchen counter while the twins ran and laughed while they played. He couldn’t see Jay, but he could see the baby swing rocking. The little dude was almost too big for it.

“I’ve never been more happy in my life. Life is good, isn’t it, girl?” He patted her again. “Happy birthday, gorgeous.”

Dean headed for the house and his domestic bliss.
Armed with a boat, a dump truck and a school bus, this crew rescued dozens of Houston families
Crew of volunteer rescuers goes out and saves dozens of stranded Houstonians, using boats, dump trucks and a school bus
By Molly Hennessy-Fiske

Gary Smith traveled about 100 miles east to the Houston area Monday with his 21-year-old twin sons, a truck and a boat in tow to help rescue those stranded by Tropical Storm Harvey.

First thing after arriving at about 8:30 a.m., they located a man and woman in a flooded home and escorted them to safety in their boat.

Some houses already sat empty; dogs left behind stared from front windows. Other residents refused to leave, despite rising water and the Smiths’ best efforts.

“The water was creeping up on their houses but they said they rode out these storms before. We tried to persuade them,” Blake Smith said as he left Monday afternoon with brother Brodie to help another family here in Katy, a western Houston suburb. By day’s end, both would be soaked, from drenching rain, wading waist deep and pushing the boat through tough spots with their shoulders in the waves.

The Smiths’ truck plowed through several feet of floodwater on their way to the Sanchez home. “Looks like we’re going swimming boys,” said Gary Smith, 47. And they nearly did, fighting the current on the river that Stockdick Road had become to reach the Sanchez home.

Smith runs a steel company, and his sons are students at Texas A&M University, where they study agriculture and construction, so they had no trouble fording high water.

Mike Sanchez, 33, met them on the porch of the tan wood frame house. Water was halfway up the cyclone fence. Unrelenting rain battered surrounding trees. From the drenched porch, Sanchez shouted a request for a permanent marker.

Authorities had advised residents to write their names on their bodies if they stayed, in case they drowned. Sanchez proceeded to do just that on his forearm and that of his wife and young daughter.

His elderly parents and older brother, Sammy, had decided to leave. They spoke little English and were nervous, worried about where they were going and about the three relatives they were leaving behind.

“Take care of yourself,” Guadalupe Sanchez told her daughter-in-law, Belinda, who tried to reassure her as she left the house clutching a plastic bag full of prescription bottles.

Gingerly, she climbed into Smith’s 23-foot aluminum motor boat, joining her husband and son under a blue tarp. The volunteers struggled at times against the current. In places, the boat stuck and the Sanchez men had to get out and walk in sandals as fish and snails sloshed by their bare legs.

At one point, a volunteer driving a dump truck loaded with three evacuees passed. About a half hour later, the Smiths reached a main road where a fire department rescue truck delivered the Sanchezes to a shelter. Soon after, fellow rescuers arrived with another eight flood victims, whom they herded toward a school bus heading to a shelter. One man toting a garbage bag of belongings balked, threatened to return home, but ultimately boarded.

As the Smiths prepared to leave, they were repeatedly delayed by yells for help that turned into residents dithering about whether to leave. They wondered how many more people they could have saved if the interstate into Houston hadn’t closed that morning.

They had delivered 14 people to safety, but as they left under gray skies and cold, pelting rain, they felt they had fallen short. Somewhere in Houston, people were trapped and fighting for their lives.

“I wish there was more that I could be doing right now,” the father said. They spent the drive back listening to reports of storm fatalities and debating which of the hardest hit areas they would head to the next morning.

Writing Killer Stanford Supplements Part 2: The Letter to Your Roommate

Why does Stanford want you to write a letter to your imaginary future roommate? Are they going to show it to your actual roommate if you get in??

The answer to the second question is no. As for the first question: the letter to your roommate is a sneakily great way to get you to talk about yourself in a more uninhibited, colorful way than you were likely to do in the personal statement or other supplements. 

Where the Intellectual Vitality Essay (IVE) is an opportunity for your to nerd out, to show Stanford how you think (see Part 1), the Letter To Your Roommate Essay (LTYRE) is an opportunity to show a lighter, quirkier side of your personality. So.

The Prompt:

“Virtually all of Stanford’s undergraduates live on campus. Write a note to your future roommate that reveals something about you or that will help your roommate—and us—know you better.”

Notice the wording: “write a note … that reveals something about you.” This essay is meant to peel back the layers of your application to glimpse the super unique, fun, funny, and most importantly, interesting individual that you really truly are.

(Just don’t be creepy.)

Let’s start with an example this time:

Entry #1, Site 11362, October 24, 2189 C.E. Now here is an interesting site to observe. We have ventured into what seems to be the lair of a typical adolescent male of the species. A few artifacts merit closer inspection.

There seems to be a collection of golden cups mounted to tiny pedestals with inscriptions at the base (research indicates that these were called “trophies”). The inscriptions can be roughly translated into, “Chess Nerd from Michigan.”

Nearby, there is a large oblong bag lying on the ground. After inspecting the contents, four seemingly identical tools were found inside. Looking like nets with handles, they must have served a purpose. Perhaps they were an agricultural digging tool. They can’t possibly have been used for whacking these green rubber balls back and forth. (My assistant informs me that these were an ancient tool for the now-defunct game known as Tennis). 

A red poster plastered on the door in a foreign script possibly represents a deep cultural connection with said language. Perhaps the inhabitant enjoyed chow mein and believed in feng shui, although the bed was obviously pointed in the wrong direction.

Continuing with the inspection, we come across a handmade poster that had the words “Preventing Cancer Metastasis” plastered on it. It appears to be a preliminary investigation into the causes and prevention of this archaic disease, and indicates that the inhabitant was also a giant chemistry nerd.

We will collect these findings and send them back to the lab for further analysis.

About a third of the way through this essay, you were probably like, “Whaaat?! This isn’t even a letter!”

Exactly. OK, not “exactly” exactly, but more like, yes, it’s creative and quirky and out-of-the-box. This student was interested in history, archaeology and geology. His motif, or organizing principle, is an archaeological dig, and his bedroom is the dig site. As an exercise, I often have students think about what’s in their room - on the desk, on the floor, on the walls, in the drawers and on their bed. How do the things around you reflect who you are? What do they say about you?

Here’s an example from my room (my living room, actually, because, you know, I don’t live with my parents anymore). On my wall hang a variety of framed photographs, some of me and my family, some of writers and jazz musicians who have had a profound influence on me and my work. One of them is a portrait of saxophonist, flautist, and bass clarinetist Eric Dolphy, who taught me that notes don’t always have to be in key to be powerfully moving. He used dissonance like others use melody, and this principle of the un-beautiful, or the “off,” has deeply inspired me in my writing and research. (Right now you’re probably thinking, “I can tell.” Thanks.)

This exercise is a good way to start thinking beneath the surface of your life - which this student took a little more literally than most.

So here are some tips for writing an awesome LYTRE:

1. Be creative

There is no template for writing the LTYRE, which is exactly the point. I recommend that my students avoid actually writing a letter. If I see “Dear Future Roommate” on their first draft, this is what they get back: “Dear Future Roommate.” I know, I know, it’s supposed to be a “note,” as in a letter. But for our purposes, it’s really a “note,” as in a quirky, fun, layered, imaginative communique of whatever kind to someone who doesn’t know you at all but will probably want to get a sense of who you really are, like, really. 

I’ve had a student write a Wikipedia entry on herself as an animal observed in the wild; another wrote a series of Tweets from different parts of campus as a “day in the life at Stanford”; another described himself as a D&D character, complete with categories of strength, magic, and skill. I’ve also seen students write really, really good stories about themselves in a more traditional format, but the key here was:

2. Be detailed

In a previous posting, I sang the praises of one exercise in particular that has helped my students dig out their quirks. It’s called the Thirty Random Facts List. Follow the link, scroll down to it, read about it, and then come back. 

Now make a list of your own and come back.

Ready? OK. 

Which items on your list are the least obvious in daily interactions but perhaps the most essential to who you are? How about the opposite? Which qualities are your quirks, and how do you imagine these will manifest themselves at Stanford? Which elements do you really want your roommate to know about? To not know about? 

What you’re looking for is a way to string these details together in a way that unifies them. Look for a theme or a motif, an organizing principle like I mentioned above. 

Here’s an example I like, from a student who used the fact that she wrote for the school newspaper to organize her “letter”:

I’m quite infamous, apparently. As divulged in the following article… Topping the list of this (school) year’s most wanted outlaws again is TPHS senior D.F., juvenile at large with a record of offenses like overachieving. “I tell her every layout she needs to stop working so hard and go home,” newspaper adviser M.S. said. “But she’s still there at who-knows-when, editing pages in not just her Feature section but News and Sports as well. It’s ridiculous.” According to reliable sources, D.F. is also regularly spotted as late as 9 p.m. in UCSD’s Pacific Hall laboratories scribbling hazardous data in a lab book. While loyal friends refused to betray her whereabouts, neighbors are encouraged to watch for a short, bubbly figure lugging an oversized backpack and a Canon EOS Rebel. Never seen without a voluminous ponytail adorned by at least 3 fluorescent bands, D.F. will likely be clad in varying hues of blue. Known for a laugh resembling a D Major scale, D.F. does not, authorities warned, possess the stereotypical criminal appearance, as she always waxes an enduring smile and is fond of assisting peers in writing or calculus. “Seriously, people need to be careful; she looks so sweet, but she’ll hit the highest note on the clarinet and blow your eardrums to shards,” band director A.W. said. Indeed, D.F. tends to carry concealed weapons such as ink pens (to engage in lethal literary battles) and an army of post-its. As she is prone to prowl local streets on rollerblades, residents are advised to spread all driveways with sand or water to deter her escape. “There’s only one way to catch her,” former lab partner J.L. said. “Make a trap with a Steinway grand and an unlimited cache of Chopin impromptus. Or burnt cookies. She absolutely adores burnt cookies.”

I count 18 unique details, from her newspaper editorship to her fondness for wearing blue to her love of burnt cookies (I’m with her on that one). It’s not the number of details you squeeze in there that matters - you could easily just cut and paste your 30 random facts list into the text box on the application and be done with it. Rather, it’s the execution, the way she presents her personal details, and connects them in a coherent and meaningful way, that makes this such a good LTYRE.

3. Be light

The essays in your application should counterbalance each other in tone and subject matter, like puzzle pieces of different shapes, sizes, and colors that fit together to create the final picture: you. The LTYRE is a light-hued piece, a palate-cleanser to help transition the reader from the serious nerdery of the IVE to the more subdued, reflective tone of the next essay, “What Matters to You and Why?” (WMTYAWE).

But that’s for Part 3.